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#My poor not so innocent eyes
lorillee · 8 months
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god bless random japanese twitter artists you guys are the only ones i can rely on
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beast-of-moss · 10 months
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Another relaxing piece (I swear I'm working on requests)
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mysicklove · 4 months
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Summary: four-year-old Yuuji didnt mean to bring up Mr. Gojos crush on you, which of course, leads to Sukuna's harsh teasing.
cw: fem! reader (reader gets referred to as girl, pretty, and mommy), curse words, suggestive language, lion king spoilers (lol)
wc: 1.8k
a/n: i love making sukuna an absolute menace. poor yuuji tho. i think i am going to introduce gojo as a character, because I think it would be entertaining to piss Sukuna off lol.
big brother au masterlist
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“Su-kuna!”
“The fuck did you just call me?”
“Language,” You scold, not peering up from your book. Yuuji lays sprawled out on top of the both of you – his head in your lap, and practically purring in content when you gently pet the top of his head, while his little legs are on Sukuna’s thighs. 
Yuuji giggles into your shirt, shaking his head mischeviously. “Bad word Su-kuna!”
In an instant, you feel the toddler being ripped away from your lap with a tiny screech. The noise startles you, and you perk up from your book to look to where the boy has gone to. But, you aren't surprised to see him dangling in the air by his ankle – Sukuna’s long fingers skillfully hold onto Yuujis chubby little leg tight enough to not drop him, but gently enough to not cause physical harm. 
The boy doesn't seem to mind this position, being in it so frequently. Giggles and squeals leave the toddler's mouth as he stares at his now upside down brother. “You learning how to speak correctly?”
Yuuji nods his head, and his hands try to reach for Sukunas shirt. You rest your head on the man's shoulder, chuckling at the boy who was squirming in the air. “Uh-huh! F-Fush-i-guro taught me!” The dark haired toddlers last name was hard to pronounce, and it was amusing watching how Yuuji sounded it out.
Sukuna makes a loud groaning noise and you cover your mouth to hold back another laugh. “Of course you made friends with Gojo’s new brat. First he hits on my girl, and now his new kid is gonna manipulate this idiot.” He shakes Yuuji in the air to demonstrate his point, ignoring the squeals. 
You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just because Megumi taught Yuuji how to say your name correctly, doesn't mean the kid is manipulating him. Y’know Yuuji struggles with words sometimes.” You watch as the child in turn shakes his head in defiance, letting out a “Nu-uh!” that only makes you smile. You turn back over to your lover, kissing his cheek. “Aw, does it make you sad that our little Yuuji is growing up?”
“No,” he quickly rebuttals, “Brat isnt growing up fast enough. I am mad that you're not denying the fact that the white haired idiot is flirting with you.” You know that wasn't the full truth, but alas, Sukuna was extremely stubborn and would never admit that he didn't want his brother to grow up. 
“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo thinks you are pretty!” Yuuji announces, beaming at you from the air. You hold back a wince, smiling awkwardly back at the innocent words of the toddler. You watch as the boys cheeks begin to flush from all the blood rushing to his head, and immediately as if sensing it, Sukuna flips over the boy and instead places him on his lap, holding onto the back of his neck.
The action makes you smile, noticing the thumb that rubs gently at the pale skin. But when you glance at Sukuna, you notice quickly that he was anything but happy. Sukunas dark eyes twitches, flickering to you, and he speaks between his teeth. “Did he now? I may need to have a talk with Mr. Gojo next time I pick the little pest up. Does Fushiguro say anything else?”  
“Sukuna,” you whine, realising that the hold on the boys neck was not out of affection – instead was used to trap the boy while he was questioned. “Y’know Gojo is alot. He just wants to–”
“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo has a crush on Y/N!”
“Yuuji!” 
“B-But, Y/N has a crush on brother,” the boy concludes, furrowing his eyebrows with a small nod. “Right, Ku–um–Su-kuna?” He turns up to his brother, doe eyed with his head slightly cocked to the side in question. 
In response, Sukuna ruffles his hair, nearly sending the boy landing on his back. But, instead he giggles at the rough treatment, shutting his eyes and trying his best to stay upward. “The biggest crush. You make sure to tell the little brat that. Or else Mr. Gojo is going to try take her away.”
Your eyes widen and you push at his broad shoulders. “Sukuna! You're going to get him all worked up!” You exclaim, knowing the very sensitive (regarding you or Sukuna) child very well by now. You turn to the boy, whose own eyes widen as he trying to process the words. “Gojo is not trying to take me away.”
“He is going to take her away if you don't do anything, and little Megumi is going to have a new mommy.” Sukuna was grinning at the boy, as if his brother's fearful expression pleased him. You knew that he was being purposely dramatic – Gojo wasn't even technically Megumi's father, if there was a chance that you guys would ever get together (near zero) you would definitely not be the boy's new mom. But alas, Sukuna continues on with his words. “Thats why whenever you see the two of them talking you have to make sure you to scream as loud as possible.”
You cover the mans mouth before you he can spewl any more nonsense, but it was too late. Yuuji was already tearing himself from the man's lap and into yours – his lips begin to wobble and his eyes flood with tears. “Is-um-is that what you two talk about when I am with Mr. Nanami,” he warbles, thinking back to the multitude of times he has held onto his preschool teachers hand and watched you smile at the white haired man. 
“No, love,” you reassure, turning your attention instead from scolding your lover to consoling the child. “Sukuna is being mean again. Don't listen to him. Mr. Gojo and I are friends.” You ignore the look that Sukuna shoots you, showing how displeased he is at the idea of you being friends with his least favorite person. 
The boy sniffles, wiping his little fists on his face. “I-I dont want you to be Fush-i-guro’s mommy. You have to stay with me and Kuna! P-Please?” He doesn't even attempt to say his brother's name correctly, forgetting how he started the conversation all together. He was focused on trying not to cry, because his brother was sure to tease him, but it wasn't working out very well.
You kiss at his chubby cheeks, shaking your head with an exasperated look on your face, wondering how the hell you got to this conversation. “I am not, promise. I'm not going anywhere. Even if your brother is the worst, brattiest, malicious person alive, I have kinda grown attached to him. Besides, if I left who would I have movie nights with?”
“I am not a–” You shoot Sukuna a nasty glare, and he in return lets out an astonished laugh, but shrugs without care.
Your words make Yuuji perk up from your lap, and his eyes widen with glee. “You like movie nights too?” He was always begging for the three of you to watch movies together, but Sukuna always denies him considering it would end up being a cheesy Disney movie that Yuuji would fall asleep not even twenty minutes into.
