a/n: a little something something bc ykw i'm pissed off at not having a valentine the other day.
warnings: dom!reader, sub!character, gn!reader (words like dick and cock used but can be read as a strap-on), gags, blindfold, headphones, sensory deprivation, handcuffs, anal sex, praise, dacryphillia, hickeys, mentions of vibrators, spankings, ignoring(?), and overstimulation, what if i start sending you guys in blind
"you know..." you started to murmur despite knowing he couldn't hear you. how could he? his ears were covered with noise cancelling headphones, his eyes covered by a blindfold, his mouth gagged, and his arms handcuffed above his head. he couldn't sense a damn thing but your presence looming over him.
your hand lifted up one side of the headphones, leaning close to whisper, "i could keep you like this forever and you wouldn't be able to do a thing. you'd just have to take whatever i gave you."
it was mean, of course, but he had been so fucking annoying it was making you want to ruin him beyond belief. your words made him tremble and something between a gag and a whine pushed past the ball between his lips.
"don’t complain. it's your fault for being away for a week. you're mine, remember that? you aren't anyone else's and yet you were off with someone else for valentine's day." you kiss your teeth instead of his lips and it makes him squirm beneath you.
he's trying to apologize. you know that, but it doesn't mean you have any sympathy or desire to hear his pathetic excuses. your hand returns the headphones to his ear and once again he's left floating in a void of nothing except the vague sensation of you nearby.
he wants to reach to you so badly, his arms flexing against the handcuffs to no avail. he didn’t mean to make you so upset. but, then again, what was he expecting leaving for a week because of whatever reason he had?
"breathe, baby." you whisper to the air, knowing he probably feels your words inside him anyways. gentle fingers travel up his sides, along his ribcage and up to his chest with featherlight touches that make him tremble. regardless of how rude your darling was, he sure did know how to obey. watching him take slow, deep breaths around his gag as drool began to slip past his lips made you smile fondly at him.
he wishes so dearly that he could see it. the break in your well-deserved agitation with him was all he was thinking of in his mind--along with how much he'd worship you afterwards to show he was sorry.
his arms flexed yet again against the metal handcuffs, making them clink against your headboard so sweetly to your ears. taking his senses away was a blessing and a curse in your mind. on one hand, it was a good punishment for your darling. though, it was equally torturous for you to not be able to see and hear the wonderful reactions you loved so truly.
inch by inch, you took your time thrusting back into your beloved's waiting hole. it was gaping and sloppy--having already been stretched and filled with lube. you weren't giving him pain. instead, you were making sure he felt as little as possible so that everything he did feel was miles more intense than usual.
"mmmng..." he whined around the rubber, back arching off the mattress as he attempted to meet your hips halfway. somehow, the slowness of your actions, each so strategically thought out, was worse than the feeling of you roughly pounding into him and spanking his ass when he did something bad.
your hands met his wandering hips, pushing them gently but firmly back down to the bed and pinning them there. "ah ah, no. bad boy." you cooed, lightly flicking the angry red tip of his dick with a finger.
the motion made his whole body jerk, drops of pre-cum immediately coating the head of his cock as his whining got louder. his breathing picked up and he squirmed upon feeling you continue to gradually bottom out in his needy ass. he'd take anything you gave him, really he would. he just wished he could apologize to you properly and get his senses back.
it wasn't the vibrator, or the spankings, or the multiple orgasms that he hated most as punishment, it was the ones that restricted him from having you.
when you had left him alone to ride a dildo mounted to the floor and only returned after he had cum twice, he had been sobbing and begging you to forgive him. this was no different, though at least you were still here with him. despite your touch, he could feel the tears building up behind the blindfold from nothing other than pure unbridled desire to see you and hear you and touch you.
with each long drag of your dick along his walls as you pull out only to push back in at a similar agonizing pace, he started to feel his breaking point. he could feel his orgasm building, the heat in his tummy coiling up, and his thighs clenching. but, fuck, he wanted to cum while holding you. he wanted to see you and hear your sweet words as you talked him through it.
"mmmmm~!" he moaned louder, his squirming becoming more frequent as he pulled against the cuffs. it was only when you saw the first tear slip through his blindfold that you smirked and lifted a hand to the ball between his lips.
even a mere lean forward had him writhing beneath you, trying ever so desperately to ward off his own orgasm that was teetering over the edge from the feeling of you being so deep inside him. as the ball was slowly pulled away from his sore mouth, he quickly shut it, swallowing his own drool and attempting to compose himself.
"is there something you wanna say, baby?" your voice was honey to his ear as you lifted one side of the headphones to speak to him. he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out--his legs clenching together in fear of summing on the spot.
"p-please, i'm hic i'm sorry! i'm so sorry, i'll make it up to you, i promise. i-ngh~! i'm only yours... i swear i wasn't with anyone else. please let me h-hold you. i wanna..." your poor darling can't even finish his adorable begging as he dissolves into pathetic panting, doing his hardest to hold back on summing even as you continue to slowly fuck into his pulsing hole.
"i wanna see you..." he finally manages to get out, sounding so whiny and miserable that it makes you sigh. "please?"
there was the cherry on top. even if you would never deny yourself the pleasure of watching your sweetheart cling to you as he cums--accompanied by tears falling down his eyes and incoherent blabbers falling out of his mouth--you feign reluctance as you undo his blindfold and handcuffs.
the second he can see you again, it's like an angel in front of him. he can't help but instantly wrap his arms around your neck and pull you down on top of him with a surprising burst of energy despite feeling so weak.
"shhhh, it's okay. i forgive you... i guess. you gonna cum for me now? show me who you belong to?" you purr into his ears, freshly free from the headphones and swimming in all the noises they'd missed.
"nghh... mhmmm. you..." he mumbles, clenching tightly around you as he feels you speed up, fucking his leaking hole with more vigour now that you can see how desperate he's become. your pretty little thing has gone dumb with how much he missed you.
"i know, baby. that's right, you do belong to me. can you cum for me, sweetheart? can you do that?" you ask, a trace of mockery dripping into your tone. your self restraint isn't strong enough when all he can do is moan without a thought in the world.
he answers you with nodding, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, before latching onto your precious skin to sloppily suck on it--his mouth feeling suddenly empty without the gag. as much as he tries to wrap his legs around your waist and keep you pressed even closer against him, he's shaking too badly. all they can do is fall open and give you better access to his warm, spongey walls.
your hands roam his body, making him sigh dreamily at the sensation he had been craving. whoever said taking away all the senses made touch more intense was a liar, because the feeling of having them back made your hands feel like heaven. each touch of your lips against the side of his face and head made him tighten his hold on you from both his arms and his ass. he needed you taking care of him. he needed to experience every bit of you. forget nulling his senses, he wanted them to be overwhelmed with your being.
with a gasp, he cums, biting down on your neck and whimpering loud. he holds you so tightly you almost think he's upset until you see the blissed out look on his face.
"easy baby, good boy. you did so well. did that feel good?" you coo softly, grinning as you watch him nod with tears streaming down his face and hiccups making his body shake. "yeah? awww, what a darling i have. can you tell me what 2 + 2 is?"
you just can't help it, not when your darling is so adorable and fucked out that he can't even think. after your question processes, he pouts, hiding his face in your shoulder and pretending he's annoyed you'd be so mean as to belittle him like that when he's still around your dick. really, he can't understand what you're asking him even though he knows it's easy, and it's making his dick hard again.
nanami, JUNICHIRO, diluc, GYOMEI, satan, denki, your favs <3
Eridian Grace, as in culturally Eridian, not the species Eridian, is so important to me.
Grace who does jazz hands and taps when he's asking a question and says some words three times like Rocky. Grace who makes chirps and trilling noises when he's happy.
Grace who starts thinking and dreaming in Eridian, who sometimes has dreams that are just sound, no visual. (Grace who, if he ever goes back to Earth for whatever reason after years on Erid, forgets some words in English and speaks in the sentence structure of Eridian because he has to translate from Eridian to English when he speaks outloud).
Grace who does scarification (even if Rocky protests at first) - I've read some fics where he does the Voyager pulsar map, or dots and lines showing his route from Sol, to Tau Ceti, turning around towards Sol, and then the line going all the way back to Erid. Even though he already has the scars from Rocky saving him, maybe Rocky's family crest. A scar showing his rank as Captain of the Hail Mary - maybe something to represent her, too.
Grace who wears Eridian gems, as earrings, in a chain for his glasses, in strings draped over him that clink together when he walks - the most important ones, like the earrings he wears all the time, the color of the blueish-green gems (or spots?) in/on Rocky's carapace.
Grace who wears a bracelet on each arm that have ribbed marks like on Rocky's arm so he can properly say goodbye (not something he had to do, but something that felt right to do, something that made him feel more like himself), sound included.
Grace who considers himself an Eridian!! Grace who IS an Eridian!!
stop ignoring me! (fem reader x sub! male character)
mentions of mommy kink (referring to reader, no smut); toxic reader?
notes: this is inspired from a scaramouche blurb around 2020-2021 (?) where he was being ignored and that really rewired my brain ever since lol. i think the author already deactivated so i can’t find it anymore. :(
“hey, i’ll be heading to the grocery store. is there anything you want?” he casually slid into your shared room leaning against the wall, all prepped up to go outside.
you two just had a minor argument earlier. it eventually ended since you two were exhausted in rebutting the other. needless to say, hurtful words were said.
there you were, draped against your bed. you don't say anything, though. he scrunches his nose at your silence but doesn't read into it.
“so… i’ll take that as a no, then?”
you still don't say anything. you didn't even move your head at his direction—you were just on top of your bed minding your own business, your eyes glued to your phone screen. or were you?
“okay..? i’ll go… i’ll see you later. bye, love you.” he made his voice a little bit louder in uttering the last phrase.
yet, still no reply.
okay, what the fuck was your problem? you probably were still mad from the argument earlier.
why weren't you saying anything to him? you weren't normally like this. maybe… you were just wearing earphones? but he didn't see them attached to your ear canals.
pissed off, he walked away without shutting the door and went to the grocery store as aforementioned.
hmm, he bought some snacks and softened up after walking through the aisles. i suppose, she just had a bad day, especially because of me, he thinks.
oh god, why did the argument even start in the first place? he feels dejected upon realizing that he hasn't verbally apologized. (not that you did, either.)
i feel so bad thinking so wrong of her, mmm, she doesn't deserve it! he frowned at the internal battle he was having, regretting how he could even think of being mad at you.
he was stuck at the produce section, since he was stuck in his mind thinking of you. maybe you'd like some fruit? you would love it. he smiles.
he's back at your home, carrying paper bags filled with the food that he just bought earlier. the door to your room was shut. weird.
he gently knocked at the door anyway.
“hi? i’m back… i brought some snacks! we can watch a movie and eat them. i even bought some fruit! haha, i can peel some oranges for you…” he rambled, as you haven't opened the door yet.
silence.
“..?” ten minutes have passed and you still haven't answered him. were you okay?
“baby? are you asleep?” right, that must be it.
he placed the paper bags down by the door and decided to ring your phone.
not even one second, and his screen flashed ‘call declined.’
ah? um.
oh. oh.
so you were awake… was he that horrible earlier? deep breaths, deep breaths, he reassures himself.
he began knocking again.
“b-baby?” he stuttered, trying to calm himself.
still no answer. what?
“mmm, baby, if this was about earlier… mm’sorry, okay? i shouldn't have said all those things… m’sorry i hurt you.”
still silence was met with his apology. his heart was pumping out of his chest—but your silence was louder than his heartbeat.
“baby? m’sorry. please let me in?” he breathed out shakily. why weren't you answering?
his desperation seeped through as he begins to insistently slam his fists against the door, over and over and over. still no response from you.
he couldn't take it anymore. his breathes developed into quiet sobs followed by the loud knocks.
“nnngh!” the tears trickling down his cheeks began to trail faster, making his cheeks heat up.
it's like the bile in his stomach rose up to his throat, pricking painfully. ugh, he was crying so pathetically now.
oh no. oh no no no. were you… breaking up with him? was the argument earlier the final straw?
stupid, stupid, STUPID. he was so FUCKING stupid.
the dam breaks as his body sank down to the ground, blubbering endless apologies. his face was covered with dried tear stains while the fresh ones still trickle down. his snot was all over.
