#wc: 1.8k

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’re heavily pregnant with sukuna’s child and so desperately need to have your specific pregnancy cravings: mangoes. when you realise you’re out of them, you turn into an emotional mess.

tags. true form!sukuna x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw. pregnancy. size difference (reader referred to as small). reader gets called ‘woman, brat’ wc: 1.8k

you’re crying in your chambers, the volume of your cries overshadowing sukuna’s arrival at the estate. you hiccup and sniffle as you sit in the corner of the master bedroom. there really doesn’t seem to be an end to your mental breakdown.

you’re prone to mood changes because of your pregnancy, already being seven months along. your belly is as round as a globe as it sticks out from under your kimono.

you hold onto your lower abdomen while mumbling to yourself. “not fair,” you rub your blurry eyes with your free hand.

the bedroom doors suddenly swing open. you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. more upset than you are at the moment, that’s for sure.

you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while you’re stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.

after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure. he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“enough with the tears,” sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.

his eyes flicker over your body—taking in the sight of your round belly. he can’t deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days without seeing you.

sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long you’ve been sobbing? the realisation that no one has checked on you while you’ve been crying like this irks him.

the king of curses will make sure that every single servant - and especially the ones assigned to you - pay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.

“damn it, woman,” sukuna curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, “what’s gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"

you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.

“welcome home,” you utter, remembering to greet him properly. you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. “i—i went down to the kitchen to get som-something,” you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukuna’s irritation spikes.

“but they didn’t have the food i craved—they’re out of mangoes,” your wailing starts again just at the thought of your non existent fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.

sukuna’s annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that you’re crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he couldn't help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

the pink haired man brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. “mangoes, huh? y’re out here bawling y’r fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?”

despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplified emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, you’re stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.

“mangoes,” you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch. you easily guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.

though, mangoes are your current pregnancy craving and not having them meant war to you. it’s all you can focus on—even if your beloved sukuna is right in front of you.

“i need them,” you whine and pout. your hormones made it difficult for you to calm down.

you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out for the nth time. “i want my mangoes,” your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, “please?”

sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that you’re experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.

the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight. “tsk, damn it,” he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, “y’re really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?”

here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. he’s seen you in many states - happy, sad, tired, excited - but never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit. sukuna’s large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.

you pout at sukuna and lean into his touch as he pats your head. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do. “well, you’re the one who got me pregnant,” you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.

no matter what sour mood you’re in, you can still be sassy. though it doesn’t last long before your bottom lip trembles again. “i can’t do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,” you whine as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your words.

you are eating for two people after all—for you and the baby.

sukuna’s smirk widened at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. damn cheeky little woman.

the pink-haired man chuckled darkly, his hand clumsily ruffling your hair again before pulling away. “‘n i don’t regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with y’r cranky ass.”

you roll your eyes at sukuna’s reply. you know you’re an emotional mess, but you couldn’t care less. anything for your mangoes—those juicy ones that you could eat a dozen of in one sitting.

“the maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ‘nd villages nearby,” you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. you’re trying your best to stay rational. you’re extremely hungry and haven’t eaten ever since breakfast. that’s how stubborn you are being.

“but i’m hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,” you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.

“yeah, yeah—fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. it’s a constant reminder of the effect he has on you, and somehow, it makes him proud.

he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you don’t strain a single muscle.

after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eat—perhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.

sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walked towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra. it’s driving him insane.

“mangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i get it, brat,” the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb. you’re lucky that he . . . tolerates you as his wife.

it’s something more than just ‘tolerating’ you, of course. but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.

if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that it’s simply because you’re carrying his heir. however only sukuna knows the full truth, the sappy secret he’ll forever keep to himself.

before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume. they glance from sukuna to you and bow. “good day,” they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. they’ve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.

the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows you’re holding yourself back from asking for your active pregnancy craving again.

sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume. “keep an eye on her while ‘m gone. feed her what she wants,” he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.

uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.

“where are you going, hubby?”

you of course, get a free pass. you don’t hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him that in such an oblivious manner. you should’ve known where he was departing to.

“where’d you think, smartass?” he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.

you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.

“you better hold on ‘til i come back with y’r stupid mangoes,” he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, “and when i do, i don’t wanna hear ‘nother squeak, understood?”

sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.

your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that sukuna is actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.

“okay! love you, ‘kuna!” you call out to your lover while he disappears behind the gates. as expected, your words are met by silence.

that’s fine with you. not hearing an ‘i love you’ back doesn’t hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.

you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didn’t, you’d be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didn’t like you.

you know sukuna would let the world burn for you.

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

[mysicklove]

Summary: four-year-old Yuuji didnt mean to bring up Mr. Gojos crush on you, which of course, leads to Sukuna's harsh teasing.

cw: fem! reader (reader gets referred to as girl, pretty, and mommy), curse words, suggestive language, lion king spoilers (lol)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i love making sukuna an absolute menace. poor yuuji tho. i think i am going to introduce gojo as a character, because I think it would be entertaining to piss Sukuna off lol.

big brother au masterlist

“Su-kuna!”

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Language,” You scold, not peering up from your book. Yuuji lays sprawled out on top of the both of you – his head in your lap, and practically purring in content when you gently pet the top of his head, while his little legs are on Sukuna’s thighs. 

Yuuji giggles into your shirt, shaking his head mischeviously. “Bad word Su-kuna!”

In an instant, you feel the toddler being ripped away from your lap with a tiny screech. The noise startles you, and you perk up from your book to look to where the boy has gone to. But, you aren't surprised to see him dangling in the air by his ankle – Sukuna’s long fingers skillfully hold onto Yuujis chubby little leg tight enough to not drop him, but gently enough to not cause physical harm. 

The boy doesn't seem to mind this position, being in it so frequently. Giggles and squeals leave the toddler's mouth as he stares at his now upside down brother. “You learning how to speak correctly?”

Yuuji nods his head, and his hands try to reach for Sukunas shirt. You rest your head on the man's shoulder, chuckling at the boy who was squirming in the air. “Uh-huh! F-Fush-i-guro taught me!” The dark haired toddlers last name was hard to pronounce, and it was amusing watching how Yuuji sounded it out.

Sukuna makes a loud groaning noise and you cover your mouth to hold back another laugh. “Of course you made friends with Gojo’s new brat. First he hits on my girl, and now his new kid is gonna manipulate this idiot.” He shakes Yuuji in the air to demonstrate his point, ignoring the squeals. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just because Megumi taught Yuuji how to say your name correctly, doesn't mean the kid is manipulating him. Y’know Yuuji struggles with words sometimes.” You watch as the child in turn shakes his head in defiance, letting out a “Nu-uh!” that only makes you smile. You turn back over to your lover, kissing his cheek. “Aw, does it make you sad that our little Yuuji is growing up?”

“No,” he quickly rebuttals, “Brat isnt growing up fast enough. I am mad that you're not denying the fact that the white haired idiot is flirting with you.” You know that wasn't the full truth, but alas, Sukuna was extremely stubborn and would never admit that he didn't want his brother to grow up. 

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo thinks you are pretty!” Yuuji announces, beaming at you from the air. You hold back a wince, smiling awkwardly back at the innocent words of the toddler. You watch as the boys cheeks begin to flush from all the blood rushing to his head, and immediately as if sensing it, Sukuna flips over the boy and instead places him on his lap, holding onto the back of his neck.

The action makes you smile, noticing the thumb that rubs gently at the pale skin. But when you glance at Sukuna, you notice quickly that he was anything but happy. Sukunas dark eyes twitches, flickering to you, and he speaks between his teeth. “Did he now? I may need to have a talk with Mr. Gojo next time I pick the little pest up. Does Fushiguro say anything else?”  

“Sukuna,” you whine, realising that the hold on the boys neck was not out of affection – instead was used to trap the boy while he was questioned. “Y’know Gojo is alot. He just wants to–”

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo has a crush on Y/N!”

“Yuuji!” 

“B-But, Y/N has a crush on brother,” the boy concludes, furrowing his eyebrows with a small nod. “Right, Ku–um–Su-kuna?” He turns up to his brother, doe eyed with his head slightly cocked to the side in question. 

In response, Sukuna ruffles his hair, nearly sending the boy landing on his back. But, instead he giggles at the rough treatment, shutting his eyes and trying his best to stay upward. “The biggest crush. You make sure to tell the little brat that. Or else Mr. Gojo is going to try take her away.”

Your eyes widen and you push at his broad shoulders. “Sukuna! You're going to get him all worked up!” You exclaim, knowing the very sensitive (regarding you or Sukuna) child very well by now. You turn to the boy, whose own eyes widen as he trying to process the words. “Gojo is not trying to take me away.”

“He is going to take her away if you don't do anything, and little Megumi is going to have a new mommy.” Sukuna was grinning at the boy, as if his brother's fearful expression pleased him. You knew that he was being purposely dramatic – Gojo wasn't even technically Megumi's father, if there was a chance that you guys would ever get together (near zero) you would definitely not be the boy's new mom. But alas, Sukuna continues on with his words. “Thats why whenever you see the two of them talking you have to make sure you to scream as loud as possible.”

You cover the mans mouth before you he can spewl any more nonsense, but it was too late. Yuuji was already tearing himself from the man's lap and into yours – his lips begin to wobble and his eyes flood with tears. “Is-um-is that what you two talk about when I am with Mr. Nanami,” he warbles, thinking back to the multitude of times he has held onto his preschool teachers hand and watched you smile at the white haired man. 

“No, love,” you reassure, turning your attention instead from scolding your lover to consoling the child. “Sukuna is being mean again. Don't listen to him. Mr. Gojo and I are friends.” You ignore the look that Sukuna shoots you, showing how displeased he is at the idea of you being friends with his least favorite person. 

The boy sniffles, wiping his little fists on his face. “I-I dont want you to be Fush-i-guro’s mommy. You have to stay with me and Kuna! P-Please?” He doesn't even attempt to say his brother's name correctly, forgetting how he started the conversation all together. He was focused on trying not to cry, because his brother was sure to tease him, but it wasn't working out very well.

You kiss at his chubby cheeks, shaking your head with an exasperated look on your face, wondering how the hell you got to this conversation. “I am not, promise. I'm not going anywhere. Even if your brother is the worst, brattiest, malicious person alive, I have kinda grown attached to him. Besides, if I left who would I have movie nights with?”

“I am not a–” You shoot Sukuna a nasty glare, and he in return lets out an astonished laugh, but shrugs without care.

Your words make Yuuji perk up from your lap, and his eyes widen with glee. “You like movie nights too?” He was always begging for the three of you to watch movies together, but Sukuna always denies him considering it would end up being a cheesy Disney movie that Yuuji would fall asleep not even twenty minutes into.

“I love movie nights. Do you want to have one tonight?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sukuna butts in, and you spare him a glance. “Babe, we have plans tonight, remember?” He tilts his head to the side suggestively and you roll your eyes at him.

“Not anymore. Me and Yuuji are going to watch…”

“Human Earthworm 2!” The boy interjects, completely forgetting about his previous experiences with the movie, not good ones.

You poke at his cheeks, shaking your head. “I was thinking The Lion King.” 

“Yes!”

“No,” Sukuna groans, covering his eyes with his palm.

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No? Why are you putting your input in? You're not watching it with us.”

Sukuna, never have been told this before, looks appalled. “The fuck you mean?”

“Bad word!” Yuuji points to him in accusation, but Sukuna just ignores him.

You cock your head to the side, a sly grin pulling at your face. “You're not invited.”

“Why not?”

The two of you make eye contact for a long second, and after a moment or two, Sukuna sighs. “You're really mad about that?” You don't say anything, just continuing to stare at him. “Okay fuck–Yes that is a curse word, astute observation you brat. I am sorry for making the kid cry again.”

