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tonycries · 3 months

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“She My Best Friend, Yeah We Not a Couple.”

Synopsis. You know it’s wrong to fuck your best friend. But how can you complain when you’re slammed against the library desk and stuffed full of his big cock like this?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, panties in your mouth (+ some other very heinous things), really fucking dirty, public sex, jealous sex (from his side), pet names (my angel), swearing.

Word count. 1.3k

A/N. My ancestors are prolly so proud of me rn. Art by @_3em on X.

“Best friend” his ass.

It’s laughable really - the way those other losers think they have a chance with you when you’re begging for his dick every night.

He’s known you since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - and right now he’s got you sitting prettily on his lap in a study room tucked on the campus library. Your needy mewls are muffled into the crook of his neck as he holds you steady by your hips, the length of his achingly hard cock nudging the line of your ass.

Panties hastily pulled to the side, your slick pools on his flushed tip, dripping along his length to his tight balls. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your racing pulse, he drags his hefty erection teasingly along your dripping folds.

God, he could feel the way your pussy was clenching desperately around nothing and it was driving him insane.

Surely that study buddy of yours could wait a few minutes. Who did that scrub even think he was? Eyeing his pretty lil’ best friend like that.

“Hngh- please, I want-.” you whisper into his ear, the heat of your breath sending blood rushing straight to his already rock-hard cock. Your needy whimpers are cut off as he subconsciously thrusts in-between your swollen folds, juices making the prominent veins along his length glisten.

Fuck, this was getting too much for him too.

“Tell me what you want, my angel.” he leans down to murmur raspily in your ear, sending a trail of goosebumps down your spine. You were so fucking hot.

That scrub couldn’t even imagine this. How perfect you were. How wet you were for him. How lustful your voice is as you sinfully whine, “I want your cock in me so badly. Want you to fuck me right here. Right now.”

With lightning speed, he’s got you bent against the cold surface of the library desk, painfully hard cock throbbing under the thin material of your panties. You gasp as his length grinds against your quivering cunt.

Having you splayed out so sinfully for him, he’s never been more thankful that the old librarian was such a heavy sleeper - probably wouldn’t wake up for a stampede of elephants if it happened.

“This shit is getting in my fucking way.” he groans out as a large hand grabs your soaked panties.

A sharp rip! of fabric sounds throughout the still air of the study room. “Much better.” he grins dangerously, harshly groping every inch of skin now laid completely bare for him.

“Please. Put it in.” you mewl, voice dripping with need for him. Fuck, he’ll never get used to this.

“Shhh, my angel.” with a low hiss, he bullies his thick cock into your dripping cunt.

“God. S’tight, so tight. Pussy so desperate for me hah- sucking me back in. She doesn’t want me to leave, huh?” he grits out through strangled moans as he sheaths himself completely into your wet pussy. Shit, at this point they’ll hear him and not you.

Warm walls squeezing him to insanity, he fucks you at a feral pace, pulling out till his tip teases your dripping entrance, only to ram himself fully inside once more.

“Ah! Hngh- It’s too much. Please!”

He would never get to know the feeling of your snug cunt desperately sucking his cock back in every time he rams into you. He would never get to feel the way your walls clamp down on him, struggling to adjust to the burning stretch of his thick cock. He could never make you feel this good.

That loser probably has a small dick anyway.

He drinks in the pornographic ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth at each harsh thrust, feeling intoxicated off the animalistic cadence of his hips, and the thick white ring of slick forming at his base.

“Shit. Always so good f’me, my angel.” he groans, your pretty moans only making him thrust impossibly deeper in a way that has you scrambling to hold onto the table for support.

His throaty groans and the merciless slapping of his heavy balls against your ass echoes across the room as his fingers dig deep purple marks into your hips.

“S-someone’s gonna hah- hear-”

“Then we must be quiet, hm?”

Before you have a chance to process what’s happening, the wet panties that were tightly gripped in his hand are now stuffed into your mouth. You moan around the large fingers forcing themselves inside, cold rings stretching your mouth as much as your cunt.

His cock twitches as he forces you to taste yourself, feeling you getting impossibly wetter. That’s his girl.

He could never fuck you like this.

Moans now muffled by the fabric in your mouth, his saliva-coated fingers move down to draw rough circles on your clit - making you yelp at the stimulation.

He knows someone could walk in at any moment - and a part of him actually wants it to happen. Let them see, he thinks. At least then those fuckers would finally take a hint.

A soft whine of his name snaps him out of his pussy-drunk thoughts, blown-out eyes now meeting your dazed ones as you lock eyes with him over your shoulder. Lipstick smeared, tears clinging to your lashes, and panties half-hanging out of your kiss-bitten lips.

Ah, actually scratch that - he’s gonna keep his pretty lil’ best friend all to himself.

“Shhh, my angel. I’ve got you.” he towers over you, pressing a trail of kisses up the curve of your spine before angling your neck to attach his lips with yours. He delights in your surprised squeal, clearly not expecting him to kiss you with your panties still in your mouth. But for you, he’d do anything.

Cock twitching, your feet almost lift off the ground as the rhythm of his hips gets harsher. He intertwines his tongue with yours, sweet slick-soaked panties wrapped in the middle. Fuck, he was going insane at the contrast of your soft tongue with the lacy fabric of your panties, hand around your neck getting tighter.

You moan incoherently as he sucks on your tongue, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth and onto the polished library desk.

It was so fucking lewd. Doesn’t matter how many losers swarm around you - none of them deserved you. None of them could fuck you like this.

Your sounds of pleasure get more and more frantic as his cock still slams inside you relentlessly, ringed-fingers continuing their abuse on your clit - getting closer and closer to what you crave.

He can feel the way your walls flutter so snugly around him. God, he’s so fucking turned on that he doesn’t know whether the heartbeat he feels between his legs is his or yours.

Neither of you have to wait long. His tongue still continues its dance with yours, around your soaked panties, as you both cum with a muffled moan.

Your pussy clenches around him as you climax him as if to milk his cock for all he’s worth. And you do, thick ropes of his hot cum painting your pulsing hole white.

Riding out both your highs, he fucks his cum into you animalistically - feet lifting off the floor at his firm grip on your waist and the sheer power of his rough thrusts.

So messy. Damn, he has to send the librarian an apology gift later - a fruit basket or something, he wonders, barely lucidly.

His mind is still foggy as he pulls his sensitive cock out, and pockets your panties for a lonely night without his dear best friend. Promptly plugging his fingers in your quivering pussy, cum smearing on his fingers, he mutters out a quick “Keep it inside.”

Walking out of the heavy, sex-filled atmosphere of the study room, he bumps into that fucking study buddy of yours - running late and clearly surprised to see him there.

With a slow smirk, “Sorry in advance, my girl made a bit of a mess in there. Hope you don’t mind.”

Hey, this is what best friends are for, right?

- GOJO, GETO, Choso, Tsukishima, ATSUMU, SUNA, Oikawa, Kuroo, EREN, Armin

A/N. Teehee *blushes like a slut*

Longfic Sunday incoming if I manage to write 6k words by tomorrow.

Plagiarism not authorized.

10K notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

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Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

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

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice.

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window.

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman.

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment.

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara?

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning.

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach.

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was…

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying .

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist.

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!"

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring.

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask.

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep.

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him.

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class. She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely.

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day.

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it.

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo.

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it.

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course.

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself.

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall.

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure.

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself.

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here.

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video.

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen.

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all.

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners.

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you.

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs.

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-"

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please."

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers.

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall.

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home.

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions.

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night.

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy??

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water.

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there.

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway.

You wince."...F-Fine?"

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?"

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice.

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further.

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together.

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand.

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee.

"You look… wet."

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze.

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed.

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression. His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds.

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?"

He's got a hand on your arm now, The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details.

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy.

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside.

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word.

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?"

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too."

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same.

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way.

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost.

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand.

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza?

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal.

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy.

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats.

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought.

"Yeah?"

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-"

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!"

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-"

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips.

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you.

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand.

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close.

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile.

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side.

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular.

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?"

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it.

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty.

"Huh. I guess they do."

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums.

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name.

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch.

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ."

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest.

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-"

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own.

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name."

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing.

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-"

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together.

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest.

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts.

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck.

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum.

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth.

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin.

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt..

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara.

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?"

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?"

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction.

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach.

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel."

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth.

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue.

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole.

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue.

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off.

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily.

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him.

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him.

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs.

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck.

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should.

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head.

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily.

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

edit: the full fic xx

#i am very very close to making this a full fic #(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao)#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 masterlist #spiderman 2099 x reader

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screampied · 18 days

Note

pls pls pls can we get some overstimulating toji, Hes whimpering so much, maybe tie his hands up 👀🙏 love u twin

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji letting you "top" him

warnings. fem! reader, overstim, whiney toji, riding him after he cūms, dirty talk, mdni.

“hmph. you’re gettin’ too fuckin’ cocky,” toji gruffs lowly, leaning back against the padded comforter. dark eyes stare right back into you as you straddle his lap. he’s buried into you, and he was just about to finish. his breaths were quick paced, huffing and puffing. white clouds of air escape his lips as he keeps dark irises on each of your fidgety movements. “wipe that smile of y’er face. don’t like when ya give me that look.”

you hum, leaning in to toss your arms over his wide shoulders. whilst he’s stretching your gummy walls out to the very fullest— you lean in to plant a kiss near the right side of his lip, soft contact right against his infamous slanted scar. a soft moan always withdraws from his lips whenever you did that. the toughness that scraps against your mouth as you plant your lips down on that specific spot. “or …what?” you tease, grinding your hips just a bit more brisker at a fleeting tempo. “aw, someone’s getting close?”

