Oh, how I love seeing you under me

25 - Bisexual - Femdom - Non sharer - Wife to Hisoka, Douma's lil snack, Yeosang's biggest fan

[hisokamywaifu]

Welcome!

I am 25, single (men fucking suck), she/her, ISFJ-T, bisexual, and I like smut.

This is my main, but I write as well @hisokamyslut.

This is where I reblog all the delicious fanfic I come across, including fluff and smut, though only dom!reader. Current romantic f/os: Hisoka Morow (hxh), Douma (kny), Yuri Briar (sxf), Tenya Ida (mha), Mammon (omswd), Reo Mikage (bllk), Yami Sukehiro (bc), Crocodile (op), Edmond (nu:carni), L (dn), Spencer Reid (cm), Familial f/o: my son Asta (bc) - REMINDER: do not interact if you share any of my f/os. You will be blocked on sight.

Inbox is open for any random things you wanna write.

I'm perfectly fine and happy to engage with anything in my inbox, but I have changed my messaging settings due to people not respecting boundaries and overall being dicks. I’ll say it again for the people in the back: do not message me looking for a relationship!!

Enjoy!

[retiredteabag]

Under anesthesia

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, Megumi, Toge, and Suguru

Synopsis: You just woke up and seem a bit less inhibited and a bit more honest when loopy…

Reversal of this smau

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[snowynns]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 ◞ 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬

Trying out flavored condoms w Dean.

𝒯AGS ⸝⸝ 𝓦ARNINGS ˖ 18+ smut no plot sub! Dean handjób blowjóbs flavored condóms cowgirl slight 69 orgásm denial

navigation ◞ rules ◞ dean winchester list 📨

Dean Winchester has a reputation to maintain; a whole macho image wrapped up...

Well, you know something about Dean that Dean barely admits to himself in the dark hours past three a.m. and it is that the man loves it when you take control; not in the performative "yeah, climb on, sweetheart" he offers like he's doing you a favor.

No, he comes apart at the seams when you're on top of him, when your hands pin his wrists, when your weight presses him down and your hips dictate the pace.

There's something in the way his green eyes go glassy and his mouth falls open, jaw slack, like every wall he's ever built comes crumbling down brick by brick.

Because you know.. he tries to play it cool about it, like he's the one running the show even when you're riding him so hard the headboard leaves dents in the drywall.

Oh, but you see him, all of him.

The vending machine outside Room 12 of the Pinecrest Motel buzzed and hummed as you were crouched in front of it, squinting at the panel of options when Dean strolled up behind with his arms crossed and a insufferable grin.

"Whatcha doing, sweetheart?"

"Looking for condoms." Plain and to the point.

"Bold of you to assume that machine has anything worth buying." He leaned over your shoulder, reading the labels. "Glow-in-the-dark? What are we, thirteen at a sleepover?"

"They have flavored ones too." You tapped the glass. "Strawberry. Chocolate. Grape."

"You know, back in '04, I tried the glow-in-the-dark ones, it looked like I was waving a lightsaber around in bed.."

"Dean." "What? It's romantic. Star Wars is romantic!"

You looked at the machine again. Strawberry, chocolate, grape, mint, orange, vanilla, banana, bubblegum — and glow-in-the-dark.

You pressed every single button and the machine clunked, dispensing its entire stock into the tray below.

You gathered the small foil packets into your hands, a whole rainbow of flavors stuffed into your jacket pockets, and smiled to yourself.

The motel room door had barely clicked shut behind you before Dean's mouth found yours. Sam was out — gone on a solo salt-and-burn three states over, which meant the two of you had the room to yourselves for once. No careful quiet or stifling sounds into the pillows, it's just you and Dean and the whole night stretching ahead.

You kissed him back, fingers curling into the front of his flannel, tugging him closer. His lips were everything you loved; soft but insistent, slightly chapped from the dry air, tasting faintly of the cheap diner coffee he'd been nursing all evening.

By the time you made it to the bed, clothes were gone— shed between the entrance and the mattress in a trail.

His skin was warm under your hands, shoulders flexing as he pushed you to the edge of the bed, but you pushed back, flipping him onto his back with a firm hand on the chest for him to be the one laying on bed.

"My turn tonight," you murmured against his mouth.

He exhaled a laugh. "M' not complaining."

His cock is half-hard beneath you, pressed against your inner thigh, and you can feel the heat of him, the weight. You grind down once, just barely, he groans into your mouth, his fingers tightening on your hips.

"Fuck, sweets—"

"Patience," you murmur against his lips.

You kissed him again, your tongue sliding against his, and began working the way down. His jaw, the spot below his ear, the tendon in his neck, the hollow of his throat.

Lower. His collarbone. Much lower. His chest, where you dragged your lips, feeling his heartbeat kick up under your mouth.

Lower still.

You dragged your mouth down his stomach, following the trail of hair below his navel, and settled between his thighs.

His cock lay against the thigh, half-hard, and brushed your lips over it, a ghost of contact, before reaching for the nightstand.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows, watching with hazy curiosity as you pulled out the entire stash of condoms you'd bought from the vending machine.

Strawberry, chocolate, grape, mint, orange, vanilla, banana, bubblegum— all of them fanned out on the sheets like a goddamn sampler platter.

"What the hell are you doing with those?"

"Tasting flight," you said cheerfully. "Like wine tasters!"

He passed his hand over your hair and smiled. "You're out of your mind."

"And you're going to love it. Lie back."

He opens his mouth, probably to argue, but you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and squeeze, whatever he was going to say dies in a groan and drops back against the pillow.

"Aww aren't you a good guy?"

"Shut up," he mutters as his hips jerk in your grip, giving him away.

You tear open the strawberry wrapper first. The latex is pink and thin and smells faintly of artificial fruit as you roll it down his length, smoothing it over him with such deliberate slowness you think Dean might tell you to fuck off.

He's fully hard now, the condom stretched tight, and you look up at him through your lashes before leaning in.

Your lips wrap around the tip, sucking gently at first; the tongue swirls over the flavored surface, tasting the fake sweetness mixed with the warmth of his own skin beneath.

Bit by bit you take him deeper, bobbing the head, hollowing the cheeks to create that tight suction he loves. His cock throbs in your mouth, growing even more rigid as you work him with wet, slurping sounds that fill the quiet room.

"Fuck— fuck, that's—" His voice cracks, hands fisting in the sheets.

You hum around him, a low vibration, and his abs clench like someone has zapped him with a live wire.

But then you pull off, letting him feel every inch of the release, and press a kiss to the tip. His cock bobs against his stomach, the pink latex slick with your spit.

"Strawberry," you announce, licking your lips. "Solid seven out of ten! A little synthetic, but pleasant overall."

"You're reviewing them?"

"Obviouslyyy. How else are we going to make a decision for next time?"

You were already reaching for the chocolate one and rolling it down him.

This time you start with your hand, stroking him, thumb pressing over the head in a circular motion that makes his hips buck just to lean in and press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the tip, the tongue flicking out to taste.

The chocolate flavor is richer, pretty believable, and take your time, licking a long stripe up the underside before swallowing him halfway.

"Jesus... keep doing that— you're amazing love.."

You did keep doing that, for a moment of course, just to pull off in the end.

Gods, right at the edge! You could feel it in the way his cock swelled, the way his thighs went rigid— and you pulled fucking off, letting him go with a wet pop.

"Chocolate," you say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Eight out of ten. Creamy, good depth of flavor!"

Dean made a sound that was between groan and whine. His cock twitched, angry and flushed beneath the latex. He was close— you could see it in the way his muscles kept clenching and how he was sweating.

You peeled the condom off and reached for grape. "Already close? But we're just starting!"

The third time you roll a condom on him and lower your mouth, Dean's hands shoot out, fingers threading into your hair, gripping hard.

He tries to push your head down, hips thrusting up, and for a moment you let him— let him fuck up into your mouth, the tart grape flavor coating your tongue as you deepthroat him.

Oh, but you know he needs some manners and you pull back, grabbing his wrists, his eyes are wild, desperate, pupils blown and swallowing that green you love.

"Ah-ah," you say. "Hands to yourself."

You reach for his belt, discarded on the bed, and pull it through the loops with a sharp snap of leather. Dean's eyes track the movement, and something shifts in his expression.

Well, Dean was probably more than turned on because he had his girl on top of him.

"Arms up."

He raises his arms above the head, and you loop the belt around his wrists, threading it through the slats of the headboard and buckling it tight. He tests the give— not much. His biceps flex, the tendons in his forearms standing out, but the belt holds.

"How's that?" you ask.

"Unfair," he rasps. "You're unfair."

You go back to grape without giving answer and Dean promises himself to fuck up your cunt once you're done with the nonsense.

You take him deep, gagging around his length, drool running down your chin, and his wrists yank against the belt, the leather creaking. His abs are trembling, his chest heaving, and when you feel him getting close— so fucking close once more— you pull off.