“hngghhh, h-hah! m’sowwi mommy, m’sowwi! don’ break up with me, p-please!” he swallows, and then continues. “please be mad at me! y-yell at me instead! punish me! i’ve b-been so bad! a b-bad boy! i can't t-take it! don’ leave me!”
he whimpers on the ground, his heart hurting from the thought of you leaving him for good. oh, you were so good to be true. he sobs harder.
“m-mommy… ngh…” he passes out from the overwhelming emotions eating at his heart.
well, little did he know, you were ignoring him on purpose. you thought it would teach him a lesson but you went too far. so cruel, weren't you?
he didn't make a sound anymore, rendering you worried. you got up from the bed and went to the entrance, finally opening the door.
there he was, all fast asleep on the ground. curled up, his face was a mess. he must be so exhausted. you cooed at your boyfriend.
“mmm, sorry baby, i went too far… but, you were so cute…” you whispered, kneeling down. you pet his hair gently, brushing your nails against his scalp.
he moaned a little at the sensation. he latched unto your waist unconsciously, surprising you. you two were now in an awkward position. his head was against your inner thigh, hugging your waist tightly.
“mnngh, m-mommy…” he whimpered in his sleep, nuzzling against you.
now that turned you on. after making him cry so much, you felt a little guilty in feeling a bit horny after he literally poured his heart out earlier.
“oh shhh, my baby. mommy's sorry for leaving you out here. shhh, let me make it all better.” you cooed at him.
you carried him to your bed, much to your dismay since he was heavy.
he felt a strange sensation when you placed him on the fluffy bed, which in turn jolted him awake. you also were shocked. he was usually a heavy sleeper.
“m-mommy?” he whispered groggily.
“hi, my angel. did you nap well?”
he quickly clung to you tightly, making you breathless. literally.
“d-don't leave me.” the waterworks were starting again.
before you could say anything, he sobbed heavily.
“m-mommy, m’sorry, m’sorry, i di’nt m-mean what i said e-earlier. the argument was stupid. i-i’m stupid. m’dumb. i can't handle you treating me like… like i don't exist. i’d rather die.”
you cooed at him again, rubbing his back comfortingly.
“shhh, i’m sorry as well. i’m sorry that i hurt my baby. mmm, my sweet, precious boy.” you look at him with tenderness, as if you weren't neglecting him purposely earlier.
so cruel. but he doesn't know that.
“mmm! n-no, s’all my fault. i was bad…”
“shhh, we're having none of that. let's watch a movie now, hm? you mentioned that there were snacks?”
he sniffed and smiled against your shoulder, humming in agreement.
“o-okay… love you.” he whispered wetly. you didn't say it earlier, after all.
ˏˋ°•*🕸 CONTENT ♰ mdni! masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!yuuta, pervert!yuuta, mommy kink, dacryphilia, established relationship, slightly mean!reader, mild degradation, slight mindbreak, mentions of yuuta being in heat, no pronouns but use of the word girlfriend, pet names (puppy)
ˏˋ°•*🕸 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
ˏˋ°•*🕸 A/N ♰ wow off to a rough start posting day 1 on oct.4th! that's what happens when kinktober overlaps w/ midtermtober. first time posting my nsfw works, all feedback/reblogs are appreciated!
hope you enjoy ;) .˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚.
Okkotsu Yuuta prides himself on many things. He prides himself on being a good friend, on being a good person, on being a strong enough sorcerer to protect those weaker than him, and most of all, on being a good boyfriend.
Yuuta likes to think of himself as being well-disciplined, as having good self-control. He’s a hopeless romantic, and he spent the longest time at the beginning of your relationship trying to ensure that you perceived him as your soft, sweet, sappy boyfriend. And he is all of those things. But under it all, Okkotsu Yuuta is nothing if not a pervert.
And he knows it.
He knows it when you smile at him so sweetly and ruffle his hair, and he feels himself hardening in his pants, imagining you pulling it, forcing his head back, smiling that sickly sweet smile at him as he melts under your gaze.
He knows it when you plop yourself onto his lap for a movie night with your friend group, and he squirms, retreating against the back of the couch, trying to put as much distance between you and his groin as possible, unable to focus on a single scene of the movie because you’re so close to him he can smell you.
He knows it when he feels that humiliating pang of jealousy in his stomach when you stop on a walk with him to say hi to a dog. Scratching its head, telling it to sit, paw…the way your face lights up as you say “good boy!”, and his flushes dark red.
And he knows it now, as he stares at your contact, knuckles white around the edges of his phone, thumb hovering over the call button as his right hand frantically works itself on his cock, the small hotel room filled with nothing but slick noises and his soft, breathy whines.
Yuuta has been away for just under a week on this mission, and he already feels he’s going crazy. It’s only been six days, he tells himself, trying to refrain from calling you at 2 in the morning. He’s already called you every day since he’s left, including four hours ago when he was supposedly going to sleep – but they’ve all been sweet, innocent calls, filled with declarations of how much you miss each other, and how you can’t wait to squish his cheeks and hug him so tightly when he gets back.
He shouldn’t need to call you to get off. He doesn’t, he tells himself.
Except he’s tried everything now. He’s tried looking at pictures of you, he’s tried watching porn and pretending it’s you - all the things that usually work. Yet, for some reason, it’s just not doing it tonight.
By the time he finally gives in and presses call, he’s already so worked up, panting and humping up into his hand. He’s essentially been edging himself without meaning to for the past hour trying to get off without you.
You pick up after four rings, and as soon as Yuuta hears your voice, it’s like a new pathway in his brain lights up that was dark before; he knows he’s done for.
“Hi puppy~” you chide, voice slightly rough from not using it for the past few hours, “What’re you doing up at this hour?”
Yuuta lets out a breathless moan, making you freeze and grip your phone harder. He instantly spills into his hand, unable to control it.
Any humiliation at calling you in such a desperate state is forgotten as he whines and gasps into the phone, his eyes rolling back in relief at finally being able to cum.
“F-fuckkkk, mommy, nnnh–...missed you so much…hah…n-needed to hear you…”
“--Yuuta?”
Yuuta shivers at the way his name sounds coming from your mouth.
“Fuck…y-yea? Ahhh I c-can’t…feels so good…f-fuck I love you… hah…”
You’re stunned into silence, hearing such lewd noises coming from his cute voice instantly having an effect on you.
“Fuck… Yuuta, I–...Did you just cum? From me picking up the phone and saying hi?”
Yuuta nods shamelessly, whimpering a soft “mhm” into the phone, still trying to catch his breath, twitching from the aftershocks of his much needed orgasm. He lifts his shaky hand up to his face, spreading his fingers, watching his thick cum web between them.
“Shit, mommy…I came so much…”
Your breath catches in your throat, still in shock.
“My god, puppy. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Are you mad?” Yuuta whispers breathlessly.
“Of course not. Just surprised, I–...that was so hot.”
Yuuta whines softly, feeling himself twitch again. “Nnnh…y-your voice is so hot…I needed to hear you so bad. W-Was tryna’ cum for so long, couldn’t do it…b-but as soon as I heard your voice, it just happened, I c-couldn’t even help it…nnnh…”
“Aww, Yuuta! You’re so precious.” Yuuta’s pupils dilate at your praise, and he feels heat start to pool in his tummy again. Fuck, the effect your voice has on him is crazy. “So cute. puppy jus’ needed to hear my voice to cum, huh? S’ that easy?”
Yuuta nods, whimpering, unable to stop his hand from sliding down to gently palm at his wet cock, starting to feel uncomfy again. He gasps, sensitive, but pushes up into his hand nonetheless.
“Y..yeah…hah….needed it…t-tried watching porn, 'nd it didn’t even work…jus made me sad…need you…I miss you…”
Yuuta has been quite pent up for the past week, as well, his mission keeping him thoroughly busy. He thought he just needed to cum once, but he doesn’t feel satisfied anymore, especially with you talking to him like this.
“Awww. You’re so cute. I’m glad I could help. I miss you too, Yuuta -so much. How are things going? We didn’t get to talk long today. You must be tired, huh, puppy?”
“M—mhm…” Yuuta’s eyes flutter shut as he grips himself fully, his cum helping his hand glide up and down as he starts stroking again. “Things are going as well as they can... But m’tired, yeah…”
“Well I’m sure you’re doing amazing. You’re so strong, Yuuta. And you’ve trained so hard. I know they overwork you, but I’m so proud of you, baby. There’s nobody better suited for the missions they send you on. Did you eat tonight?”
“Ngh—thank you…” hearing your gentle voice praise him through the phone sends a fresh wave of tingles through his body, making Yuuta shiver. “Wish you were here…y-yea, ate dinner earlier…mommy I—…’m touching myself again…” Yuuta’s face flushes at his admission.
Your eyes widen in surprise and you let out a breathless laugh into the phone. You had picked up on how panty and whiny he sounded, of course, but you had assumed it was because he was still settling down from his orgasm. Leave it to Yuuta to feel horny again within a minute of cumming. Thoroughly entertained, you decide to cut him a little less slack this time.
“Yeah?” You whisper to him, the seductive lilt in your voice making him clamp his legs together around his hand, head falling back against the pillows. “It’s been how long since you came, Yuuta? A minute? Less?”
Yuuta whines, stroking harder, his mind starting to fog up. “d-dunno…less, maybe—hah…”
“Awww. Puppy can’t even hold a conversation with mommy without getting worked up again, huh? M’tryna talk to you and you can’t keep your hands off your pretty cock? Miss me that bad?”
Yuuta feels his balls tighten at your words, tummy starting to clench up, twitching hard into his hand. He can barely think of a response, the way you gently degrade him making him feel all floaty and light, and your soft voice in his ear making him tingle all over.
“Ahh, I—I—y-yeah, I.. c-can’t help it, I…nnnn~”
“What’re you, in heat?” you goad him through the phone, endlessly amused by his antics.
“Hah…maybe…d-dunno... your voice…m-makes me so hard, couldn’t stop myself...hah…fuck, I l-love you…”
“Did you even want to talk to me, Yuuta?” You decide to tease him more, “Or did you just want me to talk at you so you can cum to my voice without even telling me like a little perv?”
“M’sorrryyy~” Yuuta whines, hips bucking off the bed into his hand at this point, “Ngh..w-was trying to listen to you…just need you so bad…m’not a perv…”
“No? You’re not?” Yuuta squirms at the scolding edge to your voice, legs thrashing against the bed, brain growing hazier as he gets closer to his orgasm.
“Mommy please…”
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be touching yourself to my voice right now no matter what I’m talking about?”
“I-I…nnhh…” Yuuta tries to think of a response, needing to keep you talking. As soon as he opens his mouth, a loud moan rips from his throat, toes starting to curl in pleasure as he focuses his strokes at the sensitive spot right below his tip. Yuuta whines, realizing he can’t remember your question. “C-can’t think, mommy, I—haaaah~… p-please, please…please.”
“Please what, puppy?”
“Please keep talking,” Yuuta moans out, fighting against the foggy feeling in his mind.
“Yeah? What do you want me to say, puppy? Do you want me to praise you?” Your voice goes softer and Yuuta nods frantically, feeling tears start to well in his eyes. “Want me to tell you how pretty you sound? How good you’re being for me? How well I’m gonna take care of you next time I see you, how I’m gonna make you cum so hard your little puppy brain won’t even be able to process it?”
Yuuta gasps, cursing under his breath, head thrown back, practically drooling at this point. He’s dropped the phone from his left hand onto the pillow by his head in favor of clutching the sheets next to him, right hand frantically pumping his flushed, dripping cock, the wet noises almost overpowering his whines.
“Yes, yes, pleeease mommy, p-please please, hah… m’so close…”
“Don’t cum yet, puppy. Stop.”
“W-What?” Yuuta’s hand slows on his cock, his tummy twisting up.
“I said, don’t cum yet. Take your hand off your cock, turn over. I want you to hump one of your pillows.”
Yuuta groans in frustration, his hand automatically ripping itself off of his cock, his body so attuned to following your commands that it listens to you without him even having time to think it through.
He thinks about it more as he watches his pink cock twitch painfully against his stomach, desperately fighting the urge to take it back into his hand. He could just…keep touching, and not tell you.
“I-…b-but…ugh…s’gonna make a mess..”
“I don’t care.”
“But I–”
“Do you wanna cum, Yuuta?”
Yuuta huffs in frustration, cock still throbbing from stopping so suddenly when he was so close to cumming, and reluctantly flips himself over. As tempted as he is, he knows he can’t go through with disobeying you – he’d feel guilty about it the whole night until he’d end up snitching on himself.