“fuuuck,” he growls out, pearly white canines sticking out near the very corners of his mouth. toji’s head throws back in rapture and he feels your hand glide down the middle part of his chest. his shaggy, unkempt bare chest—all types of scars from his work that you love to feel all over. he’s about to pump you full, the blissful agitation that pokes against his nerves makes him feral. “sensitive still,” and with a low exhale, he glares at your stretching sly smile. “don’t give me that look. don’t …. even—f-fuck..”

and at that exact moment, toji fushiguro whined.

you grow quiet. he grows so quiet, it’s so silent that you could hear a pen drop.

toji swallows, even a simple action as that was just so loud. he groans, leaning back against the fat silk pillows before he stares at you with low hooded eyes.

“s-shit,” and his voice continues to grow more . . . shaky.

it’s so unlike him, the way his words quaver from each word was so cute to hear. you even had his hands tied up, pinned amongst the edges of the bed. he was sprawled all out for you while you were grinding against his lap.

“i spoil you too much, f-fuckin’ little girl,” and he’s clearly trying to keep up his rough facade— but alas, it’s really no use.

“you’re cute when you whine, baby,” you smooch against the scar near the right side of his lip.

his mouth twitches in vexation and you watch as his eyes roll further back.

his abdomen— oh, it burns into a mild volume of arousal, he’s profusely sweating before he feels himself about to break. each time you sneak a kiss against his scar, he groans. “mwah,” you tease, treating the lower part of his face with such delicacy. toji was shooting you a look of grimace. briefly—he tried to keep up his stubborn antics, but his glare only turned into lewd eye rolls from how good you clamp against his cock. it’s so good, the saturation of your sopping wet pussy squeezing down on him tight, he’s going dumb by the minute. “it’s okay, toji. you can cum.”

“don’t tell me what to d—” and he gets cut off before he quite literally does cum, it’s abrupt. toji’s quavering underneath you as he dumps a thickset load of seed into you. “shit, fuckin’ damn,” he heaves. his breath was heavy as he’s leaning all the way back now. with a hand still gripped onto your left hip, he sinks into the weightlessness nirvana that awaited him. “fuuck,” he pants, a rough hand grasping your ass— for a solid moment, toji grows quiet and the only sounds that’s could have been made were the sloshes of your cunt accepting his seed. somehow he managed to rip off the restraints on his wrists—wasting no time to finally touch you. in the midst of still rocking your hips in a circular rotation again toji—it consists of such satiny ropes, you’ve never felt more stuffed. “ugh, fuckin’ slut. got me moanin’ for you like this-”

you giggle, gifting him with a chaste kiss. “i’m not done, baby. keep up with me, okay?”

toji’s caught by surprise once you start to move your hips again, accelerating them against him and he whines. “f-fuck, the fuck? girl, ‘jus fuckin’ came . . sensitive, goddamnnn.”

it was cute, the way his low raspy voice pitches up an octave— he’s whimpering, the rapid movements of your pussy having him practically speechless. with his twitching dick now flaccid, he’s still got a firm grip on your waist. a raw groan only then wrenches from the back of his throat.

“can’t cum anymore, f-fuck, ‘m still sensitive,” he babbles, softly pulling you by the neck to give him a kiss.

and by kiss, it was more sloppy than anything. with wet tongues moving against each other in tavern, he feels you grinding again and again.

toji’s so warm. he can feel his heartbeat coercively pulsating through his ears. your tender touch against him had him so needy. even while having him like this— he was still attractive, yet that’s when you grab his wrists, making him pin them back again. “fuck are ya d-doing.”

“no touching me, baby,” you hum, and his glare returns. with pinkish crimson lips squeezing into a scowl, his darkened eyebrows curl into a furrow. “touch me after you give me another one, yeah?”

he swallows, toji couldn’t believe how dominant you were being. it was rare to get him like this, even rare to be on top of him.

“fuckin’ brat,” he grouses, his muscles near his forearms tensing. your cunt’s involuntarily constricting around his massive length. your walls hug him tightly before he starts to pant more and more. “fine. f-fine, just kiss me again…… please.”

you lean in, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders before pulling him into a deep kiss.

he’s so sensitive—heavy, hot huffs of breaths gnashing together, he whines again in your mouth. toji shivers, feeling the print of your thumb brush down against his undercut. he groans, feeling your hips start to pick up pace again and he pulls away to breathe. “phew,” he puffs out, seeing nothing but pure stars. you rode him so good that he didn’t even have a witty comeback.

toji’s entire face was all flustered, he glowers once he sees your smug grin tug against your lips. “what.”

“you should whine more,” you pause your hips, leaning in to pepper a few kisses against his cheek. he’s so fluttered—still heaving through his full lungs, eyelids halfway open as a big arm wraps around your waist. toji pulls you close, despite how embarrassed he was—he took it as a opportunity to pull you closer towards him. “you sound so cute when you’re whiney.”

“shut up,” he pouts, avoiding eye contact. toji’s still stuffed inside of you before he grunts once he feels you starting to move then stop. “m-mhm. don’t stop though. keep going.”

you giggle, bringing a single finger to stroke his cheek. “say please, toji.”

“fuckin—” he starts, sending you straight daggers. he’d argue further but he was still deeply buried into you. just a quick move with your hips and he’d start whining again from the euphoric friction. “fine. fine, just finish fucking me, please.”

“good boy,” you kiss the top of his head, starting up your hips again and he brings you into his chest, wrapping his beefy arms around you before whimpering into your neck.

he swallows, seeping his teeth into the crevice of your neck. “shut u-mhm,” and he slumps back with a pussydrunk smile on his face. “actually….praise me more. call me that again, ‘n look at me when you do.”

“good boy, toji,” you repeat in a sweet voice, picking up his head to make him stare into your eyes—he’s still panting before he leans back, groaning, shuddering from your touch. “such a good boy.”

#★vegasbaby.#toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #cw sex mention

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oreoluvskento · 3 months

Text

gojo being dangerously loud

a/n: i know this is supposed to be a nanami focused account but hear me out... whiny gojo. that's it.

cw: cunnilingus, riding, ummm gojo being drunk and loud and his baby girl moans, semi-public sex (they're in a bathroom), i am so horny and i just need him so bad

you love the sounds your boyfriend makes during sex. he's never been shameful about it either, always loud and proud about the way your pussy makes him feel. this time, however, you wish he'd shut up.

you two are currently in your friends bathroom during a drunk movie night. you were both pretty tipsy, gojo more drunk than you and you were having a great time. all of a sudden, he doubled over, making it obvious to everyone that there was something wrong and he needed a bathroom fast.

except, when you follow him in and he locks the door behind you, there is nothing wrong with him at all, besides the raging boner he was currently sporting. your eyes widened when you saw it, but the casamigos in your bloodstream was stopping you from thinking clearly and the next thing you knew, you were getting eaten out on your friends bathroom floor.

"'toru, fuck, i'm close!" you whisper, holding his head harder and he speeds up, his tongue flicking your clit constantly as his two middle fingers are going to work. when you cum, you cover your mouth with your hand as your back arches off the floor and gojo doesn't pull away. you have to manually drag him away from you and he immediately goes for your lips, making your mouth just as messy as his own.

as the two of you kiss, he sits up and pulls you against his body sitting against the bathtub. you make quick work of his pants and without wasting any time you lower yourself on him. the last thing you expected was for him to throw his head back and let out one of the sluttiest moans you had ever heard. "ahhh fuckkk!"

you quickly slap your hand against his mouth and pray to god that no one heard that. he lifts his head and looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and low eyes, whimpering quietly against your hand at your pussy pulsing around him. "satoru, you've got to be quiet, baby, okay?" you ask and he nods, his cheeks red.

you finally lift your hips and before you could even go back down, a deep groan comes from his throat and you stop again. he gets impatient and pulls you down himself, dropping his forehead against yours as he moves you faster.

"mmph feels too good, can't stop," he says breathlessly against your palm, and you have to drop your head on his shoulder at the speed he was going. he truly was trying his best, but as the two of you went on, his whines got louder and louder until they were hoarse moans.

"im close, im close, please, please, please!" he cries against your skin and you take over, pressing your lips against his in the process. he moans into the kiss, his body going weak when you trade the fast movement for slow, deeper movements.

"you like it, 'toru?" you ask, your lips moving against his. he nods quickly, tears beginning to form in his eyes at the sensitivity of his dick but you don't stop.

"baby please- haaa fuckkk!" he begs squeezing your hips and you shake your head.

"promise me you'll be quiet when you cum," you instruct and he nods furiously, just wanting to feel his orgasm. you take his word for it, partly because you were ready to cum too, but you cover his mouth for safe measures.

you go faster now, grinding your hips down on his, and almost as soon as you start, you feel him start to shake and thrust into you himself. "ah, ah ahhhh fuck, fuck, fuck, cummingggg!"

before you could say anything, he holds you down, his head buried in your neck as he moans in your ear and your orgasm hits as well, spurring him on. "ohh shitshitshit too much too much fuuuck!" he cries, holding your body against his as you ride your orgasm out. right when you finish, you hear a knock on the door and your friend's concerned voice.

"hey, is he okay in there, do you guys need help?" her voice rings out and your eyes widen.

"yeah, he's okay, just drank a bit too much!" you shout back and turn back to look at your boyfriend. "cough," you instruct and he does just that. you reach to the side and flush the toilet and pretend to pat his back. "that's okay, get it all out."

