Sheets clung to your body, wrapping you up while soft sunlight poured into the room. Frank never liked mornings like this—or at least, he always pretended to hate them. He would wince at the idea of this type of slow intimacy. It was the type that made his heart swell, only for it to sting immediately after, plagued with every moment where he thought he would never find himself here again.
“G’morning,” you mumbled, rolling over to your side, voice still a little caught up with sleep. Your eyes stayed shut, trying to hold onto every last ounce of sleep left in your body. You were warm, and cozy, and the weight of his body next to you gave you all the reassurance you needed.
Frank sat up against the headboard, patched up skin on full display. He didn’t worry about it, though—the scars and stitches weren’t important now that his attention was on you.
“Hey,” he replied, voice equally groggy. There was a roughness in his tone, one that could only be shaken by speaking. He swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t sound as rough, wanting you to enjoy the comfort of these early mornings.
Without saying anything else, he reached out his hand, his fingers a little bit hesitant. They waited over your skin, like he would allow himself to give in to this domestic temptation. They nonetheless found their way to your naked figure. He traced up your arm, letting it sooth you back asleep.
His chest rose and fell, finding a steady rhythm in his actions. Slowly, his hand migrated higher, finding your head as he gently pet your hair, making sure to not let his fingers get caught in any knots.
“Didya sleep well?” He asked, knowing you weren’t fully away yet. Dipping into your scalp he tenderly scratched, watching how you pushed yourself into his touch.
“Mhm,” you hummed, cranking your neck just the slightest, letting him catch a glance at the love-bites that he shamelessly put there the night before.
“Good,” he grunted, content. “Good,” he repeated, this time quieter, letting his eyes close and letting the morning light sink into his skin.
And while he wasn’t a man of many words, you knew he loved you, even if he couldn’t find the right words.
18+ ━ your man buys you an anklet for his own pleasure
He’d bought you the anklet without saying much about why — just a delicate little chain that sat soft against your skin, with a small charm that caught the light whenever you moved. You found out the real reason the first time he had you on your back with your legs over his shoulders.
Every time he thrust into you, the anklet shifted and dangled against your skin, the soft metallic sound mixing with the wet noise of him fucking you. His eyes kept dropping to it, completely fixated on the way it moved with every deep stroke.
“Fuck… look at that,” he groaned, voice rough as he watched the charm bounce. He gripped your ankle tighter and turned his head, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your foot while he kept fucking you. You shivered at the feeling.
He did it again — kissing along the arch of your foot, then higher near the anklet, all while his hips snapped forward in steady, deep thrusts. The chain kept dangling and catching the light, and he seemed almost hypnotized by it.
“You have no idea how good this looks,” he muttered against your skin, licking a slow stripe over the top of your foot before sucking gently on the side of your ankle, right next to the jewelry. “Pretty little thing just bouncing for me while I stretch this pussy out.”
He shifted your leg so he could kiss the sole of your foot properly, still buried deep inside you, still watching the anklet move every time he drove in. The combination of his mouth on your foot and his dick filling you made your toes curl against his lips.
When he finally came, he did it with his mouth still pressed to your ankle, eyes locked on the dangling charm as he pulsed inside you with a low, satisfied groan. Afterward he stayed there for a moment, gently kissing your foot one more time like he couldn’t help himself. “We’re never taking this off,” he murmured against your skin.
helloo 👀 would you ever write a little peter parker vs frank castle blurb comparing what it’s like giving them head? like the differences in their cocks, how they sound, how they react, who gets messier, who loses control first, how they fuck your mouth, how they cum, etc 😵💫😵💫 i just know peter would be a whiny leaking mess while frank would be so much more controlled and mean about it. also noticed you do anon emojis and wanted to request to be 🐨
GOD YESS… thank you koala anon 🧘🏾♀️📿🕯️🙏🏾
blowjob, cock descriptions, size kink, precum, excessive spit / drool, deepthroating, gagging /choking, mouth fucking, whiny / vocal peter because yes, cum swallowing, very explicit descriptions. mdni 18+ !
Giving Peter Parker head is messy in the most pitiful way because he makes it messy before he even realizes what he’s doing. He’s thick enough that your lips have to stretch around him from the second you take the head into your mouth, flushed dark and swollen at the tip with precum already shining over the slit because his cock starts leaking the second he knows he’s about to get sucked.
The first little kitten lick underneath the head has his whole dick jumping against your tongue, hard enough that you feel the twitch travel all the way down the shaft, and Peter jerks right along with it, thighs tightening beside your shoulders while some breathless little “oh—” slips out before he can swallow it.
He always tries to be good at first too, which is almost adorable considering what he looks like five minutes later : hands planted uselessly at his sides because he knows exactly how strong he is and refuses to risk pushing your head down, but that only means every other part of his body gets to betray him instead.
His stomach keeps clenching underneath his shirt, his hips keep nudging toward your mouth every time you suck harder, and his balls gradually pull tighter beneath the heavy base of his cock while you slobber your way down another inch. Peter gets so so wet too, enough precum constantly leaking over your tongue that by the time you’re jerking the base, your fist is slipping over him with these nasty little slick noises and spit is running down over your knuckles toward his balls.
Whenever you pull off to breathe, there’s usually some long string of saliva still connecting your swollen lips to his cockhead, and Peter stares at it like you’ve just shown him something genuinely life-changing, his cock twitching helplessly in your hand while another clear bead pushes out of the slit.
He’s loud in a way Frank simply isn’t, and the better your mouth gets around Peter, the less capable he becomes of shutting up. He whimpers, actually whimpers, especially when you swirl your tongue directly over the slit or suck tight around only the swollen head while your fist pumps the rest of him, and once those pretty noises start there is absolutely no stopping the stream of filthy praise that comes afterward.
“Yeah, right there, holy—yeah—that’s so g-good,” keeps turning into some increasingly incoherent mixture of begging and apologizing because Peter somehow wants to tell you how amazing your mouth feels while simultaneously saying sorry every time his hips accidentally shove another inch down your throat.
The first time the head bumps the back of it, his whole body jerks and he immediately starts asking if you’re okay even though his cock is visibly throbbing between your lips, precum and spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth while you blink up at him. Swallowing around him is usually enough to murder whatever remains of that concern, though, because his sentence just dies when your throat squeezes around the head and suddenly his fingers are creeping towards the nape of your neck, trembling while those cautious little thrusts get less cautious every time you let him slide deeper.
His cock drags heavily over your tongue with every push, glossy and veiny beneath all that spit, and soon there’s slobber running down your chin while each little gag you make has him making these wounded, punched-in-the-gut noises above you. Peter loses control gradually until he absolutely doesn’t, hips eventually rocking into your mouth hard enough that you’re taking him almost to the base while he pants like he just swung across half of Manhattan, panting that he’s close, that he’s so fucking close, that your throat feels incredible, and asking you not to stop like you have any intention of doing so.
Peter coming from head is an entire production because he announces it like you need to evacuate the building. His balls tighten hard against your fingers first, his cock throbbing a bit inside your mouth while he trips over, “I’m gonna—I-I’m gonna come,” as though he’s trying to give you a weather warning, and then the second you hollow your cheeks and suck him hard through it, his whole body folds.
The first rope hits your tongue thick and warm, then another shoots farther back when his hips jerk forward, making you swallow quickly while Peter starts whining apologies through the fact that he is still very actively filling your mouth. The words come out broken between moans while his cock keeps pulsing, creamy spurts coating your tongue and throat as your fist squeezes around the sticky base and milks whatever is left out of him.
If any spills around your lips and streaks down your chin, Peter looks like he might come again from seeing it, especially if you drag your tongue over the oversensitive head afterward and clean the little white bead still clinging to the slit.
He’s always left glassy-eyed and pink in the face, thighs still trembling while his softening cock twitches pathetically against your lips, trying to recover enough dignity to speak while you’re sitting there with his cum still warm in your mouth.
Frank Castle is different before his cock even gets anywhere near your throat because Frank is painfully aware of exactly what he has hanging between his legs and exactly what you’re about to do with it. There’s more weight when you wrap your hand around him, heavy and hot against your palm, thick through the middle with raised veins prominent enough that you can actually feel every one of them when you drag your tongue slowly from his balls to the broad, blunt head.
Frank doesn’t twitch away from teasing either; he spreads his thighs wider and watches you, one big hand settling loosely against the back of your neck while those dark eyes follow your mouth as you lick the precum gathering in his slit.
Peter gets embarrassed by how hard and wet he is, but Frank makes you painfully aware of it, letting the weight of his cock slap against your tongue once or twice before dragging the swollen head over your lips and smearing precum across them like he already considers your mouth his mess to make. Sometimes he’ll rub the tip across your cheek just to watch that glossy streak appear before murmuring something low about opening wider, and when you finally wrap your lips around him, the only reaction you get is this deep, rough grunt pulled from somewhere in his chest.
That lack of immediate desperation only makes you work harder for it, taking another inch and then another until your lips are stretched tight enough around his girth that the corners of your mouth start aching and Frank’s fingers tighten just slightly at your nape.
Most of the noise with Frank comes from you because once he starts feeding you his cock, your mouth gets nasty around it. Spit starts bubbling at your lips every time he pushes deep, saliva coating the shaft so heavily that it runs down and over your hand while your fist pumps whatever you still can’t manage to swallow.
The gagging gets wetter the farther he goes, each choking little gluck mixing with the slick jerk of your hand and Frank’s occasional low groan, and unlike Peter, he knows exactly what movement caused every single one of those sounds. Frank will hold your head steady and roll his hips forward slowly until the blunt head presses deep enough to make your throat tighten helplessly around him, then pull back just far enough to let you suck in air before shoving right back into that warm little squeeze.
There’s control even when he’s fucking your mouth hard enough to make tears gather in your eyes, one hand holding your nape while the other cups your jaw or drags a thumb through the spit running down your chin, and when he tells you, “There you go, take it,” it comes out so calm.
His cock gets absolutely drenched, saliva shining along every vein and dripping from the heavy balls knocking lightly against your chin whenever he bottoms out, and sometimes Frank deliberately makes you pull off just so he can look at his swollen cockhead slick with your spit before tapping it against your open tongue and pushing it straight back into your mouth.
Peter starts fucking your mouth because his brain stops working; Frank does it because he decides your throat is where he wants his cock, and that is probably the nastiest difference between them.
With Peter, you can feel the exact second pleasure overwhelms his self-control because his rhythm gets sloppy, his breathing turns ragged, and his voice climbs higher while he moans that he’s sorry even as his hips keep nudging deeper because your mouth feels too good for him to stop. With Frank, his grip simply changes, fingers tightening while his thighs spread wider, and suddenly you’re moving at his pace whether you started that way or not.
He’ll drag you down over his cock until the head punches into your throat and your gag cracks into this wet little cough around him, then hold you there just long enough to feel your throat spasm before pulling you back. That finally gets a real groan out of him, deep enough that you feel it through the palm braced against his thigh, and Frank will glance down at the spit coating his dick, at the way your lips are swollen and shiny around it, then tell you how fucking pretty you look stuffed full of him.
If you swallow while he’s deep enough, his hips might actually stutter once, and getting that tiny involuntary reaction out of Frank feels like winning a medal because that man does not give anything away unless his body forces him to.
Even the way Frank comes feels different because he doesn’t panic about it the way Peter does.