“And?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, but you hold your ground. Then, he turns to the boy with a sigh. “Dont scream when you see Gojo and Y/N talk, alright?” He jabs his finger into the boys chest and Yuuji nods his head rapidly in understanding. But, a foxish grin pulls at the mans face and he says, “Instead…The moment you hear him talk to her, you bite his leg.”

He barks a laugh at the confused face of his brother, but when he looks up to you, the smile falters. “Okay, c’mon it was a jo–”

You point your finger to the door. “Couch.”

“You can't kick me out of my own room!”

You don't move your finger. Yuuji glances at you, cocks his head to the side, and then mimicks your action. “Couch!”

The three of you go silent for a long minute, and at this point the boy's hand begins to tremble from holding his hand out for too long. Eventually when Sukuna realizes that there was no point of reasoning, he lets out a dramatic sigh, before crawling out of bed. 

When he notices your smug smile, he flips you off and you can't help but laugh at that. “I am coming back after the movie is done, ya hear?”

“If Yuuji does not fall asleep,” You tease in return, knowing the boy well, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. 

His eyes flicker to the boy who was snuggling up to your chest, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the movie in. Sukuna chuckles to himself, opening up the door, before turning back to the kid one last time. “Hey brat,” he calls.

“Hm?” 

“The father lion–Mufasa. He is my favorite character, so you'll bound to like him a lot. In fact, I sure do wonder if you'll get attached,” he muses, and your eyes widen when you realize what he is saying. Anything that is linked with Sukuna, Yuuji immediately falls in love with. This was bound to cause hysteria. “Enjoy the movie guys! Y/N have fun!” He calls, before shutting the door.

You pause for a moment, sighing into your hand. “Kuna likes the father lion? I want to see!”

You tried everything to avoid turning on the movie after that. But Yuuji, like his brother, was stubborn, and he desperately wanted to see the lion. He grew attached very quickly in that short period of time.

Deep laughs rumble through the house when Yuuji begins to sob over the animated lion's death. You lock the door, and Sukuna stays the night on the couch. 

[k-hotchoisan]

active recovery

<yunho x fem!reader>

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it. 

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast. 

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs. 

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised. 

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting. 

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer. 

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do. 

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches. 

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick. 

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It’s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed. 

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.  

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling. 

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit. 

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank. 

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”,  Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach. 

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time. 

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you. 

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock. 

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles. 

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now. 

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you. 

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?” 

Maybe you should take up on that offer. 

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove. 

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second. 

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him. 

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you. 

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.” 

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear. 

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy. 

So is Yunho. 

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him. 

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you. 

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium. 

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release. 

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head. 

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick. 

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day. 

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim. 

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you. 

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down. 

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp. 

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.” 

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head. 

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?” 

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @mylovelymito @softwsan  @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie

[screampied]

plz write a domestic toji fic

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, house husband toji, reader is pregnant, toji attempting to cook, petnames.

wc. 1.8k

toji quirks an arched brow in frustration. with a concise glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday, it reads three am. sighing, the back of his wrist smears a sheet of sweat off his forehead as he gets a good sniff of the cuisine. like always, he stayed up all night, watching those random cooking mom videos on youtube. trying so hard to mimic their recipes and methods but failing anyway. “tch. fuckin’ shit,” he grumbles under his breath, covered in nothing but flour. the sizzling of the pan was quite loud. the smoke detector went off at least four times. he was wearing another thing you bought him. an apron that had the words of ‘kiss the cook’ imprinted near the front in bedazzled little sparkles. “why does it keep stickin’ to the pan.”

as his annoyance grows, he hears familiar little footsteps approach the linoleum kitchen floor. it’s you, his shoulders lower and his mood softens at the sight of you in comfy silk pajamas and a grouchy expression. “toji? ‘s like three in the morning,” and as you take a whiff of the air, you furrow your own two brows. “are you . . cooking?”

“yeah yeah,” he gruffly grouses, going back to whisking the flour. “go back ‘ta bed, baby. almost done. ‘m jus’ practicing.”

“at three am,” you deadpan, a hand rubbing against your plump growing tummy.

so cute, you were a few weeks pregnant yet everything was moving at such an rapid speed. with the way your body was changing so quick, he could barely keep up. toji hears the sass in your tone as you speak and he knows good and well he should be back in bed with you. you wondered why the left side of the mattress felt empty. you waddle over beside him, hugging him from behind. his bulging muscles rub against you and you let off a playful little whine. “tooooji, you need sleep. come back to bed.”

“princessss,” he plays along with a fake pout, his entire hands covered with piles and piles of doughy flour mix. “but ‘m makin’ breakfast for us two,” and with a brief notion of turning the fire down a bit, he utters last minute. “er— three.” and you smile at him not forgetting to include your unborn child.

toji never cooks, it’s always been just you.

it’s not like he was incapable or anything. he’s always found a liking to watching you cook though.

you always prepared him the best of meals, so good that it had his mouth watering, licking the tips of his tongue in sweet sweet relish.

right before you’d got pregnant, you’d pack him the most divine lunches for work, always with such loving care. you’d never forget to leave him a little adoring note or two, wishing him the best of shifts. so the moment you ended up getting knocked up, he wanted to try.

try to do better,

for you.

sacrificing his sleep wasn’t really an issue—he didn’t mind if it wasn’t for you and his unborn baby. and if toji had to learn how to cook simple meals, he’d do that.. despite the struggle it was.

giggling, you stretch your arms over his torso.

“toji . . making pancakes is easy,” you hum, and his muscles relaxes from your gentle touch.

he’s missed you dearly, even though he was only out of bed for at least a good hour now. hearing him swear vulgar curses underneath his breath at messing up the instructions was quite near adorable. peering at the mess in front of you, you take the cerulean blue mixing bowl from him. “you could’ve woke me up if you needed help, you know.”

“i know,” he grumbles, his voice softening a bit.

you pause—toji’s body language seems a bit different. it shifts. he looks a bit ashamed.

once toji turns off the stove, he deeply sighs. “i just wanted ‘ta learn how to cook for us— you know, like as a family. so when the baby’s here, i’ll uh- be prepared. don’t want ya to be doin’ everything, darlin’. y’er gonna be limited to do lots of stuff soon ‘n i jus’ wanna help out a bit more.”

with a smile, you stroke a thumb against your husband’s chin, right near his little scar. “awww,” and there’s an immediate embarrassed scowl stretching against his thin lips.

toji wanting to try more for you made your heart swarm up with a variety schools of butterflies. it flutters and flaps as he spoke. speaking in a soft tone, a thumb swipes a few remnants of flour near the crevices of his lip. “you’re sweet, toji. but i don’t want you stressing out over cooking. ‘s okay, besidessss we can always do it together.”

“eh,” his eye twitches at your smug growing grin. “that’s… not what i meant, mama.”

“don’t eh me. yeah it is, you want me to teach you how to cook like me,” you simper, planting a kiss against the back of his arm. “you wanna learn how to be a househusband?”

toji groans, turning to face you. verdant eyes leer at you for a long time—but he could never stay too vexed at you, you were so adorable, especially whenever you were this enthusiastic.

“that’s not the term i’d use for myself, but i guess,” and he wipes a few pounds of flour off his apron. “don’t worry ‘bout the mess. i’ll clean that up too.”

“i like this new toji.” you tease, leaning up close to press a wet kiss against his temple.

toji buries his hands in his pockets, staring off to the side and trying to ignore the incoming flush setting against his skin.

oh, you had him weak,

weak everywhere—weak in the knees.

he was feeling himself getting soft as the seconds pass. toji couldn’t lie, he was starting to like this new side of his too. he’d never in a million years admit it though. “baby please,” he grunts, switching the sink on to wash his hands. as the water screams out of the faucet, he lathers everywhere with soap before grumbling. “been watchin’ so many of those damn mom vlogs of cooking. was so annoying, wanted to pull my hair out.”

“you could have just asked me for help, silly,” and your arms securely wrap around his beefy body once more. toji’s frame was a lot more broad and built compared to you. he sucks his teeth, leaning into your touch before staring at the kitchen counter. “okay, good. you have all the ingredients . . eggs, flour, milk, umm sugar..”

and as your words continue and you observe his unkempt handiwork, toji clears his throat. “i gave up once the things kept stickin’ to the skillet.”

you let off a pretty laugh that makes his ears twitch. “welllll that’s probably because you didn’t add enough oil or butter to the pan,” and he watches as you grab a nearby stick of butter. you cut near the end part it with a butter knife before spreading it on the middle of the pan.

toji cutely stays quiet, staring intently and taking in everything you’re doing. he’s attentive, he doesn’t wanna miss anything because he’d soon be doing this for you and his soon-to-be baby.

after a few long seconds, you turn on the stove and it starts to sizzle again. “okay, so you mixed the batter, that’s good. now all you have to do is just pour a good amount into the pan and flip it once it’s a brownish color.”

“ehhhh.”

“toji, you wanted to cook so you’re gonna cook.”

“yes ma’am.” he sighs, his tone playful.

some minutes pass before you both finally finish making a fresh, scrumptious batch of pancakes. with your arms wrapped around him, you showed him all the steps slowly. you were patient with toji, helping him pour the batter and mix it. every time he messes up, you’d kiss the edge of his arm, reminding him that he can just try again. he calms down after a while, and you step away to watch him make a pancake of his own. he flips it over, and he has a sly grin—glancing back toward you, hoping you caught that. you did, giving him an encouraging smile before showering him with praise.

it was almost four am and toji was desperately trying to stay awake—you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open with how he’s swaying a bit. turning off the stove for the nth time, you set the steaming hot spatula aside before looking in toji’s direction. “we can always eat them when we wake up.”

“we?” he grumbles, combing a hand through his messy strands, giving it a solid scratch.

“yes, we,” and you wrap the heated pancakes with plastic wrap, tucking the undersides of the plate with the material before putting it in the microwave to preserve heat. you then grab onto toji’s hand. “we’re going back to bed.”

with a sigh, he knew he wasn’t gonna win this little spat. toji squeezes your hand back, yet before the two of you could go back into bed, he bends down.

raising your brow, toji gets on his knees before bringing a chaste kiss toward your tummy. “hey little one,” he whispers, rubbing a palm gingerly against the front of your stomach. dark, tired eyes meet yours and he bedaubs a thumb near your the print of your navel poking through your his oversized t-shirt. the cold, frigid texture of toji’s fingertips almost tickles. as he softly runs a finger down the center of your growing belly bump, a bit of flour gets against your clothes. “how are my girls? any cramps or pain i should know about?

girls,

the gender was still too early to determine but toji always pondered about how it might be a girl.

“n- no,” you breathe, moving a few raven strands of hair out of his face. everything felt different, it was as if you were walking with volumes of water stored within you. toji’s always been supportive during your pregnancy, he was trying. he stands up again before kissing the crown of your head. “you still think ‘s a girl?”

“kinda, yeah,” he utters, and a strong arm slings around your shoulders.

toji guides you to bed, not minding your cute slow waddle of a walk. “up we go, c’mon,” and he helps you up the steps, lowly chuckling into your neck at your adorable state. toji was always patient, the moment you finally reach the bed, he pulls down the fat cover so you could climb in. “…. thank you baby.”

“for what?” you slump against the cushioned sheets, slipping off your baby blue socks. toji crawls in beside you, leaning in to switch off the lamp. he still had a bit of flour on his face—and he spots you swiping some of it off with your thumb.

toji groans, acting as if the next incoming sentence was gonna kill him.

“for . . teachin’ me how ‘ta be a good househusband,” he pouts, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “i love you.”

“i love you too toji.”

“i love ya more,” and he lowers his neck to kiss the middle of your stomach. “oh, ‘n papa loves you also, little one. love my girls so much.”