"okay, there's some water in the kitchen for him when he's done," she says and leaves. you let out a sigh of relief and drop your head on a slightly sobered up gojo's chest.

"my bad," he whispers and you roll your eyes as you stand up.

"shut up."

#jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x black y/n

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opalici0us · 3 months

Text

I Dare You || Ryomen Sukuna

| pairings- Sukuna x fem!reader

synopsis- Two weeks of no sex is too much for poor Sukuna.

content- 18+ MNDI, smut, mean Sukuna, unrealistic car sex (classic handprint), unprotected sex, p in v, MAKEUP SEX, Sukuna is a bit rough, spit, soft Sukuna at the end, fingering, pet names (babe, pretty, my girl), established relationship

wc-2.1k

a/n: I am a whore for Sukuna :(((

Sukuna knew you were stubborn when you first started dating. You hated backing down and always had to have the last word. Sukuna thought it was hot for the most part until you guys got into a fight that has lasted almost two weeks. Two weeks of sleeping on the couch in your shared home, two weeks of non-stop belittling and snarky comments, and most importantly two weeks of no sex.

To many people, Sukuna's desperation sounded ridiculous but they didn’t get it. You two were extremely sexually active, almost fucking every day. Sukuna felt like he was going crazy, not only was he pissed and hurt but he was extremely horny. No amount of jerking off and porn can live up to your warm n’ tight little cunt.

When he’d see you in nothing but one of his t-shirts, or those cute sundresses he bought you, and especially those damn short skirts, he wanted nothing more than just to back down and apologize first so he could be balls deep inside you. It wasn’t that easy. Anytime he’d try you’d stop him.

“What are you doing…?” You immediately paused as you felt Sukuna wrap his arms around your waist, not even trying to be subtle about the massive problem currently pressed right against you. You felt him grind his massive erection right against you, a low not-so-subtle grunt escaping from his throat.

“Nothin’, you just look so fuckin’ sexy in this dress. This is the one I got ya’, right?” He whispered right against your ear, making chills go up your spine. It took everything in your body not to give in to him. His tongue ventured out, licking the lobe of your ear. A soft puff of frustration left your lips.

“You gonna apologize, hmm?” Your tone was fiery as ever. Sukuna stopped his tormenting and rolled his eyes. “Now go away, I’m trying to do the dishes.” You ripped his arms off of you. Trying your best to ignore the arousal pooling in your panties.

“God, you’re so stubborn, I don’t even know what I have to apologize for! I’ll just go fuck myself then!” Sukuna spat and stormed off to the bathroom, making sure to slam the door behind him, rattling the house.

Rolling your eyes at him, really wishing he was making your eyes roll back from his cock. You went back to your original task. As you were finally back in the zone with no thoughts in mind, loud groans could be heard…coming from the bathroom.

You drop the plate you were washing back into the sink. As if your feet had a mind of their own, you made your way to the bathroom, placing your ear against the cold door. “Mmm fuuuck, just like Y/N, wanna make a mess on your face.” You heard your boyfriend's muffled groans, the bastard was doing it on purpose.

You scoff silently, as much as you wanted to ignore him but you couldn’t ignore the heartbeat felt down there. Sighing in frustration, you squeeze your thighs together to bring some relief to your poor untouched clit. Sukuna continued his sultry groans, babbling out “Lemme fill you up baby.” and “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

Of course, when he came out he had that damn smirk on his face. The kind you wanted to slap off his face, Sukuna was truly going to drive you insane.

The two of you were currently standing inside Yuuji's place for a housewarming party. The smell of cheap liquor and weed filled the air, the scent mixed was almost sickening. Though you and Sukuna couldn’t bother to care.

“We are not doing this here, Sukuna.” You spat at him. It was barely 10 minutes of being here and you and Sukuna were already fighting in the corner of the living room. His large frame, cornering you against the wall.

“Doing what Y/N?” He spoke sarcastically, a smirk etched onto his lips.

“I mean it, I refuse to fight with you in front of your brother and his friends.” You tried to move but he leaned in, successfully trapping you.

“I’m just saying, I would have preferred if you didn’t wear this skirt here.” He said, lowly.

“Are we really going to argue about this right now?” You scoffed, an amused smile adorned your face.

“Don’t play dumb with me right now,” He grabbed your chin. “This skirt is so damn short, you could bend over and everyone could see your fucking pussy,” Sukuna furrowed his eyebrows together. “It’s like you wore it on purpose, fuckin’ attention whore, you’re embarrassing me,” He bit his tongue back realizing the words that just came from his mouth, especially seeing the look on your face. Your mouth was opened slightly, and your eyes widened. That familiar lump forming in your throat. You swiftly pushed past him and walked out of the house, Sukuna was close behind on your heels.

“Y/N, c’mon babe! I didn’t mean it like that.” He held onto your arm.

“Then what did you mean it like then?” You ripped your arm from his grasp, turning around to face him as you two stood under the street lights.

“We haven’t had sex in two weeks Y/N! We can’t even be in a room together without fighting! Can you blame me? You’re beautiful and everyone can see that, are you even attracted to me anymore?!” Sukuna berated you, raising his voice.

“Of course, I’m still attracted to you!” You defended yourself, trying to reassure him.

“Sure, doesn’t feel like it, Y/N,” Sukuna rubbed his face. You could see the frustration written in bold in his expression. “I don’t even know why we are fighting… Are you trying to push me away? Break up with me?” Sukuna looked down, not wanting you to see him look so weak.

“No! Sukuna…I don’t want to break up.” You hesitantly reached out to him, only for him to back away.

“Then why are you acting like such a bitch?!” Sukuna finally broke, his sadness turning into rage.

“Excuse me? You have no room to talk! You’re such a dick Sukuna!” You yelled back at him, feeling tears brim your eyes. “You can’t even apologize!” You looked up at him, fighting the urge to break down in front of him.

“What am I supposed to apologize for?” Sukuna stepped towards you, getting into your face.

“You’re so insufferable,” You spat at him. “Maybe I do want to break up.” You said looking straight into his eyes.

“Yeah? Then fuckin’ do it, I dare you.” Sukuna inched closer to your face, you could feel his hot breath.

“Fuck you, Sukuna.”

In a matter of seconds, your lips were smashed together, his tongue invading your mouth while your hands held onto his shoulders for dear life. His hands tangled in your hair. You bit down on his bottom lip, a growl escaping from his mouth. He removed his hands from your head to your waist, trying to be as close to you as possible. You felt his hard cock pressing against you, making you moan, instinctively you brought your hand down to palm him through his jeans.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned. “Want me fuck ya? Hmm?” He smacked your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Get in the car.” He demanded and pulled the keys out to unlock it. He crawled into the passenger seat, scooting and leaning the seat back as far as he could get it.

“C’mere pretty,” Sukuna pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle him. He slammed the car door shut, maintaining eye contact with you. His hands dipped between your legs, rubbing your mound through your panties. “You soaked through your panties, ha-ah!”

He pulled your panties to the side running his fingers between your folds. You moan loudly, his rough skin sending tingles throughout your body. He started to teasingly rub your clit, barely giving it any stimulation. He moved down your slit once again, probing your tight little entrance. Slipping two fingers inside, thrusting in n’ out at a painfully slow speed.

“P-please Kuna, feel s’ good, w-want more.” Desperate whimpers spilling from your mouth. Your hands clinging onto his biceps to keep your upper body stable. Sukuna's fingers pick up speed, creating loud ‘squelch’ sounds from your wet cunt.

“Fuckin’ pathetic, got this pussy so sloppy just from kissing.” He said cockily, acting like his dick wasn’t about to burst through the zipper of his jeans.

“S-shut up, I see t-the wet spot on your jeans.” You smirked and motioned to the spot of pre-cum, seeping through his boxers onto his jeans.

A scowl formed on Sukunas face, he pulled his hand back and swiftly smacked your pussy, making you yelp. “Yeah? You like pissin’ me off, don’t you?” He landed another harsh smack before, shoving two fingers into your tight hole. You gasped loudly at the feeling, his fingers curling into your sensitive spot, over and over again.

“I…I’m g-gonna cum nngh, if you k-keep doing t-that.” Your legs were trembling with pleasure, a knot forming in your stomach. Your orgasm was so close. Then he stopped…

“I don’t think so,” He chuckled and removed his fingers from your wet warmth. “Want you to cum on my cock, can you do that for me, ride this cock?” His tone was menacing, hiding the desperation in his words.

“Yes please, wanna feel you inside me.” A little pout on your lips. He chuckled and started to unbutton his jeans, your mouth watering at the sight of his hard length, hidden underneath his boxers. What you’ve been craving for two weeks now.

Impatiently you reached down to help him, hands fumbling with the waistband. “Impatient? Huh?” Sukuna chuckled, a smirk on his face. His massive member finally free. “Want you to ride me, you know how I like it.” He demanded and helped you guide your hips onto his length. Pulling your skirt up to your waist to watch your bodies connect.

“Shittt, s’ big Kuna.” You squeezed your eyes shut. Never getting used to his size.

“Tsk, this slutty pussy seems to take me fine all those other times, don’t lie to me now.” Sukuna shook his head, pretending to be disappointed. There was an undertone in his words. With no warnings, he thrusted up into you.

“Oh fuck!” You yelped, his cockhead kissing your cervix perfectly. “D-don’t do that!” You were unable to protest, despite Sukuna saying he wanted YOU to ride him; he's doing all the work.

“Fuck! Always so tight….shittt!” He babbled on and on. His hands dug into your waist, holding you in place so he could violently pound his cock into you with no mercy. His tip was brushing against the bundle of nerves that makes you go crazy. “Yesyesyes, ohmy- Sukuna!” Your screams of pleasure only flued him more.