His breathing roughens, his hand settles firmer behind your head, and you get one low warning of, “Gonna come, sweetheart,” before his cock thickens against your tongue and he pushes deep. The first hot spurt hits your throat while he groans through his teeth, thick enough that you have to swallow immediately, and then another follows before you’ve completely finished the first, making your throat work rapidly around him while Frank keeps you exactly where he wants you.
His thumb strokes almost soothingly along your jaw while his cock pulses several more times in your mouth, cum spilling hot over your tongue and farther back every time his hips give another shallow push. He doesn’t apologize for any of it either; he just watches you take everything he gives you until his cock finally stops twitching, then slowly lets you pull back with your lips dragging tight over the shaft and sucking the swollen head clean on the way off.
If there’s a little streak of white left at the corner of your mouth, Frank notices immediately, eyes dropping toward it while his thumb smears it over your bottom lip before pushing it back between them like you missed a spot.
That’s really the difference between sucking Peter Parker’s cock and sucking Frank Castle’s.
Peter leaves you feeling like you accidentally discovered Spider-Man’s most humiliating weakness, because all it takes to turn him into a trembling, whimpering mess is a warm throat, a lot of spit, and somebody willing to suck his oversensitive cock until he’s apologizing while dumping cum into their mouth.
Frank leaves your jaw sore, your throat fucked raw, spit drying sticky down your chin and his taste sitting heavy on your tongue while he somehow looks far too composed for a man whose dick was just buried deep enough to make you gag around it.
Peter makes you want to suck him again because hearing that sweet, helpless little “please” break out of him when you lick his leaking tip is addictive; Frank makes you want to get back on your knees because forcing one rough groan out of him while his cock disappears down your throat feels like its own filthy reward, and once you know exactly how differently both of them fall apart inside your mouth, wanting one usually just makes you start thinking about the other.
The thing about dating Atsuya was that he was fucking exhausting. Not because of his job, not because of his moody, perpetually unimpressed attitude—no, it was because his dick was a menace.
You had learned early on that his sex drive was relentless. The man could complain about everything under the sun and then still rail you until your voice cracked. It wasn’t romantic in the traditional sense. He wasn’t sweet, he wasn’t soft. He was filthy, demanding, grumpy as hell, and completely ruined you in ways that made you bite your pillow so the neighbors didn’t file a noise complaint. And despite every sarcastic thing you snapped at him, you loved every disgusting second of it.
So when you came home earlier than expected, kicking your heels off at the door and already reaching for your zipper, you didn’t expect to find him in the middle of that.
He was on the couch. Shirt unbuttoned, chest exposed, his tie hanging loose around his neck like he hadn’t even had the energy to take it all the way off. Head tilted back against the cushions, brows knit in frustration. One hand lazily stroking his cock, the other shoved into his own hair. He groaned filthy and desperate under his breath.
You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, lips quirking into a smirk. “Seriously? Couldn’t wait?”
His eyes didn’t even open. His voice came out like a growl. “Come here, you little slut. Stop watching.”
You laughed under your breath. “Slut? You’re the one fisting your dick in the living room like a teenager.”
That had him snapping his head toward you, glare sharp even with his chest rising and falling. “You got a big mouth for someone standing there in a fucking tight dress. Don’t act like you weren’t hoping to see me like this.”
You cocked your head, biting back a grin. “Maybe. You look pathetic though. Need me that bad?”
His hand tightened around his cock with a hiss. “Pathetic, huh? You’re about to choke on this cock until you can’t talk shit anymore. Get over here before I drag you.”
You stepped closer, slow on purpose, watching the way his eyes darkened as you approached. The dress clung to your hips, and you knew it was driving him insane.
“God, you’re unbearable,” you muttered.
“Yeah? Keep running that mouth. We’ll see how much talking you can do when I’m fucking the attitude out of you.”
You climbed onto his lap without asking, straddling him, grinding down against the hard length in his fist. He groaned loud, filthy, hot against your ear.
“Fuck—yeah. Just like that. Knew you’d come crawling.”
You leaned back enough to sneer at him. “Crawling? You were whining on your own dick like a loser.”
He slapped your ass hard enough to make you jolt. “Shut the fuck up.” His hand gripped your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek. “Open your mouth.”
You smirked, opening wide, tongue out like a brat.
“Good girl,” he mocked, spitting into your mouth before kissing you hard and messy. His teeth clashed against yours, tongue deep, hand still working your jaw as if he owned it.
When he pulled back, a string of spit connected you both. “Take the dress off. Don’t make me fucking rip it. I’ll do it.”
You rolled your eyes, sliding the zipper down slow. “Needy little bitch.”
He barked a laugh. “That’s rich, coming from the one dripping through her panties just watching me stroke my cock.”
The dress fell, and his hands were everywhere. Grabbing, squeezing, rough and desperate like he couldn’t get enough.
“Fuck, look at you. Can’t believe I put up with your shit when you’re this easy for me.”
You shoved his chest, glaring. “If I’m so easy, why do you sound like you’re gonna cry every time I let you fuck me?”
His grip snapped to your waist, hauling you up. “Cry? Baby, I’ll make you cry. Watch.”
He lined himself up and slammed you down onto his cock in one brutal thrust. You choked on your own gasp, hands flying to his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you.
“Shit—Atsuya!”
“Yeah. Take it.” He held you down on him, his jaw tight, his voice a low snarl. “Tight little bratty cunt. Acting like you don’t need me when you’re squeezing me this hard.”
You clawed at his chest. “You’re disgusting.”
“You love it,” he shot back, thrusting up hard enough to make you see stars.
The living room filled with the sound of skin slapping, your moans and his filthy groans tangled together. He didn’t shut up, couldn’t shut up. Every word was filth, every thrust a punishment.
“Look at you. Bouncing on my cock like it’s the only thing you’re good for.”
“You wish,” you spat, even as your voice broke on a moan.
His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. “Keep lying. You’re already fucking close. I can feel it. You’ll cum on me before I even let go of your neck.”
And he was right. You hated that he was right. Your body betrayed you, clenching around him, grinding down, chasing that high. He grinned, cruel and sharp. “There it is. Knew you couldn’t hold out. My needy little bitch.”
You came with a broken sound, body jerking against his grip, eyes fluttering. He didn’t stop. He didn’t ever stop. He fucked you through it, harder, rougher, until you were gasping.
“Too much—fuck, Atsuya, too much—”
“Shut up. You can take it. You will take it.” His voice was gravel, pure filth. “I’m not done using this cunt.”
You clawed at his arms, whining, but you were melting under him, every rough word only making you wetter. He finally came with a guttural groan, spilling inside you and grinding deep, holding you down so you couldn’t squirm away. His forehead pressed to yours, panting against your mouth.
Silence stretched for a moment, broken only by both of your ragged breaths. Then he smirked. “See? You walk in on me jerking off, now look at you. Wrecked. Can’t even hold your own head up.”
You huffed a laugh, voice hoarse. “You’re still pathetic.”
His hand grabbed your ass, squeezing hard. “And you’re still my favorite bitch.”
Underneath all the filth, all the snarling and snapping, you kissed him messy and when he pulled back, the tiniest smirk softened the sharp edge of his mouth. He slapped your thigh once more. “Now get up. I’m not done with you. Bedroom. Go.”
You were still sitting on his lap, stuffed full of him, his cock twitching inside you as both of you caught your breath. His chest was slick with sweat, shirt hanging open, and you couldn’t help the wicked smirk spreading across your lips.
You leaned down, voice low and taunting. “And if I don’t obey you, Atsuya baby? What you gonna do? Jerk off again like a thirteen-year-old?”
That was it. His eyes went dark, his jaw clenched, and before you could blink his hand was around your throat, rough and merciless. He yanked you down until your faces nearly collided, his grip cutting off just enough of your breath to make your head spin.
“You think that’s funny?” he growled, voice guttural, every word vibrating through your chest. “Running your mouth while my cock is still twitching inside you?”
The pressure on your throat, the sharpness in his eyes, the sheer filth of his anger, it only turned you on more. You could feel yourself clench around him, your smirk twisting into a breathless laugh. “God, you’re so fucking hot when you’re pissed,” you whispered, even as his grip tightened, forcing a choked gasp out of you.
He snarled, dragging his other hand down to claw at your hip, nails biting into your skin. “You’re sick. Getting off on me choking the shit out of you.” He shoved you down hard on his cock, burying himself deeper, making you whine. “Maybe I should keep you like this until you learn to shut that bratty mouth.”
Your nails scraped along his chest, your voice hoarse but sharp with lust. “Do it then. Shut me up.”
His laugh was low and filthy, his thumb pressing harder into the hollow of your throat. “Oh, I fucking will.”
His hand stayed firm on your throat, grip tightening just enough to make your pulse hammer under his palm. His eyes locked on yours and instead of backing down, you only grinned, letting your tongue drag slow over your teeth like you were daring him. He gave a low, humorless chuckle, then yanked you up by the throat so hard your knees scraped along his thighs. “Get off,” he ordered, voice gravel and venom.
You slid off his lap, thighs shaky, his cock sliding free with a slick sound. He stood in one motion, towering over you, broad shoulders squared, chest heaving. He looked absolutely furious, jaw tight, eyes narrowed but the hard, twitching length between his legs betrayed him completely.
You let your gaze drop, smirk curling at the corners of your lips before you looked back up at him with big, mocking puppy eyes. “Hm. Thought you were going to choke me to death. What a shame.”
You barely got the words out before he moved. His arm wrapped around your waist, the other hooking under your thigh, and in one brutal motion he hefted you up and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.
You yelped, fists pounding against his back with a laugh. “The fuck, Atsuya? You caveman piece of shit!”
“Shut it,” he snapped, his hand slapping your ass so hard it echoed. “You wanna run your mouth? Fine. I’ll fuck you stupid until you can’t remember your own name.”
Your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your belly as you squirmed against his grip, still smirking even as your thighs clenched. “Promises, promises.”
“Not a promise,” he growled, marching you down the hall, cock hard and bobbing with every step. “That’s a fucking guarantee.”
You dangled over his shoulder, smirking against his back like you were settling in for a ride. “Can I file a complaint if you disappoint me again?” you asked sweetly, dragging out again just to stab at his pride.
He stopped in his tracks, head snapping just enough for you to catch the venom in his side-eye. “Tsk… again, she says. You can file a complaint when it stings to piss and you can’t walk straight for two days.”
You grinned, chin propped on your hand. “As i said: Promises, promises, old man.”
“Oh, now I’m old, huh?” he shot back, voice dripping smugness. “Five minutes ago I was a thirteen-year-old jerking off on the couch. You don’t even know what the fuck you want.”
“Oh, I know exactly what I want.” Your grin widened just as he shoved the bedroom door open with his foot, the wood rattling in the frame.
He threw you down on the bed, the bounce jostling you, and he loomed over you with that filthy, infuriating smirk. “Yeah? What’s that? To run your mouth until I shut you up?”
“To watch you try,” you teased, biting your lip as you looked him up and down. His cock was flushed, leaking, twitching with every angry breath. “You’re already leaking like a faucet, Atsuya. One stroke and you’ll embarrass yourself.”
His laugh came out sharp and dangerous. “Embarrass myself? Sweetheart, the only one embarrassing themselves here is you—grinning like a slut while I’ve still got my handprint on your throat.”
You sat up on your elbows, feigning innocence. “Oh no, what a tragedy. The scary old man choked me a little. Better hope you can keep it up this time.”
He raised his brows, smug as hell, and grabbed your ankle, yanking you closer until your ass slid against the sheets. “You ever think maybe I like when you talk shit? Makes it that much sweeter when you’re whining for my cock.”