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[mrsimpurity]

masterlist

(♡ - smut; ☆ - suggestive; ❀ - fluff)

Logan Howlett:

his (very naughty) lady luck (wc: 1.5k) ♡

claws and marks (wc: 2k) ♡

promiscuous (wc: 1.8k) ♡

logan with crybaby reader ♡

clingy logan ❀

logan feeling you up ☆

nsfw alphabet with logan ♡

logan with his whiny girl ♡

pervert neighbour!logan ☆

losing your virginity to logan ♡

logan as an ex-boyfriend ♡

pussy inspection with old man logan ♡

messy sex with logan ♡

logan helping you fall asleep ☆

belonging to old man logan ♡

free use with old man logan ♡

logan eating you out ♡

logan overstimulating you ♡

period sex with logan ♡

logan taking care of his girl ♡

logan being patient with you ♡

foreplay with logan ♡

logan fucking you in a photo booth ♡

letting logan use his claws on you ☆

[narizaki]

sticky notes   sakusa kiyoomi x reader

―   tags   fem reader,   fluff,   roommates to something close to lovers,   timeskip kiyoomi

―   notes   wc is 1.8k,   i wrote this on a whim so please forgive ooc kiyoomi, also please forgive any grammar mistakes lmao

you and sakusa have been communicating through notes for the past three months.

at first, you had mindlessly written down a few groceries you needed to buy on a sticky note, pasting it onto the fridge so you wouldn’t forget. it included some of the basics: eggs, flour, rice, milk, and other necessities for you and your roommate’s fridge. 

then, the next time you came home, you were greeted by a bright yellow sticky note seated next to your pink one. it said:

protein powder

lettuce

masks (the white ones)

between your full-time job and sakusa’s hectic schedule as a professional volleyball player, the two of you hardly saw each other, if at all. especially with sakusa’s new status on the olympic team. it wasn’t bad, per se, as you’d never been the closest to him — he was closed-off and, frankly, intimidating. it was like the man would go to any lengths to avoid interacting with others. regardless, his small addition to your grocery list had made you laugh. 

you checked off the items he wanted, and the sticky note was gone the next day.

from then, the two of you only ever communicated with each other this way. one of you would write the groceries they needed to get that weekend, and the other would make their additions to the list. it was effective, simple, and considering how the only post-it notes the either of you owned were offensively bright colors, hard to miss. 

after a while, you began adding little comments in addition to the list of items you needed to buy. they were short and sweet, like a thanks! written in the corner of your post-it detailing the items you needed sakusa to buy, or there are leftovers in the fridge after you made too much for dinner. you weren’t expecting sakusa to respond to them, given his stand-offish nature. so, when he did, you were surprised. no; scratch that, you were elated. although his replies weren’t anything extraordinary, just a simple you’re welcome or thank you for the food written in his neat handwriting under your own, it felt like a break in your relationship with sakusa. 

despite knowing him for a while now, the two of you stayed as acquaintances and nothing more. but, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to know more about him. and though unconventional, the sticky notes worked perfectly for this.

writing to each other using post-its became such a habit that sakusa bought a magnetic whiteboard. you were only made aware of it when you walked into the kitchen to see it set up. there was a note already written in black marker on the board, stating that the post-it notes were beginning to be a waste of paper. you made sure to write a large thanks, sakusa! with the same marker, adding a few hearts around it.

(and if sakusa flushed red at the sight of his name with hearts surrounding it, only he would know.) 

whenever your friends came over, they would question the purpose of the whiteboard. you couldn't blame them; it did take up the better half of your fridge's surface. they had a good laugh when you explained the story behind it, but some asked why couldn’t you just text each other?

and, honestly? you didn’t know either.

you knew it would be more efficient if you were to text sakusa instead of patiently waiting for his replies on the dry-erase board every day. but, if you wanted to, you knew you would’ve done it a while ago; before he even had the idea of buying the whiteboard, back when the two of you were conversing through neon sticky notes and wasting an unnecessary amount of paper. 

you surmise it’s because you didn't want to ruin your and sakusa’s relationship — if you could even call it that. texting him would forcefully pull him into your orbit. though you’ve been regularly interacting with him for the past few months, you were aware that you hardly knew anything about the man; small notes and lists only gave you so much information about a person. the whiteboard was a safe in-between — you learn a little more about him and his habits, while not forcing him to interact with you. 

well, you think, he’s not obligated to answer my texts, either. you have his number, and it’s not like you haven’t texted him before. there was only so much you could do when you weren’t home to pick up packages or forget to inform him of a repairman coming over. 

you mull over the decision, a short text already typed into your conversation with sakusa. your finger hovers over the send button, before you furiously spam the delete key and put your phone down. no, nevermind. 

your plan of staying content with your relationship fails miserably.

it’s been a hard few weeks at work, with seemingly endless deadlines you have to meet and an equally endless amount of meetings you’ve had to attend. you feel as if you haven’t had a moment to yourself in forever.

so, when you submit your most recent project to your boss and shut your laptop closed, the first thing on your mind is to go home and rest. your mind is on auto-pilot as you pack your belongings, spitting out no’s to your co-workers' offers to go out drinking. when you’re this tired, the last thing you want to do is wake up with a splitting headache and an awful hangover the next day.

you stumble into your apartment, hastily toeing your heels off. a sigh leaves you, the harsh pressure of the shoe finally being relieved. they’re thrown somewhere in the corner, probably not anywhere close to where they should be, but you’ll deal with that tomorrow. all you want is some sleep. you consider just crashing on the couch and dealing with the consequences tomorrow.

“rough day?” a flat voice asks. you jump at the noise, not expecting anyone to be in your apartment. when you look up, you’re greeted by a tall figure standing in front of you. your eyes take a moment to rack over them, not completely registering that the only other person who has access to your apartment is…

sakusa.

“huh…?” you mutter, blinking a few times to will the tiredness from your eyes. it doesn’t work. sakusa only sighs, stepping from the doorway and further into your home. there’s a look on his face that’s telling you to follow, but when you don’t out of pure shock because he’s here? like, actually here? at home? he rolls his eyes.

“come on,” he says, “there’s food on the stove already.” 

you continue to stay silent, causing sakusa to raise an eyebrow. your face is scrunched up, a hand on the wall next to you to support your weight.

“are you…am i hallucinating…?” you mumble, internally debating if you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that you’re not dreaming in any way. “i thought you weren’t going to be back for a while?” 

in response to your delirious rambling, sakusa laughs. it’s rather quiet, but you know he does. you hear the rapid exhalation of air accompanied by a deep rumble coming from his chest, and you can see his shoulders shaking. 

he steps closer to you, forcing your bag from your shoulder and practically pulling you with him into your shared living room. you’re tripping over your feet, mind still fuzzy from your tiring day. 

“leave it up to you to not be able to think properly after a long day,” he murmurs, setting your bag down on the couch. in your half-awake daze, you’re unable to form a proper response. “i guess you’re not hungry then.”

“well…” you stammer, still trying to get your bearings. “you’re like, never home, sakusa…so how am i supposed to react when you practically teleport in front of me?” you finish, a yawn escaping you. that makes sakusa laugh again. 

“for your information, i didn’t teleport in front of you,” he replies, “i heard the door open, so i went to greet my roommate. now, go get ready for bed.”

you disregard what he says, opting to groan when he orders you to get ready for bed. it just seems like so much work. you have to take off your makeup, change, brush your teeth, do your skincare…you think you’d rather crash face-first on your couch, like you were planning on doing earlier. you tell him that much.

sakusa rolls his eyes again. he pushes you towardsthe bathroom, telling you to take off your makeup, while he goes to rummage in your room for sleepwear. what? 

you don't have much of a choice, so you follow his directions. beginning with your meticulous skincare routine, you cleanse off your makeup. while you’re drying your face, sakusa knocks on the bathroom door with a fresh pair of pajamas for you to change into. 

once you’ve completed your nightly routine, you wander out of the bathroom to find sakusa sitting on the couch. he seems preoccupied with something on his phone, and you have to admit that the sight of him concentrating is rather charming. 

thankfully, the cold water you’d splashed onto your face woke you up, so you’re more awake than you were when you’d entered. you’re still horribly tired, and you want nothing but to sleep in the comfort of your bed, but you feel bad going straight to bed without even thanking sakusa for taking care of you. the only way the two of you talked for the last few months  was over post-it notes, for god's sake! 

“hey, sakusa?” you call, and his attention snaps from his phone to you. “thanks for uh…taking care of me. sorry about all that, i was really tired. or, er, am really tired.” you awkwardly stutter out. 

he hums in response, standing up from the couch and taking long strides towards you. thanks to his height, he’s face-to-face with you in no time. he’s close — maybe a little too close for someone you think probably doesn't even consider you a friend. that leads you to another realization: for someone that you knew disliked social interaction, he’s also talked to you an awful lot today.

“if you were really thankful, you’d go to bed right now and eat what i made tomorrow. you’re exhausted.” he bluntly replies. you gape at him for a moment, about to reply, but he cuts you off. “i’ll be home more often. volleyball is in the off-season now.” 

you know you should just nod and turn on your heel to go to bed, but there’s a question on the tip of your tongue that slips before you’re able to catch it. 

“so… no more whiteboard notes?” you question. sakusa laughs for a third time that night, and you think you’ve hit the jackpot in your slightly delirious state. 

he shakes his head. “no more whiteboard notes for now.”

you wake up the next morning, and when you enter the kitchen, you see a yellow sticky note pasted onto the whiteboard. on it, it reads: 

we can make these lists together now, so there's no need for either of these.

and, yeah, you think you can get used to that. 

[spencerreidenjoyer]

like the back of my hand | spencer reid x reader

wc: 1.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: needy!spencer, boyband reid loml, porn without plot, established relationship, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, mindless pwp tbvh....

a/n: had this one sitting in my google docs for a while so I finally decided to clean it up and post it. was worried about there not being any plot/story to this but my lovely friend meggie encouraged me to just send it. ily <3

You mean this with so much love, but Spencer Reid is needy.

To be fair to him, he is a twenty-eight year old who recently lost his virginity to you, but how eager he is to initiate sex is staggering. 

You’re lying in bed together at the end of a long day, both you and Spencer enjoying the quiet time to wind down. He’s finally home after a gruelling week away from you, all the way in Los Angeles to catch another serial killer. The nice thing about being with Spencer and getting to know him so intimately so quickly is that you feel so in tune with each other – both of you comfortable and content cuddling in bed and soaking in each other’s presence.

You’re sitting up against the headboard of the bed on your phone, while Spencer lays his head in your lap. You usually don’t pick up on things like this, but Spencer’s flipping through the pages of his book much slower than usual – which is still much faster than the pace at which you read, but it still has you concerned.

Your fingers run through his hair, fluffy and messy from having air-dried. “You okay, baby?”

“Hmm?” Spencer hums, sounding rather distracted.

“Something on your mind? You’re reading much slower than you usually do.”

Spencer looks up at you, blinking. His eyes are wide and puppylike, and you want to kiss him. Yet, his answer skillfully avoids your question. “I thought I was the one who usually keeps track of that sort of thing.”

“Well, yeah, but I couldn’t help but notice it. What’s up?”

Spencer sits up, looking away from you for just a moment as he considers what he should say. Then, “I wanna have sex.”

Your eyes grow wide, amused with his bluntness. Spencer usually is a little more self-conscious, a little more socially awkward, but all that seems to go away when he’s asking you to fuck. His one-track mind is fixated on you, especially when he wants you. You’re amused – he’s pushing thirty but he sounds like a monkey-brained college student when it comes to sex.