"Grape is a five out of ten. Mmm too sour, leaves a weird aftertaste."

"I hate you," Dean chokes out, his cock is leaking through the condom, hips still chasing your mouth.

Mint was next. The cool sensation hit your tongue and his cock simultaneously, making him jolt. You sucked him slow, lazy, one hand wrapped around the base while your mouth worked the top half. His thighs were trembling continuously now, is aconstant vibration, and every few seconds his hips would buck up involuntarily, chasing more friction.

"Please," he said, his voice had gone rough from the small groans and moans. "Please, I'm so close —"

"Mint is six out of ten. Refreshing, weirdly tingly.. like brushing your teeth."

"I swear to God —"

Orange. You rolled it on, stroked him twice with a tight grip, then licked a long stripe from base to tip. His head fell back, throat working, a broken sound escaping him.

"Orange. Two out of ten, plastic acidic. No notes."

Vanilla and bubblegum went and go,the same thing, suck, stroke, review. The guy was shaking constantly, wrists straining against the belt, knuckles white.

He was losing the ability to form sentences, and you had one more to go yet.

Banana.

You tore open the packet, rolled it on, and then, instead of going down on him like he expected, you swung your leg over his chest and settled your pussy right over his face.

Your underwear was still on, with damp silk pressed against your swollen pussy, feeling the heat of his breath through the fabric as you settled.

"What—" Dean started, and you pressed down, cutting him off.

"You want to come sooo badly," you said, reaching to wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him, feeling him twitch in your grip. "Then be good and eat me properly. Show me you deserve it."

He groaned against your cunt, nosed the fabric aside, tongue dragging through the slick, swollen folds, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning.

He was sloppy with it — desperate, uncoordinated, licking into you like a man dying of thirst. His mouth found your clit and sucked, and you clenched your jaw, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

He was panting hot air against your folds, whimpering between strokes, his mouth working frantically while his hips fucked up into your hand.

You stroked him lazily, such mismatched rhythms; his tongue was frantic and begging, but your hand slow and controlled.

You kissed the tip of his cock through the condom, then poked at it with your finger, watching it bounce. Played with him. Tugged gently. Pressed your thumb against the sensitive underside while his hips jerked wildly.

"You're doing so well," you murmured, though you weren't sure he could hear you over his own desperate panting.

You kissed his cock again, lips lingering on the head, then gave him a long stroke that made his back arch off the mattress.

He was sobbing into your pussy, literally sobbing! Wet, muffled sounds of desperation as his tongue worked overtime, sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you as better it could.

He was good at this, he was always good at this, and you could feel the pressure building low in your belly, heat coiling tighter with every pass of his mouth.

Your own arousal was dripping down, mixing with his spit, and the wet sounds of his mouth on you were almost as obscene as the sounds of your hand on his overstimulated cock.

You pulled off his face.

His face was slick with you, flushed red, eyes glazed and desperate. A broken sound left him between your name and a prayer.

"Banana," you said, breathless. "Eight out of ten. Bonus points for the amazing view you gave."

"Wait—" He gasped. "I was close.. was gonna make you—"

"I know." You swung your leg back over, settling between his thighs again.

The flavor was cloying, sickly sweet, and you scrunched your nose as you sucked.

God, you loved this. Loved the weight of him on your tongue, how he throbbed against the roof of your mouth, the sounds he couldn't stop making. You were a cock lover through and through, and Dean's was your absolute favorite.

You worked him with everything — mouth, both hands, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowed, taking him deep enough to gag and then pulling back to kiss the tip, then taking him deep again.

His whole body was rigid, every muscle locked, tears actual tears tracking down his temples into his hair."Please babe, please, I can't— I need—"

His face twisted with the agony of being denied eight times in a row. His wrists were raw from pulling against the belt, and his cock was so hard it looked painful, flushed deep red beneath the banana latex.

You reached up and untied the belt. His hands dropped immediately to your body as you took his cock in your hand— firm grip, steady strokes— and leaned down to kiss the tip through the condom one last time while working him.

"Cum for me," you said against the head of his cock, and that was all it took.

He came in about twelve seconds.

The sound he made was a wrecked, broken shout that bounced off the motel walls.

His cock pulsed in your hand, shooting thick ropes as you guide it keeping the stroking.

"That's it! Sooo good, Dean. You did so well."

He made a mess, the cum filling the condom, spilling over your fingers where the latex slipped, streaking his stomach. You kept your hand moving, milking him through the aftershocks until he whimpered and finally let go.

"You," he breathed into your hair, "are fucking crazy."

"Pfft you liked it."

You laughed against his skin, feeling the rapid hammer of his heart slowing beneath your cheek. His hand came up to rest on the small of your back, thumb tracing idle circles.

But you weren't done.

You pulled back from his chest, reaching over him to grab the last packet from the nightstand... The one you'd been saving.

The glow-in-the-dark one.

Dean cracked one eye open. "What is that?"

"Hold still."

His cock was soft, twitching feebly as you rolled the fluorescent-green condom down over him. In the dim light of the motel room, it started to glow faintly; a ghostly luminescence that made his dick look like it came out of a sci-fi movie.

"Mmhmm." You straddled his hips, your pussy still puffy and slick from his mouth pressing against his cock.

You ground down slowly, feeling him stir beneath you, the smooth latex sliding through your folds. His mess from earlier was still on his stomach, cooling against your thighs as you rocked against him.

"You didn't think we were done, did you?" You rolled your hips, grinding your clit against the length of him. He groaned, hands finding your waist, fingers digging in. "You've had your fun."

His cock was hardening again beneath the condom, filling out as you dragged your wet cunt over him. The glow-in-the-dark latex caught the light every time you moved, casting a faint green glow up between your bodies.

"After all," you said, reaching down to position him at your entrance, the tip pressing into you, "I haven't been properly fucked yet."

Dean's grip on your hips tightened, he looked up at you with reverence and desperation.

All that macho act was completely gone, replaced by pure want.

"Then do something about it," he rasped.

You smiled, and sank down.

[indiewritesxoxo]

fucking your boss is a bad thing.

fucked your boss when he's literally a superhero is...a lot worse.

because if you weren't sleeping with iron man!gojo, you wouldn't currently be tied up in the creepy dungeon of some wannabe villain when you should be eating to-go food at your desk and rescheduling the meetings he missed while fighting the latest freak show that crawled out of the sewer swearing he'd committed some crime or seeking petty personal revenge.

it was fun when you were fucking in his fancy shower, your face pressed against the damp tile while his thick cock was probing inside you, his irritatingly smooth voice soft in your ear as he stretched you out.

not so much when you were staring at cracked flooring with your wrists rubbed raw from zip ties just because everyone in the city knew just how much he favored his pretty assistant.

"he's going to pay for-"

yeah, yeah, yeah.

you'd heard it all before.

"look, i'm really behind schedule, so i'd appreciate it if you could just let me go, and we just call it a day," you tried convincing him, feeling kinda bad for the idiot.

he really didn't know what he was up against.

as if on cue, half the ceiling blew up, chunks of cement and rubble flying across the room as you ducked your head — although with your wrists bound behind your back, you couldn’t really shield much.

and while they were busy immediately engaging in their stupid quippy retorts, you were wincing as a baseball-sized chunk that slammed into your shoulder blade. another bruise. another wound.

wincing as you tried to bite your tongue to stifle a whimper, waiting for the whole thing be over.

this time, at least, it only took two minutes.

“can’t leave you alone for an hour, huh?” gojo unhelpfully called out, tilting your head up by your chin, two chilly fingers clumsily lifting it.

“i hate you,” you grumbled, gritting your teeth as his brilliant blue stare focused on you, his mask pulled back so you could see his face.

“you adore me,” he grinned.

“i’m quitting.”

“you always say that after you get kidnapped,” he huffed at you, not actually believing it. as aggravating and attractive as ever, sharp canines glinting as he offered an apologetic shrug.

“i mean it this time,” you muttered.

“uh-huh,” he wryly chuckled.

“i’m done,” you stubbornly insisted, scowling at him in spite of how unserious he was taking it. “consider this my resignation.”

“you can’t get better than this, baby,” he laughed, his stupidly charming smirk glued to his face as he scooped you (still tied) up.

but instead of a warm embrace, a familiar grip, it was just cold metal.

“i don’t want better,” you mumbled, swallowing hard. “just different.”

someone who didn’t almost die every week.

who didn’t nearly get you killed every week.

you wanted a warm bed with a waiting man. an easy paycheck. a life you didn’t feel like you were fighting the universe for.

gojo did something gojo never did.

he faltered.

frowning as he stared dumbstruck at you, pretty white brows pulling together in sheer confusion, not comprehending what you were saying no matter what a genius he was.