You smirked, tilting your head. “Or maybe it’s the only way you can get hard.”
That cracked him—he laughed, leaning over you, his hand braced on the mattress by your head, the other clawing at your hip. “Keep talking, baby. I’m gonna rearrange your guts until you forget how.”
“Bold words,” you hissed, lips brushing his as you bared your teeth in a grin. “Show me, then.”
“Gladly,” he murmured, his mouth crashing onto yours, all spit and teeth, as his hips pressed yours open wide.
His cock stood hard and wet against his stomach, twitching every time you looked at it. You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes dragging over him slow, grin sharp. “You know, for all your bitching, you’re basically just a walking hard-on with complaints.”
He barked a laugh, leaning over to cage you in with one arm braced by your head. His other hand grabbed your thigh, spreading you open without asking. “Better than being a brat with a smart mouth and nothing to back it up.”
You gasped mockingly, clutching your chest. “Oh no. The grumpy old man called me a brat. What will I do?”
He growled, dragging his cock along your slit, smearing pre all over your folds without sliding in. “You’ll shut the fuck up in about two minutes.”
You bit your lip, smirk playing at the corners. “Two minutes, huh? Sounds about right for you.”
His laugh was low and filthy. He slapped his cock against your clit, making you jolt. “Say that again when you can’t walk.”
“Yeah yeah,” you mocked, rolling your hips up against him. “I’m still waiting to be impressed.”
“Oh, you’ll be impressed,” he muttered, grinding down until you whimpered. “You’ll be drooling, crying, begging, and I’ll still be fucking you.”
You gave him wide, innocent eyes, voice dripping sarcasm. “Begging? Me? Baby, the only begging in this room is you begging your dick to stay hard.”
That finally cracked him, his laugh was sharp and mean as he grabbed your throat again, pinning you to the mattress. “You’re lucky I like you talking shit. Otherwise, I’d gag you with your own panties and let you squirm while I fuck you stupid.”
You grinned through his grip, your tongue running across your teeth. “Kinky. Didn’t know you were into arts and crafts.”
He snorted, squeezing your throat tighter. “Keep it up, and you’ll find out just how creative I can be.”
You gasped out a laugh, even as your cunt clenched around nothing. “God, you’re so hot when you threaten me.”
His smirk went razor-sharp. “Yeah? Then you’re gonna lose your fucking mind when I actually do it.”
His hand was massive around your throat, devouring it completely, his fingers clawing in just enough to make your pulse hammer under his grip. He leaned down, lips brushing your ear as his voice went low and ragged.
“Listen to yourself,” he growled. “Mouthy little slut, dripping for me while pretending you’ve got the upper hand. All I have to do is squeeze, and you’re gasping like a whore who can’t get enough cock.”
The words made your thighs clamp around his hips, a broken sound slipping from your throat despite how hard you fought to smirk through it.
He let out a laugh, dark and smug, then turned his head just enough to press a wet kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. His stubble scratched against your skin, rough and hot, every scrape making your stomach twist with want.
His grip on your throat loosened, fingers dragging slow as he slid lower, down your collarbone, over your sternum. The weight of his palm pressed into your chest, right over your heart, the heat of his skin branding you through the thin sheen of sweat. “You feel that?” he murmured, his lips dragging along your jaw as his hand spread wide over your chest. “Racing like you’re scared, but your pussy’s clenching like you’re desperate. Filthy fucking contradiction.”
Your grin returned, breathless but sharp. “Maybe I just like watching you lose your shit.”
He chuckled, thumb stroking briefly over your sternum before his hand kept gliding down, sliding lower, slower. “Baby, I don’t lose my shit. I make you lose yours.”
His eyes caught yours, dark and heavy, daring you to keep arguing as his fingers dragged further south. He shifted back, sitting on his knees between your spread thighs, dragging you with him by the hips until your ass met the sheets again. His eyes raked down your body, smug and hungry all at once, chest still rising in hard breaths.
One hand dragged down over your stomach, then lower, his fingertips tracing the lines of your abdomen slow and teasing, following the curve of your hipbone. Every brush was light, deliberate, maddening.
“Look at this,” he muttered, almost like he was talking to himself, tracing lazy circles around your lower stomach. “All this attitude, but the second I get you flat on your back you’re already fucking shaking.”
Your breath hitched, but your grin stayed sharp. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m shaking from boredom.”
His laugh was sharp and dirty, his eyes flicking up to yours like he couldn’t wait to ruin you. “Boredom, huh? We’ll see about that.”
While his fingers teased your stomach, his other hand wrapped around his cock, gripping himself tight. He stroked lazily, slow drags from base to tip, spreading his pre down the length. The sound of it filled the room.
“See what you do to me?” he rasped, giving his cock another long pull. “And you’re still mouthing off like you’ve got a choice.”
You arched your brow, smirking down at him. “I do have a choice. I could roll over and take a nap while you play with yourself like earlier.”
His teeth clenched as he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret every word of that.” His teasing hand dipped just a little lower, brushing the edge of your mound, but never quite touching where you wanted. You lifted your hips, impatient, glaring at him. “God, you’re infuriating.”
“And you’re dripping on the sheets,” he shot back, still stroking his cock slow, like he had all the time in the world. “So maybe shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the view.”
He sat back on his knees, cock heavy in one hand, stroking slow and wet. His other hand teased down your belly, fingers skating over every line and dip without giving you what you wanted. “Look at you,” he muttered, eyes fixed between your thighs. “Laid out like a fucking meal, and you’ve still got the nerve to run your mouth.”
You tilted your head, lips curling. “What’s the matter, old man? Can’t multitask? Jerking off while touching me—gonna throw your back out?”
He laughed, sharp and mean, his fist twisting at the head of his cock. A fat bead of pre dripped onto your skin as he leaned closer. “Talk shit all you want. This pussy’s leaking like it’s begging, and I haven’t even bothered to finger you yet.”
You arched a brow, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You call that begging? Please. I’ve sneezed wetter.”
That earned you a rough drag of his fingers right through your folds—slow, deliberate, gathering every drop of slick before spreading it up over your clit. The pressure made your hips jerk, a sound slipping out of you before you could catch it.
He grinned, cruel and smug. “Sneeze that, slut.”
Your teeth dug into your lip, but your smirk held. “Cute. You finally remembered what a clit is.”
He pumped his cock harder, wet and fast now, all the while circling your clit with maddening little flicks. “Keep running that mouth. I’ll make you gush all over my hand while you’re whining for more.”
“Whining?” you hissed, voice breaking as his fingers slid down to press at your entrance. “You’re the one grunting like an animal. Pathetic.”
His answer was brutal—two fingers shoved deep, curling immediately, knuckles grinding against that spot that made your thighs snap shut around his arm.
“Fuck—” You gasped, the sound torn out of you.
He leaned over you, stroking himself even faster, his breath ragged, his smile sharp. “Pathetic, huh? Then why are you dripping down my wrist already?”
You clawed at the sheets, chest heaving, your grin a little weaker but still there. “Because I let you. Don’t confuse charity with talent.”
He laughed low in his throat, twisting his fingers inside you, cock dripping as he fisted it mercilessly. “Charity, huh? You won’t be saying that when you’re squirting all over my hand like a needy little bitch.”
You were propped on your arms in the middle of the bed, chest heaving, hair sticking to your damp skin. Your thighs were spread wide, twitching every time his fingers dragged deep, curling mercilessly.
He wasn’t rushing. Just watching you, smug little tilt at the corner of his mouth like he was the one being entertained. You were a wreck. Your hips bucked against his hand, your head falling back as ragged laughter mixed with shameless moans. “F-fuck, you’re—god, you’re still so smug—”
His eyes narrowed with amusement, voice low and rough. “Smug? Baby, I’m relaxed. You’re the one shaking like a bitch in heat while I take my time.”
Your eyes rolled back, mouth open as another sound tore out of you, but you still forced a grin, biting your lip to steady yourself. “Y-you call this taking your time? Feels like arthritis—hah—fingers—”
That made him laugh, sharp and mean, his cock twitching in his fist as he gave it a long squeeze. “Arthritis fingers got you dripping down my wrist. Imagine what happens when I actually try.”
Your head tipped back again, moaning, laughter breaking over it like static. You could barely keep yourself propped up, your arms trembling, but you still snapped through clenched teeth. “Y-you’re all talk, Atsuya. Just sitting there—stroking yourself like a—pervert—”
His smirk widened, lazy and cruel, as he twisted his wrist around the thick head of his cock. “And you’re watching every fucking second. Eyes rolling back, mouth open, like you’d die if I stopped.”
Your body convulsed around his fingers, another wave hitting too soon, too hard, and you laughed again, helpless and manic, head falling back. “You’re fucking disgusting—”
He leaned in slightly, eyes locked on yours, voice a guttural rasp. “Yeah, you love every fucking bit of it.”
His smug little smirk never left his face when he suddenly sped up, his fingers slamming into you harder, faster, rutting deep with brutal precision. The wet slap of his knuckles filled the room, obscene, every thrust angled to batter your sweet spot until your arms nearly gave out.
He stopped stroking himself altogether, his fist falling away from his cock, just to watch you unravel.
“You gonna say something smart, huh?” he muttered, voice low and taunting, his wrist snapping faster as his fingers fucked into you mercilessly.
You opened your mouth to retort, desperate to spit something back, but it was useless the only thing that came out was a moan, raw and broken, your head tipping back as your eyes rolled.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he rasped, leaning in closer, his free hand gripping your thigh tight enough to bruise. “Not so mouthy now. You know exactly what I want. Gonna give it to me, baby?”
Your hips bucked helplessly against his hand, the heat in your stomach coiling so tight it burned. You tried to shake your head, tried to smirk, but your voice cracked as another moan ripped through your chest.
“Atsuya—fuck—I can’t—”
“Oh, you can.” His pace went ruthless, his grin turning sharp as his soaked fingers hammered into you. “C’mon, sweetheart. Make a fucking mess all over my hand.”
Your laugh broke into a cry, your body jerking violently as the pressure finally snapped. The gush hit with force, soaking his wrist, spraying across his hand and dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.
“Yeah—Fuck, that’s it!” he groaned, watching with wide, hungry eyes as you drenched him, his fingers never letting up. “That’s my nasty little slut. Look at you, soaking me. You love making a mess for me, don‘t ya?”
You collapsed back onto your elbows, half-laughing, half-sobbing through the overstimulation, every nerve sparking as he wrung every drop out of you. Your thighs trembled, your breath hitched, and still he grinned, dragging his wet fingers out just to shove them right back in again, chasing another gush.
“Beautiful,” he growled, licking his lips as his cock twitched untouched. “Do it again.”
Your fist was tight around him, dragging up and down in sharp, punishing strokes, and that’s when you noticed it, ropes of pre leaking from him, not just a bead at the tip but strings that stretched down over your knuckles, slicking your palm and dripping onto your stomach.
Your eyes went wide, a broken groan leaving your throat. “F-fuck, Atsuya…”
He tilted his head back, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, cock twitching hard in your grip. “Hmm.” The smug little sound was cut off by a guttural moan as another string of pre leaked down his length, sticky and obscene.
“God, you’re—” you gasped, squeezing him harder, your own hips jerking helplessly against nothing, overstimulated and delirious. “You’re fucking dripping—like a mess—”
He dragged his eyes back to yours, lips curling, breath ragged. “Yeah? And you love watching every second, don’t you?” His voice broke on another moan, his thighs flexing under your hand.