“Well, romance me first, then,” You say, giving in all too easily, because you often can’t say no to Spencer. Spencer smiles, his stupidly large hand cupping your face, and he leans in to kiss you. It’s sweet, romantic even in the mundanity of your current situation, and you hum as Spencer kisses you deeply. 

Spencer’s other hand trails around your waist, sliding down to grab your ass. You squeal against his lips. He hums, satisfied, pulling you close, grabbing whatever he can get his hands on. You laugh, “Needy.”

“Have you been romanced enough yet?” Spencer smirks, eager for you and your approval. He kisses your jawline, down your neck, like he can’t pull himself away from you.

You shrug. “I think you need to touch me more.”

Spencer’s brows raise curiously. “Now that I can do.”

Spencer cups your breast through your shirt, touching you all over with a reverence, an adoration, a desire that has your cheeks feeling warm. He leans in to press his lips to your neck, practically ravenous as he kisses down the column of your neck.

You’re turned on already, Spencer’s eagerness making you hot under the collar. You feel his hands roam over your body, making you feel special, wanted, desired. You don’t necessarily feel sexy in your oversized t-shirt and sweats, but the way Spencer kisses you makes you feel like you are – or at least, you are to him. 

“Spencer,” you gasp against his lips, as you feel his hands slide underneath your shirt, his calloused hands on your skin, the slight roughness of his fingers making your hair stand on end as he touches you. Spencer flicks his thumbs over your nipples, gropes you just a little. It makes you moan.

Then, Spencer’s hands slide down to your waistband, and he looks up at you for your approval. You nod, shuddering when the cool pads of his fingers press against the warmth of your skin, dipping past your sweatpants and underwear. You sigh, as Spencer easily pushes them off. You get comfortable with the pillows behind you, Spencer easily making his way between your legs. 

He kisses your thighs reverently, the slight stubble on his chin and his lips on your sensitive skin feeling ticklish. Still, Spencer’s hands are firm on your legs, firm in holding them apart. You shudder as you feel Spencer’s breath on your skin. He’s so gentle with you it makes you feel lightheaded. 

“Spencer,” you moan, when he wraps his lips around your sensitive clit. You’re so wet already, heightened by the feeling of Spencer’s mouth on you. You watch his jaw flex as he laps at you, mouth moving as he eats you out sweetly. It’s almost ritualistic, the way his eyes flutter shut, the hypnotised trance he enters as he goes down on you. 

You wouldn’t say you had a high sex drive, at least not until you met Spencer. Spencer didn’t seem like the kind of guy either, his nerdy, slightly awkward exterior making you very quick to assume that he would be a little awkward with sex. And sure, he was, when you first slept together, but now that he’s absolutely comfortable with you, he’s unashamed in wanting sex – wanting you. And his brazenness turns you on, which leads to the two of you fucking a lot.

You dig your nails into his scalp as Spencer flicks his tongue over your sensitive, hard clit, his motions relentless, eager, wanting to push you over the edge. You cry out with pleasure, watching the way he eats you out with a sense of pride, proud that he’s just so into it. 

You feel his hot breath on your cunt, hear his quiet moans as he pleasures you. You watch as he grinds against the mattress, just slightly, using the friction to get himself off too. 

“Darling– Baby, can- Can I fuck you?” Spencer’s voice is muffled against your cunt. He sounds desperate, needy, distracted like he can’t take his mind off of it. 

You whine, pushing your thighs to squeeze his face just slightly, like you can’t bear to let him go. You feel Spencer’s tongue retreat, missing the warmth on your pussy, and then he’s coming back up for air. His face is wet with your slick, and his big, wide eyes are staring up at you. “Please?”

You pout slightly. You can’t deny him, not when he looks like that. 

You tsk, rolling your eyes playfully. “Fine. You better fuck me as good as you eat me out.”

“I will! I will,” Spencer answers enthusiastically, eager as he fumbles with his pants. When his cock bobs up against his stomach, you giggle, amused with how eager he is for this– for you.

“Oh, you want me so bad,” you tease, unable to stop the grin on your face. 

Spencer smiles, sheepish. “I do. So badly, baby.” He cages you in, his tall frame making you feel so small, and his curly hair is messy and all over the place when he leans forward to press his lips to yours.

You whimper when he kisses you hard, eager and needy, and all you taste on his lips is you. Still, the way he makes out with you is dizzying, so intensely hot, and you don’t even care that you taste yourself as he practically eats your face. 

“Spence– Baby–” You barely get the words out between Spencer’s mouth on yours, but you wrap your legs around his waist and try and pull him closer to you, hoping that his horned-up brain will get the message. The motion bumps his cock against your soaking-wet cunt, and the both of you shudder at the sensation. 

With his lips kissing down your jaw, your neck, Spencer rocks his hips against you, sliding his cock along your wet folds, your hole leaking slick to make everything even more messy. His tip bumps against your swollen clit over and over, as he ruts against you like a horny teenager instead of actually fucking you. The friction is delicious, so good, but not what you or him actually need right now.

You groan. “Sweetheart, come on–”

“Mm?” Spencer hums, distracted. He’s never had this short of an attention span, but you suppose pussy tends to slash his genius. 

“Fuck me,” You bite, no malice in your voice. “Properly.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Spencer mumbles, only pulling away from you to look down at where your bodies are pressed together. He grips his cock before pressing himself against your entrance, his hands shaking with his eagerness to touch you. Spencer slides in with relative ease, considering how wet you are, and you whimper as the thick head of his cock pushes inside of you. 

Spencer kisses your cheek sweetly as he presses inside of you, the slow drag of his cock against your walls so perfect. He fills you up perfectly, feeling like he’s made for you.  

He fucks you hard and fast and messy, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you downright obscene. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into pounding into you, desperate to make both of you feel good. When Spencer gets like this, you know he’ll stop at nothing to get there.

Every one of Spencer’s thrusts hits deep inside of you, making you feel so damn full. Your arms come around to cling onto him, shaking with the force of his thrusts. “Spence–! Baby, oh, fuck!” 

He grunts, a needy little noise, panting in your ear. “You’re so tight. Oh, you– You feel so good, please–”

You sob as he fucks into you hard, unrelenting, so eager to make you feel good while he chases his own pleasure. His brows are furrowed in concentration, sweat beading at his temple, and his gorgeous hair is in his eyes, bouncing with each hard thrust. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer rambles, in between fucking you and kissing you literally everywhere, like he can’t get his lips off of you. “You’re so perfect. I love you.”

“You only say that when you’re inside of me,” you laugh breathily, clearly joking. 

Spencer grumbles, a low sound in the back of his throat. His mouth stays on your neck, and you feel his teeth graze against your skin. You feel him suck a spot into the column of your neck. “Don’t say that. I always tell you that I love you.”

“You do,” you giggle, holding him close, running your hand through his hair. “You always tell me how pretty I am too, don’t you?”

“You’re breathtaking,” Spencer says, sounding a little winded, since the only form of cardio he gets is sex with you. “Literally.”

“Okay, I love you so much, but I don’t know if your puns make for great pillow talk, honey,” you smile, kissing his cheek. “Now make me cum, love.”

Spencer grins, absolutely smitten by you. “Yes, ma’am.”

[ak4e7a]

ride it like you own it — enha legal line ab riding (+their extra kinks!)

cw: meandom!hee, omorashi, daddy!jay, shibari, blindfolding, footjobs, bondage, petplay. degradation (whore, slut), (pussy) spanking, tit play, everyone is a freak

wc: 1.8k

a/n: this is in no way supposed to be an accurate portrayal of enhypen. if the warnings make you uncomfortable just scroll away lmfao. wrote this for my freakhoonz and my freakhoonz only (hence legal line and not just hyung line im crying)

minors dni, 18+ only.

– – –

heeseung recently discovered what omorashi is after overhearing you discuss it in great detail on a group call with your girlfriends. of course, you don’t know that he knows, so when he’s offering you an absurd amount of water the next day, you’re just thinking that he’s being such a caring boyfriend.

which, he is, of course—a caring boyfriend with an ulterior motive.

when you’ve finally made it to your bedroom after a long day with heeseung claiming “the plumbing doesn’t work, might as well kill some time, huh, baby?” you find yourself straddling his naked torso, trying to no avail to press your thighs together. 

already feeling embarrassed, you beg him for the thousandth time to let you get off him go to the bathroom, promising you’ll flush the toilet when the plumbing works again. 

“babe, please, let me go, i promise, we can play after you let me go!”

he ignores your whines in favor of asking his own question. “where does it hurt, baby?” he asks you with feigned innocence. with a finger, he pokes your own abdomen, right over where your bladder is. you flinch, which only cues him to poke you there again, even harder. a few droplets of piss squirt out from your ignored cunt.

“h-heeseung!”

“this turns you on, doesn't it?” he smirks up at you. “dirty slut.”

“n-no!”“no?” he repeats mockingly, taking hold of your hips with a firm grip and grinding you against his abs, spreading the fluid starting to leak out of you over his sweat-beaded skin. it’s downright dirty, but neither of you particularly gives a fuck. “i’ve teased you enough today, haven’t i, lovely? why don’t you go ahead and make a mess on me? let go, wanna see how nasty you are for me.”

the rest under the cut!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿˚

— — —

jay tied you up so prettily with only the most expensive rope that’s specifically made for shibari. the material itself is pink; it’s cool and soft against your hot, flushed skin, but it’s tied so tight in a pattern that has your wrists locked tight behind your back and your tits held up, showing them off to your boyfriend. why are you tied up so cruelly like this, unable to touch your boyfriend beneath u?

well, because… you’d flirted with heeseung to make him jealous, of course.

“you touched him tonight. a little too much. so what gives you the right to touch me?” he’d growled in your ear. “you’re lucky i’m even playing with you, slut.”

“b-but—”

“shh. i don’t wanna hear you speak unless you’re apologizing to me, got it?”

obediently, your mouth stays shut until he orders you to answer him. “‘m sorry, jay.”

“jay? who’s that?”

“i’m sorry, daddy!”

he taps your hip, and you know what to do: grind your cunt on his abs.

you’re crying, incoherent babbling, unable to even beg him to let you cum because you want to prove to him that you can be a good girl for him despite the little stunt you pulled at jake’s party a few hours ago. you’ve got to be the luckiest girl in the world the way jay can’t stay mad at you for long, because he finally, finally lands a few sharp slaps on your sore cunt, saying, “cum, slut,” as he does.

and you do; you cum hard, soaking his abs until they glisten, messy with your juices.

he looks up at you with a smirk. “i’m guessing you’re going to piss me off like that again, huh?”

you smile back at him. “mm, only if it ends like this.”

— — — 

jake likes to play games. tonight, he has you blindfolded, forced to guess what body part he’s making you rub your clothed cunt against in a pathetic attempt to get off. both of you know that it just doesn’t feel as good as when his cock is nestled snugly inside your greedy hole, but he’d promised you that he’d fuck you until your eyes crossed if you just let him have this first.

“alright, puppy, sit down,” he says, his voice louder in your ears due to your sense of sight being restricted. everything else is heightened, even the scent of his cologne and the taste of his spit in your mouth.

just because you know each other’s bodies so well, you immediately call out your answer. it’s the hard bone of his knee, pushed hard against your clit to the point that it hurts a little.

“good girl… alright,” he says, adjusting himself into a different position while your hips are raised above his body. “you can sit down again.”

this one is a little more confusing because of how delirious you are with the need to have him fuck you already. there’s no fucking way he’s making you hump his fucking shin, right? frustrated, you rip off your blindfold to see his veiny forearm in between your thighs.

“needy little thing.” the thing about jake, though, is that he’s understanding. you taking your blindfold off isn’t disobedient to him so much as it is a clear display of how much you absolutely need him.

he strokes his cock to the sight of your fucked-out, drooling face, not allowing you to come near him again until he cums on his toned stomach. 