“i don’t get it,” he blinked.

“you will,” you murmured. maybe one day.

with or without you.

a/n: wanna make this a full fic SO bad 😭 div is by @/tsumiinum

[justlydsstuff]

Texting Castiel

while being in a relationship

(none of these pics are mine, i found them on pinterest)

[loverrin]

| BECAUSE YOU SAID SO | DRACULE MIHAWK

summary: your husband, dracule mihawk, has been awfully busy ever since the paramount war - leaving you to soak in the doom and gloom of kuraigana island, alongside your new accomplices perona and roronoa zoro. pairing: wife! reader / mihawk wc: 3.6k tags: fluff, sprinkle of hurt/comfort, f! reader, set post war, family dynamics, zoro pretends he dgaf about you but that couldn't be more untrue, you and perona love hanging out, mihawk is forced to open up, you're the most important thing to him, he gets very soft very fast, your beauty renders mihawk speechless, the smallest bit of suggestive undertones, jealous mihawk

"This is ridiculous." You grumbled, bustling around the dark kitchen of the castle to prepare dinner. "Ridiculous. Honestly, how dare he ask me to marry him just to screw off and leave me here. For months on end, he's hardly home, save for maybe every few weeks."

"Mmm." Perona hummed, floating beside you and sticking a finger into your soup. "Wow! This is good!"

You glared at her, annoyed. She swallowed heavily, whistling as she looked away.

"I feel neglected. I call him, but he refuses to carry a Transponder Snail with him half the time, so he hardly ever picks up. On the rare occasion that he comes home, he acts like he's been here all along, doesn't apologize, doesn't fawn over me-"

"Do you want him to fawn over you like a baby?" Zoro snorted from the dinner table, feet propped up on the wood.

"Shut up, Zoro!" Perona snapped, one of her ghosts flying towards Zoro at an eye-watering speed.

"I'm so sorry... I'm even more useless than an unripe bamboo shoot..." He mumbled, head drooping onto the table as he curled up into himself.

"He doesn't have to fawn over me." You responded to Zoro, who wasn't really listening anymore. "But it'd be nice if he treated me like his wife. Which I am, by the way - in case you forgot. It certainly seems like he forgot."

"I get where you're coming from." Perona sighed, a comforting hand landing gently on your shoulder as the other held a bowl of your soup. "But he married you for a reason! I'm sure he probably just doesn't think it's that big a deal- your relationship has been so strong all these years!"

"I guess." You sniffed. "But that feels a bit worse, don't you think? He got so used to being with me that he thinks it's okay to just leave me be."

"Guys?" Zoro cleared his throat.

The two of you ignored him, Perona tasting the soup once more as you added a few more spices and you grumbling to yourself angrily.

"Honestly, if I had known it would've been like this, I would've continued traveling. I gave up traveling. For this gloomy place!"

"Guys?"

"And that was fine, at first. But then the man I literally gave up my life for became a Warlord, and god forbid the strongest swordsman has time for his lover. No, of course - he might as well be married to the world government the way that-"

"Guys, I really think-"

"What?!" You groaned, turning around with anger in your eyes. It quickly withered away when you realized Zoro was pale as a sheet, Mihawk standing in the doorway behind him. "Oh."

"..." Mihawk stared at you. You stared back blankly, soup ladle still in your hand as it dripped broth all over the tile floor. Slowly, Perona floated away from you, disappearing through the wall and into the next room.

"You're back." You stated, face slowly turning as red as a beet. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough." He responded, setting Yoru down by the stairway. His eyes gazed at you, unblinking and frustratingly unreadable.

Zoro attempted to get up silently, but his chair scraped harshly against the floor, drawing you and Mihawk's attention as he grimaced, slowly sitting back down.

You turned back to your soup, foot slipping on the puddle that the dripping ladle had created. Mihawk was there in a flash, hands steadying you as Zoro also appeared by your side, grabbing a towel from the counter to wipe up the mess on the floor.

"...Thank you." You said, meant for both Zoro and your husband. Zoro just shrugged, tossing the towel in the trash and quickly scooping himself a bowl of soup, before dashing into whatever room Perona had disappeared into, little drops of broth creating a trail.

You went to move, before realizing Mihawk's hands were still around your shoulders, warm and comforting. "Love, you can let go of me now."

"Right." He cleared his throat, releasing you. You reached for the cabinet, grabbing him a bowl and filling it with his dinner. "I brought you a gift. I was recently by Sabaody, so I got you a book. I remember you mentioning it."

He handed it to you, exchanging it for the bowl. A light warmth rose to your face - you did remember mentioning it, months ago when it released. It was an exclusive release, a collection of Vegapunk's notes throughout the years that had only fifty copies printed.

"How'd you get this?" You smiled, hugging him.

His hand wrapped around you, the other hand precariously holding soup above your head. "I was around many marines. It wasn't too difficult to find one that had a copy he no longer had a use for."

"Well. Thank you." You slid the book on the counter, wiggling out of his grip.

The kitchen felt into a silence that bordered on uncomfortable. From the next room over, you could hear Zoro and Perona whispering - probably about the two of you.

"I wasn't aware that you felt the way you did about me being away." Mihawk broke the silence, hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

Your knuckles whitened as you tightened your grip on the counter, closing your eyes to refrain from losing your temper. "Then you simply weren't paying attention."

"Don't say that." Mihawk sighed. "I'm sorry I'm often busy. I never mean to neglect you-"

"And yet you do." You huffed. "What's done is done."

Mihawk's grimace tightened, fingers drumming against the counter as he carefully sifted through what he could say next. His eyes watched you move about, scooping another bowl for Zoro who would inevitably want seconds.

"How can I remedy this?" He asked.

"For one, you could give an honest to god apology." You replied, not sparing him a glance.

He caught your wrist, turning you around. The soup sloshed around in the bowl you were holding, and he gently took it out of your hands, setting it on the counter. "I am sorry. Truly, I am. It's clear that my work ethic has been impacting you negatively, and I'm sure it's difficult to be on Kuraigana for weeks on end without me."

You blinked at him as guilt washed over you - just the slightest bit. It was clear he was genuinely remorseful - his warm grip seeped into your skin, eyes darting around your face looking for a reaction.

"Right. Well." You cleared your throat, shimmying out of his hold and heading to the room adjacent to hand Zoro his bowl. "I don't quite forgive you yet."

"That's fine." Mihawk spoke to your turned back, sighing. "I'm still sorry. I'll stay. For a few months, even. I'll call Sakazuki now."

You huffed in amusement, walking out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. Zoro and Perona flinched upon noticing your presence.

"So??" Perona whispered, gesturing wildly to the wall of the kitchen when you gave her a confused raised brow. "Your husband! What'd he say?"

"Bet he was pissed." Zoro snorted, immediately bowing his head in apology when he saw you were holding a bowl of soup just for him, and shamefully handing over his empty bowl. "Sorry."

"We'll see." You shrugged, flicking Zoro on the forehead as a slight reprimand. "Words are words, and mean nothing in comparison to actions. Although, he's never really been this apologetic before, so maybe it does mean something."

"Apologetic." Zoro stated drably. "Mihawk?"

"Yes."

"Dracule Mihawk."

"Yep."

"...Okay." Zoro turned back to the table, shoulders slouched over his steaming bowl of soup, staring blankly at it as though he simply couldn't believe the Dracule Mihawk could ever be apologetic - let alone have a wife.

Perona opened her mouth to say something, before glancing behind you and immediately clamming up. You raised a brow, turning to look at the doorframe that now had your suspiciously nervous husband standing in it.

"..." He said nothing, though you could see the gears turning in his head. "Sakazuki was not pleased."

"Fine, then." You replied coldly, walking out of the room and brushing past him. "What does it matter to me?"

His warm hand clasped your arm once more, preventing you from leaving. "I'm staying, nonetheless."

Perona slapped Zoro, as if telling him to pay attention, and he shrugged her off, gesturing wildly in the air that he obviously was already watching.

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "Are you, now?"

His hold tightened on you. "I am. Truly. i have hurt you and I seek to negate that feeling." His thumb brushed over your ring finger, obsidian warm against your skin. "I am your husband, but I have not acted it. That is shameful on my part, and I will prove myself to you over the next few months. When I leave again, it will never be for so long."

Your lips pursed, thinking about what it was like when he was first appointed a Warlord. He used to write you every week, updating you, sending you gifts - he would even take you with him at times. Now, it was just silence.

All you did was nod in response. Then you squirmed out of his hold, and left to tend to your garden.

Over the next few days, Zoro and Perona's whispers did not cease. You knew how it looked - the strongest swordsman in the world reduced to a moping husband, following you around for majority of his day rather than spending time doing anything of sustenance.

Any training Zoro received was in the form of reading or quick instructions as Mihawk passed, hands full of gardening tools or a drink to give you, perhaps even an umbrella to shade you as you worked.