Your smirk cracked, your eyes rolling back at the sheer filth of it, your hand working him faster, rougher. “You’re disgusting, Atsuya. Filthy old man, leaking like a broken faucet—”
“—and you’re fucking drooling watching me,” he cut in, his laugh dissolving into another groan as his cock jerked violently, more strings of pre spilling over your fingers. “Look at you. Can’t take your eyes off it.”
Your hand worked him mercilessly, stroking up and twisting your wrist, squeezing the fat head until his cock jerked violently. Strings of pre drooled out over your fingers, down your wrist, sticky and hot, dripping onto your belly.
He was falling apart, the smug tilt of his mouth cracking, his head tipping back, throat working as low groans spilled out of him. Not sharp or taunting, not cutting into you with insults, just raw, breathless, desperate sounds that made your stomach twist.
“F-fuck—ohhh shit—” he muttered, voice ragged, hips twitching into your fist. Every few seconds, another heavy moan tore out of him, his cock leaking endlessly, slicking your palm until it was dripping wet.
Your eyes rolled at the sound, grin breaking open as your laugh cracked into a moan. “Oh, I love this. You being vocal? The only time I don’t want your smug ass to shut the fuck up.”
He laughed once, broken and low, before it turned into a stuttered groan. “Y-you’re such a bitch—hahh—but fuck—” His voice dropped into a whimper, guttural and soft, like he hated how good it felt.
You squeezed him harder, dragging his slick down the base of his shaft, stroking up with brutal intent, your grin sharp even as your thighs clenched from the sight. “God, Atsuya, listen to you. Groaning like a whore in heat. You’re dripping more than I am.”
His eyes screwed shut, his mouth falling open as he whimpered again, lower this time, barely audible but there, and it made you shiver. His whole body tensed, his abs flexing under the sweat sheen, his cock throbbing violently in your grip.
You worked him faster, merciless, until his voice cracked. “F-fuck, baby, I’m—”
And then it hit.
Thick ropes spilled out of him, heavy spurts painting your stomach, your tits, sliding over your knuckles as you milked every drop. He groaned through it, moaning openly, his voice ragged, unfiltered, each sound spilling out of him as if he couldn’t hold it back.
“Shhhhit—fuck, this feels so good—don’t stop—” he gasped, his hips jerking into your fist, his cock still twitching, leaking more even as he came undone.
You slowed your strokes just enough to savor it, grinning down at the sticky mess spreading across your skin. “Mmm, there it is. The one time I don’t mind hearing you whine.”
He cracked one eye open, breathless, lips curling weakly. “Shut the fuck up.”
You smirked, licking your lips as you smeared his cum up your stomach with your free hand. “Never.”
His whole body jolted under your grip, thighs tightening, abs clenching, cock twitching violently in your hand. You kept milking him, squeezing and dragging your slick fist over his overstimulated length, and it wrenched another guttural groan out of him.
“Ahhh—f-fuck—” His head tipped back, voice breaking, raw and desperate, nothing smug left in it. His cock leaked even after he’d emptied, hot spurts still dribbling down your stomach as you wrung him for everything he had.
Finally, his body gave out. He collapsed forward, catching himself with his hands braced on either side of your head, chest heaving, dripping sweat. His hair hung loose, strands falling into his eyes as he looked down at you, flushed, wrecked, still smirking up at him with his cum smeared across your skin.
His voice came out hoarse, almost slurred, nothing but the truth slipping free. “Fuck, I love you.”
The words cracked out of him unplanned, blunt, messy, like another groan he couldn’t bite back. His eyes burned into yours, still dark, still wild, but softer now in the edges as he hovered over you, dripping sweat onto your chest.
You laid there on the sheets, chest heaving, skin slick with his cum dripping down your tits and belly. Your hair was a wreck, your thighs still trembling, but your grin was sharp as ever when you tilted your head up to meet his eyes.
“Of course you do, Atsuya.”
Your voice was smug, breathless, laced with a laugh that made his jaw tick.
His mouth twitched, caught between a scowl and a smirk. He leaned closer, still bracing himself over you, his cock twitching against your stomach even as it softened.
You dragged a finger through the sticky mess across your chest, licking it off with exaggerated slowness, eyes locked on his. His groan was low, guttural, his forehead dropping to press against yours, sweat dampening your hairline. “Fuck, you make me crazy.”
His jaw was tight, his eyes heavy-lidded, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss you or strangle you again.
You leaned up anyway, catching his mouth in a kiss. It wasn’t soft—it was teeth, spit, breath, raw heat clashing. When you pulled back, your grin split wide, eyes glinting.
“You already are crazy, baby.”
He huffed out a broken laugh against your lips, shaking his head, but he kissed you again anyway, deeper, his hand tangling in your hair. His cock twitched against your stomach, stubborn, refusing to die down even after you’d milked him dry.
“Yeah,” he muttered between kisses, his voice low, rough, and absolutely certain. “Crazy for you, you mouthy little bitch.”
And you only laughed into his mouth, knowing you’d never let him live that down.
He was still panting, chest heaving, every breath coming rough through his nose. Sweat slicked his forehead, dripping down onto one of his forearms beside you, still holding himself between your thighs, like his body had finally hit its limit.
You reached up with both hands, palms warm against his stubbled cheeks, forcing him to look at you. His eyes flicked open, still glazed, still wild, but caught by yours instantly.
“I love you too,” you whispered, grin tugging soft at the corner of your mouth as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his nose.
For a second he froze, blinking like he didn’t know what to do with that softness after everything he’d just said and done. His jaw twitched, his smirk threatening to come back but never quite forming. Then he exhaled, shaky, “Tsk, you really know how to fuck a guy up, don’t you?”
And even with your thighs sticky, his cum drying on your stomach, both of you a wreck on the sheets—you laughed softly, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones.
“Yeah, baby. And you fucking love it.”
He let out a low grunt, the tension finally leaving his shoulders as his other arm gave way. His full weight settled over you, heavy, warm, damp with sweat. For once, he didn’t care if he was crushing you, he just dropped his head against your shoulder, chest still shuddering with every breath.
You sighed, content, your hands sliding up into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He muttered something incoherent against your neck, too tired to keep up his usual stream of filth, but the way his body molded into yours said enough.
For a long beat it was just his ragged breathing and the sticky warmth between your bodies. Then he shifted, tilting his face up, his mouth catching yours.
It wasn’t rough this time. It was deep, messy, unhurried — tongues tangling, lips dragging, both of you breathing each other in like you had time to waste. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as he kissed you again and again, every sound he made melting straight into your mouth.
You hummed against his lips, smiling into the kiss, your voice breaking soft between gasps. “Mm… better when you shut up.”
He chuckled into your mouth, the vibration rolling through his chest. Then he kissed you harder, like he was trying to prove you wrong without saying a word.
His lips were still dragging over yours, messy and slow, when he shifted just enough to grab your wrist. Without breaking the kiss, he guided your hand down between your bodies until your palm pressed against the hard length twitching back to life against your stomach. He didn’t push you to stroke him — just held you there, making you feel how quickly he’d gotten hard again.
You pulled back a little, laughing against his lips, breathless. “I cannot believe you. Mid-thirties, with the stamina of a horny fucking teenager.”
He chuckled, deep in his chest, still kissing along your jaw like he hadn’t even heard the insult. “Mm. Compliment noted.”
You rolled your eyes, squeezing him once, just to make him twitch. “You came twice in the last hour, Atsuya.”
“Yeah,” he muttered into your skin, his smirk audible in his voice. “Get yourself a younger girl, they said. Keep up with her, they said…” His hips rolled just enough to push his cock harder into your hand, his breath hitching despite himself.
You groaned, laughing as you kissed him again, voice muffled against his mouth. “Disgusting.”
He hummed low, smug, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.
He kept kissing you, but the edge was different now — softer, slower, heat melting into something that burned deep instead of fast. His mouth lingered on yours, tongue lazy, lips dragging, his breath warm against your cheek.
Your hand was still around him, twitching under your palm, but he didn’t push, didn’t rut into it. He just held your jaw in his big hand, thumb brushing over your skin as he kissed you like he finally had the patience to savor it.
When he pulled back, his voice low and rough, but steadier this time.
“You good?” he asked. A beat, then quieter, more raw: “Want me again?”
The way he asked it, with no smug edge, no insult laced in made your chest twist. His dark eyes searched yours, hungry but waiting, like he wouldn’t move until you said so.
“I’m sensitive,” you whispered, tilting your chin toward him, brushing your lips against his as you spoke. Your eyes narrowed a little, daring him to make something of it.
His big hand slid up into your hair, stroking slow over your head very sweet, but with just enough mocking weight in his voice to make you groan. “Oh, baby, I can tell,” he drawled, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be gentle this time.”
You let out a shaky laugh, your body still humming from everything he’d wrung out of you, but your smirk was still sharp. “You? Gentle? That’ll be the day.”
He chuckled low, kissing along your jaw, his hand still petting through your hair like you were something fragile. “Mm. Guess you’ll just have to let me prove it.”
And for once, the way he kissed you after wasn’t rough or punishing, it was hot and deep, his tongue coaxing instead of demanding, his body still heavy on yours but softer in the way he moved, like he was finally letting himself slow down.
You reached down between your bodies, guiding him into place. His cock was hot and heavy in your hand, and when you lined him up, he didn’t slam in like before. He just pressed the swollen head against your entrance, easing forward just enough to part your folds.
He rocked the tip there, slow and careful, teasing instead of punishing. Each brush made your body jolt, made your breath catch in his mouth as he kissed you softer than he ever had.
Your gasp broke between his lips, your hands clawing at his shoulders as you melted under him.
“Yeah,” he rasped suddenly, his voice turning rough, biting against the sweetness of the moment. His forehead pressed hard to yours, his lips still brushing yours as he pushed just the tip deeper, stretching you slow. “You’re still my little bitch. Don’t forget that.”
The words hit like a spark, filthy and grounding all at once. Your moan slipped into his mouth, your hips rolling to take him in further despite his teasing.
And he only chuckled, low and dark, his mouth swallowing every sound you made.
He kept kissing you, tongue slow, deep, his cock pressing inch by inch inside. No rush this time. No brutal thrust. Just a steady stretch that had your breath stuttering into his mouth.
Every time you clenched, he paused, his smirk brushing against your lips. “There you go. Take it nice and slow. Can feel you choking on me already.”
Your nails dug into his shoulders, a moan slipping free even as you tried to glare. “You bastard—”
“Mm.” His hand cradled the back of your head, holding you still while his hips pushed forward another inch, making you gasp. He groaned low, hot against your ear. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
He moved like he had all the time in the world, dragging back, then easing forward again, never slamming, just grinding deep, making you feel every thick vein as he filled you. His dominance wasn’t in the pace; it was in the control. He decided exactly how much you got and when.
“You hear that?” he murmured, lips ghosting over your jaw as the wet slide of your cunt echoed between you. “That’s your sloppy little hole singing for me. Slow or fast, you’re mine to play with.”
Your head tipped back, eyes rolling, your breath shattering. He caught your throat again, not squeezing this time — just resting his hand there, reminding you. “Keep looking at me,” he ordered, pushing deeper until your cunt swallowed him whole.
You whimpered, clenching tight, your voice breaking into a moan. “Fuck, Atsuya—”
He kissed you again, filthy and soft all at once, swallowing every sound. When he finally pulled back, his eyes burned into yours, his voice rough but steady. “That’s it, baby. Slow, deep, and all mine.”