“okay, pup. come sit on me, clean up this mess with your pussy. gonna get it wet enough for me to slide right in you, hm?”

— — —

sunghoon loves you so much, he’s the type to let you try anything (within reason). so when you look at him with cute, pleading doe eyes, asking him so sweetly and shyly if you can try to ride his abs while giving him a footjob, he’s already stripped naked and lying on the bed before you can even finish your sentence.

“come on, pretty princess,” he urges you, squirming underneath your hips so he can feel your slick cunt drool all over his abs. “what’re you waiting for?”

“h-hold on, hoonie,” you mumble. you put your ankles over his thighs, fidgeting around until the soles of your feet find his hard cock. “‘s harder than i thought it would be.”

he hisses as you caress his length between your feet. “holy fuck, baby.”

“i’m gonna try moving now, okay?” you say, and he hums in agreement, taking your hands in his to help you stay balanced. he runs a reassuring thumb over yours as you start to rock your hips on him, pressing your pussy against his smooth skin. and then you feel it, his happy trail scratching gently against your clit. “aah, fuck, sunghoon!”

“sensitive little girl, aren’t you?” he coos. “keep going baby, feels so good. use me to make yourself feel good, okay?”

you nod your head obediently, wanting to be good for your loving boyfriend. as you pick up the pace, you can feel beads of precum on the soles of your feet. using this as your encouragement, you ride him harder, your tits bouncing in his face enticingly. sunghoon lets go of your hands to grab at them, kneading them in his soft palms, thumbs flicking over your nipples. this makes you cry out and squirm, your toes curling around the tip of his cock.

“fuck, princess, right there, gonna cum, oh, fuck!”

— — —

sunoo is not-so-secretly a sadist whenever he’s on top. he enjoys a bit of predicament bondage every now and then, and this is one of those times. he’s lying down on your bed, head almost dangling off the foot of it, with you straddling his bare abdomen. your back is to the headboard, where the end of your leash is wrapped around one of the bedposts. 

every time you grind forward, the leash pulls your collar tight around your neck, and when you push your hips back, the chain gives you enough slack to catch your breath.

to make matters worse, your boyfriend is stronger than you, what with him spending more and more time with his hyungs at the gym. so he controls your movements, never allowing you to loosen your collar for more than a few seconds at a time.

“grind faster, whore,” he hisses, his hand coming down to spank your ass. “or i won’t let you cum.”

“no, please,” you beg through choked gasps of air. “please, sunoo, don’t! I’ll… i’ll be good, promise!”

it truly is always the innocent-looking ones who are the nastiest. he lifts you off him briefly to reach down and pull his cock up so it rests on his lower abdomen. “there, slut, maybe humping my cock will motivate you to do what you’re told.”

holding back more tears, you cry out, “thank you, thank you! please! please, can i cum?”

“you can,” he teases. “but i’m not done with you yet.”

— — —

jungwon is your cute little nerd of a boyfriend. he might have been inexperienced, but his porn search history said otherwise. not that he was an addict or anything, but he seemed curious about a lot of things. one of the keywords that kept popping up when you were snooping on his computer was petplay.

so imagine his surprise when he comes over to your apartment to find you in the bedroom dressed in a tiny crop top and skirt combo, topped off with… bunny ears.

immediately, at the sight of you, you can see a tent form in his baggy sweatpants. you beckon him over to your bed and order him to undress and lie down.

“y-you’re…you’re a pretty bunny,” he stutters out, his hands immediately reaching to cup your ass.

you nod, making the little bells on your bunny ear headband chime along with your movements. “mhmm. seems like my baby likes it?” you purr in his ear, starting to rock your hips along the hard lines of his abs.

“i d-do.”

“mm. i thought i’d do something nice for you, since you’ve been working so hard lately.”

he whimpers, hands fumbling around you. you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when you feel your panties being ripped off you. “wonie, what—”

out of impatience, he shoves you down his abs so roughly that his cock, lubed up from all the precum he’s been leaking, slips into you, making you scream in surprise. “nngh, fuck, bunny, ‘m sorry, i couldn’t help myself!”

you guess you’ll edge him another time.

– – –

taglist: (literally just freakhoonz lmfao) @karinasbaby @enha-stars @intromortal @heeslomll @venomhee

[hxney-lemcn]

SOS — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: The one time you try to be proactive its like the world has it out for you; or, you get hurt while cleaning Ramshackle dorm and the overblot boys are the one who helps you.

tw: mentions of blood, injury, Malleus is a bit overdramatic...so is Grim.

wc: 1.8k (~230 each character)

Master List

No phone, no tv, not even a book. Not wanting to leave the comfort of your dorm, you decide to start something you’ve been putting off for quite some time now. Cleaning. You started with the living quarters, then the kitchen, then the closet. When you finished with the first floor you decided you’d clean your room and be done. Fate seemed to not be on your side, as when you climbed up the creaky steps, one step was a bit too creaky. When you put your full weight on it, you let out a gasp as the wood gave out from under you. Yes, that's right, your dorm was so run down that the stairs gave out on you. And there you lay in pain, no way to contact anyone. Thankfully, Grim came back from whatever he was doing to avoid helping you clean, you had never seen him look so horrified when he found you among the rubble of wood, splinters galore with bruises and scratches covering your skin. You also never saw Grim run so fast for something that wasn’t his premium cans of tuna. You could only hope he could find help quickly, it felt like something was wrong with your ankle and you wanted to get help asap.

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle watched the panicked Grim wearily. He was always with the Aduece duo so he thought Grim was panicked from their troubling shenanigans. Instead, he felt his heart drop when Grim sputtered your name among the words fallen and hurt. Riddle rushed to the Ramshackle dorm with Cater and Trey in tow. When he found you, battered and bruised he felt his blood boil. He knew your dorm was run down, that it needed repair, but he didn’t think that Crowley would be so neglectful to the point of it harming someone. He would have to have a stern talking to the headmaster after he knew you were treated properly. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to carry you as he…was small for the average man…but he made sure Trey held you gently, constantly asking how you feel and if there’s anything he can get you to help. As soon as you were in the infirmary being treated, he marched his way straight to the headmasters office. No way was he going to allow this to continue, Crowley must renovate your dorm this instant and he won’t settle for less. In the meantime, he’ll take care of you in his dorm, you were basically a Heartslabyul student already, so it made sense. Don’t worry, prefect, he’ll help you while you're injured, although the extra attention you get from everyone makes him a little jealous.

Leona Kingscholar

He was trying to get some rest when your little pest of a rat came bothering him. He opened one eye to glare, confused as to why Grim would be crying. Leona could barely make out what the creature was blubbering about, snapping at him to speak clearly. So when Grim finally managed to shout that you're critically injured and you're going to die and you need help, Leona didn’t hesitate, grabbing the rat by his scruff and stalking towards your dorm. He’ll be damned if you're hurt, what did you even do to get into that state? He swears you are such a headache. His green eyes scanned your dorm, finally falling upon your form in a heap of wood, your weak cry of his name making his ear twitch. So many emotions pooled into him as he noted every little scratch. Although he grumbled, ears twitching and tail swaying angrily, he held you softly, making sure not to hurt you anymore than you already were. And no, clearly your dorm was falling apart, no way in hell was he letting you go back. You were treated much better that time you both shared his room, so what’s the problem? You’re stuck with him now, herbivore. Don’t worry that silly little head of yours, he’ll make sure he clears things up with Crowley.

Azul Ashengrotto

Poor, poor Grim. As he ran out, tears blurring his vision, he cried out for help to the first shadowy figure he could. Unfortunately that was Floyd and Jade. The two eels grinned toothily, Grim once again being perfect prey…though they paused as Grim mentioned your name. Floyd asked what was wrong with shrimpy, and that’s when Grim cried out about how you're a bloody heap of a mess, dying alone as they speak. Jade quickly pulls his phone out, alerting Azul of the current circumstance as his brother is already making his way towards your dorm. Although the Leech twins can be cruel, you were not only their friend, but their boss’s love, and so when they found you, not in as dire of a situation as Grim made it be (you were clearly hurt, but not dying), they gently pried the wood off of you and carried you to the infirmary. Azul was already there, waiting anxiously, his heart dropping when he saw your state. You gave him a strained smile, and his heart broke, even with your terrible injuries, you’re still trying to comfort him. Don’t worry prefect, he and the twins will watch over you until the last scratch seals and the last bruise fades. Oh, and your dorm? Don’t worry about that, Azul will make sure Crowley pays the price for his negligence towards you. He has his ways, after all.

Jamil Viper

When Jamil spots Grim running towards him, he feels his headache growing worse. Kalim had been worse than usual with his spending, and now he’ll have to deal with another problem. That headache grows ten times worse when Grim manages to sputter about how you’re hurt and need help. Without a second thought, Jamil drops his current task, rushing to your dorm. His heart was pounding, scared of just how hurt you could be, why that was, and if he was too late. You’ve been the only thing keeping him sane lately, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do without you. When he found you dazed with wood surrounding you he dropped to your side, assessing the damage done before doing his best to pick you up. Once you were safe and sound in the infirmary, he tried to stay by your side for as long as he could. He didn’t mind the idea of tending to you, especially not with you in this state. But his duty lied elsewhere, and eventually he had to wrench himself away, but only when you fell asleep peacefully and that it was confirmed that you’d recover well. What surprised him was when Kalim told him to take care of you, that he could take care of himself for the time being (he couldn’t and Jamil knew that)...and now you were a Scarabia student, both Kalim and Jamil refused to allow you back into that decrepit dorm and hurt yourself any further.

Vil Schoenheit

Rook and Vil were actually on their way to see you when they stumbled upon a sniveling, sobbing, Grim. They watched him as he mumbled and muttered, spewing incoherent sentences. Vil stared at him with a sharp look, telling him to get to the point. He felt his heart drop when your name was spouted along with hurt and dying. Without a second thought, Rook took off towards your dorm, Vil not far behind. He cared for you far too much to just sit around when you needed his help. He hadn’t even managed to enter your dorm, Rook already carrying you out. Vil rushed to your side, moving your hair out of your face and inspecting you for anything that was death threatening. His heart continued to break as you complained about the pain on the way to the infirmary. He did his best to comfort you, promising to treat you to whatever you wish once you were fully healed. By the end of the day, he’s already finished giving an ultimatum to Crowley. If he doesn’t repair Ramshackle, then not only will he expose him, but he’ll make sure you're taken into Pomefiore and treated properly. He won’t let such an offense be taken lightly. 

Idia Shroud

Grim was lucky he ran into Ortho. The humanoid android may look small, but he’s got strength. Grim was sobbing to the point of hysteria, unable to properly communicate the dire situation. Thankfully, Ortho doesn’t need any convincing, only following the poor creature scrambling back to Ramshackle dorm. When Ortho saw you collapsed in a heap of rubble his inner alarms blared. An emergency signal was sent to Idia, and when Ortho sent the message of bringing you to the infirmary he felt a rush of panic hit him. Scrambling, he turned on the security camera footage, watching with wide eyes at you in Ortho’s arms. You had blood and bruising, dear seven what happened? His fear of your well being overpowered his fear of everything else, and he quickly ran…walked to the infirmary. He awkwardly stayed by your side as Ortho fetched whatever you needed, his eyes tracing over every scratch and cut. He felt like it was his fault somehow. You looked better with the blood wiped off though, and you weren’t in critical condition. When you jokingly mentioned that even stairs were your enemy here Idia frowned. He anonymously messages Crowley while you sleep, sending clips that could ruin his career. He won’t release them, as long as Crowley rebuilds Ramshackle to be as spick and span as any other dormitory. 