“Are you listening to me?” you ask, your voice sharper than before.
“‘Course I am,” Yuuta mutters, huffing again as he grabs a pillow and folds it in half. "Why're you bein' so mean?”
“I’m not!” You smile innocently against the phone. “You don’t have to do any of this, puppy. I can hang up right now and go to bed–”
“No!” Yuuta panics, frantically shaking his head. “D-don’t hang up. Please. I’ll be good, wanna be good for you. I’m listeni–ngnhhh~” Yuuta’s pleading breaks off into a pitchy whine as he sinks his hips against the pillow, eyes rolling back at the soft feeling of the fabric against his cock, already so sensitive from being edged. “Oh... mommy i–it feels good…”
“There you go, puppy. See? M’not being mean, am I? A puppy in heat doesn’t use his hands, you’re supposed to hump something. You’ll love it.”
Yuuta whines in embarrassment, grabbing a second pillow to bury his face in. “M’not in heat,” he mumbles. Yet, he can’t stop himself from rolling his hips, pressing his cock harder into the pillow.
“No? But it seems like you are, puppy. You’re so desperate, you can’t even control your instincts. You were touching yourself without asking me, you came without asking me, and then you started jerking off again while I was talking to you.”
Yuuta pouts, shaking his head as he humps against the pillow harder. “I said m’sorryyy,” he whines, grabbing the phone and holding it closer to his face, eager to hear your voice more. “Couldn’t help it.”
“Because you’re in heat? Or because you’re a pervert who can’t hear my voice without getting hard?”
“I-I–” Yuuta’s cheeks flush with humiliation, and he moves himself up a bit on the pillow, humping it harder, his precum soaking a wet spot into the fabric. “Nghh…hah…m’not…n-not a perv…y-you’re being mean, mommy…”
“Am I?” Yuuta knows the exact look that’s on your face – you’re pouting at him in false sympathy – and just imagining it makes his tummy tighten, and he moans as the tingly feeling in his groin starts to spread up through his body. “Am I being mean?”
“Y-Yeah…hah…s-so mean…” Yuuta pants out.
“And is it turning you off, puppy? Be honest.”
Yuuta drops his head in defeat, letting out a low whine. “No…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Good boy. Because it doesn’t matter what I’m saying, you’ll cum no matter what just from hearing me talk to you. Because my voice overpowers every last thought in your hazy little puppy brain. Isn’t that right?”
Yuuta just whimpers in response, feeling himself twitch harder, his rhythm becoming irregular. All he can do is pant into the phone, drooling on the pillow that he’s clutching in his arms. He was already so close before he started humping the pillow, he knows he’s not gonna last long.
“Answer me, puppy.”
Yuuta opens his mouth, tries to think of the right answer, and just lets out a sob instead. “g-gonna cum,” he moans.
“Of course you are. Because you’re a pathetic little thing, aren’t you?”
“Nggh…y-yeah…m’pathetic…hah...can I cum mommy? Please please, c-can’t stop…” Yuuta feels his tummy tightening, and he tries to hold himself back, desperately needing your permission this time.
“Say it again, then you can cum. Tell me how pathetic you are.”
Yuuta sobs against the pillow, your voice in his ear making it almost impossible to hold himself back.
“I’m pathetic! I’m your pathetic little puppy. I– ah–j-just thinking about you makes me horny…all I can think about right now is f-fucking into you…c-can’t even listen to you talk–w-without–nghh- ffffffuck I needa cum mommy, pleease~I–I cant–can’t think–”
“Shhh, s’okay. Relax. Don’t need to think anymore. Just cum for me, puppy. Don’t overwork your pretty little brain.”
“Nngh–” Yuuta’s hips stutter and he tenses up, going silent, vision going white, before he whines loudly as he’s thrown into a shaking orgasm, shooting thick white ropes against the hotel pillow. “Fuck mommy–ahhhh…”
You talk him through it gently, finally whispering the praise to him that he’s been waiting for.
“Goood puppy, that’s it. That’s my good boy. Did so well for me, Yuuta. Such a good listener. Let it all out.”
Yuuta basks in your praise, whimpering out almost unintelligible “thankyou”s as he rocks his sensitive cock into the pillow, smearing his cum deeper and deeper into the fabric.
After a minute, his body slumps against the pillows, and he lets out a shaky breath, high on the endorphins running through his body. He feels around blindly for his phone that he dropped at some point in his haze, grabbing it and holding it close to his face, curling his body around it like it’s you.
“Mommy?” he pants out softly.
“I’m right here, puppy,” You quickly reassure him. “You doin’ okay?”
“Mhmm,” he hums, blissed out, your voice lulling him into a sleepy trance now that he’s not so pent up anymore. “Not mad at me, right?”
You laugh softly, feeling a bit bad for him. “Aww. Not even a tiny bit. You did so good, Yuuta, that was so hot.”
“Mmm,” Yuuta hums softly again, smiling.
You hesitate for a moment, before asking, “Was I too mean?”
“Nuh-uh. I liked it.” Yuuta nuzzles his head into his pillow, winces at the wet spot from drooling on it, and flips it over before nuzzling back into it. “I’ve been so horny for you this whole trip. Can’t stop jerking off to your pictures. I need to be put in my place sometimes,” he giggles.
“Dumb puppy,” you try to calm yourself down, cheeks starting to hurt from smiling into the phone. “You know that being horny for your girlfriend doesn’t actually make you a perv, right? I just like messing with you.”
“I know,” Yuuta smiles dreamily into the phone on the other end of the line. Lying there, dazed, with a worn out variation of the same expression as you, hundreds of miles away. “I like when you mess with me…” He pauses, before adding, “Sometimes. As long as you’re extra nice to me after.”
“Of course, puppy. I can only handle being a little mean to you, anyway. You’re such a good boy at heart, aren’t you? Always so perfect for me.”
Yuuta whines, kicking the soiled pillow away from between his legs so he doesn’t get tempted to rub himself against it. “Stop ittt…I love you, but you’re gonna make me horny again.”
“Awhh, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I love you too, and you need to go to bed.” You pause, before adding, “You know I don’t mean anything I say when I'm mean to you, though, right?”
“Of course not,” Yuuta yawns, smiling. “I know I’m your good boy.”
hiii your writing is really good!! Could I request for Boss Nanami who is submissive to secretary reader hehe
a/n: omg thank you so much!! 😝 absolutely, i can. i see the vision.
THE SECRETARY
warnings: gn!reader, dom!reader, sub!nanami, power play, mentions of sexting, inappropriate behaviour in the workplace ☝️, spanking, slight crossdressing, groping, hand kink a little, praise, mentions of degradation, role-playing
nanami didn’t know when it started. if you asked him how he had gotten into such a complicated relationship with his secretary, he would sputter uncharacteristically and come up short from a real answer. the only thing he knew was that one day a new hire, who looked suspiciously like a dominant he had been sexting with online, showed up at the secretary desk.
it was his company, why on earth should there ever be a point that a hire had gone through without his knowledge? one of his assistants had claimed it was because he was always so busy that the team decided to replace the last secretary who had quit on their own. "we've done an extensive background check," they had assured him. even though, clearly, they had not discovered that you, the new secretary, was a paid dominant.
kento couldn't help the way he froze when he was on his way to his office. he fully stopped in his tracks, giving you a double take when he saw you sitting at the front desk, typing on your computer with that lovely physique he had liked so much as to click on and chat to late at night when he was lonely. when your eyes flickered up to him, going up and down his body with a knowing smirk forming, he quickly forced himself to keep moving and pushed open his office door, shutting it just as fast.
behind the door, nanami's breath and heartbeat had gone haywire. his hand came up to clutch his tie instinctively, attempting to ground himself and keep it together. he was in his place of work for fuck's sake! this was his business! eventually, he stood up straight again, flattening his tie back to his chest and clearing his throat. it was fine, everything was fine. if you wanted to keep your job, you wouldn't mention the intimate words you both had sent each other, and if he wanted to keep his reputation, neither would he.
after a few minutes, nanami finally came to terms with the fact that this was a good thing--after all, he had gotten a new secretary, which was all he really needed. his hand, which had started to annoyingly tremble, gripped the door handle and cracked it open, enough so that he could peek out and see your desk. he could see your bag, your eyes fixated on the computer in front of you, your coat on the back of the chair. it was all too much to finally see the person he had been jerking off to in person--in his place of work no less!
he glanced back at his desk, seeing the papers he needed copied and mailed out to clients, and cursed. maybe, he could just do it himself, but then all the other workers would get suspicious as to why he was suddenly taking on such small and tedious tasks when he had far more important things to tend to. reluctantly, he picked up the papers and exited the office, walking up to your desk. however, the closer he got, the more he felt a familiar heat rising in his lower abdomen.
nanami felt like a high schooler with the way his face flushed when he saw your hands. oh, the things you had told him you'd do with those hands.
"mr. nanami?" you asked, noticing how he had just been silently standing inches from your desk, his eyes locked onto your fingers as they typed on the keyboard.
the man immediately snapped out of it, clearing his throat as a deep pink blush travelled along his cheeks. "uh, sorry. kento is fine. i need these copied and mailed to our list of clients by the end of the day." he quickly rushed out, leaving the papers on your desk and scurrying back into his office.
maybe that was when it started. maybe when he didn’t immediately fire you, or reprimand you for the way you chuckled to yourself as he fled, or when he stuck around at the office late after work ended, waiting to see if you'd stay, he had unknowingly (or very knowingly) give you an invitation for something more in his life.
"mr. nanami~." you purred, walking into his office slowly--long after all the other workers had left--and rounding his desk to stand behind him. your hands slid over his shoulders, "so tense... now i see all this work you always talk about needing to destress from."
he knew it was wrong. this constituted as so many workplace violations it should have made him push you away, but your hands on his shoulders felt so good. "i told you, kento is just fine." he replied gruffly, hoping the slight clearing of his voice would mask the way it shook as he spoke to you. his eyes were tracking you in the reflection of his dark computer screen, watching your every move.
"kento, my apologies." you whispered into his ear, leaning down to just barely graze it with your lips while your eyes met his in the screen's reflection. "you know... you were so demanding earlier. not even saying please. no wonder your last secretary quit."
"i'm sorry." the words slipped out of his mouth without even thinking, and immediately, his face flushed from embarrassment over realizing you still had control over him despite the new power dynamics.
"are you? i don’t know... it was so disappointing... seeing you forget all the manners i taught you." nanami felt panic rising in his chest as he heard you tsk at him. he could feel your disappointment, and he couldn't help but feel terrible for it.
"i-i didn’t do it on purpose." he mumbled quietly to try and reason with you, but it was too late. your hands squeezed his shoulders before sliding down the front of his dress shirt.
"you know what a brat like you deserves?"
"what?" he bit his lip, looking at your hands as they travelled further down to his tummy.
"to be bent over my lap and spanked till you remember your manners." you whispered lowly, and he knew he was fucked. he knew he was fucked as he felt the front of his dress pants begin to leak through with pre-cum. thank god he wore black ones instead of khaki today.
weeks later, nanami kept promising himself that he would fire you, or at least have you written up, though neither ever happened. you'd come into his office in the middle of the day with whatever copies he requested, hand them to him before groping his crotch and asking him if he still had the plug up his ass as you had instructed. when he said yes so genuinely hoping for your approval, you'd kiss him and whisper how good of a boy he was before leaving again.
he was basically always hard these days, especially whenever you'd come to his office during lunch, he'd be given free reign to stare at your face, your hands, your body, all he wanted without being questioned by his workers.
sometimes, he'd whine, begging you to give him something. just something small. something quick. to hold him off for the rest of the day, nearly crying when you told him no and to be patient. you'd remind him of his responsibilities and he'd question if he'd get enough money to live comfortably if he sold the company on the spot.
then, it started. one day, after everyone had left the office and you both had already eaten delivered takeout, nanami shyly asked if you both could role-play. you, of course, agreed, asking curiously what your dirty little slut wanted to pretend to be. your eyes had widened upon hearing that he wanted you both to pretend to be the other's job.
"if you want to." he added with a whisper barely audible to your ears as he averted his gaze from yours. when you profusely agreed, he was more embarrassed at first but gave up his office chair when you told him to move.
suddenly, the boss, the scary, serious, and no-nonsense boss, was pants-less. his boxers were off along with his khakis, leaving him in only his untucked dress shirt while he walked to where you were sitting at his desk.