“Just w-wanna fuck you good, show how I missed fuckin’ my girl.” He groaned loudly. Unable to comprehend anything but the pleasure you’re feeling, your mouth falls open, the drool spilling out, dripping down your chin. Sukuna leans up, his tongue coming out to lick the liquid up.

“Y-you’re s-so sick.” You managed to choke out. Sukuna pulled you down with him, wrapping his arms around your waist. The pace of his thrust never died down, if anything they picked up. The sudden new intensity made him much deeper than before. “So f-fuckin deep Kuna.”

Your hand slammed against the foggy window, creating a nice hand print.

“I’m sorry Y/N…m’ really sorry baby.” He suddenly slowed his pace down. His rough grip loosened, hands migrated down to your hips, encouraging you to take over.

Silently you complied, moving against him in circular motions. “N-no I’m sorry, mmph, baby.” You whimpered and pressed your forehead against his. “I s-should have just talked…t-to you.” Your body began to shake again. Your orgasm was creeping up.

“I don’t wanna b-break up.” He admits, his red eyes gazing into yours. “I love you.” He slowly began to thrust back into you, meeting your hips halfway. “Don’t wanna fight with you anymore.” He sounded so desperate.

“I love you too.” Your lips met his for a soft kiss, humming at the feeling. Your release was so close, your walls started to pulse around him. “M’ gonna cum.” Sukuna's ears perked up, he almost came just from hearing your words and feeling the way you squeezed so tightly around him.

“Yeah? Me too, cum with me baby,” He picked up the pace once again. “Milk this cock.” Heavy groans coming from him. His cum painting your tight walls, your own orgasm hitting you. Pulsating around him, milking every drop of his release. “So good baby, that’s it…” He cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your hips.

“I forgive you by the way…” You kissed his forehead.

“Let me eat that pretty pussy first and I’ll forgive you too.”

“Sukuna!”

“Just kidding…”

#jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jjk fic #sukuna fic #ryomen x reader #ryomen smut #jjk x you

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anantaru · 3 months

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GENSHIN + WHERE HIS HANDS ARE DURING IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — wriothesley, alhaitham, scaramouche, ayato x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, established relationship, doggy/office syx,ass slapping (ayato's part), dirty talk, dom characters

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱ + over your mouth

"shh, no, keep quiet… that's it, that'll help, yeah?" with how you're pressed between a muscular chest and a chilly wall, it was truly mouth-watering by how wriothesley handled you that it made you hot from head to toe, almost feeling like he could be able to swallow your body whole.

needless to say, you can practically feel that stupid, sneaky smirk emitting with a deep, focused thrust as he nuzzles his head into the back of your neck— and fuck, everything around you two begins to grow warm, neither of you can control the ache developing on your frames as your bofriend set out for a brutal pace.

you were in his office and from the outside noises, it was evident that it's quite busy in the fortress, hence why the duke had suddenly decided to take sweet precautions within this lewd situation and be for certain that nobody was able to listen to those heavenly noises you made.

wriothesley finds it equally comical and a teeny bit embarrassing by how much power you had over him.

how the lingering touch of you was enough to coax out heavy sets of breathes from his throat, how his cock would react and twitch at the sounds spilling from you, how you're grinding desperately back into his thrusts, knowing that when he reaches even deeper, offers you more of his decadent rolls of his hips, he'd race both of you closer to completion.

with pleasure, he touches you so eagerly with one large palm tightly pressed against your mouth and the tip of his cock bruises along your ribbed walls. with heavy breathes surrounding your frame, you sob into his hand as your eyes roll back, the evident contrast of hot, sloppy grinds pivoting within your soft spots and the cold wall you're being pressed against only adding to your body being doused with a sprinkle of sweat and arousal.

heavy breathing, even heavier movements, accompanied by a racing pulse took over your entire frame— only making it ten times more intense when wriothesley began to come close to his own relief, which meant that he'd shamelessly grunt against your ears, the coil stuffed deep within your guts slowly beginning to reveal itself, your legs jelly-alike and trembling while he pumps into you faster.

— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱ + holds your hand

alhaitham peers down at you with his eyes brilliant of translucent lust turning them glossy, his blessed features exuding a strong desire as soft peels of sweat slither down his forehead.

a low, throaty gasp slips through his lips when you draw him into your slick walls, your arousal seeping through each grind he'd give you before dripping along his balls and pelvis. despite the frantic lust that is evident in the tempo of his hips, tonight was more than simple "lust", the scribe was desperate, seeking out more, undoubtedly illuminated in his touch and hold, he was ravenous.

to indulge in your whole body was what he needed to die a happy man after, drown in an ocean of you as he swiftly grabs your hand before pressing it into the mattress, tightly shutting his fingers around it so you could untangle your digits from his, even if you tried, "what's that look on your face, hm?" he brings himself to say it through a tensed jaw as a harsh cry escapes your lips.

"you're so pretty just like this,"

sloppy thrusts, mindless bubbles, and kisses paired within soft pants that had held you in a daze, all you could do was hold on tight to his hand— because here, alhaitham put more effort into his hips, nasty sounds after nasty sounds coming from your hole being repeatedly filled as you dug your heels into his solid back, your orgasm soon after bursting thick upon his restless body snapping forward.

— ꒰ SCARAMOUCHE ꒱ + on your tits

with your hands moving to sensually claw on to scaramouche's back, his slicing pace was never faltering, not even a little, especially not when he's hissing from the slight pain you caused with your nails dragging at his skin— but he secretly likes it, it turns him on, yet he leans into your body more afterwards, always so eager to snap his hips further and further until he's able to trace every pulse and twitch on your puffy walls.

what else could be better than pleasuring his loved one? while also toying with your nipples standing erected, presented on a silver plate? you're too much for him, too much all at once that it doesn't matter how often you've already been intimate, he will never get used to all of this.

a rosy hue coats his facial expression with how your pussy was milking him, consuming his life more than he'd ever allow anybody to do so— and his grip gets tighter now, because the moment scaramouche sees how your body begins to react, the force of his thrusts casting upon your sillhouette, he cannot hold back the menacing grin that follows his lips.

his eyes crinkle in delight, "someone's hiding noises, i see," as his hand reaches to roughly squeeze at your breast to make it bounce from equally the impact of his tantalizing tempo and the roughness of his grip on it, "i want to hear you, louder," how he says it was interesting— both sensual and stern, as if it was a direct order, the ones he used to give back as a fatui harbinger.

at bottom, it made you arch greedily beneath him, the tension hanging heavy at each sound, each impassioned noise, all of it ultimately smoothing over fray hairs from your body with tears swelling in your eyes.

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱ + on your ass

ayato couldn't possibly keep his hands off your ass, he's greedy, it's both a comfort to have his palms squeeze and jiggle the bouncy skin and the most ideal way to keep you in your place while he's practically pulling your hips against his cock himself.

he's kneading your ass now, taking a handful before giving it a light slap, one more, and slap, just for good measure, you know? — turning it impossible for you to solely focus on one single thing, wether it was the never ending increase of speed his cock had, with his length reaching your throbbing places to stroke and tease at your sore walls, slipping and pushing against the places that would make you end up clawing at his shoulders to drag him into your greedy mouth.

your kisses are mostly tender, except when ayato was fucking you, then it's more teeth and spit than anything else and the kiss was always sloppy that it was arousing again. his wet muscle was raking over your lips before you leans into it more, practically letting him devour you, overtake the slight increase in dominance you had for a second when he heaves and kisses you through growls and bestial flicks of tongue.

his digits press into the plush of your ass the same time he grinds down on your warm cunt, wiping your juices back into your wet walls— but it all happens so fast that you cannot catch your breath anymore, and when you open your eyes weakly to peer up at him, ayato's mouth ghosts over your parted lips.

your mouth feels dry from swallowing the thick lumps in your throat and sobbing out his name on endless repeat— although for the man himself, the searing drags of his shaft pulling the trembles out of you did the talking, he needn't say much.

this night though, his lips part with a silent moan escaping him, like he has to say something.

"you're mine… this is mine," he slaps your ass before ramming himself into you, his hips bucking into your cunt before he repeats it, hushing his swears when he drives his cock back. the area on your flesh burned a little as your moans grow hoarse at every new smack smack of his palm hitting it harder, "—yet surely, my love," ayato sneers, hot breath fanning on your doused lips as he slows his hips to watch you pout at him,

"—surely you can take more?"

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 4 months

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Simon’s mind was in a daze, unable to form a coherent thought as your lips moved against his. He hovered above you, his arms on either side of your head preventing you from escaping him.

“Simon.” You murmured against his lips, your fingers tightening their hold in his dirty brown locks. You fucking loved when Simon was like this. Needy, and desperate.

Simon gave a low hum in response, his hips grinding against yours, his cock practically throbbing inside of the confines of his jeans.

His tongue expertly explored your mouth, the wet muscle massaging against yours as soft moans emitted from his lips. He ground himself again, against you, his cock rubbing against your soaked panties causing you to cry out.

You let your head fall back slightly, the feeling of his rock hard cock rubbing against your clothed heat was almost too much for you. “Simon, please.”

But Simon was too far gone to hear your soft pleas, his mind focused solely on covering every inch of your exposed skin with his lips. His hot breath fanned against your neck, before his teeth bit down harshly against the skin.

Simon reveled in the thought of marking you, images of you covered in bruises left by his mouth filling his every thought. He let his mouth move lower, his tongue tracing along the expanse of your belly.