“I love movie nights. Do you want to have one tonight?”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Sukuna butts in, and you spare him a glance. “Babe, we have plans tonight, remember?” He tilts his head to the side suggestively and you roll your eyes at him.
“Not anymore. Me and Yuuji are going to watch…”
“Human Earthworm 2!” The boy interjects, completely forgetting about his previous experiences with the movie, not good ones.
You poke at his cheeks, shaking your head. “I was thinking The Lion King.” 
“Yes!”
“No,” Sukuna groans, covering his eyes with his palm.
You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No? Why are you putting your input in? You're not watching it with us.”
Sukuna, never have been told this before, looks appalled. “The fuck you mean?”
“Bad word!” Yuuji points to him in accusation, but Sukuna just ignores him.
You cock your head to the side, a sly grin pulling at your face. “You're not invited.”
“Why not?”
The two of you make eye contact for a long second, and after a moment or two, Sukuna sighs. “You're really mad about that?” You don't say anything, just continuing to stare at him. “Okay fuck–Yes that is a curse word, astute observation you brat. I am sorry for making the kid cry again.”
“And?”
Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, but you hold your ground. Then, he turns to the boy with a sigh. “Dont scream when you see Gojo and Y/N talk, alright?” He jabs his finger into the boys chest and Yuuji nods his head rapidly in understanding. But, a foxish grin pulls at the mans face and he says, “Instead…The moment you hear him talk to her, you bite his leg.”
He barks a laugh at the confused face of his brother, but when he looks up to you, the smile falters. “Okay, c’mon it was a jo–”
You point your finger to the door. “Couch.”
“You can't kick me out of my own room!”
You don't move your finger. Yuuji glances at you, cocks his head to the side, and then mimicks your action. “Couch!”
The three of you go silent for a long minute, and at this point the boy's hand begins to tremble from holding his hand out for too long. Eventually when Sukuna realizes that there was no point of reasoning, he lets out a dramatic sigh, before crawling out of bed. 
When he notices your smug smile, he flips you off and you can't help but laugh at that. “I am coming back after the movie is done, ya hear?”
“If Yuuji does not fall asleep,” You tease in return, knowing the boy well, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. 
His eyes flicker to the boy who was snuggling up to your chest, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the movie in. Sukuna chuckles to himself, opening up the door, before turning back to the kid one last time. “Hey brat,” he calls.
“Hm?” 
“The father lion–Mufasa. He is my favorite character, so you'll bound to like him a lot. In fact, I sure do wonder if you'll get attached,” he muses, and your eyes widen when you realize what he is saying. Anything that is linked with Sukuna, Yuuji immediately falls in love with. This was bound to cause hysteria. “Enjoy the movie guys! Y/N have fun!” He calls, before shutting the door.
You pause for a moment, sighing into your hand. “Kuna likes the father lion? I want to see!”
You tried everything to avoid turning on the movie after that. But Yuuji, like his brother, was stubborn, and he desperately wanted to see the lion. He grew attached very quickly in that short period of time.
Deep laughs rumble through the house when Yuuji begins to sob over the animated lion's death. You lock the door, and Sukuna stays the night on the couch. 
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kleftiko · 4 months
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❦ HOW TO GIVE HEAD
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cw: mature, sexual content, blowjobs, swearing
here are the tips i give my friends so that they get 10/10 sloppy top ratings
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"baby~" you coo from beside him on the couch.
the corner of choso's lips lift slightly in response, but his eyes still focus on the screen of his phone.
"babe~" you call again. "cho~"
although your voice is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard in his life, your boyfriend grants you mercy and finally answers you.
"yes, baby?" he asks softly, eyes not leaving his phone but the small smile still on his face. he can't see the beautiful, but maniacal, grin on your lips.
"teach me how to give a blowjob~"
the tendons in his hand tighten, nearly cracking the poor device between his fingers. besides his entire body going rigid, his eyes lock onto yours, only to nearly lose himself in the look of lust in your gaze.
"y-you can't just ask that shit with a smile on your face!" your boyfriend sputters, cheeks and neck blooming with a harsh blush.
"but who else am i supposed to ask?" your question is just too pure and innocent for the look in your face, and yet, choso can't help but fall victim to you.
"fine, just-fine." he takes a tense breath before saying "sit."
with a little too much enthusiasm, you kneel on the floor between his legs, hands gently resting atop your thighs. you look like a doll to him, so eager to please and so pretty that his cock would twitch even if he didn't know what was going to happen next.
he runs a hand over his face.
"fuck, baby, don't look so eager." his deep voice is muffled behind his fingers.
you giggle. "can't help it."
"'kay, now—um—fuck." choso pinches his nose for a second, gathering his own courage to say, "you're gonna need, like, a lot of spit." while he speaks, your fingers dance across the waistband of his sweatpants, littering his v-line with goosebumps as you free his half hard cock from his boxers.
"it needs to be messy, yea?" you look up at him and lick your lips, coating them with a shine that.
he nods silently, jaw clenched.
"t-then, you're gonna wanna -fuck!" you don't let him finish when you take a lick against his tip. the rough texture of your tongue dulled by the coating of saliva you gathered across it. as you continue to pleasure him, he lets out a low groan of satisfaction, his grip tightening on the edge of the couch. the intensity in his eyes tells you that he's enjoying every moment, encouraging you to take him further down your throat.
"fuck." he whines, taking note of your comfortability, just like always. "breath through your nose."
your head bobs up, taking a breath through your nose now that your throat is clear. swirling the tip of his cock with your tongue, you tease him with slow, deliberate strokes. his hips buck involuntarily, a desperate plea for more. the taste of his precum on your tongue only fuels your desire to please him further.
"the tip-the tip, baby." your tongue pays special attention to the slit at the top of his pretty dick that's leaking absurd amounts of precum, and your boyfriend squeaked out a small, "yes, fuck."
as you continue to focus on pleasuring him, you eagerly comply with his request, intensifying your attention on the sensitive tip of his throbbing member. the combination of his desperate pleas and the taste of his precum drives you to further explore and satisfy him, ensuring his pleasure remains at the forefront of your mind.
"b-balls."
your manicured hands cup his balls. you gently massage and caress them, feeling their weight in your palms. the soft moans escaping his lips encourage you to continue, as you use the pads of your fingers and palms to fondle them.
