Male Reader Insert

NSFT reader inserts, for top male readers. I write smut about my OCs on my sideblog, @ocpervblog

[privitivium]

yandere!male!bully, male!reader, cw, somnophilia, nudes taken without consent! minors ageless blogs dni

been thinking about bullies alot...,,, delinquents... a specific type of man. rugged? intimidating? overall scary 'jock'? who stalks you; all shy and flustered like a schoolgirl when "bullying you"? yeah.

a man that falls under that term 'tsundere'...? he shouldnt be seen as cutesy or anything of the sort like those tsundere sterotypes...

his taunting can really go far sometimes! shoving you hard when passing you literally anywhere, calling you names, making fun of your physical appearance. really low stuff. and he has the gall to get all mopey when you get upset from his torment? like, it was just a joke?

he clearly sees that it's his fault but doesn't acknowledge that. it's your own fault for being so sensitive.

it was always a sight to see. this delinquent... following you around like a little dog on an invisible leash from afar? clearly far enough for you to not notice, but close enough for others to see. no one ever questions it. too scared to make fun of the king of jackassery!

again, always a sight to see!

... needy delinquent guy who leaves little gifts for his best pal, you, particularly in your gym locker where you both workout... coincidentally! where the hell are my clothes? what the hell is this CD and plastic rose doing in here? what freak stole my sweaty gross clothes of all things? i was finally gonna wash them... alright, this is pretty sweet...

having enough of this acting coy, forcing you into friendship and all that after bullying you. happy days for him, not so much you? well, maybe. maybe this will turn out like every other romcom-ish movie where the delinquent turns out to be a misunderstood sweetheart? you're willing to give him a chance. maybe? it was kinda nice talking about your interests to someone who avidly listens despite trying to seem uninterested...

inviting himself over to your apartment. all you gave him was the code to the gate, but he knows what building by heart... he was jittery, walking up the stairs to your door, trembling as he knocked for the first time. he feels so awkward... so excited. but he cant show it. i mean, to actually be invited instead of loitering and smoking in front of your place like he owns it? he feels... too excited.

you didnt quite know what to do with him... play video games, you suppose? thats always a good start...

"huh? you're staying the night? uhm... i guess that's okay." you didnt have work in the morning, so you suppose it really is okay.

ㅡof course it is. he knows your schedule. of course you'd be okay with this. he's a pro at peer pressuring without even realizing it! what a pushy jackass...

so sweet of you, making sure that the couch is comfortable enough for him to sleep on. although, he thought you'd be nice enough to offer him your bed... but it's fine. he wont complain about that just yet. it's been so long, playing games with him and enduring his mocking - so you're naturally tired. you tell him goodnight, and retire for the night.

in his eyes, you disappear somewhere in your apartment, and he's too busy marveling that he's really in your home to notice.

comfy, burying himself in the blankets that smell just like you. hnn... ransacking your kitchen. dirty dishes... he eyes up the spoon, glaring back at him. should he lick it...? no, he shan't subject himself to such icky actions just yet... speaking of, where were you...? he searches, obviously finding you in your bedroom at last. he eyes you, all cozy, half-covered with your blankets. all snug... tch.

ㅡstupid you. you shouldve known better than to fall asleep first.

he inhales shakily, your lamp duly lit - creating enough light for him to see exactly what he was doing... he felt so dirty. he felt so fucking good. he tugs your blanket down past your waist, gently pulling your stupid sleep-shirt up, exposing your midriff. he swallows thickly, leaning down and pressing his puckered lips along your navel. you were... a medium sleeper. he was playing with his life, knowing that doing this... you might wake up. next time, he'd have to drug you up. unless... of course, you'd be willing. hnn...

he sits next to your bed, in a particularly comfy chair... and why the hell did you have a chair right next to your bed? did mommy come over and read you bedtime stories or was this where you jerked off? he's the one stalking you, he should know... but he hadn't gotten that far yet...!

ever so disgusting... he pulls himself free from the confines of his sweats; planning on jerking it by his lonesome whilst staring longingly at your face before the idea pops into his mind.

he makes a fist, guiding your hand around his cock. he whines under his breath, free hand muffling his noises as he pumps languidly. he felt so dirty. a good fucking dirty. to cum so quickly, just from the feeling of your hand, guided nonetheless... he should feel embarrassed, right? he feels the opposite... he feels like squealing and jumping all around despite being winded!

he wipes his hand off, and your own on the fabric chair. giving your hand a good lick.

ㅡtaking a few pictures with your hand lazily wrapped around his cock, snapping a few pictures of your soft cock for safe keeping. maybe make one his screensaver? haha... he makes sure to leave without a trace. aww... tucking you in, giving your forehead a little kiss. isnt he the best boyfriend ever?

he continued to show up unannounced. huh... he really is kind've endearing. pouting, offering you real flowers and some stupid figurine of your favorite media, standing in your doorway like some guy trying to applogize to his significant other? wow... huh. this is bad. catching feelings for the guy who literally made fun of your appearance and used your hand to jerk himself off?ㅡ this is so bad... but maybe it's a good bad. it's just the kinda bad you need!

it was sometime at night. you were relaxing from a busy day of running errands, and he was at your side muttering soft insults about the show you were watching. also relaxing from a busy day of running around after you - making sure nothing at all happens between you and some random stranger. the last thing he needs is someone shoving their way into your life. much like he did, but thats a different story! hmph!

you must be more needy than him. or at least, more forward... staring at him - and he gets embarrassed to the point where he snaps at youㅡ"what are you staring at?" and you laugh. you laugh... at him? enraged, face set aflame in embarrassment as he leans forward, tensing up as if he were about to do something about that staring ㅡ

it was corny on your end,,, it felt like it was something out of a movie? butterflies erupting in your stomach, sloppily pushing your tongue against his, feeling a mixutre of your saliva and his dribbling down your chin, gripping his back like a lifeline. since when did you feel so strongly for him? you must be a masochist. celebrating in your mind, first base with your bully...! unaware that you've already made it to third base.

ㅡ"y-you're so fucking gross." he spat, wiping his lips aggressively with the back of his hand and avoiding eye contact with his free hand dipping in-between his legs, seemingly not caring if you see. did he just cum from being kissed passionately? yeah. and is he gonna mock you for being hard from kissing him because he's embarrassed and doesnt want you to see that wet spot of nut? yeah. isn't he the cutest?!

[privitivium]

mean nerd incel !!! dom jock readerrr...

handjob, use of f slur. premature ejaculation... 💞💞💞 !!!!!

;; incel jealous of his chud roommate.

just because you're built. handsome. charming as fuck. a real absolute unit. absolutely jealous that everyone likes you and fawns over you n its like everyone creams their pants every time ur name is mentioned. just not fuckin fair. especially to geeky losers like him who never get any attention!!

makes him sick that you have a girl friends that you bring around the apartment like he's not there and he doesnt here everything going on... like you dare have sex while hes there? w his ear pressed against the wall and seething every time he hears a dainty ass giggle?

when you're hanging out in your room, studying with a couple of girls that have better things to do than fawn over you - he demands you keep the noise down even when you're quiet. you're not even drowning in women like he thinks. what you do ;; is wrestle naked with your bros, but he doesn't need to know that. not yet. until you wrestle him naked as a sort of initiation !!

- all this bullying and harrassing; you've tried to do the friendly thing. make him dinner, bring him lunch, give gifts of his favorite media - be a kind roommate. offering to take him to the gym with you, show him your regime, try to bond with him... always rejects you with a cruel insults, because he has better things to do than indulge in ur friendship apparently?

you're certain... he just needs a little push... one more little push. and being the awesome, epic roommate you are - you help him out; because he's one of your bestest friends.

you don't complain about the insults. you think it'd physically hurt him to be nice. and you don't want him to be in pain... merely passing you in the hallway ㅡ muttering nasty obscenities and giving you an equally dirty look full of hate.

and you,,,, just smile, and wonder why he hasn't found another place to live if he hates you so much. "hope you know i hate your guts." he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into his little hobbit hole of a room after eating your dinner and licking the plate clean. you never take it to heart, because you're sure he doesn't mean that! 

and what do you know? you're right. so,,, you're utterly understanding when you find him with his pants pooling round his ankles and his leaking dick in his hand. the flimsy dork screeches in horror and - "what the fuck! g-get the fuck out!!!" he shrieked, nearly sounding like a girl as he rushes to cover himself up, falling out of his chair as you stay still in the doorway,,, what's that on his computer? 

- "woah..."

his eyes narrow, glaring at you so meanly! pillow over his lap as he tries to pull his pants up awkwardly scrambling. you're not all that bothered as he flings a pillow at you and screams at you to get out again—"hey, is that me?" on the monitor? sure enough. one of your workout videos plastered on the screen. squats, hip thrusts.,,, guiding the viewer on your posture- 

a huge, stupid smile spreads across your lips. triumphant. "i knew you liked me..."

;; "nn-no,, m'not a fuckin faggot. get... get your hands..." his gritted demand breaking into the softest of whimpers as he writhes inbetween your thick muscular thighs. digging his blunt nails into them, holding onto them for comfort... whining that he doesnt like you, that he hates you, that he's not gay, even with his shirt between his teeth; to give you more room to work with and to not sully his clothes...?? oh,,, oh. sweet boy. you couldn't wait to break that fucking mindset. make him feel loved, at the hands of another man who he seemed to loathe!!

"i didn't call you that..." you murmur, brushing your nose against his crown and peppering him in kisses, fucking up his glasses - smothering him, really. "i'm just doing you a favor." fist fastening - holding him still with your other, easily keeping him from moving too much,,. you're so kind and lovely, how could he ever hate you? right, he doesn't hate you... he's covering up his feelings... that's so not manly.

— "it's okay. we're bros. bros do this sorta thing for each other!" you assure. nuzzling into him and are faintly surprised when your hand is covered in slick opalescent fluids. already! just being manhandled,,,

"woahh,,, you like me so much, you already came ..." and he almost laughs if not for the choked whimper escaping him, jerking into your touch uselessly. because fuck you are incredibly adorable - yeah he fucking likes you, yeah hes a faggot. lopsided glasses resting atop the bridge of his crooked nose, fogging up. dorkkk

[hurlingdown]

                       S!NK YOUR TEETH IN

synopsis. when toji, the omega outcast of the zenin clan, is given to you, the leader of a rival clan, you consummate with him in a public mating ritual, showing the elders who exiled him just how perfectly breedable of an omega they had let go. wc. 4.0k

tags. top alpha! reader, bottom omega! toji. reader has a cock, toji has a pussy. public ritualistic mating, exhibitionism, breeding, knotting, rough vaginal sex, tit-fondling, dumbification, creampie, fingering, mating bites, huge cock, degradation & praise. talk of pregnancy and lactation. mentions of past abuse, degradation (not the sexy kind), prejudice against omegas. reader starts off sweet and ends up being a little mean. made up ritual & clan traditions.

a/n. the number of times i’ve rewritten this is astronomical. i hope you enjoy!

Toji knelt before the Moon on the steps of the sacred temple, waiting. Time and gravity pressed tender bruises into the bend of his knees, and fresh ache flowed into the soles of his feet. Tonight, he knew, would be the longest of nights. 

There was no man worthy of such worship, he bitterly thought. And yet there he was, presented like a spoil of war to the leader of another clan, his hands bound together and pressed to the small of his back while his former clanmates howled throughout the night like unruly beasts. 

But Toji wasn’t a spoil of war, was he? In fact, he was the opposite—a jest disguised as a gift to humiliate, to embarrass the recipent. An omega with the bulk of an alpha. How lowly. 

He was certain that the alpha coming to the temple tonight to receive his gift would think the same. But regardless, he would own Toji—body and soul. He would sink his teeth into the glands of his neck and claim him as a slave, or he would ravage him for one night, muzzled and bound, before tossing him aside.

Toji didn’t want to think. Lately, thinking had done him no good. Thinking of the inevitable only served to paralyze him, made his knees buckle, made his lungs seize and choke on heavy breath, made his will weak and heart unsteady. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, seeking solace from the fairness of the night and the Moon herself. 

The drums had started a while ago. 

Or—that was what it sounded like—the staff and torch of every man and warrior hammering against the softness of the earth, driving up sand and dust, what started as a cacophony of sounds gradually reconstructing into fire and rhythm and heartbeat. 

They were calling for someone. Yearning for their echoing cry. 

And the day it came, it might as well cue the apocalypse. It would be the end of Toji. 

Except…

You were nothing like he had imagined. 

“Omega,” a soft croon travelled from within the temple. Quiet, yet steady—low. Demanding his attention, his answering warble. 

Toji resisted the urge to raise his head and answer, despite the sudden, terrifying need to bare his neck and whimper, to submit to the faceless alpha before him. 

Toji had expected to be taken by force by a hand clamped onto his sensitive nape, scruffing him like all filthy omegas deserved to be held, dragged up the stairs against his will and thrown into the temple. 

Not the gentle guidance of a curled finger lifting his chin… to meet the most brilliant pair of golden eyes he had ever seen. 