His eyes wandered to the wet spot forming on your panties, and felt his cock twitch in his pants. The smell of you alone had his brain nearly short circuiting, and he had to fucking get a taste.

He settled his head between your legs, his mouth practically watering at the thought of finally tasting you. He heard you whimper softly, and chuckled to himself before pressing a kiss to your soaked panties. “This all for me, pretty girl?”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, your eyes flitting shut as you felt Simon’s finger pull your panties aside, giving him full access to your soaked core. “P-please.”

A small smirk lined Simon’s lips before he ran his tongue along your folds, his eyes squeezing shut at the taste of you on his tongue. He couldn’t fucking believe he didn’t do this sooner with you. One fucking taste of your sweet pussy had him fucking hooked.

You heard a small tear, and opened your eyes to Simon throwing your now torn panties to the side of the room. Before you could let out a protest, Simon’s face was buried back in between your legs, his tongue lapping at your soaked folds at a frenzied pace.

Your fingers found solace in his hair once more, giving harsh tugs every so often as Simon continued to lap at your cunt like a man starved. The sounds filling the room were simply sinful, his mouth devouring every drop of arousal that coated your heat.

You could feel his hands tighten against the plush flesh of your thighs, his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue dipped into your aching hole.

Simon’s eyes flitted shut, his cock throbbing in his jeans to the point it was becoming painful. But he simply didn’t care, he wanted nothing more than to feel, to taste you cum on his tongue.

You gave another firm tug on his hair, pulling his face even closer to your pussy. “Simon, fuck!”

It was as if time stilled in that moment, as Simon felt a rush of heat coarse throughout his body. His cock no longer throbbed painfully, instead it pulsed against the confines of his boxers, coating the fabric with thick ropes of cum.

“Fuck!” Simon cursed against your core, his face pulling away ever so slightly as his body trembled. His cheeks burned crimson, his mouth still sheen with your slick.

His eyes met yours, and felt the warmth build once again in his belly at the pure look of lust on your face. Without skipping a beat, Simon’s tongue returned to your folds once more, his tongue now coated once more in your arousal.

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue, sweet girl. Then you can help me clean up my mess.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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purplesuitcowboy · 1 month

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tw: incest (brother/sister) , dubcon (she consents but doesn't really know what she's consenting too)

A quiet gasp escaped Isabelle's lips and she watched her parents from a crack in the door. Her mother was laid out on their bed and her father was hovering over her, moving vigorously. With every snap of her father's hips, a pleasurable moan or gasp escaped her mother's lips. Isabelle didn't exactly understand what she was seeing but she felt a warm feeling developing between her legs that she'd never experienced before. Hesitantly, she touched between her legs, rubbing at her panty covered mound. She thought touching it might make the feeling go away but it just made it worse.

Isabelle heard a noise behind her and quickly yanked her hand away. Anxiously looking for the source of the sound, she looked down the hall. She relaxed when she saw that it was just Michael her older brother. He shot her a confused looked and she placed a finger over her mouth, telling him to keep quiet. She wasn't sure what her parents were doing but she felt strongly that whatever it was, they wouldn't appreciate her looking.

"What are you doing?" he whispers to her. She squirms as his hot breath tickles her ear.

She just points to the gap in the door, and steps away so that he can take her place and look through.

"What are they doing?" She asked him, peering at them over his shoulder.

"Fucking," he told her bluntly. She wrinkled her nose at the word, repeating it back at him as a question.

He turned away from them and towards her. "Be quiet and I'll show you," he replied. He grabbed her by her shoulders, turned her, and pushed her forward so that her cheek rested against the wall. He stood close behind her, his chest against her back and his hard cock against her ass. He slipped one of his hands down her panties, running his fingers against her wet slit.

"Someone's excited, hm?" He asked her, voice low and rough in her ear, as he pushed a thick finger into her tight channel. "Oh, fuck. Your little pussy's so tight."

"W-wait, Michael. I don't know about this. I feel weird," she protested. He just shushed her. "Be quite. You don't want them to hear you, do you?" He added another finger and scissored his fingers, stretching out her hole. Drenched in her liquids, he pulled his fingers out of her cunt and circled her clit. Isabelle groaned and panted at the sensations. It was weird but it felt so good. She didn't ever want him to stop. Eye's closed, head back, and mouth open, his sister grinded her delicious little pussy against his fingers.

"Yeah, just like that. Good girl," he told her.

"What's happening? I dont-"

"Just let it happen. Come on, Bella. Cum on my fingers."

Cum? She didn't know what that meant but that didn't stop the feeling from overwhelming her. Isabelle had her first ever orgasm on her big brothers fingers, outside of their parents bedroom. Michael didn't give her a lot of time to bathe in the after glow of her orgasm. Quickly, he pulled his hard cock out of his sleep pants and pulled her panties to the side, positioning himself against her entrance. He locked eyes with her as he began to slowly push his fat cock into her tight channel. He watched her mouth take on a little "o" shape and her eye roll back into her skull as she was slowly split open by his cock.

"God, look at you. You look so good on my big dick."

After what felt like a short eternity, he was balls deep. He rested his head against her shoulder as he took several deep breaths, trying to collect himself.

She was so hot and tight around him, it was almost overwhelming. Isabelle whined and rocked her hips against him, trying to get him to move. Her pussy hurt, stretched at it was around his cock, but she'd had her taste of pleasure and she wanted more. Michael pulled out until only the head of his dick was in her pussy and then thrust his hips, filling her completely. Isabelle moaned loudly and Michael slapped his hand over her mouth. He could hear their mother talking in the bed room but couldn't quite make out what she was saying. They stood there quietly for a moment, just listening. There was a grumble of a reply from their father and then that was it.

Slowly, as not to make much noise, Michael thrust in and out of his sisters cunt. Isabelle, pushed at his thigh, trying to tell him to stop but he grabbed her hands and held them above her head. They'd come this far, he wasn't stopping until he came. With his free hand, he rubbed at Belle's clit and she quickly regained her previous enthusiasm.

It wasn't long until she cumming on his cock, panting and writhing while trying to stay quiet. As she came, her cunt clenched tightly around Michael's dick pushing him over the edge. He shot his load deep into her unprotected pussy. He knew she wasn't on any kind of birth control so it wasn't unreasonable to think that she might be carrying his kid soon. The thought of breeding her fertile cunt was more than enough to inspire a second round. Reluctantly, he pulled out of her tight snatch, his cum dribbled out of her cunt and down her legs.

"I'm not done with you yet," he told her as he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his bedroom.

He laid her out on his bed. Spread out on his sheets, she was ripe for the taking. He pulled off her soiled panties and threw them onto his floor. In the safety of his bedroom, he could take his time and enjoy her properly.

"This," he told her, pointing to her pussy," belongs to me now."

#cnc fr33use #cnc k!nk #1cky thoughts #1cky princess #1cky br0ther #fauxc3st #fauxcest #sibcon #sibcest

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atsuwumus · 4 months

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ᥫ᭡ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐒 . . .

๋࣭⭑ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mature content, minors dni 18+ only. sub! deepspace men, slight hair pulling, begging, bondage, teasing, blind folding. um... did I forget something??? xavier's is a little nasty eheh (≖ᴗ≖ ✿)

๋࣭⭑ 𝐌𝐀𝐈 𝐌𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 : teehee ... (๑﹏๑//) something no one asked for but I couldn't shake this from my brain. will be writing a dom version for this idea as well!! erm... not proofread so if you find a mistake no you don't

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 : "You know the rules. No touching."

Something vibrates from deep within Zayne's chest and it sounds far too close to a moan than anything else. This is torture, he thinks, watching through a heavy lidded gaze as you ever so slowly shed another layer of clothing. You've been subjecting him to this teasing abuse for almost half an hour now, swaying your hips to the low beat coming from his stereo, prancing around him in nothing but a pair of panties and lingerie he was just itching to rip off.

"You're quite the vixen tonight, aren't you?" he murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending ice curling through your veins, a low and pleasant sound that only beckons you closer to him until you're right in his trap. "It's enchanting. If I were any smarter I would say that you're trying to get my heart racing."

Zayne's hands are icy when he plants them on your hips, firm and demanding, pulling you down right to where he wants you. He's aching, cock straining hard against his suit pants, throbbing when you finally press down against him, your cunt quivering when you feel the familiar outline of him. A hoarse groan escapes his lips as he tilts his head back, relishing in the feeling of finally feeling you again, but his pleasure is momentarily when you push up to your toes, hovering over his lap.

He blinks your beautiful figure back into focus, opening and closing his mouth several times as he searches for something to say. You had laid the rules out for him long before this little game began and he had just broken the number one rule - no touching. He watches with a lump in his throat as you step back, light little steps all the way back to the bed, spreading yourself out among the dark satin sheets.

"Oh, Zayne.." you sigh, your voice a mixture of a dreamy sigh and something a little more sensually sinister. "I don't envy your position. Guess now you'll just have to be a good boy and stay put while I play."

His hands tighten into fists as he watches you through low lashes, how your hands skim up and down your skin that he ached to touch. Perhaps this is his punishment for making you beg for it. Time for a taste of his own medicine.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 : The satin winds around his wrists in intricate lines, binding his wrists together and leaving him vulnerable in the palm of your hands. You never thought your boyfriend would agree to this, but it was surprisingly easy to get him to fall right into his trap, luring him closer and closer with the promise of pleasure.

And the sight of him wrapped up like this was one that you were determined to tuck into the cracks and corners of your mind, to remember forever.