He bottomed out inside you, slow and merciless, your walls fluttering around him as your chest arched into his. His hand stayed heavy on your throat, not squeezing, just holding you there, keeping you steady, keeping you his.
“Breathe, baby,” he muttered, his lips brushing yours, his cock grinding deep. “Nice and slow. Yeah… there you go. That tight little hole knows who’s inside it.”
You moaned, broken, your nails clawing at his back.
He smirked against your jaw, his voice going low and sharp. “What’s the matter? All that bratty mouth and now you can’t even form a sentence? Pathetic.”
Your eyes rolled back, a laugh cracking into a whimper. “Y-you’re so—”
“So what?” he interrupted, dragging out of you inch by inch before sinking back in just as slow, making you feel every throb. “So good? So deep? Or so fucking smug?” His hips pressed flush against you, the wet slap obscene, his cock twitching inside you.
Your breath hitched, your voice cracking. “All of it—”
“Damn right.” He kissed you hard, biting your lip, then pulled back with a groan. “Listen to that. Barely a few strokes and you’re dripping down my cock like the needy little bitch you are.”
His hand on your throat flexed, thumb brushing your jaw. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Wanna see that smart mouth of yours fall apart.”
You forced your gaze up to him, eyes glazed, lips parted.
“There it is,” he rasped, rolling his hips deeper, steady and controlled. “My cock fits better in you than your own damn words. And you know it.”
Another moan broke out of you, raw and guttural.
He chuckled, low and satisfied, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Yeah—That’s my girl.”
His thrusts stayed steady, dragging deep and slow, every grind of his cock deliberate. The hand on your throat never left, heavy and grounding, his thumb pressing just under your jaw as his forehead rested against yours.
“Fuck—” he groaned, voice gravel as his hips rolled, filling you to the hilt. “So fucking warm around me. You always take me like this, don’t you?”
Your breath caught, a moan spilling into his mouth when he kissed you rough.
A ragged sound tore from his chest when you clenched down around him. His smirk cracked, turning into something rawer, needier. “Ohhh, fuck, there you go. You feel that? You’re milking me already. You’re so cock-drunk you don’t even know what to do with yourself.”
He pushed in deeper, slow but brutal, making your back arch. His breath shuddered out, another moan tumbling under his words. “God, you’re filthy. Dripping, clenching, just lying here letting me ruin you. My perfect little mess.”
You laughed breathlessly, your grin breaking through even as your voice cracked on a moan. “You sound wrecked.”
His hips ground into you hard, pulling another slick slap out of your bodies, his groan catching sharp in his throat. “Yeah? And you love it. You love hearing me lose my shit in your pussy.”
Another roll of his hips, another deep drag of his cock through you, his head tipping back this time as a low, guttural moan spilled out of him. His hand slid from your throat to your chest, pressing down over your sternum as if to keep you pinned.
“You feel that?” he muttered, voice breaking, chest heaving. “That’s your cunt strangling me—fuck—it’s too good. You’re too good.”
His thrusts stayed deep and dragging, every inch stretching you slow, deliberate, filthy. Sweat dripped from his temple onto your cheek, his breath breaking rough against your lips.
He kissed you, messy and hot, and the words slipped out into your mouth, raw and unguarded.
“I’m—fuck—I’m so close.”
Your nails dug into his back as you whispered against his lips, smug and breathless all at once.
“Not yet, baby.”
He groaned loud, a sound torn from his chest, his hips stuttering but not stopping. His forehead pressed to yours, his cock twitching deep inside you as he tried to hold back.
“F-fuck, you’re killing me,” he rasped, his hand clutching your throat again, thumb trembling against your pulse. “This cunt is begging me to cum in it—wet, tight, milking me—and you’re telling me no?”
You grinned, tilting your chin just enough to meet his eyes. “Exactly.”
His laugh cracked, broken and filthy, cut off by another groan. He rolled his hips into you harder, slower, grinding his cock right up against your sweetest spot. “God, you’re sick. You get off on this, huh? Watching me fall apart? Cock’s dripping inside you, and you still want more.”
You moaned back into his mouth, your voice a low hum of pleasure. “Mmhm. Don’t you dare waste it yet.”
His jaw clenched, his groans growing louder, sweat dripping onto your chest. “You’re fucking evil,” he panted, his words catching between ragged breaths. “Keeping me on the edge like this—fuck—you’ll pay for it when I finally let go.”
And still, he kept rutting slow and deep, trembling under your hands, strung tight, his voice breaking with every moan he tried to swallow.
His body trembled over you, every muscle tight as he fought to hold himself back, cock dragging deep, slow, obscene. Every thrust had him groaning, low and guttural, right into your mouth, and it was wrecking you.
“F-fuck—baby, I’m—so fucking close—” he gasped, his forehead pressing to yours, his voice cracking in a way you’d never heard before.
You smirked against his lips, whispering sharp and smug. “Not yet, baby. You wait.”
He growled, frustrated, his hips jerking as he buried himself balls-deep, holding you there, his cock twitching inside your soaked cunt. “Goddamn—you’re evil—” His voice broke again, a raw moan spilling out of him before he could stop it.
And that sound—that sound—went straight to your core. Your body clenched hard around him, slick flooding, wetness dripping down his cock.
His eyes snapped open, glazed and wild, and he laughed breathlessly against your mouth. “Ohhh, fuck—you like that, don’t you? You’re wetter—dripping—just from hearing me moan.”
You let your head fall back, laughing through a moan, your walls choking him tighter with every slow pull of his cock. “Mmhm. I could get off just listening to you lose it.”
He groaned again, louder this time, the noise guttural and shameless, his hips grinding deep. “Shit—fuck—you’re strangling me, baby. Pussy’s drowning me—you’re milking me just from the sound of my voice.”
You clenched around him again, messy and wanton, your thighs slick with everything spilling out of you. “That’s right. Keep moaning for me. Let me hear it.”
He buried his face in your neck, rutting slow but brutal, groaning and whimpering into your skin as his cock dragged balls-deep and back, over and over. “F-fuck—you’re gonna make me—ohhh fuck—”
And you only laughed, sharp and breathless, your smirk pressed into his hair as you held him there, wet and pulsing inside you, refusing to let him finish just yet.
He was shaking above you, muscles drawn tight, his cock swollen and twitching inside you. Every thrust dragged so slow and deep it felt like he was trying to carve himself into you.
His mouth hovered at your jaw, breath hot and shaky, but the words that had spilled so freely before were gone. No more smug insults, no more filth—just strained silence as he tried to hold it in.
You felt him throbbing inside you, right on the edge. Smirking, you slid one hand up the back of his head, threading your fingers into his damp hair and holding him there. Your nails scratched lightly at his scalp as you whispered, low and taunting.
“What’s wrong, Atsuya? Got nothing to say now?”
He groaned, muffled against your skin, his hips jerking despite the slow rhythm he tried to keep.
You hummed, tilting your head to kiss his temple, stroking his hair as if you were soothing him, mocking and tender at once. “Mm, so quiet. Don’t tell me my loud, grumpy bastard’s too busy trying not to cum all over me.”
That earned you a broken whimper, low and guttural, muffled against your neck. His whole body jolted as if the sound slipped out against his will.
“Ohhh,” you crooned, smirking even wider as you tugged his hair just enough to force his face up. “There it is. You’re whimpering for me. My cocky man, coming apart in my pussy.”
His eyes squeezed shut, his breath ragged, his forehead pressing into yours as another shaky sound broke free of him. You stroked the back of his head, guiding him through it.
You held him there, stroking his hair, kissing his jaw as his body trembled against you. “Shhh,” you whispered, smug and sweet all at once. “I’ve got you, baby. Cum for me.”
For a few seconds he tried to hold it, jaw locked, teeth clenched, his forehead pressed to yours as your fingers stroked through his damp hair. He was trembling, his cock twitching inside you, your walls fluttering around him. You thought maybe he’d manage to keep it down.
And then he snapped.
His whole body jolted, his hips slamming forward as his cock throbbed violently inside you. His hand shot out, gripping the sheet beside your head in a white-knuckled fist, ripping the fabric tight.
“F-fucking—ahhh, fuck!” The moan tore out of him, raw and desperate, breaking into a cry that filled the room. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open as he groaned through it, voice cracking, spilling everything he’d tried to hold back.
You gasped, your smirk dissolving into a moan as you felt him erupt inside you again, hot spurts spilling deep, flooding you until you felt it leaking back out around him. His hips jerked helplessly, grinding into you like he couldn’t get close enough.
“God—ohhh fuck—baby—” His voice was wrecked, loud, shameless, his groans echoing off the walls as his cock twitched over and over. He buried his face against your neck at last, but it didn’t muffle the filthy sounds tearing out of his throat.
You held him through it, stroking his hair, laughing softly against his ear even as your body shuddered with every pulse of his release. “That’s it, Atsuya. Let me hear it. You sound so fucking good when you lose it.”
He whimpered again, louder this time, his whole body shaking as he clung to the sheets and emptied himself into you.
“I—fuck—I can’t stop cumming,” he murmured, voice hoarse, breaking apart into another shameless moan as his cock throbbed violently, spilling more heat inside you.
The words made your stomach twist, made your pussy clench down hard around him, milking every pulse.
“Ohhh, baby…” you purred, stroking his hair, your smirk widening even as your own body trembled. “That’s so fucking hot. Just keep giving it to me.”
He groaned loud, broken, his chest shaking against yours as his release kept coming, flooding you until it was dripping down your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath. Every time you clenched around him, it dragged another low, guttural moan from his throat.
“F-fuck—ohhh god, it won’t stop—” he gasped, half laughing, half crying into your skin. His whole body shuddered as if the pleasure was too much, but his hips still ground into you, chasing every last drop.
And you held him through it, hands tangled in his hair, whispering filth into his ear as he twitched helplessly inside you. “Good boy. Fill me up. Don’t you dare stop now.”
His reply was nothing but another wrecked groan, loud and raw, as his cock pulsed again, spilling more, every second of it hot and filthy as hell.
His groans were wrecked now, breaking louder every time another hot gush leaked into you. He sounded undone, desperate, every bit of his control gone.
You cupped his face suddenly with both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes fluttered half-shut, glassy and wild, his mouth falling open around another broken sound.
“What the fu—aaahhh—” he moaned, the word turning into a cry as another hard spurt shot deep inside you, his whole body shuddering.
Your thumbs stroked his cheeks, mocking and tender all at once as you grinned up at him. “That’s it, Atsuya. Look at you. Can’t even stop cumming for me.”
He whimpered again, louder, his face twitching under your grip, his cock still jerking and spilling, sticky warmth leaking down between you both.
“F-fuck—baby, it’s too much—” he rasped, voice breaking, his hands clawing at the sheets as if he could ground himself.
You kissed him, swallowing the moan he let out into your mouth, your smirk pressed to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen. You’re so fucking hot like this.”
And he did—twitching, groaning, muttering half-words that broke into moans, every pulse inside you hotter, filthier, more helpless than the last.
Then with a desperate groan he finally pulled out, his length sliding wet and messy against your thigh. The sudden emptiness made you gasp, but it was his sound that undid you, a raw, broken whine.
His forehead pressed against yours, your hands still cupping his face, thumbs brushing over the sweat on his cheeks. His eyes darted frantically between yours, wild and glassy, and his voice cracked as he whispered, almost accusing:
“What are you doing to me?”