“I was calling for you,” you murmured. Soft. Forgiving. So unlike every alpha he’d ever seen. “Why haven’t you answered my call, omega?” 

Toji couldn’t breathe. 

A mocking sneer came from behind, a full body shudder immediately surging its way into his bones, halting the sense of comfort that your unexpected… mercy? kindness? provided him. 

“I see you’re examining our gift to you, Chief.” 

You only smiled kindly. 

“How kind of you to bring me a gift, Naobito.” You paused, gazing down at Toji, before resting a hand on his cheek, watching as he couldn’t help but nuzzle into the cup of your palm, clearly starved for gentle touch. 

“Well? How do you like it, Chief?” 

“He’s certainly… extravagant.” 

Toji couldn’t keep the scowl off his face even if he tried—he could tell you were lying. There was nothing extravagant about him, with his scarred skin and thick bulk that made him unseemly of an omega, the picture of crass and shame. 

You tilted your head in confusion at the sudden sour dip in his sweet scent, the strange stillness in his body language. “What’s wrong? Did you not like the term I used, omega?” You had meant it with every fibre of your being. The omega was beautiful. Extravagant, like you said—a jewel blessed by the moon. 

Toji frowned harder, keeping his mouth shut despite his displeasure. He had learned to do so the hard way for far too many times—the scar slashing across his face was solid proof of that. There wasn’t any room for an omega to butt in when any alpha was speaking—much less the pack alpha himself. 

“Extravagant is one way to word it,” Naobito sniggered, “though I’d suggest we use the term low-bred.” 

Toji was indifferent at this point, used to having nasty insults hurled at him to berate him for the impropriety of his body, but what took him by surprise was how tense you had gotten from one single word of the other alpha, his instincts immediately sending out warning signals to soothe and pacify, not in fear of your anger but in distinct worry for your well-being. 

“Low-bred,” you repeated, “you say?” 

“Yes,” the old pack alpha affirmed. “Low-bred is right. Only a low-bred omega would ever dare to betray the fate the Moon goddess has ordained for him and turn himself into the beast that he truly is.” 

“And pray tell, has the Moon goddess herself granted you the authority to define a creature of her creation with such an undignified term?” 

Naobito raised his eyebrows, undaunted by your sharp tongue—years of experience had given him the composure of an old fox. 

His lips stretched into a smile, revealing a pair of grotesque yellow fangs. “The Chief has peculiar tastes.” 

“The Chief,” you smiled contemptuously, “worships the Moon goddess with respect, as does the rest of our clan, unlike certain dissemblers.” 

Naobito growled. 

Faith and religion were sensitive waters to tread into for any clan. 

The head priest coughed awkwardly, breaking the uneasy silence. 

“It is time, my liege. The hour that the Moon favours has come.” 

You gazed down at the omega, still bound on his knees, jaw cradled in your palm, now slightly more relaxed—how many hours had it been since he had been forced to kneel and pray? 

“What is your name, favoured one?” 

Toji glanced up at you, dark blue boring into golden. 

“Fushiguro,” he said. “Fushiguro Toji.” 

You hummed. How interesting. “Not Zenin?” 

“No,” Toji muttered lowly. “I am… pariah. An outcast. I am not one of them.” He nearly spat the last part out, something akin to manic glee in his eyes. 

“Pariah,” the foreign word rolled off your tongue like silk. “What a pretty name for something they detest so much.” You stroked his hair almost lovingly. “But not for long, Toji. Tonight, as the goddess favours it, you will be mine.” 

Toji shivered involuntarily, this time not in fear as he had priorly with Naobito, but an unexpected, all-consuming feeling of heat shooting straight into his lower belly. At that moment, he recognized just how dangerous of an alpha you were, to have an omega like him—one that repulsed alphas with the entirety of his being—wanting to get on his knees for you and have you take him mercilessly, right here right then, pheromones dripping out uncontrollably like peach syrup and golden honey, flooding the air like a dammed up river unleashed. 

“Unbind him, Suguru,” you ordered, and Toji whined in arousal. “No omega of mine will ever be leashed.” 

Mine, the alpha says. Toji’s heart fluttered despite himself. I will become his omega, like it was written in the fucking stars. What the hell? 

Was this what it felt like to freely belong? 

Toji was then helped to his feet, his hands swiftly untied, a flask where a sweet-smelling liquid was fed to his lips. He tensed, wary, but your steady gaze boring into his almost immediately rid him of any suspicions. 

“Drink,” the head priest—Suguru, offered kindly. “You must be parched. It is water from the sacred fountain.” 

A blessing of fertility, he registered, his breath hitching. One that would induce a heat so potent that would make conception simply inevitable. There was no going back from this. By the end of the night, he was to be taken and bred by you before the waxing gibbous Moon, your seed flowing into his womb—and by sunrise, he would be pregnant with your pups. 

Toji closed his eyes, nodding once and opening his mouth, allowing the sweet fluid to slake his dried throat, before the flask was taken away from him, a silk cloth pressed to his lips to clean him. 

There was a very specific order to these things. 

“Favoured one,” Suguru said. “The Chief waits for you.” 

You had disappeared up the stairs and onto the altar while he was distracted, leaving behind a thick trail of your scent. Toji followed it blindly, desperately, heat burning an electric path down his spine and spilling heavily into his nether regions, a slow whine ushered out from his parted lips. 

He stood at the entrance on wobbly legs and took you in. “Alpha,” he allowed himself to pant out, for the first time of the night. “A-alpha, where…” 

You were beautiful and bare under the moonlight. All of you was soon to be his, just as he would be yours. 

“Come, my omega,” you gently shushed the omega’s unsure warbling, patting your lap and smiling at him. “Let us forget everything around us. Tonight, there is only me and you, and the goddess, who will watch me fuck you on my cock until you are swollen and pregnant with the fruit of her blessing.” 

Toji could feel his omega purring, giddy from your promises, a slickness trickling down his thighs, evident through the sheer fabric of his robe. He trudged over to where you were sitting, shakily positioning himself on your warm lap. His knees bracketed your hips, resting comfortably on the soft material of the furs and bedding laid all over the ground, the perfect cocoon for lovemaking all night. 

You were cooing at him. Pressing tender kisses to the pulse of his wrists, soothing at the abrasions the ropes had left behind like he was something precious, something to be treasured. 

Toji had previously thought he was not going to survive the night, but now, he only wished the night would last forever. 

“What are you thinking, my sweet?” you crooned at him. 

The omega flushed prettily, glancing down at his slick-dampened robes. “My clothes,” he whispered. “They are uncomfortable, alpha.” 

You regarded him with a playful tone. “Is that so?” you responded. 

Toji nodded, a pout forming on his lips—something he would have never done in the presence of another. You made it hard for him to act normal. You were the strangest alpha he had ever met. 

Trepidation began to build when you remained silent for a few moments. 

The disrobement was often violent. That was what he had seen happen to other omegas in his clan, more often than not with an alpha that they had never seen before prior to that night. Stripped bare of their dignity, and forced to submit and take whatever they were given. 

“May I?” was a question that Toji would have never even considered to hear. 

He nodded then, almost desperately, as you chuckled and pried his white robe fully apart, fully unveiling his body for the first time to the cold of the night. 

“You are so wet,” you commented, one finger brushing up the entrance of his pussy, gathering slick before lightly pushing at his clit, making him shudder and cry out. “I doubt we will be needing any extra lubricant.” 

“No,” Toji agreed. Fuck, he needed you inside of him, this instant. You were far too patient for an alpha, far too gentle, far too kind. He leaned back and spread his legs, revealing his sopping cunt, hoping to entice you into taking him. 

Your eyes darkened, zeroing in onto his soaked folds, spread out like a flower of the flesh. 

“Alpha,” he whined, the heat making it hard to speak coherently, “I’m ready. I-I need you.” 

You sneered. “Pretty omega needs an alpha to breed him? Plug his pussy full of seed until he is heavy with pups?” 

“N-not just any alpha,” Toji panted. “I want you. Only you. Your pups, alpha.” 

You held back a whimper at his words and the sight of his cunt clenching needily combined, wanting nothing more than to fulfil your promise and fuck him into the nest until the omega was seeing stars, helplessly clinging onto your shoulders and screaming your name with every thrust. 

But you also knew that it was far too early for that. You wanted to take your time with him. Savour him. Let him understand that he wasn’t just a toy for your pleasure tonight, but everything and more. 

“Not now, Toji,” you muttered softly, stroking his cheek, and sighed in dismay when the omega began to tear up, evidently consumed by his heat and seeing your words as a form of rejection. “Please, don’t cry.” 

“Y-you do not want me,” he gasped out wetly, “You are just like the rest of them. You do not see me as an omega, do you? You think—” he paused, before frowning and accusing, “you think I am low-bred.” 

Rage flickered in your gaze, and Toji could feel another wave of slick pouring out of his aroused cunt, baring his neck with a soft whimper to appease you. 

“Never say that about yourself again,” you snarled. “Or else I’ll just have to show you exactly how well-bred of an omega you are.” 

“But you stopped.” Toji huffed. “Why did you stop? Am I not enough for you?” 

You could feel your frustration boiling over. “If you still think that this is not enough, look at me.” Your cock stood proudly between your thighs, heavy and girthy with the flushed head dripping with arousal, the base starting to swell with knot. “Do you not see what you have done to me, omega?” 

Toji bit back a whine. Fuck. That huge thing was going to split his cunt apart, and he couldn’t wait. 

“Then what.” 

“I want you to show me,” you challenged, resting back against the pile of soft furs. “Show me what you can do, omega. Fuck those pretty fingers into your little pussy and get yourself ready for my cock.” 

Toji whimpered. His fingers weren’t small, but your cock was way, way larger. It would take at least four of them to properly stretch himself out, and goddess, was he impatient. Biting his lip, he inserted the first two fingers with ease, the abundance of slick making the glide smooth, wet and easy, waiting until he had them pushed almost all the way in before he started to slowly scissor them, panting softly at the movement. 

“So hot, Toji,” you purred. “Keep going, pretty. Show me you’re worthy of taking my knot. My pups. The perfect omega for me to breed.” 

The sight before you was a piece of heaven itself. The omega was struggling to fit the third finger in, even with how much he was slicking up—what an arrogant little thing, offering to take your knot when he could barely fit a few fingers into his tight virgin hole. 

“Alpha,” Toji panted, starting to rock his hips down onto his fingers, clumsy and inexperienced but nonetheless the most beautiful sight you had ever seen. “I-I’m… almost… there…!” 

“You are doing so good,” you cooed. “Just a little more, baby.” You were seconds away from grabbing your cock and jerking yourself off to completion, but how could you ever, when the prettiest, slickest pussy you had ever seen was right in front of you, waiting to be bred with your cum? 

Toji hissed out victoriously as he pushed the fourth finger in alongside the rest inside the wet mess of his cunt, stretching it out almost obscenely. He glanced at you expectantly, a smug smile on his face as though he were expecting a reward. 

“Well? Am I worthy of your knot now, alpha?” he sneered. 

What he didn’t expect was how quickly you manhandled him onto his hands and knees, making him arch his back until he was properly presenting himself to you, his pussy fully facing you, gaping widely and dripping with sweet-smelling slick for the taking. 

He gasped and whined, sensitive cunt clenching as you blew air over it, dutifully admiring the efforts your omega made in preparing himself for you. 

“Good omega,” you crooned, pressing a tender kiss to the hood of his clit, making him shiver. “You are the prettiest thing I have ever seen.” 

Toji wasn’t sure why he chose that moment to rebel, even with the sweltering heat and arousal clouding his consciousness. “Liar,” he whispered. 

You growled, rocking your hips forward harshly, the girth of your cock rutting against the crevice of his wet pussy, the sudden stimulation making him cry out. 

“Look at me,” you growled out. “Look at me as I fuck my cock into you, and tell me I am a liar.” 

Toji tilted his head to stare back at you, panting heavily. 

You sneered. “I wish you could see yourself right now, because there is no way someone will see this—and hear this—and call you anything other than an omega bitch.” 

Before Toji could even ask anything about what he was supposed to be hearing— 

You had positioned yourself and rammed your cock into his cunt in one smooth go, and Toji screamed. 

“Fuck,” he wailed loudly as he came, whimpering as you thrust right back in, rough hands grabbing carelessly at the thick of his hips, slamming him back onto your cock whenever he tried to crawl away from the oversensitivity. There were sure to be countless bruises by the time morning came—if it ever did, with the way you were fucking him so ruthlessly into the nest, taking away his every breath. 

“Alpha, puh-please!” he begged, tears of pleasure filling his eyes, his instincts going haywire with the only coherent thought being to let himself be bred, to carry your pups like the good omega you told him he was. “W-want your babies, want them in me so f-fucking bad, please.” 

“No,” you snarked, refusing to cum—a punishment, Toji knew, for the words he had negligently said, and the omega whimpered in frustration. 

“Please!”

“No. Not until you admit what you are.” 

“Alpha,” Toji cried out, frame shaking as he came again, slick leaking out of his pussy in messy slops with each slap of your hips against the reddened back of his thighs. 

You growled. “Admit it.” 