"oh fuck."
it feels like a shame to waste your nails, so with one of them abandoning your boyfriend's sensitive balls, it creeps up to his v-line. You trace teasing circles along his v-line, feeling the shivers of anticipation ripple through his body. the combination of your delicate touch and the sensation of your nails grazing his skin heightens his arousal, making him tremble with desire.
the combination of all your minstrastions causes choso to buck against you, whimpering out obscenities as he jumbles out a warning of going to cum.
"fuck!" he whimpers as your lips release him.
spurts of cum fly into the air, landing in splats across choso's thighs, pants, and your hands as you lazily jerk him off.
the fucked out expression on his face and the mess he made of himself all because of your doing just made you crave him even more, so with one last move, you gave his angry, red, tip a soft lick, nearly causing him to cry in ecstasy.
when he calmed down, he gave you a look.
"you've done this before."
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adelheidvonschicksal · 3 months
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The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆。°✩
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Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.
“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.
There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.
“I wanted to finish this report for work.”
“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”
Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”
“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”
“Ruined?”
“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”
Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.
“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”
His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.
“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”
“That’s different.”
“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.
“It is.”
“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.
“Yes.”
Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
“Sleep.”
“But—”
“Sleep.”
Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.
“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.
“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”
“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“Very.”
Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.
“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”
“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.
“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”
It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.
“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.
“Huh?”
“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.
“And Serotonin.”
Another kiss, lower.
“Oxytocin.”
He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.
“Reduced cortisol.”
Flustered, you grip his arms.
“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.
His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,
“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”
You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.
“Huh?”
“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”
Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”
And by those things, you mean his dramatics.
“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”
Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”
He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”
Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.
“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”
“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”
Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.
Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”
“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”
Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
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starpros-sunshine · 9 months
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I AM SO GLAD YOU COMPARED KURAGE TO AN ALTARIA I JUST TOLD MY FRIEND EARLIER THAT HE REMINDS ME OF A SWABLU 😭
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I'm these are Pokémon I'd put in his team based solely on vibes I don't actually know if this is at all accurate which...yeah that figures actually
But yeah I thought maybe go with a fliying/fairy type combination because all I know about this character is that he has a fluffy coat and fluffy hat and is a boy that says 'kyaa' and that it is also a himbo (word used?), And so I thought to keep the fluffy theme going because they work well with the coat and flying and fairy were the most fitting types I could think of for someone with that vague character description because...I can't explain this adequately but the vibes fit. That's all I can explain.
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gojosprettyprincess · 2 months
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A/n wrote this at 5am so I apologize for any errors! <3 also it's poorly written but I hope you guys still like it.
Yk what fucking drives me crazy the most?
Sweet innocent looking men that treats you so well, I'm talking like he writes you cute poems, follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy and gets all flustered and shy when you want to go to Victoria secret to get new bras and panties but he still goes in with you anyways with his hand clinging onto your arm instead of just leaving because anything for you, the way his face melts into your hand whenever you'd cup his cheeks, looking at you with those innocent puppy dog eyes then he kisses your hand. Like he's just such a cutie you know? He'd let you do his makeup and let you baby him and feed him. Literally just anything you want he'd do it and lets you do. Whatever makes you happy.
And that same sweet innocent man would have you against the wall, his strong arms holding you up, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he slams his hips against you, each thrust pushing you higher against the wall as he let you drop back down on his fat cock after, and he's even noisier than you are, loud whimpers and groans escaping his lips as he looks at your face, feeling satisfied and happy that his thick cock is the reason for your cute fucked out expression and sweet moans that are like music to his ears. Your nails leaving long red marks on his shoulders and back that he's sooo proud of having, he loves it when you do that, it's like a reward to him for making you feel good. His big strong arms pressing your legs back even further up as your knees raised up by your shoulders, giving him a deeper angle as his cock brushed against the right spots inside you that made you see stars to the point where you can't even think straight.
"O-oh fuck! baby, need you to cum ple-ase, fuck! please, wanna see you make a mess on my cock please I'm begging you princess", his voice cracks as he whimpers it out to you. The sweet and innocent needy tone in his voice compared to his rough pounding like he fucking hates you and had to prove it was all it took for you to cream around him, nails digging deeply into his back as he's practically making out with your neck, kissing and sucking on the tender flesh, leaving a bunch of purple and red marks that's definitely going to make him all fluttered and shy when he sees them in a few hours, remembering about what happened earlier. His eyes rolling back as he feels you coating his cock with your cum and dripping all over him.
"Ngh! Oh fuck, Tha-nk you! Thank you so much, gon-na cum!". He cries out. Your toes curling as he sped up his pace, hammering his cock in a reckless pace into your poor cunt, his thick cock head kissing your cervix with each one of his deep thrusts as he greedily chases his orgasm. He made sure to have his cock so deep inside of you to the hilt so he can fill you up full of his cum as he painted your tight walls white, thick ropes of cum spurting out of his cock, stuffing your hungry cunt full as he lets out a shaky groan while planting his face in your neck. He starts breathing heavily, panting against your neck as you felt his cock twitching inside of you. And you know what? He slowly pulls his cock out of you, being so careful that he doesn't spill any cum as he grips on your thighs even tighter before getting on his knees and eating all of his cunt out of your filthy stuffed cunt like the good boy he is, after all its his mess and well, yours also but he doesn't mind! he just wants to make it easier for you to clean you know? :(
Choso, Izuku, Armin, Toge, Zentisu, Kirishima, Yuuji, Kaneki.
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tojirights · 2 months
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fem!reader with a size kink and alastor just teases her about it. It starts off innocently before angel dust just teases and teases her about it until alastor decides to have fun with it.
a/n: this is prolly very ooc alastor but uhhhh this is fun sooo 🩷
word count: too many i don't even know
tags: 18+ smut nsfw, alastor has a big dick, unprotected sex, alastor cums a lot, slight cervix fucking (?), teasing
alastor first notices your inclination for pointing out he's much larger than you when you're always grabbing his hand. he easily covers your hand with his and it gives you butterflies every time. you think he doesn't notice your flushed cheeks, but alastor keeps a close eye on your emotions. he likes to make little snide comments but other than that, it's mostly harmless.
it evolves into him coming up behind you and resting his arms on the top of your head with ease, barely even straightening his back to do so. "hey!" you whine, crossing your arms over your chest. "im not an arm rest, y’know?" alastor just laughs, tugging gently on your hair to pull your head back. your eyes meet his, and your body tenses. the look he gives you is intoxicating, the way he easily peers over you makes you want to shrink into him and let him envelop you.