Malleus Draconia

The second Grim stumbles upon Malleus and snaps out of his hysteria. The fear of the powerful being overwhelms him for a second before he pitifully mutters that you need help. Malleus only tilts his head at the tiny creature before nodding, silently asking him to lead the way. At first Malleus didn’t think much of it, only happy that you needed his help. That was until he heard your weak whimper, then saw your frail body mutilated by debris…yeah he’s the most dramatic one. Although you were hurt you definitely weren’t mutilated. He’s also the most gentle, carefully cupping your face as the wood that surrounded you was instantly incinerated. Every wince or whimper as he lifted you up was met with profound apologies, like he was the one who hurt you instead of rotting infrastructure. Instead of taking you to the infirmary, he takes you to his room where he brings only the best healers. Please don’t try to stop him, this is for your well being, and he won’t settle for mediocre. Lilia only encourages him, and his retainers are no help. So you're stuck in the biggest bed with the silkiest sheets…actually it's dangerous that you were brought here because you're not sure you could go back to the itchy thin cotton sheets you’ve been stuck using as blankets. Though, you won’t really have to worry about that because Malleus has already made the decision to keep you with him in his room…well if you’re not comfortable with that then he’ll give you your own room and he’ll make sure it has the best amenities. Just don’t mind that it's right next to his room.

[atlabeth]

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it. 

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.  

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments. 

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.” 

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.” 

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.” 

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh. 

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.” 

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him. 

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?” 

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.” 

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.” 

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says. 

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?” 

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.” 

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something. 

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.” 

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep. 

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks. 

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.” 

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity. 

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses. 

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.” 

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him. 

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly. 

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.” 

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?” 

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus. 

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel. 

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent. 

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses. 

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.  

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?” 

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?” 

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.” 

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.” 

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.” 

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.” 

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks. 

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?” 

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.” 

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.” 

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.” 

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.” 

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.” 

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.” 

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.” 

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?” 

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.” 

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today. 

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?” 

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.” 

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.” 

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?” 

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.” 

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here. 

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.” 

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here. 

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head. 

“You don’t need to pay me back.” 

“Really?” 

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.” 

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning. 

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says. 

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!” 

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.” 

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.” 

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.” 

[saintobio]

⊹₊ ⋆🏍₊˚⊹ ON TRACK.

when being the WAG of a rookie MotoGP rider earns you the front-row seats to a thrilling race and... an unsightly amount of groupies.

▞▞ pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ genre. fluff, established relationship, biker boy au, motogp rider au

▞▞ tags. biker!sukuna, motogp rider!sukuna, sukuna rides for ducati, WAG!reader, ooc, profanity, mentions of reckless driving, jealousy, insecurities, accidents, mentions of injuries, sukuna gets a little touchy in the end

▞▞ notes. 1.8k wc. do we miss biker!sukuna? i think we all miss biker!sukuna !! bahaha the influx of biker!sukuna fanarts made me write this. and also bcos i watched motogp clips on tiktok. rbs and comments highly appreciated! :D

Have you ever imagined Sukuna as a MotoGP rider? 

Well, his passion for bikes didn’t just stay confined to the open road. He knew he was destined for more than just the city’s freeways and the thrill of 1000cc machines. He was, as a matter of fact, made for the track. 

Yes, the scary, dangerous, exhilarating world of high-speed competition.

When he had first told you about competing in MotoGP, you were thrilled for him. Truly, because you knew that the series had been his lifelong dream. Before, he was just a little boy who collected bikes for toys, and now he had the chance to make his dream a reality. So, who were you to stand in the way of that?

In fact, you were incredibly supportive—always present at his races, always cheering for him from the stands. It didn’t matter if you’d lose your voice the next day. You had to be his biggest supporter. And today was just another one of those days where your duty as his #1 fan called for you to be there and root for him with all your heart. 

Today’s MotoGP race was in full swing, and your heart pounded in rhythm with the thundering bikes tearing down the track. They all passed by in a resounding zoom! where your eyes could barely keep up from their otherworldly speed. From your vantage point in the VIP section, you watched intently as the riders navigated the circuit, your eyes never straying far from one rider in particular—Sukuna, your longtime boyfriend, riding a Ducati Desmosedici GP24.

“I’m so nervous,” you murmured, hands clasped together as your eyes remained glued to your lover. 

Sukuna was a sight to behold on the track, and he always told you that his bike was an extension of himself as he maneuvered with precision and aggression. Honestly, it must be scary to be the one riding such powerful superbikes, especially when the roar of engines alone was a symphony of speed and power that sent chills down your spine. And while you were filled with anxiety watching your boyfriend on the circuit, the red and black Ducati eventually flashed past, neck and neck with the Aprilia rider, and the two bikes locked in a fierce battle for the lead. 

You could imagine the commentators keeping a close eye as they narrated the race on live television.

But you trusted in Sukuna’s talent. His ability to escape from cops with his old R6 back in his college days was proof enough of how ridiculous he could get with his speed. He didn’t get a single ticket because he managed to outrun them all. Though, of course, that wasn’t something you should be mentioning to anyone. He wasn’t actually proud of notoriety and history of reckless driving before, especially when he recalled having endangered your life once before while you rode with him as his backpack. 

And since Sukuna upgraded to being a professional rider now, you had your fair share of an upgrade, too. That manifested in the form of being part of the so-called WAGs—or wives and girlfriends of the racers. Life as a WAG wasn’t drastically different from your previous one, except now your boyfriend was a huge global sensation in the biker community, and you had become somewhat of a fashion icon yourself. That wasn’t even an exaggeration, because every time you were seen with him publicly, people would soon be talking about your off-duty looks and outfits all over social media. 

But going back to the main star of the show, your hands clenched around the railing, knuckles white, as the race progressed. It annoyed you that the Aprilia rider was pushing him to the edge but never quite managing to overtake. Tailing the two were the riders for Honda, Gresini, Pramac, and KTM among the few.

Cupping your hands around your mouth, you cheered for your boyfriend. “Go, baby! Let’s go!”

The giant screen above the track zoomed in on Sukuna, his Arai helmet fitting the aesthetics of his big, red bike. The effortless way he handled his bike sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd. There were lots of cheering, screaming, roaring, and… well, squealing. Your head naturally turned to the group of girls nearby who were the very cause of the high pitched noises, their squeals of delight making the other WAGs around you shake their heads in amusement.

“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” 

“Look at him! He’s perfect!” 

“Sukuna, marry me!” 

“I’ll give you my number later!” 

“God, I wanna hook up with him.” 

“Girl, me too!” 

“You think we should wait outside his hotel later?” 

“Count me in!” 

Groupies. You felt a surge of pride mixed with a twinge of jealousy as you watched their frenzied adoration for your boyfriend. Literally. Your fingers were itching to gouge their eyes out. You wondered if he had ever been tempted to cheat, that when you were busy with your own corporate life outside of being his girlfriend, he might have rewarded himself by sleeping with an influencer or two. Probably models, too. Those tall, gorgeous women who often get partnered with him on ads and photoshoots.  

But the thing was, you couldn’t blame them—yes, your boyfriend was undeniably handsome, and his chiseled features and intense gaze made him a magnet for attention. A true eye-candy if you may add. Not to mention, he had the most attractive tattoos you had seen in a man. Ever. 

But he was yours, and that knowledge filled you with a sense of triumph over the hundreds and thousands of girls that were fantasizing about him.

Then, in the middle of your trance, an accident struck.

It was a blur of red and black as Sukuna’s bike suddenly wobbled after the rear wheel slipped on a patch of oil left behind by another rider. You held your breath in, praying to every saint that he remained safe, as you watched him struggle to regain control while the bike fishtailed dangerously. 

“Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh.” Your brain rattled with anxiety as you gripped onto the railings. “Baby, no. No, be careful! You got this!” 

For a moment, it seemed he might manage to stay upright, but then the inevitable happened. Sukuna went down in a matter of seconds, and his bike skidded out from under him in a shower of sparks.

“Oh, shit!” 

A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and your heart was lurching in your chest as you saw how your lover hit the tarmac. The medics immediately rushed onto the track, while you were still awestricken as you stared at the screen displaying his fall. 

“Please be okay, baby! Please,” you muttered under your breath again and again. 

A fellow WAG eventually placed a hand on your shoulders, rubbing you comfortingly. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Their gears are made for this.”

She spoke like true champ, and you knew you could put some trust in her words since she was a seasoned WAG. She had probably seen worst accidents that her husband had gone through while on track.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself. What if Sukuna sustained really terrible injuries? What if he broke a bone or two? What if he experienced a concussion? And if he did, what if he’d no longer remember you when he wakes up? Oh, Jesus. Your overthinking was the true culprit here. Yet there was nothing you could really do but wait for good news and hope that nothing too serious happened. Seconds felt like hours, and you were almost about to faint until you saw Sukuna finally standing up between the medics that surrounded him, waving to signal that he was okay albeit limping a little.

“Thank fuck!” 

“See? I told you he’s fine.”

Relief flooded through you, but unfortunately, such joy ended up being short-lived. Sukuna had lost precious seconds in the fall, seconds that allowed the Aprilia to pull ahead. And by the time he got back on his bike and rejoined the race, the gap was already too wide. 

He crossed the finish line in fifth place, a position that felt like a heart-shattering defeat after having been so close to victory.

As soon as the race was over, you didn’t even think twice when you made your way down to the paddock, pushing through the crowd and the throng of zealous fans just to reach your boyfriend. Your heart was still racing, almost akin to the superbikes that were speeding on the track moments ago, as you desperately looked for the love of your life. Only when you rounded the corner did you finally see him, helmet off and leathers dusty from the fall, talking with his team.

“Lovey!” you called out, face full of worry.

Sukuna was quick to turn at the sound of your voice, his expression softening the very moment his eyes landed on you. With long strides, he removed hi’s gloves and closed the distance between you two, and before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms, the scent of leather and motor oil enveloping you in a comforting hug.

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling back just enough to search his face for any signs of injury. “I was losing my mind back there!” 

As if he didn’t just experience a dangerous fall, he had a mischievous smile displayed when he looked at you. “I’m fine, baby. Just a little bruised ego.”

“It’s not a joke,” you whined, arms crossed at his lack of seriousness to the matter. “I was so scared when I saw you go down."

Very sweetly, he cupped your face in his hands and nuzzled his nose against yours. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m still alive, right?”

That’s true, you thought. But also… “You came in fifth,” you said, letting out a quieted sigh. 

But the Ducati rider himself was merely chuckling. Not even an ounce of heartbreak was shown on bis face. “Fifth place isn’t the end of the world, babe. I can live with that.”

You shook your head, not understanding how he could be so calm. Really. “But you were so close. You could have won!” And you’d blame it on your hormones, but you remembered the group of girls who cheered him on and decided to bring it up. “By the way, you had all those girls ready to throw themselves at you earlier. One of them even suggested waiting outside your hotel to hook up with you.” 

“Really? Where are those baddies?” he joked, looking around and trying to spot the girls until you flicked his forehead. “Ow! I was just kidding, babe. You’re the only one riding this dick day and night.” 

“Not funny.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re jealous.” He started attacking your cheeks with squeezes. 

While you, you tried your best to swat his hand away. “I’m not. Stooop—! You’re so annoying!” 

“Okay, okay!” He let out a deep chuckle as he raised his hands in surrender. “Anyway, I don’t care about them. I’ve already won the most important race of all."

You blinked twice in the same second, not comprehending his words. “What do you mean?”

Sukuna’s eyes soon softened into a teasing gaze. “I have my beautiful girl in my arms right now. That’s the only victory that matters to me.”

As much as you tried to contain it, a smile eventually broke across your face. “You’re such a sap!”

“Only for you,” was his elfish response, pulling you closer. 