“A g-good omega,” Toji panted. “Yours.” 

“What else is there?” 

“P-prettiest thing you have ever- ever seen, alpha.” 

You hummed your approval. It was impressive that he could still manage to string together words, despite how hard you were pounding into him from behind. 

“I need an even better answer, baby.” You sneered, nipping meanly at his ear. “Something that sums up the above. Tell me. What’s a fertile and pretty omega like you good for a pack alpha like me?” 

Toji whimpered. He knew the answer you wanted—it was right in front of him. A burst of elation filled him at the prospect, and he found himself growing even wetter, if that was possible. 

“I’d be a good… a good breeding bitch for you,” he slurred. “And I’d let you fuck your knot into me anytime and anywhere you want, put a clan of pups into my s-stupid little cunt.” 

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Fuck,” you cursed, letting out a breathless laugh. “You are really something, aren’t you.” And that old bastard had dared to insult him. Was he blind? Were they all blind? 

You reached under Toji’s chest to cup his full breasts, squeezing and massaging them, making him jerk in your grip, cunt fluttering around your swollen cock with a wet sob. 

“Even your tits are perfect,” you jibed on, “They would look so good, swollen and heavy with milk to feed the pups I am going to put in your belly. Is there a single part of your body that isn’t breedable, Toji?” 

Toji mindlessly shook his head, whimpers and moans fucked out of him with each snap of your hips, his eyes hazy and unfocused as you pumped your cock into him, threatening to breach his womb with how deep and hard your thrusts were. “N-no,” he whined, “I’d let you fuck my t-tits, alpha. Get them fat and full too, like how you’re going to make my t-tummy.” 

You couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that. Your pretty thing really was gone, wasn’t he. To think he had been so shy and guarded just a few moments ago. He was truly unrecognizable now—his low, threatening voice turning into high-pitched moans, the scowl on his face wiped off and replaced with a look of pure ecstasy. 

“Naobito!” you growled out, a deranged grin on your face. “Is this the omega you were calling low-bred? The one you were berating for his appearance?” 

There was a flush on the elder’s face as he quickly hid it—either from embarrassment or from the fact that he, too, had reached a shaky hand into his robes to relieve himself, much like the rest. 

“Why,” you drawled, pushing Toji up so that his back was pressed flush to your chest, exposing his limp, fucked-out body to the crowd, “You lot seem to be enjoying it as much as I am. It is a shame that you will never have him, for the ways you have treated him.” 

Tonight, and for the rest of the days forever, Toji would be yours. 

With a snarl, you sunk your teeth fully into your omega’s neck as Toji let out a warbling cry, head tilting back to allow you full access to his nape as you thrusted upwards once more into his trembling body, just enough to pop the swell of your knot into his tight cunt, properly stuffing him and locking the two of you together. 

“I feel so full,” Toji mumbled as you pulled back to shift the two of you into a position that would allow the warm cum to slowly flow into his womb. “Feel you—right here, alpha.” He rubbed at his tummy, over the slight distension caused by the thickness of your knot. 

You had to hold yourself back from biting him again. 

“Yeah? Feels good, right?” you cooed, kissing the wound on his neck, one hand protectively cradling the belly of your new mate, as though he were already swollen with pup. Toji nodded sleepily, resting against your shoulder and letting out soft little trills, one hand joining yours to rest on his stomach. 

The ritual was over, but the Zenins were still in your territory. If it were up to you, you would have their hands and tongues cut off for the vile things they have done and said to Toji. 

But this wasn’t your decision to make. 

“Luna,” you murmured softly to your mate. “My sweet Luna.” 

Toji blinked in confusion at the strange term of endearment, before his eyes widened with realisation. 

You gestured to his former clan, now encircled by warriors of your own, the stench of fear and bloodthirst weighing heavy in the air like a thick fog. 

“They await your orders, Toji.” 

The crazed glint in your omega’s eyes had never been more telling. 

masterlist!

[tocka-irbis]

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗖𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

⚠18+ [Sexual] Themes, [Red Hood (Jason Todd) × M!Reader]

Minors, Ageless/Blank Blogs DNI

﹂Contains: Depictions of violence, Mentions of blood, slight fornicating/meddling with some of the goon(s implied), exhibitionism, voyeurism, manipulation/coercion(just in case), fingering, overstimulation, would this be considered as hate sex?

"Distrust and caution are the parents of security." — Benjamin Franklin

On both sides stands a lackey, doned in armor with a weapon ready to set fire at a moment's notice. But their presence withers in caparison to the individual standing before you. Face obscured with a red helmet, the eye sockets plunged into darkness as they leer into your very soul.

If you weren't in such a hazardous situation, perhaps you would have cracked a joke or two. Possibly even a jab at Black Mask's sorry excuse of security and man power as you easily overpowered them with a well thought-out ambush.

However, having crossed paths with this particular crime lord before; albeit briefly, has taught you to keep your commentary measured. Last time he held you at gun point for a frivolous jibe, he's much too serious at times.

His gaze is fixed on the blood staining your clothes, mostly gloves. He has his suspicions— theories about you. After a rather long interrogation, Jason decided it would be best to keep an eye on you, keep you close.

He has a few of his men shadow you from a distance, to see if you'd be trouble or get in the way of his plans. He won't stand for that if that's the case.

Time goes on, a few weeks later and he's still not convinced, despite how his men dictate each and every detail of your day. He thinks you're scheming something.

You're patient, he'll give you that much.

Eventually he takes a different approach, a daring one you could say. He contracts you to work for him —under the guise of keeping you on a tight leash. He's knows what you're capable of and will take any and all precautions to ensure you don't get in his way. He wants his revenge afterall.

What Jason hadn't anticipated was how cozy you'd get with his henchmen. There was already a handful of them tailing you around like a pack of lost dogs instead of following his orders.

Partially, he's miffed that they were swayed so quickly but you have yet to make them turn against him. Not that you've shown signs of backstabbing him...yet.

He's paranoid for the most part.

Unsure of where you truly stand or the motives behind your actions. Still distrustful of you despite you not giving him a reason to be.

You can only imagine his surprise when he came across you with one of his henchmen, a few others watching from the sidelines(possibly waiting for their turn).

It was merely a coincidence that he was doing some rounds around the place. Having been alerted by the muffled whines and moans of someone being subjected to...certain activities.

Jason could see how much the poor man was trembling and shaking against you— pants tossed aside with his briefs stuffed into his mouth like a improvised gag. There was no denying how much he was enjoying himself, not with the way his hips bucked into your fist in a desperate bid for more.

Such an obscene display yet he couldn't tear his gaze away from the sight. You showed no signs of stopping either, even if you had noticed him by the doorway.

Almost as if to spite him, you took it up an ante by making a show of the noises you could pull out of the man.

Circling your thumb over the weeping reddened tip, purposely tightening your grip and slowing down the pace to where it was almost agonizing to watch.

His thighs were quivering, tears pricking the corners of his eyes with muffled protestations to the sudden change of your touches. Your free hand tugged the spit soaked underwear from his mouth, replacing it with your fingers which he obediently received.

"Let's give the Boss a show he'll remember." You had been looking at Jason directly, challenging him to interject or intervene.

Yet he did nothing but watch.

Watch how you broke down one his men into a wanton, eager mess— ready to take whatever you're willing to give.

He shouldn't find that hot but the way you work the man over makes him feel almost jealous. As if he wanted to be in his place, to have your hands on him. Have you bring him to the pinnacle only to deny him sweet release.

With a low keening whine the lackey gave out, making a mess all over himself and your hand as you guided him through his orgasm. Quiet murmurs of reassurance and consolation were his only solace, with him spewing out apologies for not having held on longer.

Just then something in Jason snapped, his body moved of it's own accord, taking long strides until he was face to face with you. Barking out orders to other's telling them go do what they were told hours ago.

"So you finally decided to make a move?" You were definitely mocking him, goading him into taking the bait.

And he was foolish enough to take it...

His face was hot under the helmet, eyes all hazy as he peered at you. He couldn't stop rutting his hips against your thigh since you wouldn't touch him like he wanted you to.

Grabbing fistfuls of your shirt to ground himself from losing all control. Even as he refuses to be reduced to a pathetic mess, his body contradicts him. Shuddering as your hand grazes his spine or when you finally grabbed his hips in a firm hold.

He has half the mind to take matters into his own hands with the pace your taking things but you shut that down fast. A few honeyed words and sweet promises in his ear and he's momentarily pliant, letting you move him around like a ragdoll until his back is flush against the nearest wall.

Sneaking a hand to the waistband of his pants to tug them down enough to pump him. He curses under his breath, "F-fuck." Jason almost cums prematurely when you thumb at the head. His breath coming out in short pants and his breath gets caught in his throat when you squeeze him in your palm.

Irritation starts to creep up on him as his patience wears thin, his hand grabs your wrist as he practically uses you to get off. It's suffocating how much he needs more.

And so begins the battle for dominance, pushing and pulling at one another to see who ends up on top. He isn't entirely upset at being pinned by you, the helmet pressed against the wall as he glares over his shoulder at you.

His knees buckle as you stretch him out with your fingers, deliberately missing the bundle of nerves each time to get a rise out of him.

Everything starts to blur out from there. He nearly whines when you pull out your fingers only to tease his entrance with your cock. Nudging the puffy rim a few times before pushing only the tip in. How cruel.

You don't even give him enough to react when you reach around to fist him again. He'll certainly have your head after this. Teasing him with slow grinding and strokes. No more than halfway in yet he feels like he's being split open.

He squeezes around you constantly as if you'd actually pull out completely. "You menace," he grits out between clenched teeth, but he can't do anything other take what you give.

By now he's pushing back against you to urge you in deeper, his hand reaching back to grip your forearm for more stability. Jason can feel you dragging your cock against his walls, brushing against his prostate just enough to get him twitching in your palm.

The sounds of flesh meeting fill the air along with grunts and pleasured drawn moans. He can't think straight anymore, babbling incoherently for you to keep going. "H-harder, ngh—- faster." Voice trembling with constrained salacity belying his usual steady professionalism.

Everything about you had been a heady cocktail of chaos. And deep down he can only hope you're not from an opposing side.

Tocka-irbis © 2025 —Please -do not steal, translate, modify, repost on other platforms.

[privitivium]

I would like to politely request a loud cocky delinquent shooting off really quickly in his boxers and getting embarrassed, if that's a story that interests you?

'cocky' sub delinquent, dom male reader !!

yesyes yessss !! i will politely fufill this request... prmature ejaculation. mmfhg

☆ cocky loser delinquent who talks big game but fumbles real bad when presented some alone time with his little crush.

;; "yeah, knew you couldn't resist, babe. i know. i'm fucking awesome, who would pass up hangin' out with me?" says the delinquent, to who you've constantly rejected many times before. just to see his face fall and scramble to act hard like he wasnt crying inside. you found that funny...

heaven. in which nothing could go wrong! afterall, he was fondling his crush at makeout point in his 65 mustang. thoroughly showing off his skill... making out, tongues fighting for dominance. talking about some, "yeah, you like that?" dominating you. not for long,, takin hold of the reigns... delinquent arching needily against you,, you press your palm flat against his tumescence pressed tight against his black jeans. you're his crush. he likes you alot. he would hate for anything to mess this up...!

pulling back from his lips with a lewd pop. string of saliva connecting your swollen lips... "yuck. your fucking cigarette saliva, damn you..." you complain jokingly, fingertips grazing along his zipper - toying with his aching prickㅡyour voice. your fucking voice. ohh!!!

hmph. g-gotta keep up...!! ;; "is that all y'got?" he purrs, faking a mean laugh and shifting to press his face into the crook of your neck - "c'mon... give me all you got. i can take it." he huffs, nipping. and its like... he wants more? you'll give him more...

in the process of giving him more, his body is sent into fucking overdrive. tingling,,, your voice - your touch. youㅡhe whimpers against your lips, pushing against you - knocking your teeth togetherㅡbiting on your lip, tugging it harshly as his lower muscles tense rapidly. wincing at the sharp unrelenting sting ㅡ did he just? you haven't even gave him that much...!

he sits there, tangled up with you... breathing hard. silence... how fucking embarrassing. shivering at the swell of heat behind his eyes - wretching himself from youㅡ"i-i'm sorry!" he gasps, blinking rapidly to stall the welling tears - fucking embarrassing. y‐you're just so fucking hot... but he doesn't say that. seems to corny for a guy like him - especially in his position now! "f-fuck, fuck!" he whines.

biting back a smile, you try to comfort.,,, "no, no... please, it's okay." is it? you guess it's okay... also really fucking funny. this total loudmouth delinquent just came from a little groping and kissing!

"don't... don't laugh." he hissed lowly - sounding real mean... threatening. beginning to tug himself away from your gentle touch - mood thoroughly ruined. regretful, ashamed of his own body for reacting the way it did - his dick arguing with his brain. you felt, saw everything. wouldn't you find it cringe? he's sick to his stomach with his crush feeling his cum soak through his pants - it would've been a real sight to see to watch it shoot up in real time if it was thick enough to soak through two layers of clothes... he was wearing underwear, wasn't he?