"good boy." you whispered when he finally made it, making him blush further as he handed you whatever papers you had wanted him to copy. you pulled him into your lap, making him straddle you as you kissed him good job.
whenever he went to copy whatever papers you gave him, if he was taking too long, you'd come up behind him, holding his ass as you asked what the problem was. he'd innocently tell you nothing, that you had to be patient, but gasp and reveal how he'd taken his time on purpose as he felt you bend him over the copier and smack his ass.
during the day, he was the sophisticated boss of the building, only unravelled by your small touches and teasing words. at night, he was your slutty secretary that you could use however you wanted. crawling on the floor with papers in his mouth, stumbling in a pair of heels you bought him, degraded against the copier, and praised in your lap, kento was thoroughly fucked. and there was no way he'd ever fire you.
a/n: i hope you enjoyed!! feel free to request again if it wasn't your cup of tea :) i had fun with this one if you couldn't tell. i'm ngl to you guys i am kinda feeling the new dividers. but also, where do you find more animated ones like this? i wanna give you guys more options to look at yk?
HEY! DID YOU ENJOY THAT? CONSIDER LEAVING ME A TIP! :) IT HELPS THIS BLOG STAY RUNNING AND PUSHES ME TO WRITE MORE TO FEED ALLLLL YOUR FICTIONAL FANTASIES <3
when your husband is supposed to be the calm, rational one, you don’t expect to find him standing at the foot of the bed with his cock in his hand, whining into the dark like he’s about to fall apart.
but that’s where satoru ends up. tank top pushed halfway up his ribs, belt hanging useless from one loop, pants around his knees. his fist works up and down the fat length of his cock in rough, punishing strokes, spit and precum smeared down to his balls. he’s staring at you the whole time—at the soft curve of your hip under the sheet, the flutter of your lashes against your cheek. pregnant. glowing. carrying his baby.
and he’s rutting into his hand like some desperate virgin.
the panties he stole from the laundry basket are bunched in his other hand, pressed to his face. he inhales like he’s drowning, shuddering so hard the flimsy fabric trembles against his nose. your warm, musky scent has him sobbing out a noise that doesn’t sound human.
“fuck, baby—” it rips out of him, pitched way too high. “smell so good... oh fuck, i can’t—can’t stop.”
his cock is obscene. flushed dark, fat veins raised under the skin, the head so slick it shines even in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. precum drips in heavy strings down his balls, thick enough to coat his knuckles. every stroke drags more slick out of him, messy, frothing and too loud. schlick, schlick, schlick.
he sucks at the fabric like it could feed him, panting between licks, nose buried deep so he could breathe you in while his tongue works. “god, i'd eat you out for days if i just—mnghm!—if i just had the chance.”
his hips snap forward into his own fist, cock smacking his stomach with each thrust. precum splatters onto his tank top, dripping onto the hardwoods in obscene drops.
disgusting. a husband rutting into his fist because he’s too scared to touch his pregnant wife.
but satoru can’t stop. he’s babbling now, words spilling fast and needy. “want it so bad—fuck, want to fuck you on my knees, i’d worship you, i’d never stop—”
he chokes on a sob as his balls tighten up, cock jerking violently in his grip. the sound he makes is actually humiliating— a high, euphoric whine. his thighs shake.
then, he breaks.
cum spurts out in heavy ropes, hot and endless, painting his stomach, his abs, his fist, the floor. lewd, thick jets that won’t stop, spilling like his body is trying to empty years of frustration at once. it drips down the backs of his fingers, strings across his knuckles, sprays his shirt. he gasps, still pumping through it, cock twitching uncontrollably, as if even his own body doesn’t know when enough is fucking enough.
“ah—mnhg—fuck, t-too much, i can’t...” his voice cracks, strangled, but his fist won’t let go. more cum leaks out, drooling down his cock, streaking his thighs. his knees buckle and he braces one hand on the nightstand, forehead dropping against the wood with a hollow thud.
when it’s finally over, when the spurts slow to tiny dribbles, he’s still shaking so hard he can barely breathe. his cock still twitches against his stomach, still half-hard like it doesn’t know how to stop.
and you’re still asleep. lashes fluttering, lips parted, beautiful and soft while he stands there wrecked.
sukuna was scary — many people on campus made sure to try not to cross paths with him. the face tattoos, the rough,deep voice and his pure hight and muscles attracted many girls while still scaring away half.
there was really no inbetween being inlove with him or hating him. not that he cared about that anyway. because since he laid his eyes on you for the first time something clicked in his brain — he wanted, no, needed you to be his.
to his surprise,you, the sweet, shy girl, weren't scard of him — the opposite, you always looked at him with this loving expression it made him feel strangely warm.
to many people it didn't make any sense how he got with a sweet girl like you. everytime someone asked you why in the hell you would choose someone like sukuna your eyebrows furrowed in confusion becuase, what's wrong with sukuna?
well, they probably wouldn't expect the king of fratboys to spend his day tasting the sweets you baked, or watching a badly written romance movie under a baby pink blanket.
" you made this for me?"
he was sound asleep when you decided to knock on his door an a saturday morning, still hungover from the night before. he was ready to lash out on the person who decided to wake him at this hour, quickly desregarding any anger he felt the moment he openend the door — seeing you stand there in a cute outfit, hair styled and a fresh batch of cookies in your hands.
you're looking up at him smiling, letting yourself in when he stands at the side to make space for you to come in. "yeah, i know you're always hungry after partying all night so i wanted you to have somethning fresh to eat!"
and bless your heart, you don't realise what you're doing to your boyfriend, his chest warming as he trails behind you back to his room, where you put the cookies down.
"do you have a headache? i can get you some painkillers if you need some." the way you'Re worrying makes him almost smile if he weren't so tired. he unexpectedly pulls you into a hug, burrying your head into his chest, his head ontop of yours inhaling the strawberry vanilla shampoo scent.
you let out a quiet surprised squeal, quickly adapting and trying, keyword trying, to wrap your arms around him. "are you alright babe?" voice muffled against his chest.
he lets out a huff, thightening his embrace before pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up to make you look at him with those adorable eyes he loves. "what did i do to deserve such a sweet girl like you hm?" his voice is sleepy, but full of honestly, like he seriously can't wrap his head around how he got you.
you blush, shying away from the eye contact. "i just made you something to eat it's nothing special." you mumble but he still hears you cleary.
"f'course it is." he doesn't explain further, dragging you back to bed with him, laying ontop of you. "let me sleep with you and after i'll eat your cookies." it's not a question, his arms trapping you under him, making it impossible to escape, and he's already snoozing off.
so yeah, you're confused when someone says sukuna couldn't possibly be nice enough for you because he's not just nice he's actually caring.
only talking to sukuna's stomach mouth when he pisses you off
Sukuna’s developed an irritating habit. Whenever he’s fed up with you, or whenever he doesn’t want to entertain one of your questions, he’ll simply stay quiet and gesture towards his stomach. It’s kind of like saying ‘talk to the hand’. But in his case, it’s ‘talk to the stomach mouth’.
Then his stomach mouth will shoot you this wide, smug grin, like it’s more than happy to converse with you. And you’ll just toss up your hands and groan, annoyed that your husband won’t even bother to speak with you face to face.
But recently you've taken Sukuna up on his offer, turning the tables to give him the silent treatment while still chatting away with his stomach. Because Sukuna underestimated just how much that mouth of his likes to rile someone up. Even if it’s the rest of his body.
Now, Sukuna’s lounging on the bed, limbs draped carelessly along the mattress. He’s trying to feign indifference. Trying to pretend he’s unphased by the fact that you haven’t spoken to him in four whole days.
But you know better. You see the slight clench in his jaw, the scowl that deepens on his face each time he steals a look your way. He watches as you sit by the window, gazing at the scenery outside.
When the silence stretches on longer than he can bear, Sukuna sets his pride aside to clear his throat and ask, “Are you still doing this?”
You don’t even spare him a glance, continuing to look out the window. “Middle Mouth,” you say, “will you please inform the rest of Sukuna that I have no idea what he’s talking about?”
Sukuna scoffs in disbelief, but that mouth of his flashes its teeth and singsongs, “Sukunaaaa. She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard you,” Sukuna huffs, speaking to you instead of his stomach.
He hates this whole situation. Hates that you're not speaking with him. Hates that you’ve given his stomach mouth a nickname. And he hates that the mouth is entertaining it at all.
His jaw clenches once more, and he sighs before saying, “You’re ignoring me.”
He’s not wrong. For almost a week, you’ve been avoiding your husband, refusing to interact or even look at any part of him other than his stomach maw. But despite all of his sulking and sour moods, you act as if nothing is amiss.
“Middle Mouth, will you please inform the rest of Sukuna that I am not ignoring him. You and I just had a lovely conversation, didn’t we?”
“Sukunaaaa,” the mouth singsongs again. “She isn’t ignoring you…well, me.” That grin returns, and you can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. Why didn’t you start speaking with your husband’s stomach mouth sooner? He really is entertaining.
“Stop that. Don’t humor her,” Sukuna scolds.
“Middle Mouth, you can converse with me as you please.”
“I intend to,” his maw replies.
Sukuna’s eyes narrow, but he’s not sure whether to direct his glare at you or his abdomen. “How long do you intend to keep up these antics?”
You brush an imaginary piece of lint from your clothes and say, "Middle Mouth, please inform the rest of Sukuna that I’m still waiting on a proper apology from him."
“I’m warning you, do not–”
“Sukunaaaa. She is waiting for a proper apology from you.”
Sukuna stares murderously down at his lower half. He’s finally met his match. The only ‘enemy’ that he can’t silence by force. Himself.
And secretly, you think that he slightly enjoys that you’re speaking with his stomach mouth. It shows him that despite this silent treatment, you still desire some form of communication with him.
So he’ll put up with the teasing, the inside jokes, and the fact that his wife is being stolen by his own body.
You decide to press your luck a little bit further, and say something you know will send your husband over the edge. “Middle Mouth–”
“Not again,” Sukuna groans, tossing his head back.
“Do you remember what I told you? What we talked about last night?”
“What?!?" Sukuna demands, sitting up abruptly and sending the covers around him flying.
“Oh, I remember,” his maw says, immediately grinning and playing into it.
“Well, I was thinking about it and–”
“Why are you speaking with my wife at night?”
“Our wife. And what we discuss during late hours does not concern you.”
“Anyways, as I was telling you, Middle Mouth, before I was rudely interrupted–”
“No. This ends now."
In seconds, Sukuna’s beside you, all 7 feet of him towering over you intimidatingly. He rubs a hand across his jaw, like he has to physically force the words out of his mouth. “I.. apologize for not answering when you asked me which of my cocks I urinate from.”
“…”
“The answer is both of them.”
Immediately, your mood lifts. You turn away from the window, smiling and facing your husband like nothing was ever wrong. “Apology accepted.” And then to his stomach mouth, “We’ll continue our conversation later.”
a/n: idk why the mouth is referring to him in third person...js to be annoying ig lol
You’ve had a huuuge problem from the moment you woke up, it was choso your clingy boyfriend. His strong build rests atop of you as he snores into your neck. His warm breath behind your ear, about twenty minutes ago he mumbled a bunch of nonsense as you tried to get up from bed.
The only thing you caught was ‘stay here with me, five more minutes’ and though choso is a man of his word, it’s past twenty minutes.
“Cho,” you say attempting to lift his sleeping body from on top of you, “choooo” you drag out. “hmm, baby I want to stay here.” he murmurs. “on top of you.” he presses lots of kisses to your neck. “can you move your girls day to another date?”
You huff, “I canceled on them ONCE and now you want it to become a frequent thing—no, choo I’ve gotta get ready” he lifts his head from your neck, sleepy eyes locked onto your pleading ones. “you’re so perfect..” he murmurs.
“Can I atleast help you get ready? please?”
“I have to shower first.”
“Can I shower with you, baby?” he leans down and kisses your lips. You snort, “fine..but only shower that’s it.”
“What kind of a guy do you take me for hm?”
“A perv.”
You two make it into the shower, and fuck, Choso was just not listening today. He held you by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he relentlessly pounds into your soaked pussy. “f-fuck baby you feel so good.” You whine, your hot breath on his neck. “Ch-choso you’re such an asshole.”