You've made yourself comfortable on his lap, his bound hands behind your back, essentially keeping you locked in his embrace. Every now and then you can feel the gentle brush of his thumbs as they brush over your back, seeking bare skin, warmth, how you shiver with every grind over his cock. He wasn't one that ever minded messes and he wasn't about to start now, especially not with the way you were dripping over him, your folds parting a little bit each time the leaking flushed tip of his cock met your cunt.

Your forehead is pressed tightly to his, light strands of hair, slick with sweat, tickling your own but you can't find it in yourself to complain, not when it feels this good, to be pressed chest to chest. Rafayel fights to keep his eyes open, to keep his focus on your face and not the way you're making him drip. Puffs of hot air hit your face and if you focus hard enough you can hear the whines woven between them, feel how he ruts his hips up every now and then, seeking more.

"Tell me how it good it feels," you whisper, your glossy lips dragging across the heated skin of his cheek, feeling how his breath trembles and shakes. "Tell me how much you like being tied up for me."

Rafayel's spit-soaked lips part, the syllables shaking on the tip of his tongue when you press down harder against his aching cock, whimpering a weak, "I-I do-"

"Yeah?"

"Ngh- Yes. Yes, fuck, I do. I do, baby, I do so much." A high-pitched whine sneaks past his lips. "Just, please, fuck me."

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 : For a man who's calm, collected and never shaken by anything in battle, Xavier's breathing is shaky. His hands seek you out with desperate touches, stumbling over the sheets, fumbling with the crevices and dips of your hips until he finds your hand.

"I..." he licks his lips, pauses, and exhales a long breath. "I quite like this."

You nudge your cheek into his other awaiting hand as you bend down a little, a small smirk spreading across your face when you notice how red his cheeks have gotten. How you wished he could see how pretty he looked like this - blindfolded, on his knees in front of you, desperate to please.

You coo softly, watching as Xavier perks up when he feels the familiar warmth of your body spilling across his own when you shift closer. It's almost comical, how eager he seems, like a puppy wanting to please its master. You let your thumb run over the silk draped across his eyes, obscuring his vision, ensuring he wouldn't be able to see between the cracks before murmuring, "You're such a good boy, aren't you?"

A hum vibrates in the back of his throat and he nods, perhaps a little too eagerly. But you're not satisfied with just that, threading your fingers between the strands of light hair. Xavier makes the mistake of nudging into your touch before you tug at the strands, drawing a strained moan from his lips, the high pitched sound soon dissolving into a pathetic moan.

You glance down at his boxers, raising one of your brows at the dark stain that decorates the material, huffing out a stale chuckle. "Oh, you poor thing," faux sympathy laces your words as you speak. "Don't tell me you came from his a little bit of tugging and teasing?"

Xavier's cheeks are red, his neck flushing an even deeper color and he attempts to duck his head, yet the grip on his hair you currently have prevents him from doing so. Shamefully he rocks his hips up, seeking friction but being met with nothing. You tut before gripping the strands once more and Xavier has no choice but to follow your touch, up, up and up until his nose brushes against the inside of your thigh.

A long whine escapes him as he presses his nose against the dampness of your panties, inhaling deeply as his hands fly south to press against his boxers, squeezing his cock.

"Please," he whispers, his words muffled between your thighs. "Please let me make you feel good, please. Just one taste, I swear I'll be so good to you."

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cordeliawhohung · 5 months

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mafia!ghost learns that shy!reader is a virgin the hard way...

mafia!141 masterlist

Physical touch used to scare you. There was something about the way that someone else’s flesh against yours that made your skin crawl, like they were soaking up every thought and memory you have ever had. Stealing the very essence that made up the fiber of your mussels and the mass of your brain. Maybe that’s what made it so nice; why people enjoyed it. Being vulnerable, allowing someone to behold the soft meat that you hid underneath clothes to never be seen or kissed was liberating.

Things were different when it came to Simon. When he touched you it felt more like your bodies were intertwining together, where nerves knotted into one and blood mixed so violently that it clotted. It was sharing memories, whispering thoughts rather than stealing them. And you craved his touch. Craved the soft brushing of his fingertips against your arm or the way his hands gripped your hips, and you wanted more of it. So much so that you began to dream of it.

You’d dream of what his lips would feel like against your neck, teeth grazing against the tender skin that throbbed with your pulse while his hips grinded into yours. You wanted that pressure, that all encompassing weight to crush you, to grind away at you until you were open and bare for him. And you wanted more. More and more until it was too much, and even then it still wasn’t enough, always close, always teetering, always…

And then you woke up.

It always ended up like that. You would always wake up right before the ending, and you would find yourself laying in bed as a pent up and sweating mess. Usually you would roll over and pick up where your dream left off, taking care of yourself the only way you knew how with your fingers on your clit, but that time you couldn’t. Because you weren’t in your bed, you were in Simon’s.

What had been a night to binge a good TV show turned into a series of just one more episode until both of you were too tired to move. Rather than take you home, he carried you into bed where you spent the entire night with his arms wrapped around your waist and your back pulled into his chest. He wasn’t there when you woke up, but you could hear the distant sound of water hitting tile somewhere down the hallway outside of his room, which meant he wasn’t far.

Surely you could have risked it. Could have dipped your hand into the shorts Simon let you sleep in and made quick work of yourself before he came back, but the idea of him walking in on you like that was repellant enough. Caught with your hands between your thighs like a whore was a risk you weren’t willing to take. So you laid there, scrunched up on your side while your thighs pressed tightly together in an attempt to soothe the throbbing in your cunt. If anything, it only provoked the feeling further, and to make matters worse, you were smothered in the scent of nicotine and Simon’s cologne.

It didn’t take him long to emerge from the shower, and when he entered the room he was half naked and strutting around like he had never heard the word modesty in his entire life. A plain towel hung low on his hips, and the only reason it was even remotely secure was due to the fact he held the knot just below his navel. His hair was still wet and sat in heavy clumps that he attempted to brush out with his fingers as he approached your side of the bed with a smile.

“Mornin’ love,” he hummed. His weight sank into the mattress next to you, pulling you into his gravity while his fingers brushed against your cheek. “Sleep alright?”

You nodded your head and hummed in response, but somehow your voice felt pitchy and nearly whiny. You couldn’t be blamed. Not when each and every one of Simon’s tattoos were on display for you and you were engulfed in the fresh scent of his body wash and shampoo. Warmth radiated from his hand that ignited a fire that ate away at your stomach, and you found your thighs squeezing together once more as you attempted to bury yourself further into the mattress and blankets.

It was just because you had just woken up, surely. Simon had never seen you first thing in the morning like that before, and you prayed he would chalk it up to some early morning quirk of yours. Judging by the smirk that blossomed on his face, you knew he saw right through you. Like he could smell the arousal seeping from your body.

“Yeah?” he prompted, voice purposefully teasing in the most wicked way that made your thighs shift.

He chuckled at your pathetic response, and you wanted to be snarky but the words got caught in your throat the moment his hand slid from your cheek and down to your shoulder. Fingers hooking underneath the blanket, he carefully pulled it down as if he was undressing you, and to make it worse, he didn’t take his eyes off of yours.

“What’s got you all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asked, tone purposefully low as he dipped his head closer to yours.

His hand continued to run lower as he moved more of the blanket off of you while he explored your legs. And you tried to reply to him, tried to think of something to say but nothing would form properly in your mouth or your brain, so all you did was stutter. Unforgiving, Simon wasn’t making it easy on you at all as his hands drifted between your legs. Before you could stop them, you found your knees splitting apart, legs opening up as if you had been burnt by his touch.

Inviting himself in, Simon fully hopped up on the bed with you, hips settling between your legs while his arms rested on either side of your head. Spiky clumps of still wet hair rubbed against your cheek as his lips latched onto the side of your neck. Blood gushed through your veins and arteries so powerfully you were certain you’d burst at the seams, but no reaction in your body could distract you from the heavy and firm weight that settled on your lower stomach.

Simon’s towel had come off.

“Words, love,” he said, breath tickling your neck.

With so many emotions and thoughts swirling in your mind they all started to blend into one massive mess. You wanted, needed, something to help get rid of that aching feeling in your cunt, and yet at the same time the pressure inside of you built up so quickly you felt like you would pass out. Torture, that’s what it was. Needing something so terribly bad and not knowing how to ask for it.

“Simon,” you stuttered out, throat tight.

“Me?” he repeated, lips finally tearing away from your neck.

He pushed himself away from you until he was on his knees and sitting back on his haunches. You felt small laying underneath him like that, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you stared up at him, eyes widening at the sight of him. Thick corded muscles in his bicep flexed and pulled as he pumped at himself while the sticky sound of precum accompanied the movement. Looking down between your legs you saw the way he was nestled there, thick thighs spreading yours apart while the leaking tip of his cock threatened to ruin your borrowed shorts.

It was then that you noticed the silvery sheen that decorated his glands. At first you thought it was the trick of the light, some sort of wetness that just reflected back the dim sunlight that peeked through the blinds. Then you realized they were piercings. Several of them, to be in fact, all surrounding the head of his cock like a crown. You sat there in awe for a moment as you watched his fingers lazily twist and tug at his tip, length hardening with each bit of stimulation.

“I’ve got you this worked up?” he teased, which had your attention returning to his face. His free hand rested on your thigh before slowly snaking up to your hip inch by burning inch. He gripped the waistband of your shorts and gently began to pull down, exposing the soft flesh and bone that laid underneath. “Sorry ‘bout that, love. Guess I should do something to make it up to you, huh?”

It wasn’t until the shorts had nearly slipped past your pelvic bone that you realized just exactly what you were getting yourself into. More so, what you were getting Simon into. You had never had sex before, and even more, you hadn’t told him. Should you just stay quiet about it? Would he be upset if you didn’t tell him that he was the one taking your virginity? Did he even want to be with someone so clumsy and inexperienced? Vicious thoughts began to swirl around your head, and before you knew it, your hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, instantly making him cease his movements.