ㅡ"..,, it's okay. don't pull away from me... m'not gonna make fun of you ..." even though you were totally debating on it... but the poor baby looked near tears - nearly slipping down his cheeks. could you really be so evil...? 

;; should you laugh? are you allowed to laugh? snorting... giggling into his shoulder to muffle your amusement, pressing your hand firmly into the groin of his pants. so fucking adorable - whimpering breathlessly, turned into mush as he squirms.

ㅡ you can appreciate this. what a sight ;; your little bad-boy, lips parted - eyes glossy and feeling himself inch away on instinct - sensitive prick. pre nut clarity? is it hitting? murmuring praise - relishing in the way his body trembles as he tries to scoot away, but only pushes upwards right into your hand as there was no where to go. stimulating his poor cock,,, sososoembarrassed.

... "so cute..."

ㅡparting his lips to disagree vehementlyㅡbut with your hand pawing at his half-hard vulnerable muscle, sensitive from the orgasm that just wracked his body - fuck! he wasn't cute...! h-he was six-foot-four, tattooed, muscly and dangerous and so... so completely enamored with you. fuck. he falls limp in your touch; a soft,,, low whine escaping his pretty glossied lips, trying to find yours to suck on to mediate the blow of being laughed at for prematurely ejaculating... he is cute, isn't he... the fucking cutest,,, 

[privitivium]

pathetic pervert loser, jock male reader

oh yeahhh !!! stalker gets what he deserves. which is nice in a way... ;; exhibition... umm

catching a perverted degenerate peeping on you in ur own locker ,,,!!!

you have to understand... he wasn't the type to jerk off while watching you right there where anyone could open the locker he's in. h-he wasn't anything like that-!! no, he just liked the aching pain of a hard cock weeping for his touch against his jeans while perving,,, and ,,, maybe he forgot which locker was yours...! surrounded by the smell of you, distracted by the sight of you - hadn't registered you were reaching for the locker he was in,,,

ㅡoh. oh...! oh no !!!

,,, half-naked, all by ur lonesome in the lockeroom,,, dressed in but a towel hangin loosely around your waist,,,. reaching to unlock your locker for your clothes - surprised to see a little nerdy thing in there waiting for you with a total hard-on... kind and collected rather than mean and scary about it ... !

;; "what're you doin' in here, silly?" laughing like it was some sorta prank as you help him out of your big ass locker without a care in the world that he was perving on huge naked men.!! "how long you been waiting in there?" genuinely curious, grinning as you wait for an answer - watching the sweating, nervous... utterly doe-like looking thing near fucking tears as he scrambles to give you an answer that didn't make sense to the questions you were asking him ; "n-no-! i- s-someone stuck me in there-!" staring at him blankly with a stupid huge grin on ur face,,,

,,, "and you Didn't ask for help knowing i was right outside?" pulling his shirt up - he squeaks and jerks back, slamming against the locker in surprise, "woah, look at your tummy..." you tilt your head to get a better view, grinning smug; "you're trembling." watching him shiver, whining shakily as if you were gonna hurt him!! "please... p-please, i'm sorry i-" eyes widening as you move suddenly - poor thing immediately thinking the worst, "nononono!! please don't beat me up!!" 

,,,, "oh... of course not!" you snort, petting him atop his head,,, of course you wouldn't! you're a nice guy, how could he ever think you would do something like that... !! "i can think of something better to do with you." thinking you could use a little pick-me-up. and this degenerate creep is just waiting for something to happen... so why don't you help him out? because hey, you won't mind do you? looks like ur having a tough time already with that boner !! i can cheer you up!

;;ㅡ pants pooling around his ankles, bare-assed naked behind him - hand wrapped firmly around his smaller cock lubed up with something from ur locker - for special occasions. maybe for when your bros wanna get a little handsy while you're in there...! barely fit the tip in... having to fingerfuck him - happy to put in the work for a mere degenerate peeping on you.

"slimey incel creep just had to see it up close, didn' he?" you coo, humping from behind - the little thing whining, prick weeping n twitching in your grasp. piercing him with the tip of your cock - toying with him so cruelly with your free arm holding him firm against ur front ,,, crooning ur just too big to fit inside him...!

he writhes, trying to slide down on your phallus with a needy mewlㅡhand shooting from his cock to his hip to hold him from squirming as you keep yourself from pushing deeper - he was already asking too much. nearly sobbing from embarrassment of being caught and frustration from being denied knowing he didn't deserve any of this - all while knowing someone could merely walk in... and join?

;; "f-fuck - stop- stop teasing me, i can take it...!!" he cried out weakly, fidgeting restless with his glasses fogged up and sitting lopsided on the bridge of his nose - "fucking give it to me...!" he sobs, squirming,,, trying to pull at your thick arm holding him. needing the stinging pain of your cock stretching him full - making him bleed.

exhaling through your nostrils, you pull away and roughly turn him around - facing you with his cock stickin outright and dribbling pre,,, "alright, alright..." lookin side to side, face scrunched at his neediness,,, hoisting his leg up to pull him apart carefully whilst aiming,,,

,,, steady and slow as you fill him to the brim with your girth,,, pathetic little thing sliding down the rest of your cock with an aching cry. hoisting him up, hooking your arms underneath his knees - plunging gently to ease him into it before shifting to the rhythm pistoning in and out of him for your own sake - biting his neck to keep yourself quiet while he cries and weeps from a mixture of joy and pain...!!

a loud one. ;; "i-oh, fuck- i'm cumming, i'm fucking cumming." loser rasps in a quiet whimper, jerking against you,,, trembling, shooting thick ropes of offwhite cum,,, orgasm wracking his body so deliciously against yoursss. wouldnt have it any other way,,, man, isn't he glad to have been a total degenerate pervert today! look where it got him!

☆ horny rambles chat...

[switchsupremacy]

pretty princess!

content warning! dominant gender neutral reader, sub male character, feminization, use of pet names, cum play if you squint, fingering (m receiving, met n messy style), mirror sex.

imagine your faves xoxo.

“you’re so fucking m-mean.” he sneers, head falling back against your shoulder. you have him on cool, hard-wood floors. positioned in your lap in front of your full-length mirror. his body twitches and trembles in your grasp, suffering through the onslaught of pleasure. your fingers are unforgiving as they stretch out his tight hole. his long-forgotten cock weeps precum against his tummy as you toy with him. his legs are spread and perched up above yours, giving you view and access to his privates. you only hum in response to his wail.

"i just like to toy with you honey, how's that mean?" you question, tone sickly sweet; juxtaposing the way your fingers bully their way into him. shallow pumps of your digits that press against his prostate with every drag. the slip is easy.. too easy. lube drips from his hole onto the wood, way too much was used. it wasn't an issue -- you liked it messy. liked seeing how sloppy your pretty fella could get.

the incessant schlop and squelch of your fingers has you grinning, nearly drunk off arousal. you vocalize your thoughts - "it's so messy," you breathe, groaning out a rumble from the back of your throat. "wet like a fuckin' girl f'me."

"oh my god--" he gasps, hole quivering around your fingers and tightening like a vice. "oh you liked that." you grin against his neck, kissing and softly sucking marks onto the bare skin. you slow down your attack on his prostate, settling for slower, deeper thrusts with your fingers. the squelch somehow sounds messier this way, piercing the air with the noise.

"you like being my messy little girl, don't you baby?"

he huffs at your teasing, glaring at you through the reflection of the mirror. your smile widens and you pick of the pace of your fingers. your other hand comes up to wrap around his throat, not truly choking him, but holding him in place. he keens at the touch "I need an answer, love. i can feel you gettin' close.. there's no way you think i'm gonna let you come and you can't even answer me.." you hum in his ear, the sultry timbre of your voice rumbles through him like a wave.

"i like it." he says finally, gasping out. "i like being your m-messy.. girl." he whispers, the last part a low whine. you're happy with the admission, staring at him through the reflection. "that wasn't so hard, was it, sweet thing?"

you go back to the unforgiving pace you'd began with. the sudden movement makes him whine as his chest heaves. "c'mon honey. i wanna see this messy little cunt cum fa' me."

curses fly from his mouth like prayers. his body falls limp as he melts into you, wracked with little tremors. he can't even warn you that he's close because the snap happens so abruptly. he tenses and his back arches as much as it could in your restricting grasp. his choked moans sound nearly angelic as he falls apart in your hold. he cums so beautifully, making a mess of his stomach and bucking his hips sporadically.

"attagirl honey, jus' like that." you chew your lip, watching his orgasm wrack his body in the reflection of the mirror. he whines, a sound deep from within his chest, and you take it as a sign to pull your fingers out.

you reach up to smear the mess of cum along his stomach, "my messy, pretty girl."

[burgojo]

THE PRETTY RECKLESS. FUSHIGURO MEGUMI / M!READER

summary. "my parents aren't home" is a hell of a text to get from your reserved boyfriend. now you have to see what's going on, don't you?

wc. 7.4k

tags. smut | sub bottom megumi, top reader, they're both 20yo+, reader is described as big + fights like a brawler (to fit with megumi's shikigami [:), fingering, oral + rimming (megumi receiving), brief thigh fucking, size difference (skinny megumi (it's the gojo genes, it's out of my control)), belly bulge, multiple orgasms, untouched orgasms, doggy style, light mind break/humiliation. gojo makes an appearance at the end.

notes. ngl aging up characters feels a little strange to me? idk if i'll do it again lol

[ requested ]

Megumi is sore, tired, and cranky. Crankier than usual, anyway. His state wasn't helped by his boyfriend, who seemed to have limitless energy and always had a one-liner on hand, who had skipped him back home, planted a kiss on his lips at his doorstep, and promptly skedaddled before Satoru found them canoodling. His mood had soured immediately upon his departure.

His rush to get away was inconsequential, however, as Megumi later found a handwritten note on the kitchen counter regarding Satoru's cross-country midnight snack run.

Megumi's thumb hovers over the 'send' button on his phone.

Come over. Gojo's out.

He debates the idea.

His vices get the better of him.

His phone pings. I love it when you're rebellious! Be there in ten.

Ten minutes? Knowing you, you'd only need five. You liked him so much it was rather embarrassing, and he never hesitated to tell you so – all you did, however, was grin brightly at him and agree.

Regardless, this gives him a few minutes to kill. He'll clean up his room before you arrive.

Six minutes later, there's a soft knock on his balcony door. He glances up from where he sits on his bed, tugging his headphones down around his neck. Beyond the glass are the twinkling night lights of Tokyo, steel spires and reflective glass points jutting up into the black night sky. Unfortunately, he can't see any stars, but the little red lights blinking atop skyscrapers are calming enough.

He sets his laptop aside and rises to his feet. He slides open the door and glances up.

You grin down at him, stuck to the side of the building by the palm of your hand and the soles of your shoes. You look quite comfortable, crouched against the glassy surface, despite being thirty storeys up from being a pancake on the footpath.

"How's it hanging?" you greet with a wave. "All clear on the inside?"

"Mhm." He nods. "Come on in. Cold outside."

He turns, leaving the door open. You land on the balcony with nary a sound, kicking off your shoes and tucking them in the shadowy corner between his potted hosta plants. It was a space he made for you, as he shared a balcony with Satoru, and it wasn't visible beneath the broad hanging leaves unless you crouched down.

You slip inside and lock the door with a soft click, watching with a soft smile as Megumi taps away at his laptop, completing a section of his mission report. He doesn't like to leave paragraphs unfinished.

While he scowls at his screen, you dip into his bathroom to wash your hands and fix your hair. It gets windy after you clear the twentieth floor.

You waltz out, humming softly and shucking off your jacket. You toss it over his desk chair. "So, you called for me? What's on the itinerary tonight?"

He shuts his laptop, setting it aside. He wiggles his toes in his socks, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Dunno. Didn't think this far ahead."

"Nah, I don't believe that for a second. You're always thinking. 'The quiet ones have the loudest minds', right?"

He rolls his eyes but allows a small smile to tug at his lips. He leans back on his palms as you take a seat on his bed, draping yourself over his sheets. You prop yourself up on an elbow, and the twist of your body offers him a straight-through view down the gape of your baggy t-shirt. He stares, unabashed, as he replies.

"Mm... I'm definitely thinking of something right now."

Your grin turns sharp. You tilt your head. "Like you weren't thinking this the first time you texted me, Megumi. You have exactly two thoughts about me, and you're not calling me a loudmouthed idiot so I can only assume it's thought number two."

"You are a loudmouthed idiot." He allows you to scoot closer and slip his headphones off from around his neck, setting them next to his laptop on his bedside table. You hover over him as he settles back into his pillows with a soft sigh, spreading his thighs to fit you between them. He places his hands on your waist. "You going to put words in my mouth, now? Gonna guess what I'm thinking?"

You grin, rolling your hips against his. He sucks in a breath. "I could put a few things in your mouth... 'Words' aren't on the list."

"You're a dog," he mumbles, pale cheeks flushing. "Stupid."

"Oh, you like it," you say playfully, patting his cheek. "Getting shy, are we? C'mon, Megumi, don't clam up now! Tell me what you want from me. If I need to be, I can be quiet."