“I told you we should only sho-“ and before you could finish your train of thought his pace picks up, leaving no mercy for you. “y/n, can I see your face?” The hot water trickles down your back as you sit up making immense eye contact with him. “what?” he smiles.
“There’s my pretty girl, we’re almost done I’ll wash you up after.”
𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
You tried on many different outfits but you just couldn’t find anything. “Choooo” you drag out, he immediately comes running you can hear him trip on his way. “Yes?” You snort, “I can’t find anything to wear.” You pout.
“And that’s what I’m here for.” He takes a seat on the chair by your vanity. “Cmon baby give me a fashion show.” He grabs some chips that were disregarded on a night stand. “My game could wait.”
The first few outfits already had him foaming at the mouth, “Fuck, baby I don’t want you to leave.” His fists are clenched, trying to restrain himself. You smile to yourself, “no can do.”
The moment you walked out in the fourth outfit, he moved immediately. Standing over you and gripping you by the waist. “Can I suck your pussy? I want to—“ he goes on his knees, unbuttoning the low rise shorts as you yelp. “Cho we just showered.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care, I want to taste you, your sweetness baby.”
You let out a sigh, as he pulls your panties aside. “Wanna sit on my face?” You knew you weren’t gonna be able to leave the house at all today. “fuck you cho,” you murmur as you lower your body onto his tongue.
jeez choso let your girl go out !! anyways what do you guys wanna see? Leave requests!! Luv you - Dea
he might not look like he gets bitches, but honey that dick was 11 inches
it was hard not to notice Choso, with his tall frame draped in all black clothes and the heavy silver jewelry adorning his body. and while you noticed him, you wouldn't have considered him your type. but that didn't stop Choso from noticing you.
content: 18+ mdni, dry humping, oral (f receiving), Choso has a tongue piercing, fingering, Choso is down bad, Choso has a big dick (duh)
wc: 6k
a/n: hi everybody! i am alive and back with fic number 2! i am hoping to get these out on a more consistent schedule but no promises lmao. divider credit @cursed-carmine; picture credits: @thatsallitchief and @aransmind
You had never really thought too much about whether or not you had a type. Frankly, there wasn’t much of a point, given that when you weren’t working your ass off academically, you were working your ass off at your job or the gym. You didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, so to speak.
But, if someone asked you to describe your type, you’d probably say tall, muscular, athletic. A good jawline and tattoos were a plus. Perhaps outgoing, good with people and easy to talk to.
Now this wasn’t an end all be all list of traits—you wouldn’t mind a short king or a lanky golden retriever type. At the end of the day, personality was really all that mattered to you. And that was where the average man was lacking most of the time.
So you didn’t really lose any sleep over lack of romantic partners, too focused on school and work for the absence to really be noticed. Sure, there would be a cute classmate or two that would catch your eye, and you’d appreciate them from a distance. They all fit your usual preference of traditionally masculine, athletic guys who were easygoing extroverts. You liked competence, and a potential partner of yours needed to be confident, commanding.
So yeah, maybe you did have a type. Everyone had preferences and you were no different. You didn’t really picture yourself straying from those preferences either, couldn’t picture yourself with someone shy or super introverted. Until now.
He was a transfer student, partway into his sophomore year in the psychology program, same as you, though this was your first year. You shared the same 10 am human development lecture, meaning you saw him every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning.
You never would’ve considered Choso your type. You’d never really been into the whole emo look. Sure, you’d enjoyed your fair share of Panic at the Disco and Paramore in middle school, but scene hadn’t really been your, well, scene.
You wouldn’t have ever listed all black clothes, smudged eyeliner, painted nails, or heavy silver jewelry in your list of characteristics you typically found attractive. Yes, Choso was tall and muscular. He had tattoos, including an odd line across the bridge of his nose onto his cheeks. These were all things you knew you found attractive.
But for as bold as his style was, he was quite shy. He never volunteered answers in class, only responding when called on in a quiet, almost self-conscious voice. He should speak with more confidence, you would think whenever he gave his answers, given that they were always intelligent and well-said. You never thought you liked shy types, preferring guys that could speak up and could offer up confidence in situations where your anxiety might get the best of you.
However, you couldn’t deny the way your eye was always drawn to him. He sat in the first row on the far right hand corner. You sat a couple rows behind him, more towards the center, meaning you got a fairly clear view of him. When he wasn’t taking notes, he was drawing little doodles in the margins of his notebook. You often found yourself wondering what they were.
He was cute, in his own way. He seemed quite sweet and polite, offering notes to a classmate who'd been out sick or a helping hand when the girl next to him was confined to walking on crutches. You knew some of the other girls in your lecture didn’t view him the same way. You attended a private school, a very elite one. Between your stellar grades and test scores, as well as a fairly high financial need, you had earned yourself a full ride to the university. And while the education and accommodations and features on campus were stellar, you had found that private school meant students with private school money—and the attitude that came with it. Entitled, privileged, and, in the case of the aforementioned girls in your lecture, catty fucking bitches.
You’d heard them whisper and giggle amongst themselves over Choso. Judging his clothes, his hair—you found his short space buns rather adorable—and how he’d sometimes stutter when answering questions. You often found yourself grinding your teeth, wanting to turn and cuss them out over their bitchy remarks. Choso was genuine and unpretentious in the way that pretty much everyone else at the university wasn’t, and you found yourself wanting to defend him. To protect what you were positive was a sensitive, artistic soul.
You often found yourself wondering what he did outside of class. Did he like to draw? You’d seen his little sketches in his notebook, maybe he liked drawing legitimately, in sketchbooks instead of college ruled paper. Maybe he liked to game? He seemed like he would enjoy PC gaming. Despite being outwardly withdrawn, Choso seemed like the type to be intensely dedicated to his interests, and you found yourself wanting to know what they were.
You were delighted to find out that your interest was shared.
It started with a partner project your professor had shared with the class on Monday. Partners were randomly chosen and the rest of class was spent exchanging contact information and planning out a rough timeline and ideas for the project. You had cheered internally when your name popped up next to Choso’s. Sliding into the now-vacant seat next to his, you’d smiled and introduced yourself. Choso had blushed furiously, ducking his head and quietly giving you his name in response.
You formed a theory that day, one that was proven correct by the next class.
Choso had a crush on you.
He was horrible at hiding it, always blushing or stuttering when talking to you, never able to look you in the eye. And despite how protective you’d felt towards him against those judgemental bitches that sat near you in lecture, you couldn’t help but tease him a little bit.
Leaning in and smiling softly when he spoke, not breaking eye contact when you’d prop your chin on your hand to listen intently to what he was saying. His eyes would widen and a furious blush would spread across his cheeks, and he would lose track of whatever he’d been saying. His reaction would prompt an even more mischievous glint in your eye and sharpness in your smile, in turn making him even more nervous. When you suggested meeting up in the library or his apartment, he’d choked on his sip of water. You’d just grinned.
You’d decided the library was probably a better way to ease Choso into spending time with you without him having a heart attack. Baby steps.
The afternoon you two decided to get together for your project was a rainy one. A very rainy one. The brief mad dash from the bus to the entrance of the library had left you soaked, and now you stood in the air conditioned library shivering so hard your teeth clacked.
Your slow, shivering footsteps to the third floor where you and Choso had agreed to meet left wet footprints along the floor. You swore that this floor was even colder, and you tried to wrap your damp cardigan around yourself in attempt to chase away the goosebumps that had covered your skin. Your footsteps faltered, however, when you spotted Choso sitting at a table in front of a window. He was backlit by stormy gray skies and occasional bursts of lightning. He hunched slightly over what he was working on, brows furrowed in concentration. He was drawing, you realized, and you stood there for what was probably a creepy amount of time, but the warmth that blossomed in your chest as you watched him was addicting.
Until the cold that had seeped into your very bones wrenched a violent sneeze from you. Choso startled and looked up, eyes widening as he took in the sight of you, which most likely resembled a drowned cat.
“Oh,” he breathed, standing up so fast his chair tumbled back. He scrambled to the chair next to him, wrestling something off the back of it. As he rushed towards you holding a mass of black fabric you realized it was his jacket.
Heavy leather settled over your shoulders and you were suddenly wrapped in the warm, spicy scent of his cologne. His dark eyes were scanning all over your body as if searching for injuries, his brows pulling together in worry.
After a long moment of you two staring at each other, you finally remembered to give him a softly whispered, “Thank you”.
He blushed, ducking his head and abruptly stepping back as if he’d just realized how close you two were standing. His big hand, adorned with heavy silver rings that glinted in the low light, came up to rub the back of his neck.
“I doubt you’d be comfortable studying here in wet clothes,” he said suddenly. “I-if you want we can stop over in my dorm and you can borrow some clothes.” You were quiet for a second, surprised that he’d invited you into his space given how shocked he'd been when you’d first brought it up. Mistaking your surprise for reluctance, he rushed out, “O-only if you want to of course. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He looked adorably horrified at the idea.
Not wanting him to panic any longer, you grinned at him. “I’d love to.”
This time around, you fared a bit better on your journey to the bus stop since you had Choso’s large jacket to shield you from the worst of the rain. You relished in the warmth and the scent of his cologne, and the fact that you were dwarfed by his jacket. You chanced a glance up at Choso and admired the way he towered over you despite the way he hunched his shoulders as if to appear smaller. He had not fared so well in the rain; his hair had fallen out of its knot and the strands stuck to his face, highlighting its sharp lines and angles. His eyeliner had smudged slightly, contrasting with the paleness on his skin. Instead of looking like the dripping mess you had, he looked like he had stepped out of rainy ad for designer clothes or cologne or something. It was rather unfair.
The whole bus ride to his apartment, you could see him stealing glances at you from the corner of your eye and it took everything in you not to grin. You wanted Choso, and you delighted in the fact that he wanted you just as bad, if not more so.
His apartment was small, but tidy and clean. It was well decorated too, but you weren’t too surprised by that. There were pretty paintings and drawings lining the walls, with art supplies and trinkets scattered across nearly every flat surface. You spotted an electric guitar leaning against an amp in the corner.
The smell of his cologne was practically woven into the air in here, and it was all you could do to not gulp down deep breaths of it with every inhale.
As you as you two had stepped inside, Choso had immediately started rambling nervously, apologizing for the mess and letting you know you could borrow any clothes you wanted, and did you need anything? Like a water or a—
“Choso,” you interrupted gently, “do you mind terribly if I hop in your shower?”
“Oh! Of course! Um, let me grab a spare towel and some clothes and—” his voice faded as he started rushing towards his room, and you trailed after him with a soft smile on your face.
You had been about to invite him to join you in the shower before he excused himself to his room and told you to shout if you needed anything. Slightly disappointed, but not discouraged, you’d nodded and headed towards the bathroom.
Little did you know that as soon as the bathroom door closed, Choso was stripping down to his boxers and lying back on his bed, palming his cock through the fabric as he desperately tried, and failed, not to imagine you naked in his shower. Covered in soap and shrouded by steam, looking oh so perfect like you always did.
He tried to stifle the tortured groan that tore out of his chest. His hand was rough over his cock, handling it without finesse as he tried to get himself to stop. He felt so, so guilty, but the mental image of you glistening under the water mere feet away from him made him feel so, so good. Heat tightened in his gut as he fished his dick out of his boxers and started to viciously pump his hand up and down the shaft, biting his forearm to stem desperate cries of your name.
Pressure built in his gut, stomach tensing as he hurtled towards the edge. White covered his vision as he came suddenly and violently, his orgasm ripping through him like a storm. It was only as he laid there trying to catch his breath that his ears stopped ringing that he realized the shower had stopped.
Panic shot through him as he leapt up, blindly searching for clothes and something to wipe the cum off his stomach.
You stepped into the room to find Choso in sweatpants, his chest heaving and looking slightly guilty as his hands wrung together nervously. He opened his mouth to say something, before he registered what you wearing.
His t shirt was huge on you, nearly hanging down to your knees. Your collarbones peaked out from the collar of the shirt, your damp hair hanging down in gentle waves over your shoulders.
This domestic, intimate version of you, standing in his apartment wearing his clothes left Choso speechless and his mind short circuiting. You smiled softly at him and his heart stuttered.
“I, um",” he couldn’t get any words out, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.
“Choso,” you said gently, and his eyes snapped to yours, a guilty flush spreading over his cheeks.
“I’m sorr-” he started, but cut off as you shushed him and stepped closer. His heart damn near stopped as you raised you hand to touch his chest. Your delicate fingers drew graceful lines over the designs of his tattoos, tracing the whorls of ink that covered his chest.