“I’ve never…” you blurted out before the air seemed to leave your lungs. You swallowed hard as you saw the confusion twist onto Simon’s face and you suddenly wished you hadn’t spoken at all. “I’ve never… like… had sex before.”

Simon was silent for what felt like an eternity. He slowly raised your shorts back up over your hip as he wetted his lips with his tongue. Gears started to turn so furiously in his head you feared you had broken him. Any moment he would topple over with nothing but smoke and brain goo pouring out of his ears. Instead, he tilted his head to the side as if a curious dog.

“You’re a virgin?” he said, confirming what you had already told him.

For some reason, him putting it so bluntly was more flustering than the fact you had a naked man hovering over you. Ashamed, your legs began to instinctively close, only to be stopped due to Simon’s body still being in the way.

“Sorry,” you muttered, eyes glancing anywhere in the room but him.

“Sorry?” he repeated with a chuckle. The mattress shook as he began to shift to the side where he removed himself from between your legs before collapsing on the bed next to you. Thick, tattooed arms wrapped around you as he planted a quick and surprisingly soft kiss on your shoulder. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.”

“I killed the mood,” you retorted with a whine. You wanted to thrash around, kick your legs against the mattress, throw a fit, do something because of how frustrated you were that you, once again, fucked something up. Instead you settled for pressing the palm of your hands against your eyes with a heavy sigh. “Maybe it’s for the best. I’m too dumb and clumsy for this shit anyways.”

“Hey,” Simon said, tone sounding almost like a warning.

Without so much as straining, Simon raised a single hand and grabbed both of your wrists before carefully pulling your hands from your face. He propped himself up on his other arm so that he leaned over you halfway, obscuring your vision so that you had no choice but to look at him.

“Sorry,” you apologized yet again before he had the chance to chastise you further. “I just- I want to, I do. It’s just, I get anxious and start to overthink and just…”

It hadn’t even hit noon and for the millionth time that day your words died before they ever fully formed. His eyes were just so goddamn pretty, and you found it difficult to even think when he looked at you. Couple that with the fact he was naked and pressed against you, you were surprised you even got that much out to begin with.

“Quit puttin’ yourself down, sweetheart. I’ll go slower next time,” he assured you as his hand let go of your wrists. “It’s alright to be nervous. That’s why we talk ‘bout these things, yeah?”

His softness and understanding caught you off guard, though you weren’t sure why it did. Throughout your time together he had been nothing but soft, kind and considerate. An asshole for sure, and cocky as all hell, but maybe that’s what you liked most about him. So you nodded your head in agreement and mustered a quiet smile that had him rewarding you with a quick kiss.

He didn’t fully pull away from the kiss, though. Gentle fingers brushed against the side of your face while his lips ghosted against yours in a smirk. Just like that, he had you falling apart at the seams again.

“Next time, I’ll go so slow you’ll be begging for it.”

consider this my way of edging you guys <3

#mafai!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut

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marvelfilth · 5 months

Text

Need (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: g!p Natasha Romanoff, g!p Wanda Maximoff, implied influence of sex pollen, PWP, threesome, unprotected sex, blow job

Summary: absolutely zero plot, straight up PWP

Masterlist

You finally let yourself relax for the first time in the past two days, closing your eyes and throwing yourself on the couch.

You hate stealth missions. You are more of an explosion type of girl, coming in with a bang, kicking some ass and leaving as soon as possible, but this - staying hidden, moving in shadows, and sneaking behind people's backs - this is more of a Natasha thing, which is why she is the one in charge.

You sigh, turning your head to look at the redhead. She is bent over some documents, her brows furrowed in deep thought. Wanda appears by her side a moment later, drops of sweat rolling down her temples.

You sit up, and focus on the women in front of you. Hours ago something went wrong when you split up, they came back looking as guilty as ever, reassuring you that everything was alright, and you believed them then. Now you're not so sure.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, pinning them down with your eyes.

Wanda jumps in surprise and moves to stand behind the table, slightly bending over. Your eyes narrow at the sight.

"Everything is alright. You should go to the store, we don't have anything to eat," Natasha says through gritted teeth, not meeting your eyes.

Your mouth opens in shock, eyes straying to Wanda's in search of support, but you find her in a similar state - eyes dark and jaw clenched tight.

"You two go to the store. Maybe some fresh air will help you get your shit together." You huff, choosing to walk away from the women and hole up in your room, but when you pass by Wanda, your hand accidentally grazing hers, she lets out an actual growl, the wood of the table squeaking in her hold. Her eyes burn bright red, her mouth open as she pants heavily.

"What's wrong?" You hurry to her side, cupping her jaw to inspect her face, and her hips thrust forward, her eyes closing as she whines.

"You need to go." Natasha's low voice reaches your ears, making you look at the redhead. "Leave, before it's too late."

You blink and take a step back, concern swirling in your chest. "What is going on? Let me help."

Wanda takes a deep breath, her hands trembling as she reaches for your hand.

"Wanda," Natasha warns, her tone steel-like, but Wanda pays her no mind, her fingers hot on your arm as she pulls you flush against her front, burrowing her nose in the back of your neck and grinding her hips against your backside, her rock hard cock straining in the confines of her pants.

You gasp, unconsciously arching your back to meet her messy humps, her hands curling around your waist, her mouth hot on your neck. "W-wanda."

Natasha walks around the table and you finally see her fully, see the bulge in her pants, see the veins in her tense forearms. "Leave," she croaks, "before we completely lose control."

You let an involuntary whimper, the sound making Natasha pounce on you with animalistic need. Her lips are on yours, enveloping you in their warmth, her hands are rough on your hips, squeezing and tugging you away from the other woman, but Wanda doesn't budge, growling against your neck and holding on to your waist.

Natasha stumbles back, breathless, and closes her eyes tightly, her fists clenched tight. "This is your last chance. If you don't leave now, we'll take it as your permission to do whatever we want to you."

Wanda hums against the slope of your neck, nipping and sucking on the tender skin, her hot tongue soothing the sting. You gulp, head falling back against her shoulder.

"Use me," you whisper, "do whatever you want."

Natasha's eyes flash, and then she's pushing you down to your knees. Your mouth falls open as her pants and underwear slide down her legs. Her fat cock stands proudly against her stomach, precum leaking down the tip. You barely have enough time to wet your lips before she pushes it down your throat, holding your face between her hands and fucking your mouth like her life depends on it. She throws her head back, strands of her fiery red hair framing her face as she loses herself in her desire.

Wanda mewls beside you, and you glance at her, eyes widening when you see her straining cock in her fist. She pumps it fast, her eyes on you, and you reach out, your fingers wrapping around the length. She closes her eyes, her hands settle on your shoulders as you slowly jerk her off, your throat burning from Natasha's cock. She pulls away to let you take a breath, but you don't have enough time for that - Wanda immediately takes her place, shoving herself into your mouth, her balls slapping against your chin.

You blink back tears, trying to relax your throat, but still gagging on her length.

"M'sorry, detka," she murmurs, "you'll have to take it all."

Natasha taps her tip on your cheek, her fingers tangling in your hair. You pull away, finally allowed to breathe properly, and clench your thighs at the sight of their cocks in front of your face, your wetness staining your sleep shorts as you subtly grind on your heel.

Natasha growls, and then you're pulled off the floor and thrown over the spy's shoulder. She carries you to her bedroom with ease, and throws you on the bed. Wanda hurriedly tugs off your clothes, almost ripping your underwear in haste to get you naked. Natasha is on you the second you're laid bare, ready to claim your most vulnerable part. You spread your legs, bending them at your knees, your thighs wet with your arousal. Natasha tugs you closer, and forces you on your hands and knees.

"Better," she husks, the tip of her cock pushing between your folds and into your tight heat, your walls clenching tightly around her shaft. She moans, thrusting balls deep, "Such a good pussy, taking me like a good slut."

You cry out, mouth falling wide open, and see Wanda settle in front of you, her cock still wet with your spit. She takes hold of your jaw and pushes your head down, simultaneously thrusting her cock deep inside your throat. "Fuck, Nat, we should've done this sooner."

They fuck you like you're a common whore, using your holes to their liking, Wanda's balls slapping against your chin, Natasha's palms placed possessively on your ass. You gag on the witch's shaft, tears streaming down your face, but she's too far gone in her pleasure to notice, hips snapping faster with each thrust. Natasha's length spreads your cunt almost painfully, the tip of her thick cock pushing against your cervix with each rough thrust.

Your moans send vibrations through Wanda's length, making the young witch cry out, her abs taut with tension, fingers pulling at your hair harshly. She comes down your throat with a loud moan, making you gag on her cum. You pull away, struggling to swallow the load that leaks all over your face and chest.

Natasha's thrusts become erratic as she gets closer to her own release, her fat cock sloshing in your wetness.

"Tasha- ah, please," you gasp, and she flips you on your back, changing the angle.

"Louder, baby," she pants, snapping her hips faster, her fingers leaving bruises on your hips. "I want everyone to know what a cock slut you are." Her dirty words make your head spin, your walls clenching around her thickness, trying to swallow her in.

Wanda throws one led over your stomach, now hovering over you, and pushes your breasts together before thrusting her cock between them. You eagerly open your mouth, welcoming the reddened tip. She whines and mewls as she plays with your breasts, her thumbs stroking your nipples, ready to come again just from the sight below her.