"Tsumiki's not here this week," he mutters, lifting his hands to your shoulders and tracing your collarbones. "No need."

"Well, all the better for me, huh? I get to pull as many pretty sounds out of you as I want and nobody can stop me." You tug on the bottom of his basketball shorts, sliding it up his leg. You sit up, pulling Megumi's thighs on top of yours.

He stares down at himself, his cheeks reddening. Christ. He swears one of your thighs is as big as his waist. He shudders out a breath as you tug your shirt over your head – grabbing it from the back of the neck in that Hollywood-jock way – and toss it aside carelessly, all too eager to put your hands on him.

"This is what you wanted, right?" you ask, tugging up his shirt to reveal his lean stomach. You place a hand against it, measuring the size, and Megumi twitches in his shorts. "Otherwise, shirt goes back on and I'm raiding your fridge."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing your hair and yanking you down to push his mouth against yours. You groan softly and he pulls at your belt, deftly undoing it with one hand. It eventually slips off the bed with a soft clink, but neither of you care.

"You can steal the juice after you fuck me, you walking stereotype," he mutters against your lips. "Unfortunately for you, no one here drinks."

"Damn," you say, not particularly disappointed. "Is it orange juice?"

"Yeah. The expensive, sustainably-produced kind with the pulp."

"That might be better than any vodka. Quick, strip for me. I wanna see what other fun stuff you have in the pantry. Do you have any square watermelons?"

Megumi kicks you in the hip, making you flinch and groan. "I'll break up with you if you're only with me to steal my food. You also can't eat square watermelons."

"Sorry, sorry," you wheeze, massaging the achy spot on your ribs. "Bad joke. I'm with you because I think you're cute – and hot."

He huffs, pulling his arms back and crossing them over his chest. "Uh-huh... You know, I'm not sure I'm in the mood anymore."

"What?" Your eyes widen. "Wait, Megumi, baby, I really am sorry! How do you take your apologies? Poached, fried, sunny-side-up?"

He gives you an unimpressed look, jade-green eyes boring into you. A brush of your hand over his shorts tells you he's not not into it, but you doubt your jokes are helping. You've got to get back onto his good side.

"I'll eat you out," you murmur, mustering up all the sincerity you can in your expression. "Wouldn't you like that? You'd shut me up, wrap your pretty legs 'round my head. Win-win, huh?"

He considers your proposition, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. You shift and inch your face closer to his pelvis, playing with the elastic band of his shorts. You cup his thighs, one in each palm, and Megumi ruffles his dark hair with a sigh and slumps back into the sheets.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Lube's in the drawer." He jerks his chin in its direction.

"Fuck yes," you breathe, scrambling over and digging around for it. The drawer also contains a notebook, an old high-school pencil case, and a worn copy of Tolkien's The Two Towers. Two highlighters and a pencil rattle around freely, and you don't doubt that he's done some light annotation work within the book's margins.

"This is another reason I love you," you say, pulling out the nondescript white tube. "Great taste in literature."

"Classic for a reason," he mutters, accepting your kiss. He tugs you back in for a deeper one, warm lips moulding so perfectly with yours. He hums softly and lifts his hips to help you shimmy off his shorts and underwear. His pretty pink cock twitches under your heavy gaze.

He rolls his hips against your thigh impatiently. "Well?" he prompts, lifting a brow. "Apologise away."

"Right, right." You uncap the tube and slather your fingers in a generous amount, pressing the tip of your middle finger against his taut hole. "I'll be gentle."

"I know."

You ease each knuckle into him, slow and steady. He clenches at the cold feeling. He's tight with just one finger, and you're honestly still surprised he manages to fit you at all.

"I have to prep you so much. Like a virgin," you mumble, breathy and awed. He clicks his tongue, his voice steady even as his hole flutters around your finger.

"Shut up, you're so embarrassing." He scowls. "Not my fault you're huge."

"Eh..." You shrug, working him open gently. "Am I big or are you small? Seriously. Puberty did nothing for you."

"I'm taller than Yuji. That's all I care about."

You chuckle, caressing his thigh. His hole, wet with lube, sucks you in eagerly. You chance a second finger, and his back arches as he grips the sheets, a staccato sound between a gasp and a groan escaping his throat.

"Tall and pretty," you hum, fucking your fingers into him. You scissor them when you sink in to the knuckle, brushing his prostate, and his cock twitches where it lays on his stomach. "Like a model."

"Ah, good. I'm your trophy boyfriend." His breath hitches as your fingers glide against that spot inside him. "Fuck. Less talking, more doing, babe. Want your mouth on me."

"Yes, dear," you reply teasingly, sinking out of his vision. Your hot breath fans his cock and his eyes flutter shut as your soft lips close around his tip, lapping at it gently. You hold it up with the vee of your fingers, your warm palm splayed across his stomach to keep him down. Your other hand works him open, slick sounds echoing off the walls of his room.

He's not generally a loud lover, which is a right shame because his moans are addictive. You just have to work hard for them. He exhales sharply, fingers digging into your scalp, as you take him in your mouth down to the base with ease. His thighs tense and he tosses his calves over the breadth of your shoulders, digging his heels into your bare back. You radiate warmth like a damn heater, and the room's already beginning to feel stuffy – or maybe that's just him.

You hum quietly around his cock, making his back arch with the vibrations. You press on his prostate at the same time and the pleasure bites its way right through him, sharp and sweet. He curses under his breath, tugging his shirt up around his chest to give you better access. You thank him by kissing his tip, flicking your tongue against the wet slit, and engulf him to the root.

He moans your name, reflexively tugging you further into him. "Shit—! Fuck, goddamn—"

You pop off for a breather, smirking as he instinctively pushes your face towards his cock. "Got any more swear words for me, baby?"

"Yeah, here's one. Fuck you."

"Eh." You waver a hand. "Technically, you already said that."

"Suck my dick."

"Good job! That's a new one," you hum, and oblige with a grin. You use the distraction to slip a third finger into Megumi and his back arches, hole clamping down around you. He struggles to relax – you can only fit them in to the second knuckle – and you pop off to coo softly, reaching for the lube and applying more. He squelches when you push them in and you press gentle circles into his hip, watching your fingers sink into him carefully.

"You're doin' great, Megumi," you murmur, and his heart skips a beat. "Sorry, I need to reposition. You – are coming with me."

He gasps when you tug him down his mattress by his ankle, closer to where you kneel at the foot of his bed. You part his thighs again and return your fingers to his hole, pumping them slowly. You blow cool air against his tight pink rim and he hisses softly, a complaint already rolling around in his mouth.

The words promptly die in his throat when you give his hole an experimental lick.

"Oh, fuck," he nearly whimpers, eyes screwed shut as you dip your tongue into his ass. His hand twists in the baby hairs at the nape of your neck and his hips jerk into your mouth.

You curl your fingers, pressing harshly on that sensitive bundle of nerves, and he jolts with a harsh gasp. You lave at his tightening pink hole and he digs his heels into your back as you flick your tongue against him, matching the pace of your fingers.

You're still gentle – just unrelenting. The slick sounds of your fingers filling his hole are filthy, and excess lube smears against his ass with a lewd shine. You bury your face in his ass and your other hand holds his leaking cock out of the way, flattening it against his stomach, and he can't help the jolt of pleasure that runs through him at the sight.

It's like his cock isn't even there anymore. You're so concentrated on eating him out that this little part of him has gone forgotten – not like it really matters, though, because holy shit, your mouth is incredible, quick and dextrous. You barely have to breathe. Guess all that talking really does help with other things.

He murmurs something, fisting the sheets until his knuckles go white. You can't hear him over the obscene sounds his slick asshole is making when you push your fingers into him.

"What was that, baby?"

He grunts softly as you jab his prostate. He shudders. His breaths are quick and shaky, his hands constantly switching from gripping the sheets to your head. He peels his eyes open, resolutely staring at his ceiling and not at you.

"I'm close," he whispers, body jerking as you shift the arm pinning his hips down. Your nails scrape over the underside of his cock. "Oh, shit, shit, shit – your tongue—"

He can almost feel you smirk as you double your efforts, fingers digging into his stomach to keep him from bucking up into you. Your fingers twist and curl, opening his tight ass up so nicely, and your tongue traces his twitching hole, lapping up his flavoured lube.

Then you slip your long tongue in with your fingers.

Megumi seizes, thighs clamping around your head, and you groan in pleasure as you feel him jolt and tremble under you, his cock spurting across your hand. Hot streaks of thick come spatter his stomach and it flexes as he gasps and pants, rocking your face into him and pulling on your hair so hard it almost hurts. You tug on his cock absently, smearing your palm with his release.

When he returns to his senses, he lets you go, legs falling limp like jelly to the bed. He shudders and shivers, gulping down breaths as his lashes flutter. His hair is extra messy, jutting out in every direction across the sheets.

You coo his name, eyes clouded with lust as you grin lazily between his legs. You rest your head on his inner thigh and he twitches, sensitive. With his eyes on you, you bring your come-sticky fingers to your mouth and wrap your lips around them, sucking them clean. A pearly droplet rolls down the side of your palm and you twist your wrist to lick it up, long scarlet tongue running from wrist to pinky. He shudders out a wanton sigh.

Despite the sight making his cock twitch with interest, his brow furrows. He needs to regain a sliver of dignity. "You're – You're such a pervert..."

"Says the one who loves getting his ass ate," you tease, running your tongue over your palm. Your other hand has disappeared out of sight, and he assumes being trapped in your jeans isn't fun. "You came because of it. You're such a nerd."

His frown deepens. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

You roll your eyes and grin, rising to your feet and shuffling onto his bed. You tug insistently on his shirt and he allows you to slip it off. "Agree to disagree?"

"I don't like agreeing with you about most things, generally."

"My god, you're such a bitch," you murmur, chuckling. You grab his thighs, pressing them together, and toss them over your shoulder, slotting yourself flush against his ass. He gasps, face pink. "Fine, back to basics. Are we dating?"

"Y-Yes." His palm is pressed against the thigh of your jeans for his own comfort, unused to being manhandled in such an open position.

"Do you think you can come again?"

"Yes."

"Want it hard?"

"Yes."

"See? Not so hard to agree with me."

"None of that is agreeing," he says in disbelief. "Those are yes-no questions. How did you even graduate from high school? Hey—!"

You shove your cock between his thighs, the hot tip gliding against his balls and settling against his base. You have both of his legs in one arm and you kiss his milky calf teasingly as you lean forward, gently fucking your cock into the space between his thighs. He's slim enough that a good portion of your dick peeks out from the top of his thighs, rubbing against his tight balls.

"D-Don't you dare come from this," he huffs, staring down at your thick cockhead as it pushes past his creamy thighs and slicks up the inner sides with pre. "I didn't tell you to come over just to have you bust like this. I want it inside."

"So demanding," you say impishly, rutting into him. "But alright. I like to spoil my princess."

He hums, ignoring the way his thighs twitch each time you rub up against them. He's still a little shaky from his high. "Good."

You lean down, making his breath hitch as you test his flexibility, and kiss his neck. You tug a pillow down for him. "Love you."

"I know, you big sap," he says, but there's less bite in it than usual. The corner of his mouth even curves up.

He sinks into the pillow below his head as you thrust into his thighs, eyes fluttering shut with a soft, preparing sigh. Your precome makes the glide smooth, and you press his pale thighs together. You pull away and tilt the head of your cock further down, pressing it to his tight hole. Gently, you push in.

Megumi's expression tightens and his body rolls and flexes, fingers twisting in the pillow. You soothe him with sweet words, and he nods in agreement, relaxing as best he can.

"Good, Megumi," you murmur, watching as he relaxes enough to fit a couple more inches. He flinches when your hot touch traces his cock. "Doing so well, baby. Just like that."

He lets out a shaky noise, nodding. He makes an aborted motion to brush his chest and you take note, reaching up with your spare hand to circle his nipple. He arches into your touch, his slick gummy insides rippling against your cock. You groan softly as he blushes dark, the sensitivities of his own body betraying him.

"S-Sorry," he whispers, his tight walls massaging your cock as you rock shallowly back and forth. "You're – big. Ah, hnn..."

"Nothing to forgive, baby. Tell me to pull out and I will, yeah?" You laugh softly despite yourself, squeezing the side of his thigh. "Stretching my little boyfriend... Kinda an ego boost. Nobody else can make you feel like this, right?"

"I've – hah – never had anybody else, you ass," he breathes, and you know he intends it to sound a little mean, a little disparaging, but he's so flushed and his voice trembles in the middle, and it's just cute. His fingers twitch before curling into balls, tugging at the pillow corners.

Your cock sinks in a little deeper. "Mmhm – my pretty little virgin. Takes cock like a champ, though, doesn't he? Such a good boy for me," you purr, distracting him with your words while you coat your cock in an extra smear of lube. You push back in and he lets out a sound startlingly close to a mewl, eyes rolling back briefly as your hips meet his ass.