The celebrations continued around you as the media and the crowd swarmed into the paddock. Sukuna held your waist tightly the entire time, all while acknowledging the people that greeted him and asked him for signatures. While in his arms, you realized that he was right. Winning or losing on the track didn’t matter because he already had you—and that was his true and greatest victory.

As cringe-worthy as that may sound. 

“I do have a request, though.” Your boyfriend focused his attention back on you, giving your bum a playful squeeze in front of everyone before he moved his face closer to your ear. “Make me feel like a winner in bed tonight.”

[bombuni]

yeah that kitty hybrid san fic drove me insane. so, i’m here to ask for a little request…

sub!hybrid!wooyoung and sub!hybrid!reader being left at home together and needy so they’re trying to please each other clumsily but then owner!ateez come back to find them like that. you can decide what kinda hybrids they are, and what goes down when they come back :3

little accidents

summary: Hongjoong and Seonghwa make a mistake in trusting their two kitties to be left alone. genre/pairing: owner!matz x kitty!fem!reader x kitty!wooyoung, smut wc: 1.8k warnings: SMUT MDNI, degradation, meandom!seonghwa, hongjoong less so, mommy kink, leash kink, humiliation kink, creampies, breeding kink, reader is in heat, background seonghwa x hongjoong bom note: anon i love u for this request and i’m so sorry i made u wait for so long. also hope u don’t mind that i made this matz instead of ot8! pls enjoy<3

It’s hard to push Wooyoung off of you, his stubborn lips persistently pulling quiet moans out of you. He’s trying to tug your shorts off, but Seonghwa’s voice is in the back of your head at every harsh tug Wooyoung gives. You know that once you start you won’t be able to stop. You’d rather remain in the good graces of your mommy today, his furrowed brows and tiny frown apparent on his elegant face before he left.

Seonghwa knows you’re in heat. Hongjoong, ever the sweetheart he is, is uneducated in the fact that you two should be separated at this time. However, they both have responsibilities and jobs to attend to. He thinks you’re well-behaved enough to resist your primal urges, at least until he can get home to take care of you. Seonghwa never realized moving in with his boyfriend would be so stressful.

A soft whine builds in the back of your throat as Wooyoung licks the skin along your neck, the coldness of his drool greeting you when he moves to kiss along your jawline. He sees every tic your body gives, remembering every little thing so he has you weakening faster. His tail wraps around your calf as you let yourself be pushed back onto the bed-your mommy’s bed-the furry, black thing sending waves of tingles throughout your body.

Wooyoung won’t let you catch your breath, “Come on. I know you’re in heat. You just-you gotta let me help,” Wooyoung has never been around another hybrid in heat before. He’s surprised to find it written on you so clearly, desperation etched into your features. He can’t help it when his hands move on their own as he watches you hold your insides as if you’re in some sort of pain, holding back all of his urge to claim you.

You try to crawl away, the control he has over you with just his body and voice too overwhelming. The patterned blanket under you reminds you of your mommy, and you flip your body over to try to crawl upwards. You don’t get very far as Wooyoung drops all of his body weight on top of your back, his hard ready cock pressing against your pussy. The feeling of it makes you whine, Wooyoung taking advantage of the position and dragging himself over you repeatedly.

He holds your neck like he’s preparing to bite you, but he takes a whiff and closes his eyes, “You smell so ready for dick, kitty.”

His voice is shaky, like he’s barely holding back. His grip on you is bruising, the hand on your hip holding you in place under him. His veiny hand holds your jaw up, forcing you to look him in the eyes every time his leaking cockhead makes your shorts wetter with every deliberate drag. You’re entranced by his twitching ears and swishing tail.

“But mommy said-“

He shushes you with an open-mouthed, wet kiss, “They don’t have to know. I’m just helping you,”

You’re losing to the desire in you, the primal need to just be bred, “Woo, I need it so bad.”

Whatever desperation was in Wooyoung unleashes with your admission. He practically envelops you with himself as his hands come down to your tits, quickly finding their way under your tank top and over your sensitive nipples. He plays with them, flicking you over and over until you keen and part from his lips. There’s really no escape from Wooyoung because even if you stop kissing him to catch your breath, he latches onto whatever part of your warm skin he can find.

One of his hands slides between you and the bed, into your panties. He groans at how drenched you are, pussy begging to just be filled and bred. He plays with your folds, teasing and spreading your slick over yourself. Wooyoung gathers it all on his fingers, bringing his hand up to his lips and sucking every digit clean. He closes his eyes in bliss at the taste, truly enjoying how your pussy is leaking, creaming, and begging for him.

He leans back into your ear, now hurriedly trying to pull your shorts off, “I’m gonna fill you up, kitty. Can I?”

“Y-yes, please, just fill me up, Woo-“

He shudders at your words, finally getting your shorts off. There’s no time to waste as he messily pulls his cock out of his sweatpants, not bothering to slip out of them fully. He just needs to feel you wrapped around his cock. He plunges into you, quickly and deeply. Wooyoung fully melts into you, possibly forever consumed by the feeling of your tight hole now. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust before he hungrily starts thrusting his hips, growling into your ears everytime he feels you clench.

The way he fucks you is desperate and raw, one goal set in his mind. To fill you with so much cum you’re spilling and only babbling about all of the kittens he’s going to give you. Just the vision of his cum trickling out of your sweet hole has him stopping, shuddering in place to try to make this last at least a little longer.

You feel him pausing but you’re way too overheated and desperate to be filled to give him a break now, “P-please, Woo, can you cum inside me? I can take all of it, please-“

That’s all it takes for him to plunge deep inside of you, his canines piercing your shoulder as his body shakes and jolts with every sputter of cum entering you.

A tiny part of you is soothed now, but there’s still a burning sensation that lingers everywhere in your body. The uncomfortable feeling starts in your gut and unravels all over you. You turn to pant and whine to Wooyoung for more, but you find he’s gone from atop you. Hongjoong and Seonghwa stand next to the bedside, Hongjoong holding Wooyoung back by the scruff as he hisses and scratches at him. By the looks on their faces, you’re certainly in trouble.

-

Hongjoong fucks you relentlessly. He groans into your ear, dick smearing Wooyoung’s cum and your slick all over. His breath is hot against your cheek as he leans over your back and invades your space. He smirks at Wooyoung when you let out a sweet, needy whine as he grinds his hips into yours as deep as he can.

Wooyoung’s shaking with need. He can’t do anything but watch as his cum is fucked out of your pussy by Hongjoong. He’d claim you again if it weren’t Seonghwa-who holds him back by his collar. His fist wraps around the leather tightly, tugging him back every time Wooyoung tries to make a move towards you.

Seonghwa’s usual sweet demeanor is gone and replaced by a demanding one, “The both of you are so fucking naughty,”

You turn to Seonghwa, teary-eyed as Hongjoong keeps drilling you into the bed, “S-sorry, mommy,”

Your voice shakes against Hongjoong’s thrusts. He picks your head up by the back of your head and Wooyoung watches as your back arches against Hongjoong’s cock. He fucks you savagely, reaching deep inside you with his member until you can feel it in your throat. The position has you yowling and clenching down onto Hongjoong, who hisses as his hips stutter in their thrusts.

You look so broken and pitiful and Seonghwa fucking loves it. There’s slick and cum running down your legs, tears streaming down your eyes, and your tiny hands hold the bedsheets tight under your palms. His breathing turns ragged, his fist tightening impossibly more against Wooyoung’s collar.

Hongjoong brings a hand down to your clit, pulling you in until your back hits his chest, “I see why Youngie can’t stay away from this pussy,”

You let out a shaky breath as you turn into putty under his hands. He rubs circles onto you, playing with your wetness as he keeps grinding you onto his cock. His other hand fondles your tit, tweaking the sensitive bud. It’s all too much, too good, too fast.

Seonghwa lets out a sharp, mocking laugh as he watches you break, “This is what happens to bad girls who don’t listen to their mommy, sweetheart,”

There’s another rush of wetness that comes from your hole and Hongjoong chuckles, “Think she liked that,”

Hongjoong lifts you by your hips now, moving you so that you face Wooyoung as he sets you atop him. You blush with all the attention, but Hongjoong’s cock doesn’t let you think. He holds you by your sides, tight and hard enough to leave welts, as he bounces you on his cock. You feel it everywhere, your entire body warm and on the brink of explosion as he perfectly fills your gummy walls.

Hongjoong feels you on that brink, “Cum on my dick, baby, then I’ll give you all the kittens you want,”

The thought of his cum swirling inside you, marking you and filling you finally sends that tingle of electricity all through you. You shake on top of Hongjoong, who follows suit and pulls you to his pelvis. He groans and stutters as your pussy tightens and sucks the cum out of him.

Wooyoung is whining and rock hard, to the point that it hurts. You’re so sweaty and cute on top of Hongjoong, freshly fucked out but Wooyoung still wants to fuck you fill of his kittens. Seonghwa isn’t any better off, but he tsk’s and pulls on Wooyoung’s collar when he feels him start to get antsy.

Hongjoong sends a sick, cocky smirk towards Wooyoung. He smells trouble, but he doesn’t expect Hongjoong to spread your pussy lips for him. The pearlescent liquid shines between your folds as Hongjoong pulls out of you and Wooyoung all but collapses. Your hole is utterly and completely stuffed, claimed by Hongjoong and he feels his entire body on fire.

Seonghwa moves him until he’s right in front of your leaking pussy, forcing him to his knees. He sends a mean, intimidating look to Wooyoung. It’s demeaning and embarrassing the way he follows his commands so easily, but he just can’t help it.

He raises an eyebrow at Wooyoung, “Well? Clean up the mess you made, you pervert.”

He doesn’t think twice. You’re still recovering from the earth-shattering orgasm you just had, but Wooyoung’s wet tongue against you wakes you up again. Your hips grind against his lips as he licks a stripe along your folds, cleaning off the essence of Hongjoong. Seonghwa’s cold hands against his neck spur him on.

Wooyoung sucks on your clit, lips wrapping around the sensitive bud and causing an intense warmth to gather in your gut. You can’t stop moving against his face as he slurps you up, the vibrations of his moans against you just amplifying the sensation. He lets you go with a pop before moving down to your entrance, hands forcing your legs open as he works you open. He doesn’t mind the taste of Hongjoong’s dick or your slick, just as long as he gets to taste you.

Seonghwa’s cocky smirk shines down on you, commanding your attention, “My perfect kitty.”

[k-hotchoisan]

save a horse, ride a cowboy

<san x fem!reader>

Choi San. Half naked. Cowboy hat. Useless ass crop vest.

Your dreams are wetter than the sweat on his chest.

a/n: no words just horny thoughts the moment choi san appeared like that in the mv and I needed to get it off my chest. 🤗

wc: 1.8K

warnings: smut. pwp, party!au, deepthroating, blowjobs, slight hair pulling, one time spanking (LMAO), orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, it's just choi san brain rot, kinda dacryphilia?, yo it's just straight up filth that's all you need to know

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan  @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf  @jeon-ify @itza-meee @Miss-Fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @owlbeforesunset @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @Haleyjoye @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @ewok7attack @yunhogrippers @kibs-and-bits @Liyahbug  @mikrausch @sophiemueller05 @lissiesykes  @yeo-arriba @luvt0kki @vic0921 @httpseungmxn

You stare down at the man a couple of feet away, his figure too prominent to miss. He’s in a useless black cropped vest, bronze studs lined up the hems of the clothing accompanied with long fringe details that hung lower than the fucking vest itself. You barely take notice of the leather pants he wore, mostly because his arms were just there—thick and so perfectly muscled. But the star of the fucking show? His bare fucking tits. The vest barely covered jack shit, his tits just basking under the dim lights, thick and perky. Your eyes shift to his face before you start flooding the vicinity with your drool. Hell no. 