Your legs are spread wider before they're thrown over Nat's shoulders. She presses her palm against the bulge in your belly, making you scream, "Yes! Ah- Nat… Yes, yes, yes- deeper, I need you deeper."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she thrusts one last time, releasing a load of cum into your clenching heat. The pressure inside you releases as you're hit by the most powerful orgasm you've ever had. A few seconds later Wanda follows, forcing your jaw open and thrusting the tip of her cock inside. This time you swallow it all.

She falls on the bed beside you, her body glistening with sweat as you both catch your breath. Natasha slowly pulls out, gently massaging your thighs before taking place on your other side.

"We're not done," she whispers against your ear, her palm cupping your pussy. "We're not done until we've used every single one of your holes. And after that we'll go back to the compound, and we'll do it again and again and again."

Wanda nods, grinning wolfishly, and settles over you, her cock on your lower stomach, ready to fulfill Natasha's promise.

You gulp and spread your legs wider, ready to give them everything.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x you #black widow x reader #scarlet witch x reader

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 18 days

Text

sometimes i long to eat you up ; ryōmen sukuna

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

word count; 6.0k

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

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

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, soft and hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen. dyeing the open space in a golden glow, like something out of a summery daydream.

as you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily. stumbling towards your target.

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

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

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

(he never quite succeeds.)

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest.

but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still. his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

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

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

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly. he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue — but never once pushes you off.

all sukuna does is caress your arm, absentmindedly, where it rests around his midsection. still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron.

but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking. of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice. so you part your lips.

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

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

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

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

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

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills, for a moment. only barely, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try.

ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

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

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

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out like a sleepy cat. ”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

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

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body.

”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

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

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

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

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

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a smile. he sounds cute when he gets riled up. ”aw. i like it, though...”

a moment passes.

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

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

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something akin to pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content.

finally, the kitchen falls silent. only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears, until that dwindles out too. a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks.

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic.

he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more. absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

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

”… can i?”

sukuna clicks his tongue.

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

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons.

then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing a little on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the flowers by the windowsill. he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it, glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

maybe later.

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing at his waist affectionately. taking a sip of the bitter brew.

a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning. the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words.

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

your stomach is growling.

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

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

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

only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, a bit, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would eventually forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind.

you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise. you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

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

a sigh slips from your lips. your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes.

”my offer still stands, you know?”

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

”he spoils you, huh?”

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

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

if only you hadn’t forgotten it…

”you’re a klutz.”

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

you raise your head.

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

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your silent stupor — unable to do anything but look at him. like he just fell out of the sky.

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

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

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

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

(his eyes soften.)

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

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting. ”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment.

a smile sprouts on your lips. you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have.

”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. meeting his gaze. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him.

it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

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

(but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.)

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

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

and it’s finally time. with an eager kind of giddiness, you begin to unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp.

the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri. they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds. you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun seeping in through the window behind you — it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

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

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

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

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

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue.

the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile.

there’s love, in this, in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients and seasonings, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue.

the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty. there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again — but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes. his love.

god, you can’t wait to get home.

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

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

not to mention the food.

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

all your favorites.

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

but all you can do is stare.

”sukuna…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”okay, okay!”

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

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he took.

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

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?”

a curt nod is all you get.

it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile; fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice.

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

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, leaving his homemade ice cream in the freezer for later. cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil.

there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease. and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

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

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream.

sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with. he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

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

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

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

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating.

he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever; but there’s no way you’d ever sit still for so long.

so he carries you to bed. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

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

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

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

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

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

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

”i hold you all the time.”

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

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

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

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

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

you know he’s weak to them.

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

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

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

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

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

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad.

(it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe. but he brushes the thought away.)

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

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

you blink.

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

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

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them.

he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails.

a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy — far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.

(you chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life. one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. but you don’t need to know that, so he doesn’t say it. he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue.

he squeezes your palm.

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

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

he hums; a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway.

”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

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

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate.

”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom.

”sweet dreams, count dracula!”

he throws a glance over his shoulder, meeting your crinkled eyes. ”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

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

when he returns, half an hour later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths the words into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure.

but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize how much you mean to him.

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

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

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

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands.

because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

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

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

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

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

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heart4gyu · 24 days

Text

wet dreamz || sim jaeyun x reader

note: 18+ mdni!! y’all know the song lol changed it up a lil for the story tho :P this turned out longer than i expected and maybe needs a part two (??? lmk) also this is my first time writing full smut so i hope it’s not too bad and that y’all enjoy anyway okayy gn :3 not proofread sorry!! | pt.2 here |

this had honestly never happened to jake before; waking up in his bed, heart racing, covered in sweat, and pants soaked.

he just couldn’t help it though.

you hadn’t even noticed him before you got partnered up for a project. but him? oh, his eyes were on you the second you walked through that door on the first day of class.

how pretty you looked laughing with your friends. the sweet smell of your perfume as you walked past. the way you always got the answers right when you got called on. it started off so innocent, just a little campus crush.

after you became partners, everything changed though. the project went perfectly, of course, with both of you acing the class it was easy. but after it was over, you didn’t go back to sitting with your friends like jake thought you would. you stayed there, right next to him, every day.

you became friends. you exchanged phone numbers and you hung out quite often in the library or student center. the more time you spent together, the more jake’s want for you grew.

jake just didn’t understand how you could be so effortlessly perfect for him though.

you, on the other hand, knew exactly what you were doing. you’d observed jake long enough to know that he’s probably never made it past second base with a girl.

the way he’d turn red when you’d scoot over touching your thighs to his. the way his mouth went dry when you’d lean over his desk in a very low cut shirt. even the way he’d stare at your lips after you applied your lip gloss.

all the things you purposefully did to get his attention. because obviously how could you not go after him, he was just your type. sweet, nerdy guy who was also extremely hot.

and so far, you were doing an excellent job at it. but you were getting a little impatient with him, so you decided to tell him about this loser guy who took you out the other day. and fuck it, you decided to slip it into the conversation that he couldn’t even make you finish.

you smiled when the text bubbles appeared and disappeared over and over again. how cute.

jakeyjakey: don’t let someone like that take you out again.

you: ikr. need to find someone who can get the job done…

jakeyjakey: if you gave me the chance y/n, i’d show you a great time.

it definitely wasn’t expected but who were you to complain when this is exactly what you wanted. so you let him know that your roommate would be gone visiting family this weekend & that maybe he should come over…

so he went to bed that night, thinking about the weekend coming up. thinking about you.

and he had a sweet, sweet dream. it was so realistic too. the way your pillows smelled like you as he laid back on them with you on his lap. how soft your thighs were as his fingers grazed over them. your eyes darker than he’s ever seen them, and your voice so quiet he could barely hear it over his heartbeat.

he felt the coil in his stomach tighten the second your lips were on his. you tasted like strawberries (or at least that’s what he thought you’d taste like because of your pink gloss).

you held his face gently as you kissed him. and your tongue slipped inside his mouth so easily when he let out a deep moan for you. his eyes squeezed shut as he felt you grind down on him. your pace speeding up the longer his lips were on yours.

“jake,” you panted, he didn’t know he could want to hear your voice more but you proved him wrong with the way you sounded right now. “can you touch me?”

he could’ve came right then but he took a deep breath to compose himself and nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. he dragged his hands up your thighs and under your skirt, stopping at your ass to give it a squeeze to which you let out a whine.

giving his confidence a boost, he kept going up with one of his hands, pressing down on your lower back to close the small distance between your bodies and grinding up into you.

he broke the kiss to look down between your bodies and saw your hands working on unbuttoning his pants. he didn’t know how his breathing could become even more ragged but it did. especially so when he felt your cold hands pull his cock out of his pants, and he had to look away. he squeezed his eyes shut trying to focus but how could he with your delicate hands stroking him so perfectly.

“jakey, you said you’d show me a good time,” you said, looking up at him with those irresistible eyes of yours. fuck, fuck was all jake could think as he rolled you over, positioning himself between your legs.

“i know i did, angel,” he whispered by your ear, placing a kiss right below it. he reached under your skirt, then pulled your underwear all the way down your legs. “i’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

he lined himself up quickly, not wanting to look like he’d never done this before. then he leaned down for a quick peck making you smile into the kiss and hearing that pretty little laugh he loves to hear. now he could push in gently and it was easier than he thought it’d be.

there was still resistance though because you were tight. so tight he had to drop his head down beside you and just breathe for a second. he could honestly just stay here forever, his cock buried so deep in you. he loved the feeling more than he expected.

you placed a hand on the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, your other hand soothing his arm that supported his weight above you. and he wanted this you always, every day, never wanted to hear you talk about another man again.

so he started thrusting into you, slow but hard thrusts. with you squeezing his arm, pulling on his hair, and moaning out his name, he was a goner for sure. “yes, that’s what i wanna hear,” he said, lips on yours as he kissed you again.

he kissed on your neck, and brought his hand down to rub circles on your clit just like in the videos he studied for you. he never heard your voice this loud before, couldn’t believe the way you looked with your head thrown back as you came around him.

he was close now too, knew his thrusts were getting sloppier. but you wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. “god, you’re so good for me,” he whined.

“i’m so close,” he said, kissing you again as you put your arms around his neck. then he heard you whisper something that he didn’t quite catch, he leaned in closer so you could repeat it.

“babe, please come in me,” you whispered. and that’s all it took for him to come undone, a moaning mess as he filled you up. he was panting at this point, trying to regulate his breathing.

and unfortunately that’s exactly how he woke up. in his own bed, heart racing, covered in sweat, and pants soaked. only one thing, or more specifically, person on his mind.

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