"F-Fuck," he pants, open-mouthed. He looks and sounds absolutely wrecked, his hole scraping your shaft with each thrust. "So deep – ohh, fuck me, fuck me, c'mon—"

Your jeans zipper presses into his ass as you grind into him. Something about you being half-dressed makes his stomach flutter. Is it because it feels needy, like you couldn't even wait to undress him properly before taking him as yours? He gnaws on the inside of his cheek to keep back the dangerous noise that threatens to bubble out of him.

"You're so pretty when you're being fucked open," you chuckle, making him gasp. "Got a face like a model, body like a porn star... This tight little hole takes me so well, doesn't it? Stretches you nice and full. Drives me crazy, watching all this dick vanish inside you like that," you hum, huffing a laugh. "Like, where does it all go? Not all in my sweet little boyfriend, surely."

"I-Idiot," he gasps, covering his mouth to muffle his moan. "You're being so – so dramatic."

Humming thoughtfully, you lean forward, pushing his slim legs higher. His wet warmth hugs your cock tight, a slick little sleeve for you to enjoy. "Am I?"

You draw your hips back until only the tip rests inside him, then snap your hips forward and sink your entire length into him. He gawps, a few little gemstone tears glittering at the corners of his dark green eyes, and he scrabbles at your hips, fingernails catching in your belt loops and pockets but never really sticking. He lets out his first real moan of the night, sharp and breathy.

"Hnnnh..." He whimpers, eyes dazed as he gazes up at you. His throat bobs and his hair bounces as you fuck him with quick, deep strokes, dragging past his hot, swollen prostate with each thrust.

In a fit of desperation, he pulls at his own asscheeks, spreading himself open and begging wordlessly for more. It's hard to keep himself open with the lube making everything slick and warm, and he ends up clawing at himself as he pants, mewling softly as you tug his body down into yours and fuck him harder. Your skin slaps wetly, loud and lewd.

His cock throbs, twitching where it leaks a pool of pre onto his belly. "C-Close, 'm close," he keens, unable to bring himself to care about the degenerate way he's acting. Your cock knocks the breath out of his lungs, and he loves the way the rough denim of your jeans rubs his ass raw with every rolling grind. His fingers dig into the meat of his ass. "I – ah, hah – close – babe—"

"Yeah, me too," you huff, embarrassingly into the sight and sound of him falling apart. His asshole squelches as you fuck into him harder, rocking the mattress dangerously, and you brace against the bed, pinning his legs to your shoulder when they start to jolt and kick. His feet bob in the air and he greedily drinks in the way sweat shines on your skin and gathers in the dips of your muscles.

You're just so big. You're the close-up brawler to Megumi's ranged attacks, and you've been fighting side-by-side for so long that Megumi's rustier than he should be when it comes to serious threats shoving themselves in his face. It's so much easier to let you at 'em – and a lot more fun to watch you come trotting back to him to have the blood wiped off for you.

He feels so fucking tiny under you like this, gone dumb on your thick cock pounding him into the mattress. He can't get enough.

He comes first, barely about to stutter out your name before his orgasm slams into him, knocking the thoughts out of his head as he feels a sudden warmth flood his guts. His silky, gummy insides ripple and tighten, milking your cock with every aching hot throb, and you groan lowly, fucking him slow and deep through the sea of pleasure.

When you pull out, his hole clenches – and doesn't close. Thick white come dribbles down his ass, pooling around his twitching hips. The sight's enough to reignite the flame in your lower stomach.

You set Megumi's legs down as quickly and gently as you can, before rolling him over onto his stomach and tugging his hips up towards you. He gasps, barely about to get out a questioning huff before you're slamming back into him, fucking the come back into his hole.

He cries out – and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. His dark hair bounces as he jolts back and forth on your cock, his ass slapping against your hips.

How are you already hard? Sorcerer things, he supposes faintly, because his own cock is filling again. His sticky insides feel so good and sore, perfectly shaped to take your dick, and he clamps both hands over his mouth, falling forward onto the bed. The angle slants his hips up and you crush his prostate on the first thrust, making his toes curl and an embarrassing high-pitched noise to slip out between his fingers.

"Fuck, baby," you whisper, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away. You shift your grip to his upper arms and fold them back, using them as leverage to fuck into Megumi's quivering, dripping hole. "Wanna hear you. There we go. Be nice and loud f'me."

He shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut, as you tug his body backwards onto your lap, letting him feel your hot, pulsing cock resting against his walls. Fuck. The way he's forced to move with you when you do makes him weak in the knees. Good thing you're holding him up.

"Me-gu-mi," you tease, shifting your grasp on his arms. You fuck him lazily, strokes long and slow, and by the way his sigh quivers and his head droops, you know it's not what he wants. "I won't let you come before I hear your lovely voice."

The lean muscles of his shoulders and back flex as he tests the grip you have on him. Broad shoulders, little waist – a proper pretty boy. "H-Hurry up. Gojo might return soon."

"So?"

His head snaps back, a glare harsh on his flushed features. "Don't 'so?' me. Hurry the hell up or you're doing the walk of shame back to yours. Alone."

"You're so mean," you say breathily, grinning. "Love that about you."

He clicks his tongue. His dripping cock is aching to be attended to. "Yeah, well – shit!"

His cry is unobstructed and wonderfully clear. You lean down, taking a peek at his face, and it's almost enough to make you come on the spot. His swollen lips are parted, his blush dark and high on his sharp cheekbones, and his hair sticks to his temples. His eyes flicker towards you, his absurdly long lashes fluttering. His chest heaves.

"Th-That's a dirty trick," he stutters, chancing a glance down. His eyes squeeze shut as his throat bobs harshly.

You tease, "Like magic, huh?" You roll your hips forward in such a way that it has Megumi's chest constricting, as if halfway to tears. A bump protrudes from his flat stomach, a sight made even more obvious when he inhales, his panting breaths shallow but heavy as if he's run a marathon.

You lean back with a chuckle and set a hard, steady pace. Megumi tenses, legs shuffling weakly beneath himself, and can't swallow the embarrassed little sounds that slip out between his clenched teeth. Strings of those noises escape him and his fingers flex, balling into fists. He'll take his dignity to his grave if he must.

Well, that's your purpose, isn't it? To bring him to his little deaths?

"You feel real good like this, baby," you croon, voice low and sweet. He shudders, swallowing roughly, as your cock pistons in and out of his abused hole. Damn it – he can feel the filthy mix of lube and your come dripping down his thigh with each clap of your hips against his ass. "And you're so sensitive, aren't you? My cock hits all the good spots in you, doesn't it, nice 'n' deep... Doesn't it make you wanna let go?"

"I-It's – hah – It's humiliating," he hisses, even though he knows you're right. It's the same story that always goes like this: him refusing, him struggling, him getting devoured by his own lust and submitting like a crashing plane submitting to gravity.

"No, it's cute." You pound into him, merciless and unforgiving as you chase your high.

There's something addicting about being used like this, held in place like he weighs nothing to you. You fuck him like a toy, his come-slick insides gooey and hot, and it can't be his fault when he comes if he can't get away from you, can it? It can't be embarrassing when it's not his fault, and if half the pleasure comes from submitting, then that's not his fault, either.

You're mean. You're making him like this.

A soft, breathy moan escapes into the air.

At the sound of it, your grin takes on a dangerous edge. Megumi's ass is red and tender, the steel rivets of your jeans and the stiff zipper making him twitch and shudder as they scrape against his skin. Your hips quicken, the headboard rocking alarmingly close to the wall, and his mattress creaks as you yank him back to meet you halfway.

His pitiful cock swings between his thighs, dark red and throbbing. It looks painful. You have half a mind to relieve him – but he's so pretty when he comes untouched, and you must have a masochistic streak in you because watching him struggle and come from the smallest bit of friction pleases you like nothing else. His dick pulses with a spurt of clear pre and he inhales with a shaky whine, squeaking quietly and stiffening when you tug his arms further back, making the arch in his spine more pronounced.

His hips jerk. Every time his cock smacks his thigh he moans, warm wet insides rolling as he heaves around you. The bulge in his belly appears and disappears with your thrusts and Megumi's head is foggy. He scrabbles slightly in place, half of him wanting to run away while the other half can't get enough. Unable to choose a side, he can only kneel there, pierced on your cock, and sob out a wet whimper.

The sound is music to your ears. His gasps are whinier, more involved, and you can tell his control is slipping. He no longer gnaws on the inside of his lip to keep himself silent.

Arousal curls hot in your lower stomach. You cock throbs, leaking inside him, and he heaves out a shuddering moan, tilting his head back as his slippery walls squelch around you. His tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. He aches.

Megumi whimpers and barely has time to open his mouth. "C-Close—"

His expression tightens. His eyes roll back.

He seizes. Pleasure slams into him like a tidal wave. He lets out the sweetest whines as his hips twitch and he thrusts against air, creamy white come splattering his stomach in thick ropes.

His sudden vice-tight heat yanks you over the edge with him, surprising you. You gasp and groan as he keens, stuttering incoherently as his puffy hole milks your cock as if it was made for it. Your fingers tighten around his arms, your cock slamming deep inside him and flooding his stomach, and he has no strength to do anything but quiver and moan, hips still jolting erratically as come dribbles down his shaft and balls.

You tug him into your chest, hooking your chin over his shoulder and grinding into him as he rides out his high. You watch him with soft eyes, panting softly, as his hips slow. Eventually, he slumps against you, chest rising and falling breathlessly. A hand curls around the back of your neck and remains there, warm and shaky.

"Damn," he whispers, finally. Your cock twitches, the aftershocks of your high still buzzing along your nerves, and he lets out a deep exhale as the clarity sets in. "That was..."

"Good?" you offer, one big hand splayed gently across his chest. He nods, closing his eyes, and lets his head fall against your shoulder.

He licks his lips. "Grab me a glass, too, please."

"So presumptuous," you murmur, kissing his neck. You wrap a hand around his thigh, lifting him off your lap. He winces slightly, messy hole clamping around nothing, and sinks forward into his sheets, content and boneless. "Lemme clean you up first, yeah?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, burying his face into his pillows with closed eyes. He runs a hand through his hair and hums sleepily. "Thanks, sweetheart."

The pet name feels soft and warm falling from his lips. You kiss his shoulder again before dragging yourself reluctantly out of bed, and your fingers trail down the length of his arm as you pull away. He shifts his hand to let your touch linger as long as it can.

Clean-up is quiet. He's acquiescent, allowing you to manoeuvre his body how you need to. Sometimes you think he's fallen asleep, but then he'll shift to make it easier for you. Your Megumi was never so selfish as to leave you without some pillow talk.

"You know," you begin, breaking the silence, "I may have gotten too impatient."

"How so?"

"I didn't bring a spare set of clothes, and, well..." You gesture vaguely down at your stained jeans. "Oops, right?"

Megumi stares. He turns away and chuckles, nestling into his pillows. "You can steal some of mine while you wash yours. Whatever fits. You can grab your clothes in the morning."

You press a kiss to the back of his neck, making him laugh softly at the tickling feeling. "Ooh, I love a good sleepover. Thanks so much, Megumi."

He hums in response, and if he peeks while you strip and search his closet for his baggiest casual pieces, no one will ever know.

Later, Megumi watches from his place atop the kitchen counter as you pour two glasses of orange juice. His legs swing lazily off the edge, and he accepts the offered glass when you turn around. He downs half the thing in one go, exhaling afterwards in something like relief. You lift a brow, amusement tugging at your lips.

"What?" he mutters, shoving your shoulder as his cheeks glow pink. "You're tiring."

Your smile grows cocky as you fold your arms over your chest, raising the glass to your lips. "Nothing. I'm just... learning things."

"Oh, fuck off," he scoffs, sipping his glass at a more considered, moderate pace. His gaze follows you as you slip between his thighs, one of your hands resting on his thigh. "You already know what you do to me. You haven't learnt a thing tonight."

"I'm always learning about you," you say with mock seriousness, lifting a finger. The movement bunches up the sleeve of the navy zip-up hoodie around your bicep, straining ever-so-slightly – your voice brings Megumi back to the topic at hand.

"For example," you're saying, "you still have the tickets from our first date, which is downright adorable."

"You don't?"

"Not pinned up like you have do. I don't want them to fade, so they're very carefully tucked into an old notebook – from the same year we got together, of course." You tap your chin. "Doesn't Gojo tease you about it?"

"Given that he's been banned from my bedroom since I was fifteen, no, he doesn't." He presses his thumb and forefinger to his forehead, making a face. He ruffles his hair. "I really need to get on with the whole 'finding my own place' thing. We're just so central with this apartment, and honestly, with the way Gojo reacted when Tsumiki moved out for university, I'm not sure he won't just cry when I leave."

"Aw. You really care for him." You pinch his cheek. He pouts, pushing your hand away.

"Stop it. I want more juice."

He hands you his glass. You roll your eyes fondly, grinning as you reach over and grab the carton. You step closer, hooking your chin over his shoulder, and fill both glasses behind his back. He presses his cheek against your collarbone, one arm draped over your shoulders.

"We could always move in together," you offer. "You did mention it once or twice."

"Hm. I guess so."

"Why do you sound so surprised? You brought it up first."