It was the most you'd ever seen Mihawk attempt conversation. Waking up, he'd glare at the separation of pillows between you two as if they'd personally wronged him. He'd wait on you, hand and foot, insisting that he'd make everybody their meals and that you should rest. He started leaving you little notes around the house about nothing in particular.

It's sunny today.

I liked your dress.

I love you.

That one made you pause, breath hitching as your thumb crinkled the thin sheet of paper. You knew how he felt - you were married, after all, and for good and ample reason. It's just that Mihawk was never really the type of man to remind you about such a thing, much less say it on a whim.

Nevertheless, you tucked the paper into the ever-growing folder you had by your bedside that had all of his notes in them. You'd never admit to him that you'd been keeping them, but you couldn't deny that they did ignite a spark you thought had long been lost.

That night, Mihawk settled into bed, but instead of falling asleep on his back as he always did, he turned to look at you as you read your nightly book.

"Yes, Dracule?" You hummed, flipping the page. "How can I help you tonight?"

"My dear." His voice was soft and pleading, which immediately gave you pause. You set down the book in your lap, bookmark carefully placed where you left off. "Please remove this ridiculous barrier between us."

You snorted at how formally he addressed the pillows between the two of you. Skimming a finger over the down, fluffy pillow, you only hummed in consideration. He took that as his cue to speak once more.

"I know I've wronged you." You shot him a look, basically saying that it might've been the understatement of the century. "I know. But, I beg you - don't punish me with this any longer. You give me silence during the day. You no longer touch me. You spend more time with the brats than you do me."

"Perhaps they're just more amicable company." You responded, shrugging lightly. Mihawk had a withering look on his face, but he wouldn't dare direct it at you, instead staring holes into the pillow nearest to his face.

You sighed. He truly did look pitiful. If Zoro was in the room, he'd throw a fit at the misery on his mentor's face. "Alright. But you keep your hands to yourself, alright?"

If it was possible for Mihawk to appear joyful, then that must've been what swept over his face. "Yes. Anything you say, my love."

You huffed in amusement, getting up from the bed to put the spare pillows in the linen closet. When you returned, Mihawk was lying on his back as per usual, eyes shut and face serene.

The bed was warmer than usual. When you woke up, your husband's fingers were intertwined with yours.

"I'm telling you, you need new outfits!" Perona insisted, flinging clothes at you from her newest shopping spree. She and Zoro had gone off, a rare occasion considering Mihawk rarely gave the first mate of the Straw Hats a break. When they returned, Zoro's arms were heavy (Perona's were obviously empty) with bags - though according to Perona, half of the bags were yours.

"But I have plenty of outfits for myself, Perona." You replied humorously, peeling a dress off your face. "Believe me, I've lived here for long enough to have a full wardrobe."

"No, no. You're not listening!" She harrumphed, digging through a bag she hadn't yet unpacked. "He's seen all the outfits you have already, so you need to surprise him with something new. It'll make his eyes bug out of his head, like this!"

One of her ghosts flew by you, black eyes left just a step behind. You laughed heartily. You had to admit, both Perona and Zoro had grown on you in the time they'd been here. A year had already passed since they both first arrived, but it felt like they'd been here all along.

"What would you suggest, then?" You asked, watching her rifle furiously through her things. "You're the one that went shopping for me."

"You're too decent, that's your issue." She said, pulling out a dark blue dress and shouting in victory. "This is what I was looking for!"

"I have no need to show so much skin." You shrugged, pointing at your ring finger. "I'm married already, see?"

"Doesn't matter!" She ignored you promptly, shoving the dress into your hands along with a pair of heels. "Trust me, he'll like this. Wear it to dinner!"

You sighed, but relented. She was clearly very excited about this plan. "This shows a lot of cleavage, Perona. And a thigh slit? You must be trying to kill him."

"All the better if our plan to fix your relationship ends up in his death!" Perona squealed with glee. "Then, I can dump Zoro here and go off to look for Moria-sama!"

You laughed at that, before heading to your room to put on the outfit. It had truly been a while since you'd worn something so revealing - the last time was probably before you and Mihawk had gotten engaged. The man was fashionable enough for the two of you.

However, you couldn't help but admire Perona's taste. While you could never pull off her gothic-lolita style, it was clear that she had an eye for fashion all around. The outfit couldn't have suited you better.

Mihawk's voice called for dinner (which he once again insisted on making tonight), so you made your way downstairs.

"I made your favorite, my dear." He said, setting your place diligently next to his. Zoro whined something about wanting to sit next to you once in a while too, only to be met with a ferocious, searing glare from your husband.

"That's nice." You hummed. "How'd you know I was craving it?"

"You usually do, about once a month. I just figured-" Mihawk paused, blinking at you as he finally watched you descend the staircase. "Wha... Where in the world..."

Perona grinned at you slyly from her seat next to Zoro, winking and making a saluting gesture. Zoro raised an eyebrow at you, drenched in sweat and dirt from his day of training, before shooting you a casual thumbs up.

"Something the matter?" You cooed at your husband, who was still staring at you, mouth slightly agape. "Come on, let's eat."

You went to pull your chair out, but he briskly walked over and did it for you. You smiled at him kindly, sitting down as he gently pushed you closer to the table. As you reached for your fork, he brushed your hair behind your shoulder.

"You..." He swallowed, inhaling deeply. He seemed a man about to snap at any moment. "You look stunning, my love."

"Thank you." You patted his thigh as he sat beside you. "You can thank Perona."

Mihawk's eyes darted to the younger woman, inclining his head ever so lightly. Perona, clearly not expecting the show of immense gratitude, merely inclined her head back. Taking advantage of her confusion, Zoro snatched her plate, quickly downing the food in a few bites.

After that, dinner dissolved into its regular, chaotic tendencies, with Zoro and Perona scuffling back and forth, the Ghost Princess inevitably hitting Zoro somewhere sore and being met with a scolding, despite Zoro being younger.

Despite their regular antics, Mihawk couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. By the time you were done with your first serving, your husband's food had gone cold, entirely untouched as he watched you intently, right hand wrapping around your left as if the ring signaling your bond would run away if he didn't keep a hold on it.

By the end of dinner, he was breathing heavier than usual, Zoro and Perona shooting him odd glances as you pretended not to notice sweat dripping down his chest, pathetic excuse of a shirt hiding nothing.

He excused himself before you did, and you faintly heard the shower turn on upstairs.

One more month passed, and you received your annual letter from Red-Haired Shanks. The Emperor of the Sea (though you could never truly refer to him as that), was a decades-long friend whom you'd met when you first set sail.

The Red Force was, for many years, a second home to you. Your visits were not frequent, but when you did stop by, you were regaled with banquets and days upon days of drinking. As a matter of fact, the first time you'd met Mihawk was during one of the legendary duels between him and Shanks.

Unfortunately for Mihawk, that duel had ended in a tie. He didn't much like to retell the story of you meeting, always opting to pretend you met later down the line, on a day he'd won.

Shanks' letter was as usual as it could be. Lines upon lines of berating you for quitting your travels to settle down with the worlds most depressing man, paragraphs about stories the two of you shared and memories that bonded you close.

Jokes about coming to visit you on Kuraigana, land of doom and gloom, should Mihawk ever surrender you from his grasp and allow you to lay eyes on another man ever again. Teases about how technically, Shanks knew you first, and therefore your bond was ever-so-slightly stronger.

Things Shanks always said - except this time, Mihawk felt strangely irked by his letter.

Maybe it was the fact that the two of you were finally settling into something more akin to a 'normal' relationship. It had been a couple months now since Mihawk refused to leave Kuraigana for more than a few days, insisting to Akainu that any work done could be completed in that timespan, or he wouldn't take the jobs at all.

His position as Warlord was threatened many a time, but he found himself strangely unbothered by it. Waking up by your side was all he truly needed.

"He gets bolder by the year." Mihawk gritted, staring daggers at the letter in your hand. It was slightly soggy and reeked of alcohol, as if Shanks had accidentally spilled a pint of beer all over it and was too lazy to write another letter to replace it.

"Really?" You hummed, grinning at the letter from your old friend. "I'd say this is par for the course." You went to store the letter in the folder you kept for all your friends.

Mihawk clicked his tongue, the only sign of his annoyance that you were keeping it.

"Jealous, my love?" You teased, walking over him to splay your hands across his revealed chest.

He tilted his head, clearly unamused, golden eyes scanning over your face. Suddenly, his hands landed on your waist, pulling you close until you were practically nose to nose. All you could do was squeak, nails digging into his chest ever so slightly.

"I am not so dense a man to be unaware of the beauty my wife possesses, and the way she may sway another man's heart." He whispered, breath fanning your face, tinged with the slightest scent of wine. "I am also not so strong a man to be able to turn a blind eye at such openly flirtatious comments, despite the trust I have in my lover."