“Did they hurt?” you whisper, transfixed by the sight of how small your fingers looked against the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, hardly daring to breathe in fear of breaking whatever was happening in this moment. He nearly tipped his hand back and groaned when you pressed your entire hand against his chest. He had no doubt that you could feel the way his heart raced under your palm.
Your breathing synced with his, and he tipped his chin down to take in the sight of you standing so close to him with your hands on his skin. This time, as your other hand came up to press against his stomach, he couldn’t stop his groan.
His eyes shut in embarrassment and he opened him mouth to apologize, but you cut him off.
“Choso,” you whispered. He eyes opened and landed on you. The way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing in the room worth looking at, filled you with warmth and confidence.
“Yes?” he whispered back and you grinned.
“You should kiss me,” you told him, and his dark eyes widened.
“What"?” he sputtered in surprise.
“Kiss me,” you repeated and smiled at him.
With another groan, he hand came up to cradle your jaw and he pressed his lips to yours. You were immediately addicted to the taste of him. He worked his mouth over yours feverishly, his other arm coming up to wrap around your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him and trapping your arms between the two of you.
You were expecting something soft. Something shy and sweet from the boy who’d steal glances at you during psych lectures. You were not expecting this.
Choso’s tongue surged into your mouth, making you moan and run your hands up to his shoulders to grasp at him. He was practically curled around you to reach your mouth, he was that much taller than you. You startled when you felt the clack of metal against your teeth, before your pussy clenched at the realization that Choso had a tongue piercing.
He ate at you like he was starving, and the hand at your jaw moved as he crouched down slightly. You pulled away a little, confused and wanting to see what he was doing. Choso gave a displeased grunt at the distance before wrapping that arm under your ass and yanking you back to his mouth.
He now held you in the air like you weighed nothing as you two made out, heavy breaths and wet sounds from your mouths the only thing that could be heard in the room. You curled your hands in his black strands and pulled on them roughly, earning a grunt from Choso.
He spun with you in his arms, blindly walking towards the direction of his bed. Your mouth ripped from his in a soft cry as you two fell back on to the bed, your stomach swooping from the quick drop.
For a moment, Choso hovered over you, staring down at you like he couldn’t believe you were really here. You took in your fill of him as well. His handsome face and silky hair. The muscles that bunched at his shoulders and biceps and pecs. The veins that corded his forearms and hands. You couldn’t believe the girls in your class didn’t find him ridiculously hot.
Choso must’ve snapped out of whatever awed trance he’d been in, because he swooped back down to devour your mouth, a muscular arm wrapping around you once more to yank your body to his. Your back arched and you moaned at the feel of hard muscle and hot skin along your bare thighs as you wrapped your legs around him.
He thrust helplessly against you at the sound, as if your moans and cries controlled his body. When you moaned and gasped “Again!” he began grinding against you, grunts and groans of his own leaving his mouth as his tongue traced every inch of your mouth, the cool metal ball of his piercing tracing each path.
Heat had spread through you, and need burned like fire low in your tummy. You were soaked and desperate to show Choso that you weren’t wearing anything under his t shirt.
“Off,” you groaned, yanking at his sweatpants. “all of it.”
At first he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t bear to be away from you even for a moment, but when you tugged on his waistband again he almost tripped over himself as he rushed to rip off his clothes.
Silence descended over the room, with only the sound patter of rain outside softly filtering in.
You knew Choso was a big guy. He towered over you and his shoulders were practically doubled the width of yours. You knew he was muscular, even more so than you’d initially thought as you stared at his naked body. Each muscle was rock hard and defined, as if a sculptor had taken extra care to run a chisel along every line of him.
And you could’ve spent hours looking at and running your hands over his arms, his chest, his back, his thighs; you could’ve spent hours idly tracing your fingertips over every line of his tattoos that lovingly hugged his body. Hopefully some day you would. But now, one thing on his body was stealing all of your attention.
Choso was huge.
Hard and thick and throbbing. So heavy that it hung between his thighs instead of springing up. Veins wound around the shaft towards his head that was already leaking pre. The pretty pink of his dick belied the fact that Choso was packing a fucking monster.
“Holy shit,” you breathed as you stared at his cock. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, partially in arousal and partially in shock.
“Is… is it... okay?” Choso, the poor thing, asked uncertainly. You finally tore your eyes from his throbbing cock to look into his soulful puppy dog eyes.
“You’re huge, Choso,” you said, stating the obvious.
Or not so obvious. To Choso at least, given the fact that he glance down at his own cock and looked back at you and asked, “Is it?”. You almost laughed, before you realized he was genuinely asking. (He was too embarrassed to say that he’d found himself to be about the same size as the dicks he’d seen in porn, apparently not aware that porn stars did not reflect the size of the average population.)
“Yeah baby,” you responded, “you’re really, very big.” At that, Choso whined and grasped at his cock, rutting into his hand as your words made him twitch and leak even more.
“Can I… what do you want me to do?” Choso asked, desperation bleeding into his tone as his hand pumped his cock like he couldn’t help it.
“Come here, Cho,” you whispered, and he lurched towards you as if yanked by a leash. He practically fell over you, one arm catching himself as he planted a knee on the bed, eyes never leaving you.
Slowly, you leaned forward, close enough that you were breathing each other’s air, before you leaned back in order to lift his t shift off your body. Choso made a sound halfway between a groan and a sob as he realized you were completely naked underneath.
“Please,” he whimpered, the hand on his dick squeezing the base violently now to stop him from cumming just from the sight of you.
“Touch me, Choso,” you told him softly, curious to see what he’d do first.
Which, apparently, was to dive face first into your pussy.
You cried out, hands flying down to grip his hair as he swiped his tongue in a fat stripe over the entire length of you. If you hadn’t been so shocked, you would’ve been embarrassed by how loud the wet slurp a single swipe of his tongue had elicited from your pussy due to how fucking soaked you were for him.
He dove the fuck in, practically nuzzling your cunt as he thrust his tongue into you. You groaned, eyes fluttering and back arching. Every time you made a sound or called his name he sucked at you even harder, licked at you even rougher. Every movement of his mouth caused wet slurps and squelches to sound from between your legs, your pussy dripping for him. You could feel his piercing caress you with every swipe of his tongue.
He alternated between long licks and deep thrusts of his tongue inside you, neglecting your poor clit that throbbed for attention. The longer he went, the more desperately it pulsed as wetness poured from you.
“Please Cho,” you begged, using your grip on his hair to pull his face even tighter against you. He was practically smothered in your pussy, not that he seemed to mind. His groan vibrated through you, causing you to groan as well. “Please.”
At your second plea he relented, wrapping those pouty lips around your clit and sucking, hard, the metal of his piercing pressing perfectly into the underside of your clit. You nearly screamed as you came without warning, throwing your head back against the pillows as the dam broke. Heat pulsed through you as your hips rolled against Choso’s mouth. Your orgasm left you so wet you could hear Choso drinking you down as you slowly came down from your high.
You melted into Choso’s bed as he raised his head to look at you. The sight of him, dark shiny eyes looking at your from between your thighs, big veiny hands gripping the fat of your hips so hard you’re pretty sure you’ll find bruises in the morning, made you clench around nothing.
“Your fingers, Cho,” you panted, reaching down to cradle his cheek, “need you to get me ready to take your cock baby.” He gave a tortured groan, burying his face against one of your thighs as he ground his hips into the bed. With a parting kiss to your leg, he leaned back on his haunches and brought a hand to your sensitive, pulsing pussy.
You gasped, stomach heaving as his thick fingers swiped up the seam of you before pressing inside. A single one of his fingers was like two of yours, and you rolled your hips to pull him deeper. He groaned, starting to pump his finger into you roughly, soon adding a second finger.
You could feel the cool metal of his rings against your flushed, burning hot cunt. Each press of his fingers inside made a wet squelch, and when he curled his fingers against your front wall you began crying out. When he slowly eased a third finger inside of you and pressed all three fingers up against that spot, you screamed as another orgasm wracked through you. Your legs shook, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back as you came so hard it almost hurt.
Choso had wrapped an arm around one of your bent legs, pressing a kiss to your knee as he continued to thrust into you gently, slowly spreading his fingers inside of you. Prepping you.
“C’mere,” you slurred, pulling him to your mouth even as his fingers stayed pressed inside you. You kissed him, hot and wet and filthy as you panted into his mouth. Choso slipped his free arm under your shoulders to pull you closer, your bare chests pressing together. He whimpered when you pulled at his hair roughly. You pulled away, a string of saliva hanging between your mouths.
“Please fuck me, Cho,” you whispered.
He couldn’t move fast enough, leaning back and pulling his fingers out of you so fast you cried out. He fumbled at his nightstand, pulling up a drawer to search for a condom. Briefly, you had the ridiculous thought of the poor cashier that had to ring up whatever crazy huge size of condoms Choso needed. The thought quickly vanished and your mouth went dry as you watched him roll the condom on. Despite how relaxed and wet you were for him, you were seriously doubting your ability to take this thing.
As if sensing your nerves, Choso raised his head to look into your eyes. His were big and pleaded, but searching for any sign of reluctance or discomfort.
“Come here,” you said, and he followed obediently, draping his big body over you and letting you pull his lips to yours. Your tongues swiped lazily at each other as you both panted into the other’s mouth. You made a game of searching for Choso’s piercing with the tip of your tongue, which seemed to drive him crazy.
Slowly, you reached down to grab his cock, trepidation seeping in as you grasped at the girth of him. Holy shit.
He whimpered against your mouth as you guided him towards your entrance, and bit at your lip as your pressed the tip of him inside. You had to work him against you for a second, spreading your lips around him until he slipped in with a slight pop. You groaned against his mouth and he froze, terrified that he’d hurt you.
“Holy fuck,” you whispered as you pulled him toward you to take a few more inches. You knew there was so much more left to go but already you were feeling the deep, aching stretch. “You’re so fucking big, Cho.” Your praise made him moan, and he leaned down to hide his face in your neck as his hips jerked forward at your words.
You let him take over, trusting him to watch and listen for any cues from you that you needed to stop, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Choso began to pull back the few inches you had already taken before slowly pressing back into you, feeding you a little bit more of him. He did it again, and again, starting a slow pace of gently thrusting more and more of him inside of you.
You clawed at his back, no doubt leaving stinging red lines behind, as you gasped in his ear. Each slow thrust felt like it was rearranged your insides, the stretch a deep ache that pulsed through your hips. After what felt like an eternity, you felt his pelvis press flush against yours, the hair of his happy trail tickling your tummy.
“Choso,” you gasped out as his shoulders heaved above you. He shook with the restraint it took to stay still, the blissful wet heat of you around him like heaven. He moaned your name in your ear and your body arched to press impossibly closer to his.
Your eyes rolled back as a mini orgasm shivered through you at just the feeling of taking all of him. He gave a helpless little cry and thrust his hips against you as he felt you pulsing around him.
“You can—hah—you can move now, baby,” you panted into his ear, and with a whine he immediately pulled back a few inches and thrust back into you hard. You cried out, fingernails dragging down his back as he did it again. And again. And again and again, until he was slamming into you with his arms wrapped tightly around your back, forcing you to arch into him as he desperately drove his hips forward with his face buried in your neck.
Distantly, you could hear the headboard slamming against the wall, and had the inane thought that his neighbors were most likely not happy campers at the moment.
Those thoughts were quickly knocked from your head at a particularly delicious thrust that had you arching your back and moaning Choso’s name, a breathy exhale into his ear that made him grind forward with a whine.
Veins popped out along Choso’s hands and arms, which were planted on either side of your head. Wrapping your hands around them, you ran them up his arms to feel the dips and curves of the muscles that strained from holding his weight up. He shuddered as your hands traveled up his arms, across his shoulders, and into his hair, tugging lightly.
“Fuck,” he grit out, dropping to one elbow and wrapping his other arm around your back to yank you against him. You could feel the hard lines of his abs against the soft skin of your stomach. And you swear you could feel the slight bulge of him in your tummy press out from inside of you against his abdomen. Your sweaty stomachs slid against each other as he thrust into you. Desperately, he slammed his mouth to yours, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into the messy kiss, tracing his tongue with yours and feeling the metal ball of his piercing caress it. When you sucked his tongue, his hips slammed forward viciously and you broke the kiss with a cry.