"yer not?" angel chirps in, breaking you from your daydream. "coulda fooled me. thought you were a coat rack, especially the way you hang onto mr tall dark 'n handsome over there like ya life depends on it." you gasp at his words, immediately trying to put distance between you and alastor but his arm hooks around your waist. "h-hey this isn't fair..." you huff, but alastor's chest is warm against your back and it's making your head fuzzy. "you like 'em big, dont'cha sweetie?" angel snickers, enjoying the way your cheeks go bright red.
all you can do is wiggle around in alastor's grasp until he lets you flip around and face him. you waste no time in burying your face in his chest, hiding the pure embarrassment written all over it. "oh come now angel, the poor girl can only take so much." he laughs when you put your fist to his chest. "i bet she can take more than you think..... alright i'm done i swear!" angel leaves the room cackling, too proud of himself. "alastor... please..." you sigh, your face still pressed against his chest.
he lets out a soft chuckle before petting your head. "just a little friendly teasing, hm?" he steps away to give you some much needed air. "i wouldn't want to break you, my dear." alastor all but pouts, making you audibly groan. you can't take it anymore, the desire burning a hole straight through you. you grab his hand and drag him from the hotel lobby into your own room of the hotel.
closing the door to your room, you're about to speak when alastor surprises you by pinning you to the door. "you want to be broken, hm?" his voice, shrouded in static makes your skin crawl and your heart rate pick up. "i-i..." all of your confidence from earlier fades from your grasp as alastor towers over you, deep red eyes seeing straight through you. "your words, darling. tell me that you just can't wait for me to take you, to push your limits."
his breath is hot on your ear, threatening to burn you. "w-what if i can't take it?" you whisper, words shaking just as much as your body with how much adrenaline is being pumped through you. alastor's mouth finds your neck as sharp teeth gently nip at your skin. "i think that's what you're hoping for, my dear." his words end in a sharp hiss, his hips pressing you into the door. and then you finally feel it, alastor's hard cock against your body.
oh fuck.
"this is long overdue, please forgive me if my patience seems short." he mutters into your skin, barely containing himself from biting your soft flesh. with ease, alastor lifts you off the floor and begins carrying you to the bed. the effortlessness sends an ache straight to your core. laying you down, you look up at him with wide eyes. it's such a head rush, you almost don't notice how he lifts your ass up just enough to remove your shorts and panties.
your breath hitches at the realization that you're mostly bare and yet he's fully clothed. "can i..." you swallow hard, hands trailing down his body. "i-i wanna touch it... wanna hold it." alastor bites back a groan, not sure he's ever heard you say something sexier. its a frenzy to remove the remaining clothing, neither of you wanting to waste any more time.
you're practically drooling by the time alastor's cock is freed, knowing damn well that this wasn’t fitting. the head of his cock alone would probably stretch you to your limit. straddling his hips, you finally wrap your fingers around his aching cock and moan aloud. "jesus christ al..." you breathe, eyes wide while you slide your hand up and down slowly, like you're engraving it to memory. alastor's body shudders, seeing just how small your hand looks wrapped around him. flicking your thumb over his leaky slit, you smear precum down his length.
"you can play later babe, fffuck, no more though." the gravelly sound you're used to hearing in his voice seems to be doubled, anticipation swirling in your gut. alastor's hands reach around to cup your ass, and flips you onto your back. everything about alastor was overwhelming, his size, his attitude, his cock. your head spins as alastor presses the head of his cock to your entrance, you can already tell it's barely going to slide in even with how soaked your cunt is.
"i-i don't-" alastor shushes you, easing into you inch by inch. your thighs shake, and you're sure there's no way you'll be able to take it all. "ngh, alastor." you whine, the ever growing stretch starting to make your stomach hurt. "ah ah, you're doing so well darling. so tight." he sighs, watching his cock disappear into your sweet wet heat.
your eyes roll into the back of your head, his cock pressing snuggly against your cervix. "thats it, good girl." he almost wants to laugh as he pulls back out, seeing there's still a few couple of inches that aren't covered in your wetness. "we're going to have to work on this, aren't we?" you reach your hand down and feel where your bodies are connected and moan. "t-there's still that much?" and alastor does laugh this time. "don't you worry about that, we'll train this pussy to take every inch."
each thrust of his cock makes your stomach ache, and the feeling of being so full keeps pushing you closer to the edge. "s-soo big, 'm gonna..." you cry out as alastor's hands find your hips. he picks a brutal pace, you're not sure how you'll be able to walk tomorrow, but the stretch and burn of his cock forcing his way deeper and deeper has that coil in your stomach about to break.
and when you do cum, it's the most explosive orgasm you've ever felt. "a-alastor !" your vision goes black, and you almost miss the feeling of alastor's release. well, you would have missed it, but the sheer amount of seed he spills deep against your cervix is immediately leaking from your abused hole. it seeps down to your ass even, covering you in such a way you'll probably never forget.
breathing heavily, you lay comfortably still under him. alastor places a gentle kiss to your forehead before removing himself from the bed. "rest, darling. i will be right back." you’re half asleep by the time he comes back with a warm towel, and even more so when he pulls the blanket over you. he waits until you're sound asleep before he goes to shower off.
"well, i suppose i owe angel a thank you..." alastor hums to himself.
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shotmrmiller · 3 months
Text
When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.
And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—
"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.
When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"
Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."
The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."
Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.
--
Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.
But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)
His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.
"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."
It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.
And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.
The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.
He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—
And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."
He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.
The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.
He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.
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Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.
Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.
Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.
Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.
"Mornin' LT."
A grunt is his only reply.
Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.
"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."
He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."
Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.
"When?"
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valeskafics · 3 months
Text
"Bunny" - Peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow x District 12!Reader
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Summary: Life in District 12 starts looking up when Coryo meets you.
Word Count: 3,000
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, innocence kink, overstim, loss of virginity, tummy bulge, p in v sex, fingering, oral f receiving, hair pulling
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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The first time he sees you, you take his breath away. You’ve come to the Peacekeepers’ base, carrying a basket, looking completely lost. You’ve got to be around his age, he thinks, eighteen or nineteen, but your face is so soft and sweet, so very innocent as you look around the base, like a fish out of water. You’ve clearly come to see someone, perhaps a brother or, hopefully not, a boyfriend. He walks up to you slowly, leaning against the wall beside you, a wry grin on his face.
“Looking for someone in particular, sweetheart?”
You startle slightly, gazing up at him, relaxing when you see that he doesn’t seem to mean you harm, “Oh, hello… I’m looking for my brother.”