You blinked at his unwavering stare, swallowing heavily. Such displays were unusual for Mihawk. "You're the only one for me, Mihawk. You always have been."

His grip tightened ever so slightly, before his left hand shifted to your back, making its way under your shirt and crawling ever so slightly up your spine. "I know that."

He kissed you gently, and you kissed him back. He pulled away faster than you expected (or wanted), nipping at your bottom lip before he separated from you, pressing another kiss to your nose. "Don't reply to that foolish man."

"I'm afraid he might show up on this island if I do that." You retorted, grinning at the Warlord.

Mihawk huffed, taking his absurdly large hat off his head and placing it on yours. "So be it, then. We'll have a long awaited rematch."

[pittsick]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⠀just thinking about castiel seeing you for the first time and immediately, inexplicably, feeling enamoured.

it happens so quietly that even he doesn't understand it at first. castiel has seen thousands of people in his existence; humans laughing, crying, praying, fighting, loving… and yet something about you makes him stop in the doorway and simply stare. you're not doing anything extraordinary, you're just there, talking with sam about something mundane with your hands moving animatedly as you explain yourself, a little smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

and castiel is completely captivated: he doesn't know why his attention keeps returning to you. he tells himself he's observing, studying and trying to understand the person sam and dean have apparently grown so fond of. but then you notice him watching and smile directly at him, warm and effortless, and something strange happens inside his chest.

“oh,” he thinks. it's not a particularly sophisticated thought for an angel of the lord but it's all he has.

after that, castiel begins finding reasons to be near you. perfectly legitimate reasons, of course. he needs to ask you something: dean sent him, sam mentioned you or he happened to be passing through. none of these explanations are particularly convincing and especially when he starts appearing beside you without warning simply because he likes being around you.

he likes listening to you talk, he likes the way you say his name, he likes when you smile at him, even though he doesn't quite understand why it makes him want to smile back. eventually, dean catches him staring at you from across the room.

“you like them.”

castiel looks genuinely confused… and for perhaps the first time in centuries, an angel finds himself discovering that being enamoured feels remarkably similar to being human.

taglist ﹏ @userhotd @stargral @ravensreadingrecs @prismozo @kathh01 @dumbbandpoetic @bluestrd @coochiemama3000 @eepwtf @domingodeaan @jiminie-08 @stqrfirez @pervyangelz @cxlt-lamb1 @dolcefloral @heldbycas @amourflores @avasarchve @chronic-fangirl-222 @nerdypinupcrystal @fawnphile @blessorte @rottndeer @flwer555 @qardasngan @aerangi @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @agustd202204 @deansbeer @deansdeer @rafs127 @dreamersentity @cup1dssorrow @mimisitaugu @bitemysin @cloudsincalifornia @s4yuriii @lover-of-books-and-tea @puppyinlace @m-angelou @doll2kiss @nr1-apple-lover @esmeraldalopez0 @m4rk-ofcain @legalmente-loca-blog @kill3ill @beausling @ohtiramisuu ( to be added )

[animentality]

[ozzgin]

Alien Boyfriend with a monster fucker Reader, except he's pathetically mundane and ridiculously human-like in everything but appearance.

Oh, you were thrilled when he first approached you, asking you to be his partner. The tall frame, additional limbs and downright horrific features had you shivering in anticipation. You could already picture yourself pounded into the nearest wall.

"Is this your experimenting lab," you asked with a knowing grin, dragging your hand across the foreign tools. Was he going to tie you up and use you as his pet?

"You could call it that if you'd like," he answered with mild confusion, "but I'm sure you're already familiar with the concept."

There was a ding, and he pulled a tray out of the nearest machinery.

"It's my kitchen. Care for some muffins?"

You made the tragic discovery that your alien suitor was a soft-hearted, friendly neighbor living the quiet suburb life. Where was the fear? The danger? Alas, the extraterrestrial being would do his best to give you what you wanted.

"Remember how you said I should become the leader of the masses with my terrifying powers?"

He stands before you proudly, the many rows of sharp teeth glistening in the light.

"Yeah?" you squirm in your seat, cheeks turning red.

"Well, you're looking at the new HOA president! I metaphorically destroyed them with my speech. Everyone voted for me."

[xx-art-xx-xx]

[bark4heals]

Calling him a slut so sweetly it activates the praise kink instead of the degradation kink

[starlightsuffered]

A/N: ahhh I hope some people enjoy this 🫣 my friend and I came up with the idea. He made it even more pervy than my og idea! Sorry about the ambiguous ending, I had a little writers block in that respect. Anyway, enjoy!

Edging for Metropolis

Info - pathetic Clark, villain reader, hard dom reader, hitting, dub con, hand job, watching someone masturbate, crying, kryptonite use, threatening metropolis, edging, sexual torture, sex toys, reader is crushing on Clark and has an evil way of showing it

“My goodness,” you purred, making something in his stomach curl. “You are absolutely dripping Superman.”

Green Kryptonite handcuffs looped around his strong wrists. These restraints kept him in your tower but gave him enough pull to do what you wanted him to do.

You were at your desk across from him, long legs propped up. You wore a skimpy leather outfit and stiletto heels that could piece the skin.

“Superman,” you crooned now. He was panting desperately and the torture hadn’t even really begun.

His large hand was fisted around his throbbing cock. He was pumping just as you demanded him to. The veins on it stood out, so dark purple they were nearly black. The angry read head was producing an embarrassing amount of precum and he was writhing like a dying snake.

“I always knew I’d enjoy meeting you,” you confessed and pressed the button that made the cock ring vibrate.

“Oh, shhhhhoot,” Superman whined. His thick length was bobbing up and down. More and more excitement dripped from his slit onto your pristine floor. Perhaps you’d have him clean that up with his tongue later.

“Keep touching, but no cumming,” you reminded him. “Or metropolis firehouse gets it.”

“Miss! PLEASE,” Superman begged. His hand was working desperately at his member, pumping and twisting in a beautiful way. It was good his hands were so big, he was able to circle his whole girth. You chuckled meanly.

“Come on superman, save your little city. Show me how much you want it.”

“Hoooo, ohhhh, ffffffff, mmmmhhh, Ma’am, I really c-can’t-“

“Where’s that super stamina,” you asked the air. You hit your button again. The world’s finest let out a sound like a wounded animal.

“Music to my ears, keep stroking!”

You felt a twist in your stomach of happiness. Seeing a man reduced to this pitiful creature of lust was beautiful. You couldn’t have imagined it going better! Every inch of your body was on fire and this would be what you thought about every time you touched yourself for the rest of your life. Other villains had made him bleed, you had made him into a complete degenerate slave. This accomplishment made you feel on top of the world.

You and he stared out at metropolis, your weapon alternating targets on the skyline. Superman was weak in the knees. He was nearly a puddle of hopelessness. His perfect curl stuck to his forehead with sweat, every one of his muscles was trembling. And that cock. It just kept weeping precum. It was jolting and straining and you couldn’t help but lick your lips at the disgusting display. The cock ring made his balls look fat and full of fertile seed. You wondered who would break first?

You wanted to watch him cum. You knew it would be thick and wild. You knew he would shoot rope after rope of alien semen that could probably impregnate every member of his harem easily. However, he was holding on. He certainly loved Earth and humans to hold back this much.

That’s when he keened like an animal. It was high pitched and nearly girly. He fell so hard to his knees there were dents in your floor.

“Excuse me,” you snapped. You jumped up from your swivel chair and clicked over to him, hips swishing. He looked up, eyes nearly all pupil.

“Why did you stop.”

He was swayed slightly. His cock didn’t stop bobbing pitifully, dribbling precum still. His bloody bottom lip was trembling like a leaf. A miserable sound like a kicked dog left his mouth.

“I’m gonna, I’m g-gonna cum,” he confessed in a small voice.

“Oh no, the man of steel can’t hold on?”

“N-no, please, let me go. This isn’t you. The city, you can still make a good choice-“

You slapped him across the face. Next, you grabbed that pretty jaw and forced him to look at the skyline. Your drones narrowed in on a target.

“Metropolis Hospital perhaps you would like me to aim there-“

“NO!” Superman nearly shrieked. His eyes were full of tears. Damn he was pretty when he was fucked up like this.

“Then pick up that dick,” you said, pointing down. He whimpered, little sounds that made you pussy throb each time.

“Good boy,” you mocked.

“Th-this isn’t good, this is disgusting,” he spat.

“I know,” you crooned. You saw the way your voice and teasing made his stomach contract. He could lie all he liked but he enjoyed this.

“That's what makes it your perfect torture. Good Boy Scout Superman, wanking his cock to save the world. Disgusting boy.”

“Ma’am,” he whined. He fell forward now so he was on all fours. You listened, cherishing the way he was heavily panting as he pumped himself. You watched his muscles ripple, green kryptonite creeping through him.