Your grin softened, still smug but gentler now, your thumbs stroking along his jaw as you held him steady. You kissed his nose, his lips brushing yours again, and whispered back.
“That’s what you do to me. Every time. Just… softer.”
He groaned again, shaking his head, trying to swallow down another whimper. His chest heaved against yours, sticky mess smeared between your bodies.
“You did so good for me, honey,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, still stroking his face. “So fucking good.”
His eyes fluttered, caught between disbelief and surrender, his mouth parting like he wanted to argue but all that came out was another ragged moan as he melted into your hands.
His strength gave out all at once. With a shaky grunt, he let himself fall to the side, collapsing onto the sheets in a sweaty, sticky heap. But even then, he didn’t let you go, his arm hooked tight around your waist, dragging you with him until you landed sprawled against his chest.
You laughed softly, your hair falling across his damp skin, your hands still cradling his face as he panted under you. His eyes were heavy-lidded, lips swollen from your kisses, but he still tried to glare, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Goddamn… you,” he muttered, voice raw and hoarse.
You kissed the sweat at his temple, snickering into his hair. “Mm. You love me.”
He groaned, rolling his head to bury his face against your neck, his body trembling faintly from the aftershocks. His arm only tightened around you, holding you closer, sticky and messy as you both sank into the ruined sheets.
For once, there were no more insults. Just his ragged breathing against your throat, your fingers combing through his damp hair, and the heavy weight of him clinging like he didn’t want to let you go.
He groaned low in his throat, not sharp or mocking this time, just worn-out and heavy.
“Mm,” he muttered into your neck, voice hoarse. “You’re evil.”
You chuckled, kissing the top of his head. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll live.”
His grip flexed on your waist, pulling you tighter against his sticky chest. For a while, it was just his ragged breathing, the ruined sheets beneath you, the warmth of his weight anchoring you down.
When he finally spoke again, it slipped out softer, half-mumbled like he hadn’t meant for you to hear. “Fuckin’ love you, y’know that?”
You grinned into his hair, your hands still carding through it, whispering back against his temple. “I know. I love you too.”
He groaned again, this one quieter, almost content, his lips brushing your throat. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation.”
You laughed, your chest shaking against his. “Please. No one would believe me if I tried.”
His answering chuckle rumbled into your skin, and then he just sighed, heavy and spent, melting fully into you as you both sank into the mess together.
His breathing finally slowed, heavy and steady, his weight warm where he curled into you. The iron grip on your waist hadn’t loosened, even as his eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing against your skin. He was drifting, the tension gone from his body, mouth slack against your neck.
You smiled, fingers still stroking through his damp hair as you whispered, low and smug, “Stop jerking off without me next time.”
A beat of silence. You thought he’d slipped under until his lips twitched against your throat, his voice rough, mumbled, but carrying that same bastard grin even half-asleep.
“Oh sweetheart,” he muttered, chuckling weakly, “I knew you were coming.”
You laughed, quiet and breathless, pressing another kiss to his hair. “Unbelievable.”
His only answer was a low groan, followed by the weight of him fully sinking into you, out cold, a ruined, sticky, smug mess that you wouldn’t trade for anything.
The sheets were wrecked, your bodies sticky, your muscles sore, but the room finally went quiet except for his steady breathing. Atsuya was out cold, tangled around you like a furnace, still managing to look smug even in his sleep.
You sighed, brushing your fingers over his temple, the ghost of a grin on your lips. “Crazy bastard.”
And yet, with his cum drying on your skin, his heartbeat steady against your chest, and his hand still gripping you like he’d never let go—you couldn’t stop smiling.
Because yeah, he was a grumpy bitch, loud, filthy, insufferable. But he was yours.
The argument had been stupid, something small that snowballed in the car on the way home. You were still fuming in the passenger seat, arms crossed, when he finally sighed and pulled into an empty parking lot behind an abandoned store.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
You looked at him for a long second, still irritated, then unbuckled your seatbelt. “Then prove it.”
Before he could respond, you shoved the seat back as far as it would go, hiked your skirt up, and slid your panties down your legs. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled him toward your already wet pussy.
“Eat it,” you ordered, spreading your thighs. “Right here. Make it up to me.”
He didn’t hesitate. He leaned over the console, broad shoulders wedged between your legs, and buried his face in your cunt like a man starved. His tongue dragged hot and heavy through your folds, licking up every drop before latching onto your clit and sucking.
You moaned loudly, fingers tightening in his hair as you rocked against his mouth. “That’s it… Apologize like you mean it.”
He groaned into your pussy, the sound vibrating against your clit as he ate you out messily; tongue fucking into you, lips sucking, nose bumping your clit with every eager movement. The windows started to fog up while he devoured you, completely focused on making you feel good.
You came hard on his tongue, thighs squeezing around his head, moaning his name as pleasure pulled through you. Even after you finished, he kept licking softly, cleaning you up like he was apologizing with every stroke.
When he finally pulled back, lips shiny and breathing hard, he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes. “Am I forgiven?” he asked, voice rough.
You smirked, still catching your breath.
“Not yet,” you said, pulling him back down. “Keep kissing it better.”
18+ mdni Frank gets a call from peter while you’re riding his dick n he ends up having to shove his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet </3
“hey, pete, what’s goin’ on?”
“have you heard anything about—“ peter pauses when he hears a muffled whimper over the line “what was that?”
“don’t worry about it.” frank gruffs, fingers hitting the back of your throat as he fixes you with a warning look, though the corners of his mouth threaten to twitch up in a smirk. “have i heard anything about what?”
he listens as peter talks n you still your hips in an attempt to stay quiet but frank covers the speaker and growls “i didn’t tell you to stop.”
once he finally hangs up (“I never heard’a that, kid. Better ask your other superhero buddies.”) he grips your chin, fingers hooked on your lower teeth, and bobbles your head. “Can’t stay quiet for one minute, can you?”
“N-no, sir,” you garble around his fingers, “not when—“
“Not when what?” He rasps, voice lilting higher to mock your whiny tone. “Not when my fat dick’s stuffed in your pussy? Huh?” He bounces his legs, making his cock jostle inside you and cute little grunts escape your throat. “Not when you’re riding me like a bat outta hell?”
synopsis : At a crowded party, Frank Castle overhears you telling a friend that big noses are attractive for very specific reasons. Once he gets her home, he demands she demonstrate exactly what she meant.
warnings : oral sex, face-sitting, established relationship dynamics, and references to violence (implied through character background only)
wc : ~750 words
The music at the warehouse-turned-loft party was too loud, the lights too dim, and the crowd too packed with people pretending they weren't carrying. You'd lost sight of Frank twenty minutes ago—probably making the rounds, scanning exits, doing that whole broody guardian thing he did even when he was supposed to be relaxing.
You leaned against the exposed brick wall, nursing a beer that had gone warm, while your friend waved her hands around about some guy she'd matched with on Tinder.
"He's got this nose," your friend was saying, wrinkling her own. "Like, prominent. Roman statue vibes."
You snorted. "I don't know, big noses are kinda hot."
She paused. Turned to you. "Really?"
"Really." You shrugged, feeling the pleasant buzz of your drink. "When you ride their face, you know? It feels good. Better angle or something. More to hold onto."
Maya's eyes went wide, then she dissolved into giggles, swatting your arm. "Oh my god, you're ridiculous."
"I'm serious!" You laughed, but you were already feeling the heat creep up your neck. "Don't knock it till you try it."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say—"
You didn't notice the shadow that lingered a beat too long near the hallway behind you. You didn't see the way Frank's jaw tightened, his eyes tracking the line of your throat before he slipped back into the crowd.
The ride back to your place was silent in that heavy, charged way. Frank drove his truck with both hands on the wheel, knuckles white, eyes fixed on the road like it had personally offended him. You'd tried making conversation twice. Gotten grunts in response.
"Everything okay?" you asked finally, reaching for the radio.
Frank caught your wrist before you touched the dial. His thumb pressed against your pulse point, deliberate, and your breath caught.
"I heard you," he said. His voice was gravel over glass.
"Heard me what?"
"At the party." He glanced at you then, and there was something dark and focused in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Talking to your friend. About what you like."
Your brain stuttered. Rewound. Oh. Oh.
"Frank—"
"Big noses," he said, almost casual, but his grip on your wrist tightened. "Said they feel good. When you—" He stopped. His jaw worked. "Show me."
Your mouth went dry. "What?"
"You said it feels good." He turned onto your street, the truck's engine rumbling low and hungry. "I want you to show me."
Your apartment door barely clicked shut before he had you pressed against it, his hands framing your face, his thumbs dragging across your cheekbones. You could feel the calluses, the violence he carried in his skin, but his touch was careful. Reverent.
"You sure?" you breathed, even as your fingers found the hem of his shirt.
"Yeah." He kissed you then, rough and claiming, and you felt it in your knees. "Want your thighs around my ears, sweetheart. Want you to tell me how good it feels."
You laughed, breathless, and he swallowed the sound.
The bedroom was dark, just the streetlight filtering through the blinds. Frank sat on the edge of your mattress like he was waiting for orders, and you climbed over him, your dress riding up, your hands shaking only a little. He helped you, big rough palms sliding up your legs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin of your inner thighs.
"Come here," he murmured, and you went.
The first roll of your hips made him groan, the vibration of it sparking up your spine. He wasn't gentle—he didn't know how to be—but he was there, present and desperate and yours, his hands gripping your hips to guide the rhythm, his nose pressing exactly where you needed it, the angle perfect in a way that made your vision blur.
"Frank—" You gasped, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling. "There, right there—"
He made a sound against you, encouraging, hungry, and you felt it building fast and sharp, coiling tight in your belly. You rode him like that, shameless and loud, the wet sound of it obscene and perfect, until you were shaking, until your thighs were trembling and your head fell back and you came apart with his name breaking across your lips.
He didn't stop. Kept you there, oversensitive and writhing, until you were pushing at his shoulders, laughing and gasping and begging.
"Okay," you managed. "Okay, you proved your point—"
Frank finally pulled back, his mouth glistening, his eyes blown wide and dark. He looked wrecked. He looked proud.
"Good?" he asked, rough and smug.
You slapped his chest, weak and giggling. "Shut up. You know it was."
He caught your hand, pressed a kiss to your palm, and the tenderness of it after the filth of before made your chest ache. He helped you down, eased you onto the mattress beside him, and pulled you into the circle of his arms.
"For the record," he mumbled into your hair, his heartbeat thudding slow and steady against your back, "you can talk about me like that anytime you want. I'll be listening."
You huffed a quiet laugh against his chest. "Seriously?"
Frank let out a low breath and covered your hand with his. "Yes." His voice was rough, softening at the edges with exhaustion and something warmer. "You looked at me from across that room and I was done. Three seconds. That's all it took."
You turned your head to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling the smile there. "Hopeless."
"For you?" His arm tightened around you, anchoring you close. "Yeah. Always."
You drifted off like that, tangled in him, the party and the world and everything else fading to nothing. Just you. Just him. Just the quiet after.
faux sympathy during sex with frank is like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. the two things are good on their own, but work so fucking well together.
he had been pounding into you for who knows how long. pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. if he could, he'd keep going until the sun came up. but he was older. not in his prime anymore. combine that with an aching back and he's ready to tap out after the fifth or six time. but you're barely getting started.
you wanna keep going, baby? that's fine with me. but you gotta get on top, then.
you whined but complied anyway. you were what most would call a pillow princess. frank rarely, if ever, let you get on top. not because he didn't like it, but he just preferred taking care of you. however, on nights like tonight, when you're sex drive is still high, he allows himself to push aside his pride and let you take control for a bit.
your thighs were beginning to burn. truthfully, you weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up. you pawed at his chest, a soft whimper getting dragged out of you when his tip hit the right spot.