San still hasn’t noticed you. Maybe it’s because of the obnoxious black cowboy hat he has on looking like it’s blocking his view or something. And he tops the look off with a simple black bandana decorated with fringes that he wraps around his neck. 

You want to wrap yourself around his neck too. 

Your hunky little crush still doesn’t seem to notice you blatantly ogling him since it looks like he’s engrossed in a conversation with Mingi. 

The sound of a desert-themed party sounded interesting to you when your friend brought it up to you but it didn’t hook you in enough to actually garner your interest to go, that was, until your friend had offhandedly mentioned that San would be there.

You didn’t put your hopes up of course, because in your peripherals, it seemed like you weren’t the only pair of eyes just eye fucking San, and so you were satisfied letting your fantasies just stay within the confines of your brain, now just full Choi San brain rot. 

And when your brain starts ringing alarms on San looking like he was looking your direction, your eyes immediately shifting to your drink. But it seems like you caught his attention. 

From your peripherals, you watch him push past people, approaching you much quicker than you had liked. 

“Hey, y/n, caught you staring”, he smiles cheekily. 

“You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you Choi San?” 

He shrugs. 

Then he mouths something, but you can’t seem to catch what, and that sentiment seems to have been written all over your face, because the smell of spicy citrus hits you, accompanied by the low rumble of San’s voice right at your ear, freezing you at your spot.

“I was saying that you’re a pretty cowgirl today.”

Shit. Fuck. 

You stare up at San, tears gradually pooling at the corner of your eyes at how fucking thick this man’s cock is. But gods did it feel so fucking good to have San’s fat fucking cock shoved down your throat like that. You watch the way his abs contract when his groans are pulled out from him, the way his nipples are so fucking hard from how horny he is making you suck him off like that. Your panties are pretty much useless at this point trying to keep your slick from trickling down your thighs. 

“Fuck. You’re such a good fucking girl for me aren’t you?” San groans, his fingers tugging harder against your scalp, forcing you to take his cock deeper. You manage to hum in agreement almost too quickly, and San only scoffs at your desperation, well not that he’s holding up any better. His eyes shut again, and he throws his head back, rutting his hips against your face, his moans going up in pitch, and when he happens to steal a glance at your face fucking his cock, you feel the space in your mouth fill up even more. 

Only curses and moans leave San’s mouth, and there’s only so much force you can use to squeeze your thighs from holding your cunt off from leaking all over the fucking floor. 

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, dollface. I can’t fucking—fuck!—can’t fucking wait to fuck your other tight little hole next”, San huffs breathlessly, his sanity dangerously dropping in levels. 

With a broken, deep moan, he suddenly pulls out of your mouth, fucking his cock with his hand instead, letting his cum spill over your mouth and chest, slightly shaking from the pleasure especially when he can’t keep his eyes off you licking his cum off his cock and the corner of your lips. 

You watch him catch his breath, and he’s so fucking attractive when he furrows his brows like that, but you decide to pull away to get some towels to clean yourself up. 

The moment you stand and turn around, San’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest, and you realise his fingers are loosening the knot on your top, and San doesn’t waste time to yank it off your shoulders. You barely have the time to process but you realise it doesn’t fucking matter the moment his deep voice bleeds right into the crevices of your brain. 

“Now where do you think you’re going babe? I said I was gonna fuck your other hole next, wasn’t I?” 

No more butterflies in your stomach anymore, it’s probably a whole ecosystem at this point. 

San’s fingers intertwine with yours, unfortunately, he doesn’t let it stay a second more fluffy when he has you on the bed, his thick fingers tugging off every single useless piece of clothing off you. San licks his lips when he’s greeted with the sight of your pussy just so fucking wet and leaking for him. His eyes meet yours, and he looks like he’s about to eat you up any second.

“How much do you like walking straight?” He asks, his fingers trailing a fucking blaze down your thighs, and you watch the way his cock hardens—the way precum from his silt is mixing with the thick cum from before when his thumb tugs against your wet folds. 

He looms over you, fingers keeping your legs spread wide open for him, his pants pulled lower, his half-hard cock resting on your inner thigh. 

“Not much of a fan”, you reply, realising that trying to snap your legs shut with Choi San’s fingers in between them was a stupid idea. 

“Good”, is all San replies before he pushes his thick cock right into your pussy, and you swear he’s knocked out all the wind from you at the way his thick cock slid in, filling your whole fucking pussy up. You gasp, fingernails digging into his arms, but he doesn’t even seem to take notice. But what he does take notice of is the way you’re fluttering around him, so fucking dazed at the way his cock feels in you. 

“So fucking good, San”, it leaves your lips as a whine. 

He exchanges a smile, “Your tight pretty pussy, and it’s all for me.”

Your eyes roll back when he pulls out slightly and thrusts into you again, and again, until the sounds grow wetter, louder, and San fucks you harder, making you wonder if you were gonna lose your legs or mind first. The sensations are completely melting off the neurons of your brain, and your hands are pressing against his chest, feeling his heart beating wildly. You feel your face flush slightly, wondering if he feels the same way as you do. 

Your thoughts are completely cut short when you feel his fingers curl around your neck, forcing you to look up at him when he lets his lips melt against yours. Your tongues meet, and you taste very light hints of alcohol underneath the sweetness. Soft moans pour out of San, and he’s only getting thicker inside of you as he lets your hands rake through his short locks.

“You’re like fucking heaven, you know that?” San whispers as he pulls back. The sweetness lasts for a second until he adds on, “And I wanna drag you down with me, baby.”

His arms are around you and he lifts you, in one swift motion, he has you straddling his hips, and you do him a favour by getting his pants off him. San pretty much kicks the remainder of his pants off, his arms pull you by your thighs to his once more, and you’re hoping you don’t drool because something about San being fully naked beneath you, only his vest barely covering his fat tits, just ready for you to fucking ride him was sending you into a fucking orbit. 

And even when you’re dripping and stretched open for San, the feeling of his cock splitting you open from below only threatened your remaining sanity. You watch San bite his lip, holding himself back from just bursting into you, also evident from the way his fingers are pressing hard against your thighs. 

But when you start grinding against him, he realises he probably isn’t gonna last much longer. 

And when his cock hits your spots for the nth time from below, your cunt flutters without warning, and the knot snaps before you could even say anything, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking tidal wave.

And San isn’t slowing down. 

His face is in complete bliss—muttering curses and releasing moans,

“Ah, fuck. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, he hisses, feeling you pulsate around him helplessly as he continues to fuck into you, forcing you to continue bouncing off his cock. 

Tears bubble at the corner of your eyes once more from the sheer pleasure the moment you feel San hold your ass down, your arms wrapped tightly around him, feeling his cock twitch and spurt warm cum right into your poor hole. Wait. Something feels funny. You swallow hard, hoping, praying he doesn’t do anything because you swear something might just break in you if he does.

“S-San, wait it’s too much-“

You’re barely holding it together, and it all falls apart when his palm lands an impact right on your ass, forcing another wave of orgasm to hit you even harder this time, a strained cry leaving your throat, your pussy completely pushing San’s cock out, your hips lifting off him as you squirt all over his thighs, San’s cum spurting out alongside the clear liquid. San watches the way your eyes are screwed shut, your tears trickling down your cheeks, the way your body violently shakes while he soothes you with his palm up and down your back, and he thinks he’s in love. 

As you descend from your high, San captures your lips with his, humming soft praises of taking him so well once he pulls away, letting you lie on his chest. 

“I guess you're my pretty cowgirl tonight ”, he teases, letting you hit his chest playfully. 

San’s arm snakes around your waist as the both of you slowly make your way to the front door, catching the gaze of the partygoers, and he leans in as the both of you walk, low enough to reach your ears,

“I’ll make good use of the bandana next time too, so tell me doll face, how close do you like your wrists to be?”

[crdteezv]

Haechan Fic Recs

[majority of these are smut > minors dni (18+)]

**For the key, when I say extreme, I mean fics that will contain darker themes.

S - Smut | F - Fluff | A - Angst | E - Extreme

Disclaimer: *Some of these didn't have a wc so I added it myself! Another thing, some of these fics can be on the darker side so fair warning*

!!!ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE AMAZING WRITERS!!!

A/N: I will update frequently and add to it if I find anything new I Iike!!!

Last Updated: August 9th, 2024

PERSONAL FAVS

pussy fiend | pt.1 (28.2k) & pt.2 (40.7k) - @domjaehyun (F) (S)

→ college au, enemies to fuckbuddies to lovers, roommate au

spur of the mommet | pt.1 (2.1k) & pt.2 (10k) - @haetrack (F) (S) (E)

→ perv/inexperienced! haechan, use of toys

thrid wheel (ft. mark) | pt.1 (7.4k) & pt.2 (13.7k) - @ncteez (S)

→  vacation setting, exhibitionism, voyeurism, car sex, 3some

pro: love: add (11.6k) - @haetrack (S)

→  perv/switch haechan & reader

stoner!hyuck (0.4k) - @calibabii21 (S)

untitled #1 (0.4k) - @neocentral (S) (E) (D)

→ noncon

[8:52] (1.6k) - @from-izzy (F)

→ established relationship au!, marriage!au, non-idol au!

can i? (3.5k) - @yutaholic (S)

→ exes to lovers

friendly competition (ft. mark) (2.2k) - @perfumejamal (S) New!!

→ bf mark, 3some

womaniser (2.1k) - @onyourhyuck (S) New!!

→ bestfriend hockey player!haechan

fix me softly (3.1k) - @onyourhyuck (S) (E) New!!

→ best friend/switch/himbo/perv/ haechan, dub-con

again & again (2.5k) - @ihaechans (F) (S) New!!

→ established relationship, sub haechan, mommy kink

nice guy (2k) - @luvyeni (S) (E) New!!

→ stalking, non consensual photo taking

anything you can do i can do better (4.8k) - @vnti-vntiety-recs (S) New!!

→ enemies to lovers/rivals to lovers

ONESHOTS

the perfect victim (2.7k) - @revehae (S) (E)

→ noncon

angel tears (1.8k) - @diorcities (S)

→ possessiveness, mirror/make up sex

my favorite pair (3k) - @goodiegoddesselle (S) (E) New!!

→ perv haechan, roommates, enemies to lovers

touch (1.9k) - @ch3rryc4ndy (S) New!!

→ husband, teacher x student role-play (18+)

play bear (1.4k) - @diorcities (S) New!!

→ established relationship, gamer haechan

impatient (2k) - @ihaechans (S) New!!

→ established relationship, jealous haechan

DRABBLES

untitled #2 (0.5k) - @sserasin (S) (E)

→ dubcon, infidelity

untitled #3 (0.7k) - @starryhyuck (S)

→ established relationship, public sex??

thigh riding (0.5k) - @babiesdreams (S)

day 14: haechan (0.7k) - @babiesdreams (S)

→ hard dom, edging, degradation

4:15 AM (0.5k) - @taexoxosgf (S) (E)

→ established relationship, somnophilia, dumbification

untitled #4 (0.9k) - @haetrack (S)

→ cockwarming, himbo!haechan

untitled #5 (1.3k) - @starryhyuck (S)

fwb!haechan (1.3k) - @pinkynana (S)

untitled #6 (0.8k) - @toniiswrld (S)

→ roommates, fwb!enemies ?, birthday sex

day 18 - toys (1.3k) - @jaylaxies (S)

→ use of toys, mutual masturbation

untitled #7 (1.3k) - @starryhyuck (S) New!!

→ established relationship, mean dom haechan

HEADCANNONS

pervert!haechan (0.3k) - @jaylaxies (S) (E)

→ roommates au

more perv!haechan thoughts (0.6k) - @thetypingpup (S) (E)

pervy!neighbor (0.2k) - @neo-percs (S) (E)

perv!boyfriend (0.3k) - @luvyeni (S) (E)