“Weak,” you whispered.

“I know,” he agreed. He gulped heavily and even that made your walls flutter.

“Pathetic.”

“I am!” He howled in agreement. He was gushing so much pre onto your floor that it looked like he had cum already.

“It feels so good. I’m sorry, sorry,” he began to sob. He was mumbling names that sounded like Lois, Jimmy, Perry, Ma, Pa. The last two affected you the most. You had a grown man, a superhero no less, on all fours, calling out for his parents. You couldn’t help but laugh.

He lifted his heavy head to glare at you. However, his hand didn’t stop. His hand still was on himself. The poor thing was just begging for release.

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” you soothed and stopped his hand. He was panting like an animal who was overheating. You wondered if he even had the strength to shut his mouth.

“Sit up,” you pushed on his sweaty chest. He sat back on his heels. His eyes were ice chips, his body shiny with perspiration. His whole face was pink. His unclothed body was mostly smooth other than the happy trail that ran down into his dark bush. You admired his thick thighs, meaty, but quivering. He was art. You’d never seen someone so attractive. Such a big man, reduced to nothing.

You slowly reached forward, licking your lips. Your hand gently took up his cock and slid down achingly slow. Superman let out a deep long groan. His eyes fluttered shut when you got to his balls, and then you shlicked up making sure your thumb pad got his slit.

“Hey, does it feel good?” You asked in the kindest voice. When his eyes opened his cute brows scrunched together. He was confused by the change of attitude.

“It- it does,” he hissed. “It feels too good.”

“I know,” you gave him a pitying pout. He was took far gone to gauge if you were mocking him. He was lost in pleasure. You could tell someone else’s hands on him affected him more than what he’d been doing before.

“I know superman. You wanna save people. You wanna be a good boy don’t you?” You ask.

“Yes, yes, wanna be good, need to be good!” He wept. Fat tears were pouring from his eyes. You leaned forward and lapped one up. You actually heard him mumble thank you. He was perfectly lost in this.

“You can be,” you encouraged.

“Can?” He asked. He was losing parts of sentences, oh this was delicious.

“Just don’t cum,” you replied sweetly. He looked crushed.

“D-don’t, oh, gosh, don’t cum?” He whimpered the question. You quickened your tugs on his already abused cock.

“Yeah, don’t cum and you’re fine.”

“I but, I, oh geez, miss it’s building. You have to stop! Please!” He was screaming.

“But it feels good!” You teased in delight. “I bet your cock has never felt this good.”

“It hasn’t, oh, FFFFF-“

Superman nearly swore but something happened before that. His balls contracted, and his veins gave a mighty pulse.

“I CANT HELP IT, I’M CUMMING, OH GOSH I’M CUMMING!” He shouted the words. The first splurt went so far across the floor it was impressive. He was completely humping your hand. He had abandoned all morals as his release consumed him.

“Yes! Oh! YES! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He was chanting as his hips snapped forward. Buckets of cum spewed from his heavy tip. It was like a rogue fire hose. Spurt after spurt of that that gooey mess. His whole body thrust into the orgasm. He was moaning and whimpering and whining. It was a mesmerising sight.

“Ooooooh,” Superman moaned as I squeezed the final dribbles of spunk out. He’d left my floor a complete disaster. There was cum everywhere.

He looked from the mistake to me. If possible he paled even more in fear. I leg a cruel smile unfurl on my face. He began to shake his head, already begging for mercy. This would be fun.

[omeganronpa]

you and denki have been friends for years. literal decades. he’s known you since the two of you were in diapers, from kindergarten to interning at a hero agency after graduation to even moving in together ( much to the shock of your peers — an unmated alpha and omega living together?! how dirty! what filthy, perverse things were going on behind closed doors?! ) the two of you were inseparable, and even after that. its why, of course, he doesn’t mind stripping from his hero costume as he kicks the door shut after a long day or leaving the door to the bathroom open as he showers for when you need to conveniently take a piss or beush your teeth or just grab something; you’d never look at him and take advantage of his trust in you, you were far too kind and respectful — at least, you’d never let him catch you looking, so that’s what he thought <3 his friends were aware of course. they all fucking knew you were a creep, they all tried to convince denki to get away from you before things took a turn for the worst… but you were his best friend! gou would never do such awful things like they told him, he trusted you more than anything — and so the cycle continues, on and on and on <3

perv x perv time @4izawas

tw: shit you shouldn't do to irl people (unless its consensual), dub/non-con thats actually con, nsfw

----

He Just Likes to Pretend

----

Denki isn't stupid. He isn't naïve. He's isn't oblivious.

If he was, he wouldn't know that you were an absolute horrendous pervert about all things Denki. He knows you steal his panties and cum all over them. He knows you lick his cunt and kiss his cock while he sleeps. He knows you fuck his pillows and stuffies. He knows you take close-up shots of his body. He knows you listen to him touch himself. He knows all the dirty and depraved things you get up to when you think he's not paying attention.

Denki has been friends with Mineta for years for fuck sake.

He just likes to pretend he doesn't.

Its more fun to play the game.

And in some fucked up part of his brain, he enjoys the attention. He enjoys being the object of your desires. He likes that he has an Alpha who wants him so much that they mark him however they can.

Its why he purposefully got in the shower as soon as he heard the front door open. Its why he left the door unlocked. Its why he put on his Sexy Time playlist - the one that he has you Pavolved into popping a boner every time he plays it. Its why he grabbed one of his toys and put it on the self of the shower.

Quickly washing himself, he sets everything in motion.

"Oh...oh fuck..." he mewls loudly - loud enough that he knows you'll be able to hear him through the thin walls of your shared apartment -, pressing the extendable showerhead on to direct a harsh stream of water against his throbbing cunt, his other hand pinching at his pebbled nipples. "Ahhhhhh. Yes, yes, yes..."

He hears the door open and close but feigns ignorance despite the little smirk forming against his will. He puts the showerhead back, slipping his fingers inside instead. He was already loose and sloppy from earlier, humping another of his toys as he listened to you touch yourself in the living room with your face pressed against the fabric of the couch.

Denki sighed in pleasure. He had sat in that same spot the previous night in nothing more than slick-sloaked panties and a large T-shirt.

He got a faint trace of your scent under the steam and his cunt spasmed around his fingers. Peeking an eye open, he can make out your silhouette through the steam fogging up the glass, sitting on the toilet and watching him intently but still fully clothed.

Denki is the tiniest bit disappointed. He was hoping to get a glimpse of your bare cock. He'd felt it pressed up against him enough to feel like he deserved to know what it looked like.

'Soon,' he promises himself, 'Soon. That cock will be mine. I'll have that Alpha pressed so deep inside of me that they knot my womb.'

Reaching over, he grabs the toy he brought in. A thick, blue dildo with a suction cup at the base under the knot. Its not as big as you are, if the bulge you sport more often than not suggests, but it does a good job at filling him up. He presses it into the glass door, tugging it gently to make sure it's sturdy, before turning around completely.

Placing one hand on the wall, he spreads his legs and lowers himself down onto the dildo, using his free hand to guide the tip in. He moans as he stretches around it.

"Alpha! Oh fuck please! Please," he sobs, sliding down the toy until his ass was pressed against the glass. His legs shake a bit as he settles, arching his back. "Its so big. Fuckkkkk please please please."

Denki pauses, arching back so he could run both of his hands over his body, touching himself the way he wishes you would. He pinches his own nipples and grazes his belly with his own nails. His cock twitches and leaks, pink and hard and aching above his stuffed cunt but he makes no move to hold it. He can smell you, your scent is stronger now and drool drips from his mouth.

Time for a little fun.

"Does my cunt look pretty Alpha?" he moans, head thrown back as he starts rocking back, throwing himself into the fantasy he wanted you to believe he was in, "Gonna fuck it? Gonna fuck me and fill me with hot sticky cum? I'll give you a pup if you want. I haven't taken my pill today. Oh fuck fuck fuck right there!"

The song shifts again just as he hears a muffled curse. His lips curl up, mouth dropping open in euphoria. He had suspected - hoped - you had a breeding kink because he certainly did.

He could feel his cheeks redden, shy even as he rode the dildo. He felt so safe, knowing you were watching him. So sexy, knowing how hard you were. So desired, knowing you didn't do this to anyone else.

You picked him.

"I'm gonna cum," he mewls, "Can I? Can I please cum? Wanna tie you up tight inside my pussy Alpha. Please pleaseplease pleasseeee ah-"

His cunt spasms on the toy, slick spraying around the toy and onto the glasses. His cock jerks against his belly, creaming all over his front and the shower fall. He speeds up, fucking himself through his orgasm without sinking down onto the fake knot. His ass slaps against the glass.