"I dunno. Guess it feels like a big step. Feels a lot more weighty when it's not just a passing thought."

"We'll think about it some more. Honestly, with how you were acting earlier, I'm shocked that you're still awake," you tease, passing him his juice. "Maybe tomorrow you'll wake up and go, what the shit, that was a terrible post-sex idea, and clutch your head with second-hand embarrassment."

He huffs and levels you with a look. "It can't be that terrible. Rent is expensive. Roommates are always viable. We just have the option of sharing a bed – and that means more fun-money for plants."

Just as you set the carton aside, the front door beeps and clicks open. Megumi freezes and can't get away fast enough.

He locks eyes with that stupid black blindfold.

A wide, smug smile creeps over Satoru's face. He knocks the front door shut with a kick of his heel, and he practically skips out of his shoes.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here?" he drawls, a sizeable white bag hanging from his fingers. In his other hand is a soda drink with a colourful print on the sleeve. He gestures broadly with the cup. "YN! Haven't seen you in years! How've you been, huh? You know, if I didn't know that I was your absolute favourite teacher, it'd feel like you've been avoiding me. All your messages come through Ijichi! You can't spare a few minutes to pop by my office?"

He pouts, waiting expectantly with a hand on his hip. You feel like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh," you say intelligently. You are suddenly aware that your shorts sit several centimetres too high to be reasonably called 'basketball shorts' any longer.

Megumi clears his throat, moving you aside to hop down from the counter. He stands in front of you, which gives you a few precious seconds to pull the sides of the zip-up hoodie closed over your bare chest.

"You're back early," he says, in lieu of anything else.

"I mean, it is—" he flicks his wrist and glances down "—two in the morning. Speaking of – you boys should be in bed. One of you, at least. I can't control kids who aren't my own!" He laughs to himself.

"Keep calling me a kid and I'll treat you like an old man, gramps," Megumi threatens. "Got the hair and humour for it, too."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Satoru replies breezily, tugging off his blindfold and wrapping it around his wrist the same way a girl would with hair ties. He steps forward, dumping his bag on the end of the counter and taking a loud sip from his drink. "You're just jelly that my hair does what I tell it to. Mm – actually, now that I think about it, I've got something else to say."

He takes three long strides forward and pushes Megumi aside to stare you down. You start, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Gojo," Megumi hisses, but goes ignored.

"Now, I can excuse bullying Megumi for his stick-in-the-mud personality, but I draw the line very firmly at breaking his heart." He stares up at you with a tilted head, blue eyes half-lidded and leisurely as he flicks his finger against your chest. It's a motion that looks frighteningly familiar, and you almost step back as he moves further into your space. His Infinity presses lightly against your skin, crackling with power, and you can see the slight shimmer of it pulsing from him. Despite the ease he uses it with, it feels as heavy as lead.

"Gojo, stop – I'm not a child."

"While I do feel a teeny bit insulted that Megumi would hide this," he gestures between the two of you, "from me, I get it. I mean, who's good enough for my itty bitty Megumi? Not a lot of people, I assure you. Most people are dicks. And when I kill things for a living, I could see how that'd make a kid nervous. Need I remind you of how good I am at my job?"

"No, sir," you squeak.

"Great. And, being that you were one of my students, I shouldn't have to mention just how much pain I can dish out."

"That's right, sir."

"Nor will I have to remind you of what happens when I do a little..." He flutters his fingers, mimicking a magician's flourish, and forms a tiny ball of Purple at the tips of his fingers. The pale glow illuminates his face from below.

His eyes bore into your skull. The air is sucked out of your lungs.

"Gojo!" Megumi yanks Satoru's arm down, dispersing his technique, and shoves himself between your bodies. He glares at him. "What is wrong with you? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm far too old for you to be playing 'protective dad' over. Legally, I could volunteer for the military, kill a man, and drink myself to death tomorrow if I so wanted. I should be allowed to choose my own partners."

Satoru eyes you for a moment longer, then glances down at Megumi and his whole look changes. He deactivates his Infinity, the air around you becoming ten times lighter, and pouts, ruffling Megumi's hair – Megumi grimaces.

"You are! I'm just exercising my right to do some light boyfriend-threatening," he whines. "I've always wanted to do that! And you know I wouldn't actually atomise you, don't you, YN? You're my favourite ex-student!"

"R-Right, sir..."

"I mean, I would still hunt you down like a dog if you ever hurt Megumi, but I'd make it quick!"

"Gojo," Megumi groans. "Please leave us alone."

Playfully, Satoru salutes, winking knowingly at Megumi. "Gotcha. Boyfriend stuff, right? I'll leave you two lovebirds alone, now." He skips away, waving a hand over his shoulder at the bag of snacks on the counter. "Have a peek, take what you want! Mostly, I went out for a walk. I just liked the colours of the packaging. Cheerio, kids!"

As he vanishes into his room and closes the door, Megumi sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. He turns to you, grabbing your hand. "Sorry... Maybe we should've just stayed in my room. Are you alright?"

"I'm, uh, not gonna lie," you chuckle nervously. "I wasn't expecting..." You flick your fingers.

He purses his lips, squeezing your hand. "Neither was I. He got serious with this, of all things? Ridiculous."

You wrap your arms around him – because having a black hole pressed against your throat was terrifying – and he rests his arms over your shoulders comfortably. You bury your nose in his hair and mumble, "You're the one running over to my place next time."

He nods against your shoulder. "Happily."

[tsunafishes]

hiii, I love ur writing, could u do a fic where Jason Todd is a mafia boss, and the male reader is his most loyal 'guard dog'? Jason literally treats him like one—giving him orders, rewarding him, keeping him close. Maybe there’s a moment where he calls male reader his 'dog,' and male reader just smirk and say, ‘Yeah? And who put the collar on me?’

thank u sm!

“BARK LIKE YOU WANT IT”

pairing. Sub!Mafia Boss!Jason Todd x Top!male reader

synopsis. In Gotham's underworld, Jason Todd holds the city by its throat. But every king has a dog at his heel—and M/n is loyal, brutal, and always watching. Jason calls him a mutt. But he forgets one thing—who put the collar on who? — 2.3k

warnings. Guard Dog AU, mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dubcon, possessive behavior, praise kink, degradation kink, minor physical restraint, mutual obsession, mafia politics, overstimulation, powerplay, collar kink, facefucking, blowjob, spitting, choking, humiliation, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral fixation, crying, subspace, manhandling, aftercare

Jason Todd ruled Gotham’s underground like it owed him blood. And in many ways—it did.

The Red Hood Syndicate didn’t move without his order. Rivals were ghosts before they made it to sunrise. Contracts vanished. Witnesses disappeared. And yet, for all the stories about Jason Todd’s brutality, his trigger temper, his high body count—

There was one man even the worst of the underworld feared more.

His shadow.

His guard dog.

You.

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

"You’re late."

Jason’s voice was sharp, not raised, but biting all the same as you stepped into his office, the double doors clicking shut behind you. You didn’t answer him. You never did when he was in one of his moods—irritable, pacing, hands stuffed into his pockets, a fresh line of blood drying down the corner of his jaw like he forgot to clean it off.

Or didn’t care.

He looked you up and down once. His mouth twisted slightly.

"You smell like smoke."

You stared, unbothered. "I burned a man alive in his own Porsche tonight. You wanted it done quiet."

He laughed. Dry. A little sharp around the edges.

“Messy job for quiet work.”

“Your note said ‘make it hurt.’ So I did.”

Jason stopped pacing. The city light from the penthouse windows caught across his eyes—green-blue, sharp as broken glass. He licked his lips once, slow. Then, “Come here.”

You didn’t hesitate.

Your boots echoed on the polished floor, each step solid. Intentional. Controlled. You moved like a weapon kept in a velvet box—danger tucked into civility, teeth beneath tailored suits.

Jason sat on the edge of his desk as you approached. Still calm. Still composed.

But his fingers twitched once where they gripped the edge of the wood. You saw it. You always did.

“You want to be praised?” he asked, tilting his head, voice half-daring.

"No." Your tone was even, flat, as you stopped in front of him. “I want you to stop testing me.”

Jason’s smile twitched. “But you’re so good when I do.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

It was like this. Always.

The tension. The push-pull.

He gave the orders. You obeyed. He treated you like property—his muscle, his executioner, his dog. And you let him.

But Jason, arrogant as he was, had always mistaken obedience for submission.

And that was going to cost him.

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

His hand lifted to your collar, two fingers brushing the sharp seam of your dress shirt. His knuckles grazed your throat, casual. Thoughtless.

But that’s where his control ended.

Your hand closed around his wrist.

His eyes jumped to yours, sharp with surprise—but not fear. Never fear.

“You like to call me your dog,” you said, low and measured. Your grip tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make him still. "Throw me scraps. Snap your fingers. Expect me to sit."

Jason’s breath hitched. Just a little.

Your voice dipped, threading a heat beneath the threat. "You like pretending I belong to you."

He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. His mouth was parted, his pupils wide, and every inch of him was screaming yes.

"So let me ask you something, Todd." You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice dark with knowing.

"Who put the collar on me?"

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Jason shivered.

It was subtle—but it was there.

The slow exhale. The twitch of his thigh muscles. The flush creeping into his neck that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with being caught.

Owned.

He swallowed thickly. His hands clenched into fists against the desk.

And you—still gripping his wrist—lowered your mouth to his throat and let your teeth drag just beneath his jaw. Not biting. Not yet.

Just reminding.

Of what?

Of everything.

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

He jolted slightly under your touch. A sharp inhale. A curse under his breath. Then his voice—thin, almost petulant:

“You’re supposed to take orders.”

Your smirk was razor-edged.

“I do. Because I want to.”

Your grip dropped. But you didn’t move back.

Instead, you leaned in closer.

Jason didn’t flinch. He never did. But his breathing was heavier now, pulse hammering against his throat—visible. Vulnerable.

"You bark all day, but when I get too close," you whispered, dragging your hand down his thigh with deliberate slowness, "you start to sound like a mutt that wants to be bred, not obeyed."

Jason made a sound in his throat. Half-growl, half-gasp.

"Fuck you."

You grinned.

“You’d beg.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

He hated how much it was true.

He could sit on his throne all day—snapping orders, collecting blood money, running the city from his penthouse and dark alleys—but when you stepped into the room?

He was something smaller. Simmering. Waiting.

He wanted you to tear it out of him. To push him back onto the desk, force his legs open, make him say please.

You didn’t even need to touch him to get him there. He was already half hard just from your voice in his ear.

And you knew it.

You always fucking knew it.

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

“You don’t really want a guard dog,” you said, low against his throat. “You want a muzzle. You want a leash you can wrap around your own throat when no one’s looking.”

Jason’s fingers twitched again—this time reaching.

But not for a weapon.

For you.

And you let him. Just this once.

You let him grab your shirt, let him yank you in like he was desperate for something he couldn’t name. Your hand slid up the back of his neck, tangled in his hair, pulled his head back until he was looking up at you—eyes hooded, breathing uneven.

You watched his mouth part.

You watched the fight bleed out of his body.

And then, just loud enough to ruin him—

"Good boy."

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

The leash comes first.

Black leather, clean and heavy, pulled from your coat pocket like you were always planning to use it.

Because you were.

You knew Jason would mouth off. You knew he’d call you his dog again.

So now you’re going to make sure he was your bitch instead.

You’re sitting on his desk, legs spread, Jason on his knees between them—cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. Still pretending to be angry. Still acting like he’s got pride left.

"Take your shirt off."

He hesitates. Barely. Then obeys. Peels it off like it’s armor, like maybe the fabric will hold him together.

It won’t.

You pull the collar tight around his throat and let the buckle snap into place. His breath catches.

"Doesn’t it suit you?" you murmur, thumb brushing the pulse at his neck. "No tie. No suit. Just a collar. That’s how I like you."

Jason mutters something low under his breath.

You grab his jaw. “What was that?”

His mouth twists, defiant. So pretty like this. “Fuck you.”

You smirk. “You’ll get there.”

You shove two fingers into his mouth before he can talk back. He chokes slightly, but glares up at you through his lashes. You drag them deeper, until his throat works around the intrusion and his spit starts to run down his chin.

"You wanted to talk back?" you murmur. "Then earn the right to use your mouth."

Jason moans around your fingers, eyes fluttering.

His knees shift. He’s already grinding down against the floor, trying to rub the ache building in his pants. You grab a fistful of his hair and yank—his eyes fly open.

"Are you hard just from choking on my fingers?" you whisper. "Are you going to cum from being used like a toy, Jay?"

He shakes his head. He wants to say no. But you curl your fingers around the collar, tug—not hard. Just enough.

He whimpers.

"That’s what I thought."

You unzip. Jason’s eyes drop, hungry. You slap your cock against his cheek, watching the weight of it sink in before gripping his hair again.

"Open."

He does. Mouth wide, eager.

You sink in slow—and he moans. Not a groan. Not a grunt. A real, ruined moan, like he’s been waiting for this all week.

"You love this, don’t you?" you growl, hips pushing forward until he gags. "Love being on your knees like some two dollar whore. Mouth wide open. Ready to be used."