Your voice is just as he thought it would be as you tell him your name. Soft, lilting, soothing to his ears. He feels like he could drown in it.
“I’m Coriolanus. Call me Coryo. I’m sure I can help you find him,” Coryo offers, gazing deep into your eyes, barely resisting the urge to brush an errant strand of hair off of your face.
You shake your head, voice sheepish as you protest, “Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m sure you’re really busy, I don’t want to be a bother.”
Such a sweet little thing. He could just eat you up. Like a wolf hunting a sweet little bunny in the meadow, he has his gaze trained on you, mouth watering as he looks at your plump lips.
“It’s no trouble, don’t worry. The base is pretty empty right now. Let’s see about finding your brother. Do you know where his barracks are?”
You shake your head, staring up at him helplessly, “It’s my first time here. I don’t know where anything is.”
Fuck, he’s going to enjoy this. A poor little bunny wandering into the wolf’s den without a clue just what she’s walked into. You seem so small and helpless. Like you need him. Coryo has never truly felt needed in his life, so this is quite the ego boost. He rests a hand on your lower back, leading you deeper into the base. You look up at him, sweet and unassuming, asking if he’s sure this won’t get him into trouble. How sweet, you’re worried about him.
“You won’t get me into trouble, bunny,” he promises, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease, “It’s my job to help.”
You tilt your head, gazing up at him curiously through your lashes as you repeat, “Bunny?”
Coryo chuckles, nodding, “It suits you, doesn’t it? A little bunny who needs help finding her way.”
He resists the urge to say more, watching as you avert your gaze shyly. You’re adorable, so timid and innocent. Coryo wants nothing more than to cup your sweet little face in his hands and kiss those soft, plump lips, watching as you gnaw on the lower one nervously. But he wants to take this slow.
“I’m sorry, but did you say you know where my brother might be?” You ask, shifting your weight from foot to foot, fiddling with your hands.
They’re delicate, soft for someone who lives in the mining district, he muses, and so much smaller than his. He wonders how they’d feel in his own or running down his chest, or stroking his-
He clears his throat, a smirk creeping back onto his lips, “I’m pretty sure I do, but first, I need you to tell me something.”
You nod, eager to please, meeting his gaze, “O-okay, sure.”
Coryo leans in, his face only a hair’s breadth from yours, inhaling your scent, so very intoxicating to him, before he questions, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
You blink owlishly, a bit taken aback by his query, but you shake your head, “No…”
He hums in acknowledgement, brushing your hair off your shoulder, “Then…” He murmurs, voice trailing off, “Would you like one?”
“Uh,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze, “I don’t know. Most of the boys here are ones I grew up with. Kinda hard to date someone you see as a brother, you know?”
“I don’t think you see me as a brother,” Coryo says smoothly, his breath fanning against your cheeks, watching as your lower lip trembles ever so slightly, “Do you?”
Your voice is barely audible as you mumble, “I hardly know you.”
He chuckles, nodding in understanding, watching as you fluster at his very presence, “You’re adorable. Have you ever even had a boyfriend before?” You bite your lip before shaking your head, a silent admission that you haven’t. Coryo raises an eyebrow, “Really? Ever been kissed before?” Another shake of your head. This is too damn good. He leans in even closer, “That’s a shame. You look like a girl who should be kissed. And often.”
You look up at him, lips parted slightly as you question, “I do?”
“Yes, little bunny,” he murmurs, “I think you do.”
As if on cue, your brother calls out to you, stealing your attention away from Coryo. You step away, though you continue looking at him, as if you don’t want to leave.
“Thank you,” you say in that adorable voice, “For keeping me company.”
He nods, watching the natural sway of your hips as you walk over to your brother, glancing back at him over your shoulder every so often, quickly looking away when you see that he’s already staring at you, “No problem, little bunny.”
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He sees you sooner than anticipated, at the Hob where some have gathered to watch the Covey perform. You’re across the way, dancing with some of your friends, giggling and smiling, your hair swaying as you twirl around to the music. You’re so beautiful and innocent, the moonlight shining down on that pretty face of yours, your laugh sounding more enchanting than any music the Covey could ever write. He watches you all night, but you don’t sense his presence. He takes care to keep himself hidden in the shadows, watching as you turn down boy after boy who asks you to dance. It’s as if you already know you belong to Coryo, he muses.
As the night begins winding down, one by one, your friends leave, heading to their respective homes, as do you after waving goodbye to them. Your home is quite far away, Coryo notes, in the Seam, near the edge of the woods. You seem a bit skittish as you walk, remaining blissfully unaware of his presence as he follows you from the shadows, watching over you like some kind of dark guardian. When you get to your home, he watches as you rummage through your dress pocket for your keys, frowning when you don’t find them. You even look beautiful with your nose and eyebrows scrunched up in distaste, he thinks, such a precious little thing.
He can’t resist you any longer, stepping forward, pressing his front up against your backside, reveling in how perfect you feel against him as he whispers, breath tickling your ear, “Hello, bunny.”
You gasp, grabbing your chest as you turn around to face him, letting out a sigh of relief when you see who it is, “Oh, Coryo! You scared me!”
He smirks, leaning his forearm against your doorframe, caging you in between him and the entrance of your home, “Did I?” He asks, voice low and husky.
You swallow thickly, nodding, your back pressed against the door, “Are you on duty.”
He shakes his head, “No. And I believe there was something you and I were going to do, bunny.”
“We were?” You ask, furrowing your brow, looking so adorably confused, “I don’t remember…”
Coryo leans in closer, his nose running along your cheek as he inhales your natural scent, voice growing lower, “You’re a pretty little bunny, aren’t you?”
“Thank you,” you reply, taking a tremulous breath, gazing up at him, a bit dazed.
“A little naive, though,” he teases, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips moving to trace the Cupid’s bow of your lips, “You don’t realize how easy it’d be for a man to take advantage of a sweet little thing like you.”
“Oh, I know everyone around here, no one would do that,” you say, quite confidently.
“Is that so? What about me, bunny?”
“You’re a Peacekeeper. You protect people,” you say softly, “Right?”
Coryo laughs darkly at your answer, his thumb pressing down on your plump lower lip, watching as your lashes flutter at his touch, “I’d do terrible things to you, bunny,” he whispers against your ear, hot breath fanning against your neck, “And I think you’d love every moment of it.”
You shiver at his touch, looking into his eyes. He can tell that you’re nervous by how your body is shaking. But behind that, he sees it. The excitement. The curiosity. A little rabbit who’s walked into a snare.