"Yes yes yes! Alpha! Fuck! Please cum in me. I need it. I need it so bad. I'm so empty. Ah ah ah!"

When the overstimulation gets to be too much, he slows to a stop and lifts off the dildo completely, sinking to his knees in the shower. His tie throbs and he sobs as it clenches around nothing, unsatisfied.

Denki knows that knotting in the shower isn't a smart idea but it aches to be so empty. Your scent is everywhere now, the steam doing nothing to hide you. He can smell your Alpha's musk, your desire. It makes him loopy.

You are gone when he comes back to himself completely and steps out of the shower, as if you hadn't been there in the first place, leaving nothing behind.

Nothing but the cum spot on the floor.

[lynkz777]

going to bed without reading fanfiction is like being sent to bed without dinner

[biglychee]

$ log - as a high ranked priest, you must maintain an impeccable standard of multitasking; after all, one must be able to offer absolution to a penitent while training their young seminarian. $ warn --nsfw --dark(light)--older!amab!reader --corrupt-priest!reader --dom!bot!reader --sub!top!character --age-gap(older man/younger man) --oral(blowjobs) --hair-pulling --praise --semi-public --power-play $ from corrupt!reader # authors-note = that one friend that's too into the works of Catholicism. # note = I had both dean winchester and matt murdock in mind for this so I gathered you all here.

the heavy oak door of the confessional muffled the outside world, reducing the cathedral to a tomb of incense and shadows.

on one side of the partition, a penitent wept, their voice cracking as they confessed their darkest transgressions. "Father, I have sinned..." they began, their words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

on your side, the atmosphere was far more charged. you sat in the velvet lined chair, one hand idly playing with your seminarian's hair. the young priest-in-training was already on his knees between your thighs, his breath hot against your skin even before he began. his eyes wide, puppy like, and filled with a terrifying mix of devotion and hunger stared up at you.

"i — i took what wasn't mine, Father," the sinner wailed.

"we all take things we shouldn't, child," you replied smoothly, your voice steady and comforting.

beneath you, he opened his mouth as warm, wet heat enveloped you. he took you in with a desperate, clumsy reverence, his lips stretching wide to accommodate your length. you felt the first involuntary hitch in his throat as he struggled to swallow you deep, the friction sending sparks through your nerves.

"it is a burden to carry alone," you continued to the sinner, your fingers tightening reflexively in his hair. "but confession is the first step toward absolution."

a muffled, wet sound escaped him — a choked whimper that threatened to break through the partition.

immediately, your grip tightened, tugging his head back sharply to warn him. the pain made his eyes water, but he obeyed instantly, swallowing the sound and focusing on the rhythm.

you watched from above, your expression one of serene composure while beneath the desk, he worked with increasing desperation. his jaw muscles flexed visibly under his skin as he tried to maintain the pace, his tongue swirling around you in a way that made your breath hitch. "speak freely, my child. the Lord hears all."

his mouth was a wet, tight vice, his tongue working frantically to soothe the friction as he learned to navigate your cock without his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. every time he stumbled, every time his throat constricted around you, your nails would dig into his scalp, a silent command to endure.

he was learning fast, his jaw working with a mechanical, desperate precision that would serve him well when he eventually stood behind a pulpit.

"i don't know if i can be forgiven," the penitent sobbed.

"forgiveness is always available to those who seek it with sincerity," you said, your voice dripping with false piety while your hips gave a small, involuntary thrust against the younger man's tongue.

the sensation was exquisite — the contrast between the sacred words leaving your lips and the profane wetness rushed blood to your cock with instantaneously.

finally, the sinner's voice trailed off into a final, broken prayer, then a hollow echo. "go in peace, child. your penance awaits."

the moment the footsteps retreated from the confessional, the pious facade shattered. the silence of the cathedral rushed back in, heavy and expectant.

you didn't wait for him to pull away; instead, you grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tilting his head back. his eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with submission and arousal.

"good boy," you murmured, your voice dropping its comforting lilt for something far more predatory. "but you're still being too careful — don't be afraid of the depth."

with a rough tug, you forced him forward, guiding your cock past his lips and straight toward the back of his throat.

as you fucked his mouth with a steady rhythm, his hands flying up to grip your thighs for balance. the wet, slapping sounds of his mouth meeting your pelvis echoed in the confined space, punctuated by his increasingly desperate, nasal whines.

you didn't give him an ounce of mercy, driving yourself home until you felt the familiar, building pressure behind your hips.

"that's it, boy. take it all," you hissed, your fingers twisting painfully in his hair to keep his throat open. "show me how well you can swallow."

with one final, forceful lunge, you came, flooding his mouth with your cum. he gagged instinctively, his eyes rolling back as he struggled to process the sudden deluge, but he didn't pull away.

true to his training, he swallowed greedily, his adam's apple bobbing convulsively as he drained you dry.

when you finally pulled away, you let out a long, satisfied exhale. a few stray droplets of cum clung to his glistening in the dim light of the confessional. you reached down with your thumb, swiping through the viscous pearl that had escaped his mouth, and then pressed it back against his tongue.

he didn't flinch; instead, he obediently swirled his tongue around your digit, lapping at the evidence of your release with a desperate, reverent hunger.

"there now," you cooed, your voice returning to that sweet, almost maternal tone as you ruffled his hair, smoothing down the mess you'd made. "see how well you did? that's my good boy."

you leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead while your eyes remained cold and calculating. "your jaw won't be cramping during tomorrow's sermon now. you've learned exactly how to hold your position under pressure."

the seminarian could only nod weakly, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure, eyes still fixed on you with that same devotion.

"clean yourself up," you commanded softly, though your tone carried the weight of an absolute decree. "we wouldn't want any traces of this — this practice lingering on your collar when you stand before the congregation."

he fumbled for a handkerchief with unsteady hands, his fingers still trembling. as he wiped his mouth, his gaze never left yours, pupils still dilated, trapped in that intoxicating haze of shame and ecstasy.

you watched him with the clinical detachment of a teacher observing a successful experiment, though a flicker of dark satisfaction warmed your chest.

notes & terms used

- I'm not Catholic, nor a Christian. I'm simply using Catholicism as a story thematic. - seminarian = a person in training to become a priest - penitent = the person who confesses their wrongs.

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[txmxkis]

"would you stop staring like that?"

across the countertop, crocodile watches you prepare dinner. he's been sitting there for too long, far more interested in what you're doing than you've ever seen before. he merely raises an eyebrow, eyes fixed on you, your reprimand doing nothing to deter him. he looks out of place, the image weirdly domestic for him; he stands out vividly against the backdrop of this kitchen that's usually a calm space for you.

"i never saw you cook in alabasta," he says as you toss colorful vegetables in a frying pan.

"i never had the chance to."

quiet hangs between you, somehow overshadowing the constant sizzle and pop of cooking food. you shift, sprinkling the pan with seasoning, keeping your hands busy to avoid looking at him.

long suppressed feelings are ever-present these days, surfacing mercilessly since the day you saw him again; the day he refused to let you go again. you both know what happened in alabasta, there's no sense bringing it all up repeatedly.

the longer the silence drags on, the more your urge to break it grows, but he does it for you, "i didn't even know you could."

he looks nearly the same as always, but his gaze shifts away from you then, and you can tell that he regrets it in his own way—never really having taken the time to know you the first time around. you held some blame for that too, though.

you haven't decided to forgive him yet, for the way things ended back then, but he makes it hard in moments like this; softer interactions that lay bare a little more of his true feelings than he intends.

"now you do." you look at him then—really look, taking time to scan his face and make note of his features. they've altered a bit, eyes more tired, lines and crinkles a bit more pronounced, but he's mostly unchanged. aside from the subtle fondness lingering in his gaze now. there's no telling whether it was there before or not, but if it was, he did a much better job of hiding it.

he shifts under your scrutiny and pulls out a cigar, lifting it to his lips until you stop him in his tracks with a sharp sound of protest, "not next to the food, are you crazy? take it outside if you need it that badly."

surprise laces through his expression for a split second, then he rolls his eyes and puts the cigar back into his pocket, a small grin perched on the corner of his mouth, "have it your way."

[indiewritesxoxo]

cry for you gojo x f!reader x sukuna

synopsis: getting ghosted hurts. but the best revenge is success.

content: mdni, angst and smut, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, backshots, unprotected piv sex, creampie, jealousy, emotional hurt, moving on, incredibly petty and protective sukuna

You were a loser in every sense of the word.

It wasn't the way you looked, or even the way you talked. You were just always alone. No friends, no hobbies, just rotting in bed rewatching the same shows over and over again outside of school and studying for exams. So when Satoru Gojo slipped you his number at your shitty barista job that barely covered your rent?

You thought it was a prank.

Flat-out refused to text him first. Until he showed up again a week later with a pretty pout and insisted you give him your number so he could call you sometime.