“Choso,” you gasped against his ear, “please.”
He groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and thrust in to the hilt, punching a pathetic little cry from you. The entire length of his inside of you stretched you ridiculously, and you felt him deep in your tummy, your entire body seeming to throb around him. One of your hands fisted his hair while the other dug nails into his shoulder when he started to grind his hips into you, hot and heavy and so, so good.
When your hips jerked up, Choso pulled his back a little, only to snap them forward back into you, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from your wet heat. Each of his short, powerful thrusts ended with a filthy grind against, making the veins that twisted along his shaft hit every sensitive spot inside you, lighting you up like a live wire.
The arm he had wrapped around your back slid lower, hoisting your hips up in the air. The change in angle meant that his length slid along your g spot with every slick slid in and out. Light flashed behind your eyes and white hot pleasure burst over every inch of you. Your skin felt like it was on fire as your tummy coiled tightly.
With a shout of his name, the pleasure exploded, and you practically sobbed as wave after wave swept over you. Wetness poured from you, coating Choso’s shaft and stomach. You could hear him groan at the sensation and the way his hips stuttered against you at the feeling of you pulsing around him.
With one final, desperate thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and bit down on your shoulder hard as he came. You shivered at the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the heat that spread along his covered cock. Deliriously, you half-wished you could experience the sensation of him cumming inside you without a condom, to have his cum spill out of you when he pulled out.
Your arms were wrapped around each other as you both fought to catch your breath. You could feel his large chest heaving against yours. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes, the soulful brown bottomless as he gazed wonderingly at you. You lifted a shaky hand to cradle his cheek, warmth spreading in your chest when his eyes closed in bliss and he nuzzled into your palm, turning his head to press a kiss to it.
He mumbled something that was completely muffled by the palm of your hand. You giggled, pulling your hand away in order to hear what he was saying, only for him to nip at your fingers. He grinned dopily at your shriek.
“What did you say?” you asked breathlessly, unable to resist meeting his goofy grin with a smile of your own.
Crimson bloomed across Choso’s cheeks, but he stared you down unwaveringly nonetheless.
“Will you go out with me?” he asked, and despite everything you two had just done together, you could tell he was nervous. And despite everything you two had just done together, his question launched a horde of butterflies in your stomach.
“I’d like that,” you respond, delighting in the wide grin that spread across Choso’s face. You reached up to brush away some of the dark strands of his sweaty hair that had fallen across his forehead.
“But before that, why don’t we hop in the shower?”
The next time your Human Development lecture met, you found yourself in the seat next to Choso’s, sitting close enough for your thigh to brush against his. His right hand was busy handwriting notes (you’d teased him about his refusal to upgrade to typing up his notes, but he’d insisted writing them down by hand was better for memorization), while his left rested on your leg, thumb sweeping idly back and forth across your thigh. You bit your lip to try and contain your grin, focusing intently on typing away at your laptop.
During a brief lull when your professor stepped away to the computer to pull up the next presentation, soft whispers reached you from a few rows back.
“so lame, why does he even—”
“no why he actually bagged—”
“please… doesn’t even look like he could—”
“probably… small dick… pathetic virgin—”
Anger simmered violently through you, and you found yourself clenching your jaw, imagining all the ways you could turn around and tell those fucking bitches to back off—you were pulled abruptly from your thoughts as Choso’s thumb swept of your leg again. You glanced at him and saw him give you a shy, sweet smile before turning back to his notebook.
You pressed your lips together, fighting off a smile once again. You settled back into your seat, facing forward as your professor started up his lecture.
Whatever. you thought to yourself smugly. They could think and say whatever they wanted, because at the end of the day, you were the one walking side to side after a night with your emo boyfriend.
Hey hun! I was wondering if you would be open to writing something about reader having eczema on her face and mouth and how the boys dont mind? I suffer from eczema on my lips from time to time and often feel ugly or unkissable because of it. My previous bf didnt seem to mind and nor do my friends but it still hurts when in the middle of a conversation, someone would look at my lips and cringe or comment stuff like how i "smudged my lipstick". I would really, truly appreciate it. Thanks so much hun!
P.S. Love your works, as always!!!
WHERE YOUR SKIN SPEAKS — SAJA BOYS
𝜗ৎ pairing : saja boys x fem!reader ⟡ ݁ ₊ . 𑣲 word count : 1,749 𑣲 genre : fluffy, romance, comfort ₊ ˚ ⊹ ᰔ 𑣲 content contains : reader has eczema, appearance insecurities, comfort/reassurance ⋆ . ˚
. 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓊆ྀི i like that shade on you𓊇ྀི ⋆ ˙ ⟡ .
🍇 ABBY
he’s used to being looked at.
admired. praised. obsessed over.
so when he notices you trying not to be seen—it throws him off.
you turn your face away when he walks in. keep your hand near your mouth. laugh quieter. smaller.
abs doesn’t like that.
“hey,” he calls, stepping in front of you before you can dodge past him.
you hesitate. “…what?”
his brows pull together slightly as he leans down, trying to catch your eyes. “why do you keep hiding from me?”
you scoff softly. “i’m not hiding.”
he doesn’t buy it.
his hand comes up, not rough—just firm—as he gently tilts your chin upward.
you tense immediately. “don’t—”
too late.
he’s already looking.
really looking.
at the dry skin around your mouth. the redness across your cheeks. the parts you’ve been trying to angle away all day.
there’s a beat of silence.
your stomach twists.
“abby, just—”
“that’s it?” he interrupts, genuinely confused.
you blink. “what?”
he leans in closer, squinting slightly like he’s trying to understand something that doesn’t make sense.
“this is what you’ve been hiding?”
your throat tightens. “it looks bad.”
he lets out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve said something ridiculous.
then—before you can overthink it—
he presses a kiss right against your cheek.
not avoiding the irritated skin.
not hesitating.
right there.
you freeze.
he pulls back just enough to look at you again, his expression softer now.
“you think this changes anything?” he murmurs.
his thumb brushes lightly along the edge of your mouth, careful but not cautious.
“i’ve had people worship every inch of me,” he adds, quieter this time. “and none of that ever mattered as much as you do.”
another kiss. this time closer to your lips.
“so stop hiding from me.”
and the way he says it—
like it’s not a request, but something he needs from you—
makes your chest feel too full.
🍉 JINU
he notices in the quiet moments.
when the room is dim. when your guard is down. when you forget to hide.
that’s when he sees it most clearly.
and that’s when it hurts him the most.
you’re sitting across from him, absentmindedly picking at the skin near your mouth, brows slightly furrowed.
he watches for a moment.
then gently reaches out, catching your hand before you can keep going.
you blink. “what?”
“don’t,” he says softly.
you pull back a little. “it’s irritating.”
“i know.”
his voice is quieter than usual. careful.
he shifts closer, his fingers brushing your wrist before sliding up to your cheek.
you stiffen immediately. “jinu, it’s bad today.”
he tilts his head slightly. “does it hurt more?”
you hesitate. “…yeah.”
something in his expression changes.
not disgust. not discomfort.
something heavier. something almost… protective.
he leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away.
you don’t.
his lips press gently against yours.
soft. lingering.
completely unbothered.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his hand still cradling your face.
“you’re too harsh with yourself,” he murmurs.
you let out a shaky breath. “you don’t see it the way i do.”
“you’re right.”
a pause.
then, quieter—
“because when i look at you, i don’t see something to fix.”
his thumb brushes lightly along the irritated skin again, more tender this time.
“i see someone i want to protect.”
your chest tightens.
he presses another soft kiss against your lips, slower this time.
“even from yourself.”
🫐 BABY
he notices before you say anything.
baby always notices.
it’s the way your fingers linger near your mouth when you think no one’s looking, the way you angle your face away when the lighting is too harsh, too revealing. the dry patches, the redness, the way your lips crack at the corners when you smile too wide.
he doesn’t say anything at first. he just… watches. quietly.
and then one day, when you’re sitting beside him, shoulders tense, he reaches out.
not sudden. not overwhelming.
slow.
his thumb brushes gently over your cheek, right where the skin is the most irritated. you flinch—just a little—and his brows knit together.
“does it hurt?” his voice is low, careful. like he’s holding something fragile.
you shrug, eyes dropping. “sometimes.”
there’s a pause.
and then—he leans closer.
you expect him to avoid it. everyone does. people always look, always hesitate, always notice in the wrong way.
but baby doesn’t.
he presses the softest kiss right against the edge of your mouth. not avoiding the dryness. not skipping over the roughness. right there.
intentional.
grounding.
you freeze.
“i don’t care,” he murmurs, like it’s obvious. like it was never even a question. “it’s still you.”
his hand slides to cup your jaw, thumb brushing lightly again, this time slower. more sure.
“you hide too much.”
you let out a small, shaky breath. “it’s not… pretty.”
he tilts his head, studying you like you just said something that doesn’t make sense.
“pretty isn’t the point.”
another kiss. this time fuller, lingering just a second longer against your lips despite the dryness, despite everything you’re so sure would push someone away.
it doesn’t push him away.
if anything, he moves closer.
“you’re still mine to look at,” he says quietly. “all of it.”
and the way he says it—
like your skin was never something to apologize for—
makes your chest ache in the best way.
🍓 ROMANCE
he notices immediately.
of course he does—he notices everything about you.
“does it get worse when you’re stressed?” he asks one afternoon, tilting your chin up gently toward the light.
you groan, trying to pull away. “don’t look at it like that.”
“like what?” his voice is warm, confused.
“like it’s something to study.”
he hums softly, thumb brushing along the dry skin near your lip. “but it is something to understand.”
you expect him to pull back.
instead, he leans in.
closer.
closer.
until his lips hover just in front of yours.
you tense. “romance—”
he kisses you anyway.
soft. slow. deliberate.
and he doesn’t avoid the rough parts. doesn’t adjust. doesn’t hesitate.
when he pulls back, there’s a faint smile on his lips.
“see?” he murmurs. “nothing changed.”
your throat tightens. “you don’t have to pretend.”
that makes him pause.
really pause.
his hand slides to your cheek, holding your face steady—not forceful, just firm enough that you can’t look away.
“i don’t pretend about things i want.”
your breath catches.
he leans his forehead against yours, voice dropping.
“and i want you. exactly like this.”
his thumb traces along the irritated skin again, but this time there’s no clinical curiosity—just affection. something grounding.
“your skin reacts,” he continues softly. “that’s all. it doesn’t take anything away.”
another kiss. slower this time, deeper—not in a sexual way, but in a way that lingers, that reassures.
“if anything,” he murmurs against your lips, “it makes me want to be gentler with you.”
and somehow—
that makes you feel more wanted than anything else ever has.
🍍 MYSTERY
he doesn’t ask questions.
he doesn’t point it out.
he just… adjusts.
you don’t even realize he’s noticed at first.
until the day you’re sitting beside him, pulling your sleeve over your hand as you subconsciously try to cover the lower half of your face.
he reaches out.
not to stop you—
but to gently pull your sleeve back down.
you glance at him. “what?”
he tilts his head slightly, hair still shadowing his eyes. silent.
then his fingers brush your chin, guiding your face toward him.
you stiffen. “it looks bad today.”
a pause.
then, quietly—
“no.”
that’s it.
no elaboration. no over-explaining. no fake reassurance.
just… no.
his thumb traces lightly along the irritated skin near your mouth, slow and absent-minded, like it doesn’t bother him enough to even think about.
like it’s normal.
like you’re normal.
“you’re looking too hard,” he adds after a moment.
you huff softly. “easy for you to say.”
he leans closer.
and before you can overthink it—
he presses his lips against yours.
it’s brief. simple. quiet.
but it’s direct.
no avoiding. no shifting. no hesitation.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours.
“still you,” he murmurs.
you swallow. “you don’t care?”
he shakes his head once.
then, after a beat, adds—
“i like your face.”
the bluntness makes your chest tighten.
because he means it.
not in a poetic, dressed-up way.
not in a “despite everything” way.
just… as a fact.
his hand stays on your jaw, grounding, steady.
and for the first time in a while—
you stop thinking about how your skin feels,
and start noticing how safe you feel instead.
🥐 bonus – collective moment (all of them)
it’s a bad day.
one of the worst ones.
your skin feels tight, irritated, impossible to ignore. every movement reminds you it’s there—every word, every expression, every breath.
so you stay quiet.
you think they won’t notice.
you’re wrong.
“you’ve been quiet,” abs mutters first, arms crossed as he watches you from across the room.