“What kind of terrible things?”
“Do you really want to know?” You nod slowly, staring up at him with wide eyes as he responds, large hands cupping your face, “I would make you scream my name. Have your entire body trembling. Have you begging for me to never stop.” Your knees buckle slightly, and you likely would have fallen to the floor if it weren’t for him pinning you up against the door. Your every reaction is so visceral, it turns him on like nothing else, his cock rock hard in his pants. You’re just begging for him to ravish you, looking at him like that. You turn your face away shyly, seeming as if you’re trying to gather your thoughts, but Coryo won’t have that. He turns you back to face him, “Look at me.” So soft. So pretty. So perfect. He smirks, “I would kiss you right now if you begged me, little bunny.”
The tension between you two is palpable and all is silent save for the noises of the night for a long moment before you finally whisper, “Please?”
He shakes his head, his grin a bit malicious as he insists, “Beg me for it. Beg me for a kiss.”
“P-please,” you plead breathily, your voice shaking, “Please kiss me?”
God, you sound so adorable when you beg. He leans in slowly, every second feeling like an hour as he moves his face closer and closer to yours. He can feel your sweet breath on his lips, his own hovering above yours before finally kissing you. He hears you gasp, your breath catching, as he kisses your soft, smooth lips, so sweet, so ripe against his, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he runs his hands along the curves of your body, squeezing every inch of flesh he can grab. He pulls you flush against him, grinding his cock against your thigh, listening to your sharp intake of breath as he does.
When the two of you finally break apart for air, your voice is barely above a whisper as you question, “Do you want to come inside?”
He nods, gaze intense as he murmurs, “It’s a cold night. Let me come in and warm you up, bunny.”
Coryo watches you, your fingers trembling as you manage to get the door unlocked and let him inside. As you close the door, locking it once more, he steps right behind you, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging on it, making you let out the sweetest little noise of surprise, his cock grinding against your ass, his strong chest against your back.
“Can you feel how bad I want you?” Coryo asks, his free hand moving to your thigh, sliding under your skirt to squeeze at your flesh, “Can you feel it, bunny?”
You whimper softly as he rubs your cunt over the fabric of your panties, the sound driving him nearly insane with need, “Yes…”
The noise you let out as he presses his fingers against your clit is so sweet, he thinks he could listen to it forever and never get tired. Your head falls back against his chest as he presses his lips to your neck, teeth grazing against your sensitive skin.
“C-Coryo, please…”
“Please what?”
You’re already begging. And he loves it. Your voice is flustered as you lean into his touch further.
“I, I don’t know… I…”
“I could show you more,” he rasps against your ear, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind it, “I could make you feel things you’ve never felt before. I can make you mine. Let me show you how much I want you, bunny. Let me show you everything.”
You nod wordlessly, whining softly as he slides his fingers beneath the fabric of your panties, teasing your wet pussy, flicking your clit at an agonizingly slow pace. You buck your hips up against his hand, wanting more, wanting to feel him.
“You like this, don’t you, little one?”
“Yes,” you breathe.
You let out a yelp of surprise as he pulls his hand away, dragging you toward your bed. He pushes you back onto it, staring down at you with his icy blue eyes, every bit a predator going in for the kill. He shrugs off his uniform, smirking to himself at the way you stare at his bare body in wonder. He’s probably the first man you’ve ever seen naked, he muses as your gaze lingers on his abs, his chest, his cock…
And he’s going to make sure he’s the only one.
Coryo feels no small amount of satisfaction as your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, the way you tremulously inhale as he pulls your dress over your head and tosses it aside. You lay there before him in just your white cotton panties, crossing your arms to hide yourself from his gaze. But he’s having none of that, taking your wrists in his hands and fixing you with a sharp look.
“Don’t hide yourself from me, bunny.”
You watch as he slides your panties down your legs, eyes wide as his fingers trail along your inner thighs.
“My perfect little doll,” Coryo murmurs, “So delicate. And all mine.”
He pushes two long, thick fingers inside you, knuckle deep, making you gasp as he begins pumping them in and out of you. He curves them in a come hither portion, your eyes wide, chest heaving, lips parted as he fucks you with his fingers without mercy. You turn your face away, only for him to grab you by the jaw, forcing you to watch his fingers disappearing inside your tight, wet cunt. You’re so shy, he loves it. He loves seeing the little faces you make, hearing the sweet noises you make as you reach your peak on his fingers, your toes curling as you cry out his name in the throes of ecstasy.
“Watch my hands, my fingers,” he demands, still holding you in place as he continues, your entire body shaking as he continues, the wet squelching noises making you want nothing more than to shy away, but Coryo won’t let you.
He wants you to watch as he makes you come undone once again, your soft whines of, “It’s too much, Coryo,” spurring him on as you squirm away.
But he’s not letting you go. He just moves his fingers faster and faster, making you cry out his name once more, your second peak hitting you harder than your first. But he gives you no time to recover, his mouth pressed against your wet cunt within moments as he gazes up at you, his tongue replacing his fingers, moving in and out of you, tasting your sweetness. You stare at him, entirely dazed, eyes rolling back as he lifts your thighs over his shoulders, his face moving side to side as he laps at your folds eagerly. Your entire body quivers, Coryo growing achingly hard, wanting nothing more than to bury his cock balls deep inside you, but wanting to make you come once more before he does. And when you do, your arousal coating his tongue as you mewl his name, the sound so sweet in his ears, he thinks he could cum from that alone.
Coryo moves to lie above you, supporting himself on his forearms, his dog tag dangling, tickling your neck as he slowly sheathes himself inside you, just the tip at first, making you moan his name as his cock stretches you open. Your arms move to wrap around his neck, clinging to him as he bottoms out inside you. For the first time, he’s grateful for how short his hair was cut, because otherwise, he wouldn’t feel your nails raking against his scalp as intensely as he does right now. He begins to rut against you in earnest, making you whimper and cry out his name, squealing with each snap of his hips.
“My little bunny,” he snarls, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust, “All fucking mine.”
“Yours…”
He glances down at your stomach, smirking at the sight of the outline of his cock against your stomach, one hand moving down to press against it, making you nearly scream his name. He pushes your knees to your chest, fucking into you faster and faster, sweat beading at his temples as he moves to bite down hard on your neck, staking his claim. He feels you squeezing around him, your back arching off the bed as you give a choked sob of his name, reaching your peak once again, his own climax coming moments later, filling you with his spend before collapsing against you, crushing your body against his own.