Sure, you scrawled it down on the back of his coffee cup, but you couldn't believe it when he followed through the same night. And when it turned out you actually had things in common? With one of the most popular guys on campus?

Texting through classes and sneaking you phone out under the counter to update him while you were at work, giggling at his stupid jokes and cheesy flirting, your scowl turning into a smile when he started coming in every week just to order an offensively sugary drink and sit at a table to send you pictures of you when you weren't looking.

His last class always started before your shift ended, so your schedules never quite meshed to meet up. You didn't mind. Outside of him giving you his coffee order and you telling him his total, you didn't know if you had the confidence to actually make it through a conversation with him when his eyes always pierced through you.

He was the type to go to frat parties and spend his weekends swimming or hanging out with other pretty, popular people. You preferred to sleep.

But you made an exception for him.

Stepped out of your comfort zone and into a skin tight dress to show up to a party you had to write someone's midterm paper to score an invite for. Nervously drinking a lukewarm beer and scanning the living room searching for a familiar face, a distinct head of white hair or even the sound of his laugh.

And you found him.

Just with his tongue down another girl's throat, his hands on her ass while she moaned in his mouth.

For a second, everything stopped. Your heart stalling before it shattered spectacularly. Your fingers freezing before they could form fists. Not even blinking when you felt sure the second you did, you'd start to cry.

Guys like Gojo didn't date girls like you.

He happened to look over when one of his friends shouted over to him, the girl kissing his neck when he glanced. But he didn't get up. Didn't push her off in a panic. Just met your eyes with the bare minimum of an apology.

He didn't text you after that. Last message left on read while you were left to wonder if he even liked you to begin with. If you misread all the signs and were stupid enough to believe it meant anything more to him.

When graduation came and went without another word, you were just glad he'd be gone for good. Watching him walk across the stage with that stupid brilliant smile and cheeky wave at the crowd, like he was more than just a dark blot on your days there.

You only saw him one more time. Showing up at your job on your last shift there with one of his friends, the bell above the door chiming as they chuckled about something. Maybe you.

But you were excusing yourself to the back for your break before you could find out, sitting on the back step where your coworkers usually smoked until your fifteen minutes were up. They weren't there when you came back, but you did have to listen to the new cashier talk about the cute guys that smiled at her for the rest of the day.

You hoped you'd never have to see his smile again.

Moved on. Moved out into a new apartment. Got a new job with better hours and benefits. Sure, it was just the standard desk work and they stuffed bland office culture down your thoughts but it was better than spilling boiling coffee on yourself. Then you changed jobs again, changing cities like it'd scrub the shitty memories with each moving box. Even went on a few dates.

No one stuck around until him.

Funny enough, you met him through a different coffee cup.

One you accidentally spilled on his suit. Drying him off with a wrinkled napkin and a hundred stammered apologies before he just huffed and shrugged you off. You probably would've filed it away as yet another awkward encounter to think about before bed until you saw him again thirty minutes later walking into your new office building.

Ryomen Sukuna also just happened to be your boss.

You didn't know why he was even interested in you at first. He was handsome and intelligent, tattoos poking out under his rolled-up sleeves and a permanent glare glued to his face while he bluntly bossed people around all day long. Why would he want you?

So you ignored the replacement coffee he dropped off at your desk the next day. Dismissed his begrudging approval of your work as politeness despite him scowling at everyone else.

It wasn't until he stoically asked you on a date and offered to get HR to sign off on it if you wanted him too that you actually realized he was serious. Or ever anticipated he'd stay.

And three years later?

You never would've imagined you'd be bent over a bathroom sink with his cock buried in your cunt, gasping his name after hours while your coworkers were all distracted with the party he paid for downstairs. Clenching the cold marble and watching his brows furrowed together in the reflection, sweat heading across his forehead as every slam of his hips into your ass almost pressed your face to the mirror.

"You're such a wreck," He chided, groaning as you clenched tighter around him, milking him for more.

He wasn't wrong - your mascara had started to tear under your eyes, your once perfect makeup smeared and your carefully styled hair mused and messed up in a few places, skin slick and damp from your face to your thighs, dress bunched up and sticking to your skin.

"F-fuck, Kuna," You cried, his rough fingers massaging your clit, stuck in a neverending competition to see who could make the other cum first in the worst places.

You knew you were going to lose before he even grunted out a reply.

Seeing splotches of white as you finished hard, squeezing him right as his thick cock split you open again, stretched out to the limits as his swollen tip grinded against that soft, spongy spot in the back as he came inside you seconds later.

"Loser," Sukuna dryly teased, planting a messy kiss to your shoulder before tugging up your lace panties like they wouldn't be filled with cum by the end of the night.

You were still a loser. Still had all those old habits and hardly any friends. But he loved you.

"Come on, brat, it's your party out there," He grumbled, yanking down a paper towel and running it under the water before fixing your makeup for you.

Yeah, your engagement party.

You glanced down at the pretty ring on your finger, your favorite gemstones rather than diamond, fixing it so it was centered before getting up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

He had to leave you a few minutes later to attend to some last minute issue that popped up while you were, uh, occupied. But you relegated yourself to the open bar, sipping a cup of wine and fielding congratulations with an uncomfortable smile.

Someone sauntered up next to you, ordering a drink and sliding it in front of you. You hadn't even looked, just assuming it was another person probably hoping to suck up to Sukuna through you until he spoke.

"You work here too? Small world," A casual chuckle, a smile you didn't need to see to know. "I actually just started last week. God, it's been what? Three years now? Four? You look fantastic, by the way, but uh, I guess you always did."

You froze. Fingers still wrapped around your first drink, unable to even exhale with the weight of his presence next to you.

"C'mon, don't act like you don't remember me," Gojo teased, a finger tapping on the back of your hand.

Somehow, he hadn't noticed your ring. Maybe his head was still stuck too far up his own ass.

"Hey," You finally breathed, your voice cold. Distant even to you. "Gojo."

"My friends call me Satoru." He was trying to joke, to make you feel like you were friends, like he wasn't the one who left you hanging in the first place.

"Okay," You dryly replied, glancing back around for Sukuna, for anyone really that could give you an excuse to go.

"How have you been?" He asked, inching a little closer.

"Fine," You muttered.

"Are you seeing anyone these days?" He purred, pitching his voice lower, winking as if he was acting in some movie he was the lead of. His stare skimmed of your low-cut dress, the way it clung to your hips, oblivious to the fact your panties had someone else's cum already in it.

You doubted he'd even want to date you if you weren't. Probably just fuck and forget about you. It'd already been easy for him to wipe you from his mind once.

"Yeah," You rolled your eyes, pulling back just to bump into someone. You glanced back at one of the girls in marketing, a faint flicker of relief washing over you. "Sorry, Yuki, have you met Gojo?"

You felt a little bad for pawning him off on her, but she just chuckled, a little tipsy already as she tilted her head to the side. "Don't think so."

"He just started," You didn't bother introducing him more, already attempting to slip away before he reached out for you.

"Stay, let's catch up," He complained with a whine you bet he used on women all the time to get what he wanted, murmuring your name like he said it a million times. "I wanna know what this place is like. Y'know, I heard the boss was a complete prick."

You felt Sukuna before you heard him. His hand on your waist pulling you back into his chest, his cologne enveloping you in a warm hug.

"Oh yeah?" He scoffed.

"I haven't met him," Gojo clarified, not intimidated in the slightest as he sized him up, but he did scowl the second he noticed Sukuna's fingers digging into your side, not so subtly claiming you. He glanced back down to you, obviously annoyed. "This guy your boyfriend?"

"I'm her fiancé," Sukuna corrected him in a low growl. "But I guess you'll find out just how much of a prick the boss is."

"Yeah? So you technically haven't locked it down yet?" Gojo mocked, just ignoring the last half of what he said.

Forget being out of a job. Gojo was probably going to be out of a life with a single poorly-timed and even more terribly executed joke.

You felt Sukuna's fingers flex, gripping you like it was the only thing holding him back from hitting him here in front of everyone.

Yuki just laughed, watching the scene unfold with a shit-eating grin waiting for Sukuna to explode while you nervously squirmed.

"That's highly inappropriate," You interjected, stern and cold, cutting Gojo a glance to shut the fuck up.

"You're still so cold," Gojo whined, deliberately not taking the hint.

"How do you know each other?" Yuki interrupted, jumping in to just stir the pot more.

"We went to school together. I kinda had a crush on her," He smiled like this was just some fond memory for him, a funny story to tell. You were just a joke to him even now.

"Well, you kinda had a crush on half the college," You dryly muttered.

"I liked you the best." Liar.

"Let's go," You glanced back up your shoulder to murmur to Sukuna.

"Isn't fate so funny? Together again?" Gojo chuckled.

"You know what's funny?" Sukuna grinded his molars, jaw tightly clenched. "You're fired."