"frankie... please," you mumble, tears threatening to spill over.
"aww, what is it, baby? thought you wanted this? but if you don't..." he shifts, acting as if he's about to pull out.
"no! i do, i do!" you exclaim, sinking onto him even deeper. a low groan slips from his lips. goddammit, you're just sucking him in. "but 'm tired. i need your help."
frank clicks his tongue. "oh, baby's tired, huh? well, you said you could do this all by yourself. my big girl can take care of herself, isn't that right?"
you nodded, hurrying up your pace. he rests his hands on your waist, helping to guide you up and down. he just can't help himself. the man takes pleasure in helping out his girl.
"there ya go, baby. knew that you could do it. just needed daddy's help, huh?" he teases.
he thrusts into you, with you matching his pace as you grind down. once, twice, until you both come simultaneously. you lean forward, eyes already closing shut. you feel so full of his come that it warms you from the inside out.
"yeah, go to sleep, sweetheart. daddy's gotchu now," he whispers into your hairline, kissing you gently.
frank may have faux sympathy in bed, but his love for you is universal.
well, maybe... just a tiny crush. you're the sweetest girl he knew around, considerate, and the leader-type. not fit for someone like him. to be more specific, sukuna thinks you're weirded by him because of his looks, he has tons of piercings; in his ears, eyebrows, and chin, he even has tattoos around his arms.
but when he got the guts to finally ask you on a date? he didn't expect you to say yes.
he took off everything. his piercings and covered himself up to ease his tattoos.
but here you are, wore the same dark colors he would usually wear. styled yourself with accessories although you don't have piercings or tattoos yourself. it's far different from the usual pastel or light clothes you wore. while on the other hand, sukuna eased himself to match you.
it was awkward.
“you took off your piercings?” you questioned. looking at him closely. it's the first time you've seen him without it.
“i thought you didn't like it” sukuna looked away. feeling embarrassed.
“no! I—... I like it” you muttered and looked down on your feet. finally feeling the heat building on your cheeks.
it was silent. it was deafening. maybe you should've thought how to handle it beforehand. sukuna breaks the silence when he remembered the bouquet he bought earlier.
“i like your dress” he finally met your gaze, sukuna handed you the bouquet.
“especially the color.. it's my favorite” he continued and cleared his throat.
“i like your outfit too, ryo” you chuckled as he guided you to his car.
the date night went surprisingly well. sukuna kept asking if something happened for you to wear different style of clothes.
“i wanted to match you” you confessed.
“and so am i” he turned to you.
there was a pause, but you broke a laugh when you realized the situation.
“so... do you want to hang out again?” sukuna asked nervously.
How The King of Curses Treats You Differently (Headcanons)
➵ Sukuna lets you interrupt him. Sukuna has absolutely no patience for interruptions. Anyone who dares cut him off while he’s speaking would usually be met with a terrifying glare that instantly makes them regret it. But you? You can interrupt him without hesitation, even in the middle of an important conversation. Instead of silencing you, Sukuna pauses and lets you finish before continuing, leaving everyone else in the room completely stunned that you’re the only person who can get away with it.
➵ Sukuna lets you order him around. Sukuna doesn’t take orders from anyone. He is the King of Curses, and everyone knows better than to tell him what to do. Yet when you tell him to rest, eat, or stop being reckless, he’ll actually listen. He’ll click his tongue and complain about how demanding you are, but he still does what you asked because for some reason he can never say no to you.
➵ Sukuna lets you nap against him. Sukuna has never been someone who enjoys physical affection. Most people wouldn’t even dare stand close enough to touch him, knowing how easily he could cut their head off. But when you fall asleep beside him, he allows you to rest against him without complaint. He won’t move, won’t wake you up, and won’t push you away. Everyone around him knows that the fact he lets you sleep peacefully against him says more than any words ever could.
➵ Sukuna smirks when you tease him instead of getting angry. Sukuna is feared because nobody dares disrespect him. One wrong comment from anyone else would usually earn them a warning they wouldn’t forget. But when you tease him, mock his arrogance, or roll your eyes at his attitude, he doesn’t get angry. Instead, a small smirk appears on his face because your confidence entertains him more than it annoys him.
➵ Sukuna would let you win small arguments. Sukuna is stubborn and believes his word is final. Nobody would dare argue with him because they already know they won’t win, but with you it's different. You can argue with him over the smallest things, and somehow, you always end up getting your way. He’ll complain, call you impossible, and act annoyed, but he never truly tries to stop you.
➵ Sukuna doesn’t care if you invade his personal space. Sukuna values his personal space more than anything. Nobody touches him, fixes his clothes, or gets close without permission. But you can casually lean against him, adjust his robes, play with his hair, or sit beside him without him pushing you away. You’re the only person who can cross that boundary without him being angry.
➵ Sukuna lets you sit beside his throne. Sukuna’s throne is something everyone fears. It represents his power, and nobody dares approach it without permission. Yet you can walk right up and sit beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The first time it happens, everyone expects him to remove you immediately. Instead, Sukuna simply allows it, silently showing everyone that your place is beside him.
➵ Sukuna doesn’t let anyone to speak badly about you. Sukuna couldn’t care less when people insult him. Their opinions mean nothing to someone like him. But the moment someone speaks badly about you, his entire attitude changes. The room becomes silent, his expression darkens, and everyone immediately understands that disrespecting you is a mistake they won’t get away with. You are the one person he refuses to let others look down on.
➵ Sukuna protects you without hesitation. Sukuna has never been someone who worries about others. Danger never mattered to him, but when you’re involved, he gets serious. Before anyone can even realize you’re in danger, he’s already there, making sure nothing gets close to you. He’ll act like it was nothing afterwards, claiming he simply “didn’t want you getting in the way,” but everyone knows the truth.
➵ Sukuna remembers the little things about you. Sukuna isn’t someone who pays attention to meaningless details. He doesn’t care about people’s favorite foods, habits, or birthday. Yet somehow, he remembers yours. The drink you like, the things that annoy you, the little comments you made weeks ago. If you point it out, he’ll deny caring and say he simply “remembers everything anyone says,” but everyone knows that isn’t true.
➵ Sukuna lets you see his softer side. Everyone only knows Sukuna as cruel and ruthless. Nobody sees him as anything other than the King of Curses. But you get to see the rare moments he doesn’t show anyone else. The quiet moments, the small acts of care, and the way he lowers his guard around you. He would never admit that you’re different, but everyone else can see it.
➵ Sukuna carries you when you’re tired. Sukuna isn’t the type to carry someone just because they’re tired. In his eyes, if you can still walk, then you should. But when he notices your energy fading, your steps becoming slower, or your eyes struggling to stay open, he’ll let out an annoyed sigh before picking you up anyway. If you tell him you can walk yourself, he’ll simply reply, “You were taking too long,” refusing to admit he just didn’t want you pushing yourself.
┃your brother would kill you if he knew how dirty you get with his best friend.
──────────────────────────────
"Shut up. It's like you want to get caught."
his mouth is clamped on your face, trying to contain the moans escaping your mouth but his hand could only do so much. You're straddling his giant quads while he thrusts up into you from below.
It's 2am. You're supposed to be sleeping but instead, you're getting fucked by your brother's best friend. Your brother is sleeping a couple rooms down, completely unaware.
"Get off." he demands.
"Wha— why?"
"You don't know how to shut the fuck up."
He's lifting you off, but you clutch on to his shoulders, gluing yourself to him.
"I-I'm sorry, I'll shut up, please don't stop." you're so close to unraveling but it's just so, so hard to keep quiet. He reaches over to the foot of the bed and grab the panties he ripped off of you moments ago.
"Open."
You open your mouth and feel your own panties being shoved in your mouth. You look at him with wide, clueless eyes that ask him, "why?", but he thrusts up into you harshly, telling you to deal with it.
squelch squelch squelch
is all you hear right now, and the occasional groan from Toji. His hands hold your arms behind your back, leaving you helpless.
He's thrusting inside your warm cunt, fast and hard, chasing his own high. His mouth is slightly open, and his breath hits your shoulder blade, making you shiver.
"You're just gonna' let me use you like this? Huh?"
His hands move down to your ass, spreading you wide open so you can take all of him. You want to tell him it's too much, but you don't dare take the cloth out of your mouth; you know how mean he could be.
You resort to slapping him harshly on his chest, but he only slaps you right across the face. You whine loudly, arching your back in pain.
"Too much? Poor baby. Too bad you can't talk, huh?" he coos.
You love it. You love it so, so much. The way he's so much bigger than you made the sex 10x better, and he's so strong, putting you in whatever position he wanted you in.
"Can I fill you up, baby? Make you all mine?" how can you say no when he's asking so nicely?
You bob your head up and down, pleading him with your watery eyes. He comes so hard inside of you that his body is twitching aggressively in pleasure; his groans turned into soft moans, making you come all over him soon after. You both stay there, still dazed.
You take your panties out of your mouth, "Asshole," but you only earn a sharp slap to your ass.
knock knock knock
"Hey, is everything alright in there? Have you seen Toji?"
I guess the panties weren't as effective as Toji thought.
satoru fucks you in full nelson after seeing that you were ovulating 𑄝੭
“that’s so not fair!” you whined, clasping your hands with satoru’s who was currently leaning over your body, flashing that stupid grin of his at you. “you know martial arts and I don’t!”
“sounds like a skill issue, sweets. you’re so weak.” he teased, putting his entire weight down on you to hear that small little squeak of yours.
this was normal between the two of you, enjoying your usual pillow fights with one another whenever a sleepover happened. gojo had invited you over to his place after class, offering to cook dinner and sit through your favorite movies after seeing you had a rough day.
he assumed you were overloaded with classwork but that wasn’t entirely the case.
you were ovulating.
and you were also planning on avoiding satoru at all costs especially because he was the only thing on your mind. his voice, his lips, his fingers were all you could think about. it wasn’t helping that he was shirtless at the moment, making him 100x hotter. his pink pecks blended so well with his pale skin, beauty marks littered all over his body.
you wanted to kiss every single one of them.
“cmon, don’t tell me you’re giving up already.” he taunted, slapping your face playfully. you bit back a moan, finding out a new thing about yourself right that second. you had to think of something quick before he realized how flushed you were and the way your legs were trembling. you quickly shifted your hands to his waist, tickling away until he was laughing, begging you to stop.
“shit! this isn’t f-fair ow!” gojo wheezed, dropping back onto the floor, trying his best to catch his breath and he hugged his sides to stop you.
“i win!” you cheered.
“you cheated..” he managed to let out. you responded by sticking out your tongue, ready to sit against the pillow propped up when suddenly you got attacked with the tickles as well. “not so funny now, hm? you crying?” he laughed, watching you grip onto his bicep as if that would help at all.
“satoru! a-stop!” you shifted onto his lap, feeling his arms wrap around your torso to lay you down on his chest. “i win.” he whispered into your ear, tucking your hair behind it. the current position he had you in was awkward. your back was on him and his arms had a firm grip on you.
why the hell was this making you wet?
you gulped, wanting to get off of him but he wasn’t letting go, unsurprisingly. “what’s wrong sweets?”