And with the way you cling to him, the way you nuzzle up against him, he knows that he can never let you go again. You’re going to be his sweet little bunny.
He’s going to make it back to the Capitol, sooner than later, and you’re going to be on his arm.
His little plaything, his doll.
For him and him alone.
His bunny.
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saetoru · 7 months
Note
Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹
part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed
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imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).
“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.
“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”
you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.
it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.
but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.
you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.
“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.
you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.
“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)
“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)
“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”
almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”
“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?
“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.
this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.
“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”
“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”
and then you really do see him around.
sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.
and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.
today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.
i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.
today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.
and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.
and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.
except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.
“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”
“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”
he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.
“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.
“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”
“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”
“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”
you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.
“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.
“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.
“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.
“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”
somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.
i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.
you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.
you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.
it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.
does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?
and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.
but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.
evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.
but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.
yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.
they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.
and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.
it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.
sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.
you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.
or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.
that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.
that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.
like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.
and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.
it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.
and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.
you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.
it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.
he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.
you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.
when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.
“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.
satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.
“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”
“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.
you can’t have that.
“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.
“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”
his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.
“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”
for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.
it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.
“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”
“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”
there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.
you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.
you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.
“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”
“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”
you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.
“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”
“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”
“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”
“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.
something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.
“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.
maybe he does.
“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”
“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.
well….maybe he’s already succeeded.
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angelltheninth · 5 months
Note
I know halloween has passed, but my love of monsters is still present.. may I request an adoring vampire husband taking his innocent little human wife’s virginity? Thank you so much♥️
Any day is monsterfucker day, not just Halloween.
Pairing: Male!Vampire x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, biting, drinking blood, first time, virginity kink, loss of virginity, wedding night, gentle!Vampire, innocent!Reader
Word count: 0.7k
Ao3
A/N: Found a really good way to mix these two into one.
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"Will this be panful? I've heard that the first time is often-" Your husband kissed you softly, his sharp fangs and cold hands acting as a reminded of what he truly was. Yes, to others he was a bloodthirsty monster, and you thought so as well when you were given to him as a sacrifice a year back when he first showed up in your town.
But you were not a prisoner to him, you could come and go as you pleased, as long as you came back to him, which you always did. Your friends were worried about you still, not warranted in your opinion, still very sweet of them. Especially after you told them of your wedding to the great vampire Lord.
"If it hurts them as they say then your friend's husbands are poor lovers. If you worry over it that much I can provide you with a small distraction." He smirked up at you, red eyes sparkling just like his fangs, elongating just a little in anticipation. His fangs weren't the only thing anticipating this. For someone so cold his cock was always warm to the touch, you were actually still surprised by it after you stroked it so many times already, and shy.
"But it's so much thicker compared to your fingers, and my own. What if I… what if I'm unable to…" You groaned when he pushed you down to the bed and spread your legs by messaging them upwards, stopping just shy of your wet cunt. "I don't know how to make you feel good like that."
"You're misunderstanding, it's I who will make you feel good. Me? I'm so close just from the thought of being your first, the one to take you for the first and only time. Mine." He pushed his cock over your cunt, feeling the horny juices coating his length. He could just take you, be as rough as he would like, bring you to the edge of being broken and then back again, but that wasn't who he was anymore.
When you arched your back and your nipples pressed against his he flinched, his cock almost slipping in, you could feel the tip there.
"Hold still. I wish to taste the change in you as you become mine." The biting always drove you crazy, your legs always went weak when his fangs pierced your skin. He was able to make you come just from that, a discovery that he took advantage of many times in the past year. "I know how much you enjoy this." His fangs ghosted against your neck, all the way down to the bite mark he always left there.
You could sense he was waiting for you, the final word, "Yes."
It was his fangs that took you first, the familiar piercing pain followed by the ecstasy that was the pleasure of his lips on you, his moans as he sucked, the slurping and finally his cock pushing inside you for the first time ever, hips moving as he sucked, making your head feel fuzzy.
"Holy god." He moaned against your skin, "Apologies my darling, I couldn't contain myself. When I tasted the moment I took you for my own there couldn't help but claim you from the inside as well. Does it feel painful at all?"
"No." You wiped the blood of the corner of his mouth with one hand and placed the other on your lower stomach, "It feels warm, to have you inside me like this." Not only could you feel his cock twitching inside of you, but also his cum dripping down from you, much like the blood dripped from your neck. He groaned as your pussy squeezed around him again. "Isn't it only fair that I drain you as well?"
His laughter made you smile so hard it hurt, "I've not been drained since being turned. But you are more then welcome to. As you say, it's more then fair? There is only one difference, I will also make sure to give you just as much cum back." He was already hard again, he was hardening while he was inside of you, hitting against your front wall as it happened.
Your whole body felt aflame with no pain, only pleasure of being both filled to the brim and drained at the same time.
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honey-on-your-tongue · 8 months
Text
Ok ok hear me out
PROFESSOR O'HARA
who is PURPOSELY failing you just so he can keep you after class mid-semester to tell you you're not doing well.
When he breaks the news to you and your face fills with desperation, a tad of disappointment and confusion (because you were doing so well, weren't you? You understood everything!), he pretends to sigh. “I could maybe give you some extra credit work to help you through the semester.”
Your eyes light up, a little ray of relief shining through. “Yes,” you eagerly say. “Yes, anything.”
You poor, poor thing. All naive and innocent, eager to pass this subject. Maybe too eager.
You end up on your knees in front of him, his huge cock down your throat, your eyelashes wet with tears as you gag around him.
“Just like that, bonita,” he groans. “Open wide. No uses los dientes. Yeah, like that.” Don't use your teeth.
This one guarantees you a C.
After he's fucked your throat raw, he tosses you onto his desk, removing your clothes and eating your pussy out until you're shaking and whining, trying to push him away because the pleasure is just too much. Your slick is dripping from your cunt, down your body, leaving the desk soaked from your arousal.
This one guarantees you a B.
Finally, when he's done eating you out, he bends you over the desk, slamming his cock into you, reveling in the feeling of your slick, warm gummy walls tightening around him. He fucks you hard, making you see stars, the sound of your soaked pussy loud in the room. And your moans would be louder if not for his fingers stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.
You lose count of how many times he makes you come, and then he spills his thick, hot load into your sensitive, puffy pussy.
This guarantees you an A.
But ever since then, you purposely start failing his class just so you can ask him for more extra credit activities.
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inspo from @burobuchan on X (Twitter).