“she’s overwhelmed,” romance says softly, already closer to you than before.
baby doesn’t say anything—he’s already beside you.
jinu lingers just behind, gaze steady. observant.
mystery shifts slightly, just enough that your shoulder brushes his.
you swallow. “i’m fine.”
five looks.
none of them believe you.
“come here,” baby murmurs, voice low.
you hesitate.
abs sighs, running a hand through his hair. “why do you always do this by yourself?”
you don’t answer.
you don’t know how to.
so instead—
you let them close in.
not suffocating.
not overwhelming.
just… there.
romance gently tilts your chin up, inspecting your face with softer eyes than before. mystery’s fingers brush your sleeve, grounding. jinu’s hand rests lightly at your back. abs hovers close, quieter than usual.
baby leans in first.
a soft kiss to your cheek.
romance follows—another, near your jaw.
abs hesitates a second… then presses one against your temple.
jinu cups your face and kisses you gently, lingering just a little longer.
mystery is last—brief, quiet, but just as intentional.
no one avoids it.
no one flinches.
no one treats it like something to work around.
just… something that’s part of you.
“see?” romance murmurs softly.
“nothing’s wrong,” jinu adds.
“you just won’t listen,” abs huffs under his breath.
💬, this is sweet, one of my sisters has eczema on her hands and she loves wearing jewelry but when she sweats with it on, her skin flares up really quickly and horribly. eczema never makes you any less beautiful. and i know it can be painful but its kinda cool because eczema kinda reminds me of the sun breathing mark tanjiro gains in demon slayer :)
᧔᧓ you just read a fic that ruined your life ? or do you want your request seen sooner? a coffee donation shows support and/or moves your request up the queue! ☕️
Thank you so so much for this. This really hit home because you encapsulated precisely how it feels for me and gave me some comfort and warmth. Thanks again for this, hun 💕
Dom!reader x sub!male!characters - reader will be gender neutral for all of the fics!
Hello hello~ this is my kinktober list for 2024 & 2025
Once I post the fic, I’ll update this list and put the link down. The letters will also become coloured. The pink words in the tags are the day-specific kinks, and the red ones the more kinky ones.
Word count: (currently) 106.6k
01.10: (whb) Lucifer - Lactation + dacryphilia
02.10: (hsr) Blade - Double Penetration in one hole
the comment just slips out of nobara’s mouth like it’s nothing. “honestly, he’s like a dog.”
you blink. “who?”
she levels you with a bland look. “who do you think?”
she nods her head to yuji, who’s walking past with megumi. he’s all smiles and as if summoned by the universe itself, he looks up, eyes landing on you. his smile softens, he waves.
your heart does an embarrassing little somersault.
nobara leans in. “exhibit a.”
“i don’t see it,” you say weakly.
“if he had a tail, it’d be wagging right now. he likes you.”
“…no, he doesn’t,” you mumble unconvincingly.
“please. he’ll start bringing you sticks if you asked.”
you feel heat creep up your neck. “you’re exaggerating.”
nobara snorts. “am i? call him a good boy, see what happens.”
“i am not doing that,” you choke.
she just hums, already bored with your resistance. “suit yourself. you’re missing out on prime entertainment.”
so, naturally, later, when you and yuji are asked to pick up supplies from storage (extra training mats? you weren’t quite sure), nobara’s words linger in the back of your mind.
he grabs the boxes without complaint, and reaches over to add the ones you had in your arms to his pile.
“i got those,” he says, easy and bright.
“yuji, you’re already carrying like—five.”
he grins. “six isn’t that different.”
your chest does that stupid flip again, and: “thanks,” you say softly. “you’re such a good boy.”
silence.
yuji freezes mid-step, and you immediately regret everything.
“i didn’t mean—i mean, i did mean it, but not like—i just—” you start rambling, heat flooding your face.
he turns to look at you, and oh.
if nobara had been exaggerating before, she isn’t now.
his ears are bright red, eyes wide, and his smile, that usual easy grin of his, has gone all shy around the edges.
“i—what—” he stammers, voice cracking. “wha—did you just….”
you briefly consider faking your own death. “i just meant—”
his expression softens, deepens, turns warm and a little dazed. “say it again,” he blurts.
you blink. “what?”
“th-that,” he says, flustered. “what you just said.”
your pulse is loud in your ears. “…good boy?”
if possible, he gets even redder.
“man,” he laughs nervously, ducking his head. “that—uh—felt really nice.”
your heart melts, reduced to a puddle on the floor.
“it wasn’t, like…weird?”
“no!” he blurts immediately. “i, uh—you can say it again. only if you want to! just—yeah.”
he looks at you with those soft brown eyes, that gentle smile.
nobara was right.
you smile despite it. “c’mon, good boy. let’s drop these off.”
you don’t miss the way his entire face lights up this time “right!” he says, grinning. “i got it!”
yeah. if he had a tail, it’d be knocking things over.
the room fills with absolute, soul-leaving-the-body silence.
you step into the living room, smile bright and easy. “hi! i’ve heard so much about you guys!”
you wave, and your bracelets jingle, your hair bounces, your voice is warm and musical.
and you look…yeah. you look insane.
low-cut top, skirt that fits just right, glossy lips and sparkling eyes. the kind of pretty that makes people sit up straight without realizing.
across from you, gojo’s frozen. geto’s blinking like his brain’s buffering, and toji stares at you, a little dazed.
“choso talks about you all the time!” you continue, undeterred, clasping your hands together.
three heads snap towards choso, who’s’ standing there stiffly, one hand hovering near your back, his face dusted pink.
gojo’s mouth opens and closes. “…huh?”
“girlfriend?” geto repeats for clarification.
you hum, looping your hands through choso’s arm. “yeah!”
“how,” toji adds, very seriously, “did you pull her?”
you gasp softly. “oh my god, that’s so rude—”
choso stiffens, but before he can say anything : “he didn’t pull me,” you continue, almost offended. “i liked him first.”
silence. again.
“you like weird, quiet choso?” gojo asks incredulously. “you can’t even see his eyes! his hair’s—”
“he’s perfect,” you say with a grin. “choso’s so sweet. he listens to me ramble, like, all the time, which is impressive, honestly.”
choso’s ears redden. “i don’t mind,” he says quietly.
you smile at him. “i know.”
gojo presses a hand to his chest. “this has to be a glitch in the matrix.”
toji just laughs. “nah, the quiet ones always—”
“alright,” choso says, and his hand finally settles at the small of your back, gentle but certain. “we’re going upstairs.”
you brighten immediately. “oh! okay!” you lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“lead the way,” you hum.
choso’s entire face goes red, from collar to ears, eyes wide for half a second before he manages a stiff nod.
“…yes,” he manages, already turning, one hand finding yours.
“wait, are we watching that movie you mentioned? the weird one with the—”
your voices fade up the stairs.
after a few seconds, gojo launches to his feet. “how—how did he—she’s—”
“a campus ten,” geto supplies.
“a twelve,” toji corrects.
upstairs, in choso’s room, you curl into his side, nuzzling your face happily into his neck.
“do you think they liked me?” you ask nervously, chewing on your bottom lip.
choso gives you a small smile, kissing your forehead. “i’m sure they did.”
you tangle your legs with his, reaching for the remote. “well, it only matters if you like me, anyway.” you give him a pointed look, smiling. “which you better.”
“i do! i do, a lot,” choso splutters with a reddened face.
‧ ₊❝ satoru just needs one final push (nsfw)
he physically can’t cum until he hears your voice
satoru's been at this for at least half an hour by now.
hand gliding up and down his cock, thumb pressing hard against the bulging vein. he imagines it’s your soft, pliant hands instead of his own that are coaxing him towards an orgasm. his mind is hazy, the vision of you blurry as his hips buck lazily into his grasp. the movement of his wrists speed up when he feels himself teetering on the edge, only for him to be pulled back onto solid ground immediately.
he's been at this for at least half an hour and yet, he still can't reach the sweet, sweet relief he was aching for. you're to blame, he thinks. the tight squeeze of your pussy around his cock, enveloping him in a special kind of warmth, has ruined everything else for him. especially the now-slick palms of his own.
even the polaroid he keeps in his wallet isn't enough. not even his favourite — the one where you're on your knees in front of him, mouth stretched around his cock. your eyes are locked onto the camera in his hands, and the faux eye contact makes him stifle a groan. but he still needs more.
he dials your number.
you pick up at the second ring.
"hey, babe, what's up?" your voice is amplified by satoru's phone, pressed up against his ear. he feels his balls tighten.
“please…,” he whimpers through gritted teeth. it’s followed by shallow breaths. then the wet shlicks of his precum being smeared all over his length. it glistens with obscenity, and the shame of getting off to the mere sound of his name uttered in your voice.
“satoru? are you okay? you sound…out of breath.”
though your words were innocent, to him, your voice was no different from porn.
“haah, yes, i-i’m, fffuck, i’m fine—please, say my name again,” his voice cracks, and so does his poorly-maintained facade of composure.
“what—satoru, what’s going on?” your lack of awareness of his dirty actions made him grow heavier in his palms. the strands of his hair were slick with sweat, sticking onto his forehead, head tilted back against the headrest.
“shit, again,” he gasps out, deft fingers tugging at his cock. how you haven't caught on, he's not sure. or maybe you have, and you're just playing dumb. whatever it is, every word makes his breath quicken, his face feel hotter, and his legs tremble more.
“is this a prank?”
“no! please, just keep going. talk to me, anything you want. tell me about your day? pretend as if it’s a—hngh—a life or death situation.” it might as well have been the way he was desperately clawing at any shreds of you.
“umm, okay…? well, i was at the grocery store just now, and there was this lady who was a complete bitch. she cut the queue, and y’know what she said to me? she said she didn’t see me! i mean, hellooo?? she could’ve just—”
“fuck!” a loud groan interrupts your little rant.
spurts of cum spill onto satoru’s hand and lap, all of which, of course, you do not see. his chest heaves with relief, head tipped against the headboard. he lays still for a moment, nothing but shaky breaths leaving his lips. the other end of the line is silent too.
for a moment, he thinks you hung up. left him to ride out the aftershocks of his long-awaited orgasm, fingers still twitching against his cock from the muscle memory.
Satoru’s swift fingers are busy holding a screwdriver and twisting a few corks of your latest online shenanigans.
Did you buy a vanity because that one corner of your shared bedroom looked too empty and Satoru couldn’t resist your beady eyed look?
Yes.
Did he also look at your phone to see what the vanity looked like and just told you to add it to the cart without even looking at the price?
Yes.
As the official designated handy-dad of the family, he had taken it up himself to start reconstructing as soon as the packages had arrived on your front door step. With a low whistle and a hum, he starts his mini project of building your vanity.
“Baaaabe. Why does this thing have like- so much light bulbs? Are you trying to conduct an experiment in our room or something?” He calls out lazily, quirking a brow at the thick mirror which holds the lights made to provide a clear illumination for your daily grooming tasks. His hand slips slightly, and a few bolts that he was holding drop to the floor with a clatter, “Oh, shit—”
“…Shit!”
He freezes.
That was not you. That didn’t sound like you at all.
That was their baby. Mini you. Mini baby you. In her little oak crib, eagerly bobbing up and down on her chubby knees- the door wide open with a direct view of papa constructing mama’s new project. Sweet girl has been mimicking them both ever since she uttered out her first ‘mama!’
“…Oh.” His inhale is exhilaratingly long, “Oho.”
“…Shit!!”
“Okay, NO—” He’s already sprinting to the nursery, vanity already at the back of his mind, “Noooo. Don’t say that. Please. I beg of you. Mama is going to murder me. Can you say ‘mama’? or better yet, ‘dada?’ Dada? Please say dada.”
“SHIT!” She squeals happily, flapping her pudgy hands up and down excitedly, proud that she learnt a new word.
“WHY-”
His blood pressure heightens when he feels a presence behind him. He gulps. He’s faced curses that have levelled towers, have eaten people for fun. He’s faced the higherups squawking of systemically approaches. He’s even faced Nanami’s long speeches about taxes.
But this?
This is what he fears the most.
His pregnant wife. With a wooden spoon batting up and down in your hand- the tip dripping with his favourite curry sauce. Impending doom awaiting for him.
“‘Toru.”
He heaves a sob, “It’s not what it looks like. Please.”
“SHIIIIT!!”
“Please have mercy on me.”
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