“nothing.. just, you’re hugging me weirdly.”
gojo hummed, letting one hand leave your waist to wrap around your neck. your eyes widened at the sudden weight on your nape. as if that wasn’t enough, the roll of his hips made it clear what his motives were. his prominent bulge poked at your backside, twitching needlessly.
“you actually thought that i wouldn’t notice my best girl was horny? you’re practically dripping through these flimsy pj shorts, baby.”
your mouth dried out, only gasping when he pulled down your shorts to prove his point. your panties were drenched. “see?” he coo’ed, teasing your clit with a feather like touch. “satoru!” you whimpered out, struggling to do anything but watch him toy with you.
“let me help you out, okay?”
he temporarily released his hold on you, only to grab onto the back of your thighs, forcing them up to your chest. with your panties now to the side, he had full access to your cunt. “wish i could see you properly.” he sighed. “but i like this position, don’t you?”
the bastard didn’t give you a chance to reply before he inserted two fingers into you. he chuckled at the way your body arched, groaning at your walls closing in on him.
“i’m going to make you feel so good, wanna show you how much i’ve been needing you.” he kissed your shoulder, curling his digits, causing an embarrassing wet sound to come out of you. “you’re so wet.” gojo hummed. “think you’re ready to take me.”
you shook your head, grabbing onto his hand that was fingering you. “just.. just touch me a bit more like this..” you pleaded, fluttering your eyes shut.
gojo raised a brow, but did as you said.
you moaned, grinding your hips to the same rhythm he was using, fucking yourself on his fingers. he watched carefully over your shoulder, mesmerized by the way he just slipped in and out. you felt your tummy turn, a warning of your release. you braced yourself to let go before gojo halted his movements.
“alright that’s enough of that. i need my cock in you, like right now.”
“but-“ you protested, pouting when he reached toward his pants, pulling them off to release his cock. his lips curled at your reaction, loving how flustered you’ve gotten upon seeing his length. “i don’t expect you to take it all, so i’ll put half of it in. how does that sound, sweets?” he mumbled against your skin, trailing hot kissed down your collarbone. he didn’t wait for a response, gripping his base after a few pumps, lining it up to your entrance.
he needed to feel all of you, fuck condoms.
your nails clawed at his arm that was still wrapped around your neck, moaning when he split you open. “oh my god!”
gojo clamped his hand over your mouth, muffling your screams. he loved how in just one thrust, he had you unraveled. “shhh, sweets. you forget i have neighbors.”his breath hitched as you clenched around him, making it impossible to go past a few inches. “fuck, baby. please stop being so goddamn tight.”
you could feel his veins scrape at your inner walls, touching in just the right places. “that’s it..”
he praised with every thrust he gave, using your body for leverage as he picked up the pace. “you’re taking me so well.” your eyes were shut close, drooling into his mouth. this wasn’t how’d you imagined your night to go, but in no way were you complaining.
your pussy was so relieved to get the attention it needed.
a wicked grin spread across gojo’s face, knowing you were close. he tightened his hold on you to the point of bruising, inhaling sharply. “fuck fuck fuck.”
“ngh!” you whined, head falling back on his shoulder. his hair’s even more of a disaster than usual, sweat-damp strands sticking to his forehead as those ocean-blue eyes stay on you. "fuckin’ hell," gojo grits out between panting breaths before suddenly flipping you over in one brutal motion. "wanna see your face"
“b-but i liked the other position..” you bit your lip after admitting to that.
he flashes is all teeth before driving into you again deeper this time just watch those pretty noises fall apart for him instead.
“we’ll go back to that one in a bit. just wanna see your face when you cum.”
streamer byf ! satoru is the type to keep the facecam on while you’re bent over the desk in front of him, one hand on your hip and the other clicking through chat donations like it’s just another Tuesday. “Yeah I’ll do the ranked climb later,” he says into the mic, voice completely even, then leans forward and pushes into you slow and deep. He mutes for two seconds, mutters “fuck, clamp down like that again,” then unmutes and answers a sub question about his sensitivity settings while his hips keep rolling.
streamer byf ! satoru is the type to make you sit on his face during the loading screens, tongue working slow and deliberate while the queue timer ticks down. Every time the match is about to start he lifts you off just enough to say “one more, don’t come yet,” then goes right back to licking into you like he’s got all the time in the world. When the game finally loads he sets you back in his lap, still dripping, and starts playing with one hand while the other stays between your legs, fingers sliding in and out in time with the fights.
streamer byf ! satoru is the type to edge you for an entire three-hour stream, never letting you finish. He keeps a toy inside you on the lowest setting the whole time, remote in his pocket, and every time chat donates he turns it up for a few seconds just to watch you shift in the chair next to him. “You good?” he asks casually. You nod too fast and he smirks, turns the vibe higher, and goes back to explaining the new update like nothing’s happening.
streamer byf ! satoru is the type to let you give him head under the desk during collabs, completely straight-faced while he talks to other streamers on Discord. His hand stays in your hair the whole time, guiding you slow, and every time someone asks him a question he answers clearly even as your throat tightens around him. When the call ends he looks down, thumb brushing your bottom lip, and says “swallow,” quiet and calm, with a slight smirk.
streamer byf ! satoru is the type to record a private video just for the two of you after a long stream, camera still rolling while he bends you over the same chair. He talks the whole time in that same low voice, telling you exactly how wet you are, how good you take it, how chat would lose their minds if they could see. “Look at the camera,” he says, gripping your hair and tilting your face up. “Wanna see later how pretty you look when you’re full.”
streamer byf ! satoru is the type to make you edge yourself on camera while he plays, just out of frame. He tells you the rules in that same calm voice he uses for tutorials: “Fingers only. No coming until I say.” Every time you get close he glances over, shakes his head once, and you have to stop. Chat keeps asking why he keeps looking to the side. He just smirks and says “checking something,” then turns the sensitivity of the toy up another notch without ever taking his eyes off the game for long.
᭡ kali’s notes ⸻ Guys I’m obsessed with him in this kind of AU... I wish he were real..anyway hope y’all enjoyed it ??mwahh !
suguru hates your guts so he rearranges them instead
“just know that i still fucking hate you,” suguru hisses through clenched teeth as he pounds into your thoroughly abused cunt. “you’re just more bearable when you’re being fucked dumb on my cock.”
you clench around his cock at his harsh words, enjoying the way he’s degrading you like this. suguru’s going hard on purpose with the intent of bruising your tender walls and leaving marks on your hips that will last for days. the strength of his hands on your hips leave a message that he’s determined to mark you from the inside out. he delivers a rather deep thrust, brushing your most sensitive spot and coaxing a sweet moan to escape your lips.
“if it m-makes you feel better,” you snap, using the bits of pride left in you. you look up at his chiseled face, trying to ignore the way his long stygian hair tickles your cheeks. “i still h-hate you to— ah!”
wrong. if you really hated him, your pretty pussy wouldn’t be clamping down on his massive dick like it’s scared he’ll leave.
you’re cut off by a calloused hand grabbing your throat, threatening to tighten. “shut up.” he growls, thrusts becoming meaner than before. he’s enjoying it too— the way your face morphs in pure pleasure. all because of him, the sorcerer you swear you hate. “shut the fuck up and take my cock. that’s your only purpose right now.”
you feel the tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes. “it’s not f-fair!” you pout, bottom lip protruding so sweetly it makes suguru shudder. “s’not my f-fault you’re being s-so mean and going s-so fast!”
his bicep flexes and his hand adjusts his grip, reminding you that he could crush you right then and there if he really wanted to. but he doesn’t— because you’re much better writhing underneath his touch.
“open your fucking mouth.” suguru commands, the hand on your throat reaching up to swipe your lip with his thumb. your lips part almost fervently as if you’re excited for what’s next. “that’s my good girl, i could get used to you like this. desperate and falling apart on my dick.”
he spits in your mouth, watching the spittle slide down your tongue. you swallow immediately, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. if only you could stay like this forever— all needy and pliant because your pussy’s stuffed full with his cock.
fuck, you feel so good. the way your tight walls spasm and clench around his girth almost makes him forget that he hates you in the first place. the same goes for you— you can hardly think when the fat tip of his cock is grinding against your g-spot and bumping against your cervix with every thrust.
suguru’s pace begins to slow down as they’re replaced with slow, merciless thrusts . his hand moves down from your hip to flick your swollen clit, inciting a cry from you. “i think,” he begins, thrusting a little harder to make your eyes roll back. “we should try getting along better after this little… session.”
“b-but— nghh!“ you whine but are immediately cut off by cruel thrust that bullies your cervix.
“no buts.” suguru states, pumping his cock into your cute cunt a few more times until you cum all over his cock. your legs lock around his waist, pulling him into you. he releases his spend inside of you, grateful that his cock is keeping it all plugged up in your pussy.
you think you’re imagining things when he presses his lips against yours sloppily, capturing your tongue and savoring the way you whimper. as he pulls away, there’s a stringy strand of saliva connecting your tongues obscenely. suguru looks down and notices some of his cum trickling out of you, hole too tiny to hold it all.
he picks the leaking fluids up with his fingers, bringing it to your mouth. you accept, tasting the milky liquid on your tongue. he licks his lips at the sight displayed in front of him— from the way your eyes are cloudy with lust to the way your pussy is still wrapped around his length. at that moment, you feel how his cock has suddenly twitched back to life.
“i may hate your guts, sweetheart,” he coos, thumb caressing your cheek. “but i’d be lying if i said i hate rearranging them.”
𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀’𝐒 keeping a very, very dark secret from you. ₊⊹ 𝒻. reader
“we’re coming to you live with the latest updates on the four bodies found brutally mutilated outside of shibuya . . .”
your hands tighten on the fabric of sukunas wife beater as the news anchors grimly recounts the attacks that happened only a few blocks from your apartment.
sukuna knows you’re scared.
you’ve done nothing but ramble on & on about the so called spider lily killer — or whatever they’ve decided to call him.
“that’s just awful,” you lift your cheek off his chest to look at the television. yellow police tape & police lights flutter across the screen. “kuna, do you think i should worry? i mean shibuya’s not far . . .”
“i think you’re good, baby,” sukuna’s hand glides lazily up your spine before settling onto the back of your head, fingers disappearing into your hair.
you turn to face him, your chin sitting on top of his muscular chest as you flutter you lashes, searching his face for reassurance. “how do you know?”
the corner of his mouth twitches. “because i said so.”
you don’t question him. you never really do. why would you? he was six foot & like 200 pounds of pure muscle. he’d never let anything happen to you.
so, you nod, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before curling back beside him, your head tucked beneath his chin.
“i hate thinking that there’s really people out there that are just . . . that sick in the head.”
sukuna doesn’t say a word. he was too focused on the television as the news anchors continued listing injuries so grotesque they refuse to show any up close footage of the crime scene
he almost scoffs.
fools.
they weren’t even describing it correctly.
“. . . authorities believe the suspect is highly organized and extremely dangerous . . .”
you press yourself closer to sukuna.
he can feel every ounce of fear running through your body.
every tremble.
every soft gasp as the lead detective explains what motives they think could’ve made someone do something as heinous as this.
vigilante theory?
how generous of them to assume he cares about mortality.
multiple killers?
they’re underestimating how quickly one man can kill.
they were all just so wrong.
a slow smile settles into his face —— small enough that if you were looking, you’d never notice it.
there was something amusing about it.
his girlfriend was so scared of this monster she couldn’t even put a face to.
yet had no idea that the same man she was so afraid of was the rubbing her back to sleep right now.