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@yagirlheree @sukioyakio
*if you want me to add you to my taglist for Miguel O'Hara fics, leave me a comment or send me a message <3
-----
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ithebookhoarder · 6 months
Text
Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)
Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far. 
A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅
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Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans 
Masterlist
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There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.
They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.
Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.
Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.
Then Eloise had come along.
As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.
Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.
Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.
So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.
“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”
It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.
You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.
She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.
“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”
“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”
“Traitor.”
“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”
“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”
“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”
“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”
“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”
“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”
“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers  example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”
“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”
The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”
The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”
“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”
“I told you.”
“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”
“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.
If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.
“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”
“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”
“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”
“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”
“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”
“Oh … joy.”
“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”
“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”
“How about… truth or dare?”
Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“
“But Benedict-“
“What’s truth or dare?”
Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.
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Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.
By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.
Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)
You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.
You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.
That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.  
Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.
“Now that… was fun.”
“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”
“Told you it was a good idea.”
You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.
“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”
“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”
“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”
Benedict’s jaw dropped.
“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.
“I have my sources.”
Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.
“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”
With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.
And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.
How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.  
“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”
You all froze.
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It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.
“Oh, darling. You’re home?”
“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”
“I went for a swim.”
“A - you went for a -“
“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”
Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.
In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.
You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.
“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”
“What game?”
“Pardon?”
“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”
No one moved.
No one even breathed.
It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.
“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”
“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”
Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.
“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.
The silence was instantaneous. 
No one dared to say another word, let alone move. 
You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits. 
If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night. 
It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from. 
“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.” 
A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities. 
It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process. 
You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return. 
Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle. 
You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan. 
“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances. 
“Is that so?”
Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”
Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.” 
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Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal. 
In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency. 
Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.
If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach. 
You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again. 
You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down. 
Hard.
“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.” 
“Oh?” you croaked. 
You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then. 
Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.
“Is he still there?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...” 
You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...
With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach. 
To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.  
“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?” 
“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”
“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.” 
“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”
“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”
You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong. 
However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning. 
You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on. 
Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators. 
In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother. 
“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”
“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”
Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.” 
“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?” 
“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”
“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you. 
You remembered what you’d forgotten. 
The chair.
“Anthony, wait-!”
The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him. 
No one moved. 
No one said a word. 
Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”
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scarafvcker · 7 months
Text
synopsis: scaramouche always has a way of getting what he wants
cws: dubcon, coercion, “just the tip”, creampie, afab!reader
word count: 900+
scaramouche’s eyes couldn’t stay on one spot, flickering all over the place to take in as much of your form as possible. he wasn’t sure how the two of you had ended up like this but he sure as hell isn’t complaining, especially not after he’s spent years fantasizing about this very moment. all those nights of slipping a mirror through the tiny crack under your door, all those nights of resting his ear against the thin wall of your room, all those nights of waking up in a sweat drenched shirt and cum stained shorts.
it’s better than anything his twisted little mind could’ve thought up—you sound better than he imagined, you looked better than he imagined, you taste better than he imagined. and he’s certain you’ll feel better than he imagined as well. with the base of his cock rubbing against your slick folds, he can feel the way your puffy cunt keeps twitching and throbbing around nothing and he’s so tempted to just push it in. you wouldn’t mind, right? he’s already made you cum three times, surely you can let him have the same delicious release! doesn’t matter that you think he’s too thick, he deserves this.
he presses his pretty, pink tip into your hole, his greedy eyes locked onto the way it stretches open for him. “baby, even your pussy wants me to put it in,” he coos, looking back up to your face, “c’mon, please?” he can see the hesitation in your features as if you’re considering it but what’s there to consider? just let him fuck you already—it’ll feel good, he promises! he slides his tip upward, rubbing and tapping it against your swollen clit a few times before slowly tapping it up and down the entirety of your vulva and making sure to amplify the pressure just a tiny bit whenever his tip knocks against your opening. “just the tip? is that okay, baby? lemme just put the tip in.”
you give him a hesitant nod and he’s immediately tapping his tip against your hole again, eyes glued onto the thin strings of your slick that connects him to you. he feels like he’s drooling just as much as your pussy is as he watches your cunt suck him in a tiny bit only for him to pull right back out. the sounds of your wetness causes you to tighten up, forcing him to groan when your walls shut around the very tip of his cock, “f-fuck, baby.. ‘m sorry.”
you’re too fucked out to register his words, the feeling of your pussy being stretched out little by little as he slowly fucks more and more of his tip into you feels so good it numbs your mind. he looks down, admiring the way his tip is entirely hidden inside you for a moment before pulling out and slowly pushing back in, the action being repeated and forming a creamy ring around the area just under his tip. “baby..” he groans softly, looking back up at you to see your glazed-over eyes. you’re completely fucked out just from his tip alone and he can’t help his urges anymore.
with each draw of his hips as he pulls himself out from you, he slowly pushes himself in more and more. watching as more of his cock disappears into your cunt, the creamy ring from earlier slowly creeping down his shaft, his hands find purchase on your waist in a greedy attempt to slowly pull your hips closer to his until eventually your skin meets his own.
you’re only able to utter out a soft mewl, pressing your hands against his stomach in a poor attempt to push him away but he gently guides your hands above your head and holds you by your wrists. “shh, my love—don’t you like it? my cock feels just as good as your pussy,” he coos, an innocent look in his eyes. he deserves this, don’t you think?
too fucked out—your mind and judgment clouded by the pleasurable fullness his cock gives you—you let out one final whine and go slack under him, no longer struggling against him as he brings his hips back only to push back in. a breathy gasp leaves your mouth, a shaky groan leaving his as he pushes himself all the way in to kiss your cervix. leaning down, scaramouche takes your lips into a sloppy kiss as his hips start their own pace, his cock rapidly rubbing against your walls as he fucks you.
you cry into the kiss, the gasps and whines matching each of his thrusts as the pain slowly subsides into pleasure until eventually your mind buzzes with pure ecstasy. your vision blurs as scaramouche continues to fuck you brainless, his smirk going unnoticed by you as you lose your mind on his dick—the pleasure completely obliterating your judgement.
“fuck, your pussy is begging me to cum inside and who am i to deny?” he chuckles at the way you’re too fucked out to register his words, picking up his pace as you twitch and cream around his cock until he gives you one last thrust. his cock slams roughly into you and poking into the entrance of your womb as his cum spills and fills you deliciously yet you’re still too much of a mess to respond. he’s sure you won’t mind though—he does deserves this afterall.
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