Jason’s face is dripping. Spit down his chin, lips stretched wide, pupils blown. He nods. He nods.

You grab the leash.

Just the feel of it in your hand makes him shudder.

You wrap it around your fist and pull. Not hard. Just enough.

"Good boy," you murmur.

Then you start fucking his throat.

He chokes.

Of course he does.

You don’t stop.

You let him gag, let his shoulders shake, let his tears spill over—he loves it. He’s rutting against the floor now, desperate, whining around your dick like you’re the only thing he needs to breathe.

"You gonna cum just from getting facefcked like a bitch?" you hiss.

Jason nods—fast, frantic.

You laugh. Spit in his mouth. Slap his cheek. Pull the leash again and hold him there while your hips snap forward with brutal rhythm.

When you pull out, he’s wrecked. His jaw is hanging open, tongue out, spit dripping down his neck. And he looks gorgeous like this.

You grab his face. Make him look at you.

“Say it.”

He pants. "Wh-what?"

"Say who owns you."

Jason hesitates—just a second.

Then: "You."

"Say it louder."

"You fucking own me," he moans. "I’m yours. I’m your fucking dog."

You grin.

"Now beg to get fucked."

He doesn't even pause.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please use me. Please, I—I need it—I’ll be good, I swear, just—please.”

And just like that, Jason Todd—the Red Hood, the most feared boss in Gotham—is on all fours, begging for the dick you’re about to be giving him.

Face red. Lips swollen. Hair stuck to his forehead. He’s panting now, thighs trembling as he tries to hold himself together, cock hard and leaking with no relief. The collar glints under the light, tight around his throat, leash trailing from your fist like a reminder.

Jason Todd doesn’t look like a mafia boss anymore.

He looks like a dog.

And he’s about to get treated like one.

“Get up,” you say.

He moves. Clumsy. Obedient. You shove him over the desk, chest flat, ass up, back arching perfect for you. The position makes him groan.

His pants are already gone. You never gave them back.

His thighs part without being told.

Ready.

“You were begging so sweet a second ago,” you murmur, palming his ass. “What happened to all that pride, Boss?”

Jason bites his lip. Doesn’t answer.

So you slap his ass. Loud. Sharp.

He jolts. “F-fuck—!”

“You forget how to talk?” you growl, leaning in close, letting your weight press into him from behind. “You forget who owns this?”

Your fingers drag down to his entrance. Wet. Twitching.

Jason gasps. “N-No—no, I know—I know—”

“Then say it.”

You shove two fingers inside him without warning. He screams. His back arches off the desk, legs shaking instantly.

“Fucking say it.”

“You—y-you own me,” he moans. “Please, please—I'm your fucking toy—”

You laugh against his ear.

“Yeah, you are.”

You press your cock to his slicked-up hole, teasing, dragging the head against him until he’s shivering and whining, back arched beautifully. The moment you press in—

He sobs.

"F-fuck—you're big—slow, slow—"

You don't go slow.

You grip the leash and pull as you sink in, one sharp thrust that fills him to the hilt. Jason’s scream gets buried in the desk wood, his fists clutching the edges like he’s trying to ground himself.

"You’re taking it," you growl. "Every inch. Just like you begged for."

Jason moans—high, desperate.

You start fucking into him, pace unrelenting, cock pistoning in and out as his hole squeezes around you so tight it hurts. He’s already leaking onto the desk, leaving a wet spot beneath him.

“Gonna cum like this?” you hiss. “No hands, no touch—just getting bred like the good bitch you are?”

He nods frantically, words lost in sobs and moans.

You feel the tremble before you hear the whimper.

Jason’s voice cracks. His whole body shudders. And then—his cock twitches untouched, shooting over the desk as his body clamps down around you.

He’s crying now. Quiet, desperate.

“C-Came—fuck, I came—”

You don’t stop.

“You think we’re done?” you growl, voice filthy. “You begged for it. Now fucking take it.”

You grab the leash, twist it around your fist, and pull his head back as you thrust harder, pounding into his overstimulated, raw hole until he’s a sobbing wreck on the wood, dripping and broken. You feel it building. Heat low in your spine. Jason’s still twitching, every thrust making his legs shake, tongue hanging out as he begs for more, whimpers turning breathless.

“You want it?” you growl. “Want me to fill you up?”

Jason nods frantically, barely coherent.

“Fucking say it.”

“Please—please cum in me—want it—need your cum—breed me—!”

You snarl, bury yourself to the hilt, and let go.

Hot, thick, endless—you spill into him like you’re trying to mark him from the inside out. Jason gasps, back arching beautifully as he milks you, his hole clenching greedily with every spurt of release.

The air reeks of sweat, sex, and ownership.

And he loves it. 　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

He collapses the second you pull out, limp and twitching, cum leaking down his thighs in thick streaks. His face is flushed. His eyes are barely open.

You wipe him clean with your handkerchief. Gently.

You kiss his shoulder once. Then his temple.

He breathes slow. Even. Peaceful.

And the collar? You don’t take it off.

You brush your fingers over it softly, smirking.

“You looked better on your knees than you ever did behind a desk.”

Jason—wrecked, dazed, marked from the inside out—manages a breathy laugh.

“Then put my name on the fucking tag next time.”

[burgojo]

27 CLUB. GETO / M!READER / GOJO

summary. satoru's crushing on suguru but finds out he's got a boyfriend! you are, however, equally dreamy, and if satoru was capable of such introspection, he might realise he has a type...

wc. 9.7k

tags. smut | dom top reader, switch bottom geto, sub bottom gojo; established geto/reader. non-sorcerer + rock/metal musician reader, reader is described as a big guy. skinny gojo supremacy, geto with piercings. somno, riding, doggystyle, exhibitionism, dub-con, degradation/praise, daddy kink (once; r. receiving), humiliation, gojo's a crybaby, edging, frotting, choking, overstimulation, gojo gets passed between reader + geto for a bit

"You brought me to a dive bar? Lame."

Suguru's brow twitches, but he says nothing – outwardly. "You were the one begging me to let you come with. Pick a side."

"I'm on the side of good music. I don't want to hear screeching kids out past their bedtimes."

"You think that's the sort of thing I listen to?"

"I mean," Satoru waves a hand in Suguru's general direction, eyeing his choice of clothes, "your outfit has so many holes in it. You could pass as a rebellious delinquent. Like one of them gyarus."

"I do not—" Suguru inhales, shaking his head; leave it to Satoru to think fishnets and cropped shirts count as clothes full of holes. His bangs sway over his eyes; for the first time in perhaps forever, his hair is loose. Satoru can't take his eyes off it when it shines blue-black under the street's neon lights. "I'm not falling for that again. Now, stop dragging your feet. We're here."

They halt in front of a big, dark block of cement. Its windows are blacked out with curtains, and years' worth of posters pasted to the walls overlap, flaking and peeling until only the fuzzy back sliver of the paper remains. The dates on the posters keep changing – the oldest one is from 1998. The ones on top are advertising weeks in the future, up to a month, and the shitty photo-editing reeks of their garage-band histories and amateurish natures.

One of the posters catches Satoru's attention. A young, attractive woman with dark hair and very few clothes on smoulders at him.

With a question on the tip of his tongue, Suguru approaches his side and follows his gaze questioningly. The eye-roll he gives is so quick it's almost pre-emptive. With a hand draped in black and silver jewellery, he grabs the back of Satoru's collar and hauls him away, almost lifting him clean off his feet. "Goodness, Satoru... Have some decency for once in your life."

"Hey! I thought you'd appreciate me taking an interest in your hobbies. And be gentle with that! It's designer!"

Suguru only lets go at the bottom of the stairs, where the evening light abruptly dims and every surface becomes twenty per cent stickier. Satoru grimaces at the palm of his hand, having caught himself against the wall when Suguru tossed him into the dingy basement like a sack of potatoes.

"This place is a real trash heap," he complains – or shouts, rather. The bass in the music rattles his bones like maracas. The place is less like a bar and more like a club. His sunglasses slip down his nose from the vibrations alone, and he pushes them up with a disapproving sniff. "Why couldn't we stay above ground? There seemed to be a perfectly okay bar up on the roof. Looked real nice and moody, too – good for dates."

"Because up there, they have to actually believe your ID," he says in a tone that adds the 'stupid' at the end for him. Without waiting for a response, Suguru pushes his hands into his pockets and leads the way into the bar. He waltzes up to the bartender, who seems to be between patrons. She dries a rocks glass in her hands. Her head bobs loosely to the beat of the live music.

He lifts two fingers. "Beer, please. Whatever's cheapest."

Satoru makes a noise at the back of his throat.

"It's not for you. Geez, Satoru, the world doesn't always revolve around you," he sighs exaggeratedly and flicks his bangs out of his eyes to meet Satoru's gaze. He smirks. "You want something to drink?" He points at the tiny backboard propped up beside him on the countertop, detailing a range of drinks and their prices. "Here are their non-alcoholics. If it won't make you sick, I recommend the raspberry float."

"Then I'll get that." Satoru leans against the bar in the space between Suguru's stool and the next. He shifts, trying to appear natural, and he places his other hand in the pocket of his jacket. He really doesn't need it in this cramped bar – not with the number of people crowding around, driving up the heat.

At the other end of the room, a large group stands at the base of a raised stage. The trio upon it complete sturdy rock covers of popular songs on the radio. They make for exciting listening, though their sound isn't what Satoru usually goes for.

Suguru flags down the bartender for Satoru's bright pink sugar abomination, and she drops off his two beers with a nod. Satoru doesn't have the time to wonder about them further before Suguru turns to him with a wry smirk.

"Sit down, greenie. You look like an idiot."

"And you don't?" he retorts, but hops up on a stool anyway. He prods the glistening mug of beer closest to him, inspecting the amber liquid within, and lifts his eyes.

What surprises him is that Suguru isn't looking at him – or at his drinks, either. Isn't one of the first rules of going to a bar ensuring one's drinks are always within sight?

He tilts his head, a light crease marring his brow. "Suguru? What're you looking at? Pay attention to me. I'm bored."

"I'm looking for someone," he replies coolly, scanning the crowds near the stage. With a sigh and a slump of the shoulders, he glances over at Satoru with a small smile, resting his elbow on the bar. "Sorry. I'm a little distracted. I haven't come here in a while, you see."

Satoru doesn't see – which is ironic – and wants to ask. But asking means he'll look his way, and that means Satoru won't be able to admire Suguru's pretty feline features for as long as he'd like. He'd get all embarrassed about it and growl at him.

Propping his chin on his knuckles, Satoru traces each curve and plane of Suguru's features with his eyes, committing every line to memory. Suguru won't always be this young, and the dim neon lighting is so nice on his skin, cutting deep shadows across the soft fantasy of his face.

Purple and green. Fitting, for a place called the Viper Lounge.

"Satoru. Your drink is here."

With a blink, he straightens up, and the pretty bartender lady shoots a knowing wink his way. The tall pink drink almost glows under the lights, and the float bobs with the tiny streams of fizzing soda bubbles that rise to the top.

Smiling to himself, Suguru glances back at the stage as Satoru's unyielding attention averts to the bartender, bothering her for a matching pink drink umbrella. The room is painted black, like a secret born to the night, and the stage matches the paint job. It makes its users seem to float several feet off the ground.

He taps his cheek with a soft sigh, fiddling with his brow piercing. His hair catches on it sometimes, but that's the price he must pay.

He watches Satoru absently. Where were you? Had your schedule changed in the weeks he'd been busy?

Then, with the faint echo of the microphone, an all-too familiar voice:

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

The leap from silence into rapid metal is violent. The drums beat lifeblood through veins. Steel shreds the guitar. Bass peels flesh from bone and snaps it back together.

Suguru's reverie shatters like glass.

There you are. Tall with confidence, clad in leather and denim. Your hair's shorter than he last remembers, but wilder, already-damp strands of hair sticking to your temples as if fresh from a romp in the sheets. Jewellery glints under the moody stage lights, and it's hypnotic, the way you charge up the crowd with your voice and your guitar. The amp by your feet is beat-up and worn, having played stepping stool to leather boots too many times, but it explodes with sound. Your sound.

You've got a quartet for a band, all faces made familiar through his connections with you. His heart flutters at the memory of your arm slung around his waist, pulling him into your side as you laugh at something your drummer said.

Satoru's head tilts as Suguru slides off the seat and grabs the two beers. "Suguru? Hey! Where are you going?"

It's too loud to hear him, what with the singing and the screaming and the heavy thump-thump-thump of drunken dancers jumping around. Suguru weaves through the crowd of crying fans – mostly girls; your bassist is your only female member – and it's easy to recognise him, his physical training and broad body letting him part the drunken gaggle just by walking forward and keeping balance.

He reaches the front of the crowd and lifts his face to you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes are endless in the shadowy room, and the way he raises the mug of beer feels like the hand of the devil. His tongue toys with his snakebite piercings, the soft pink of it peeking past his lips like a taunt.

During the lull of the song's vocals, you crouch down, avoiding the stares and grabbing hands of dozens of fans. You grip the beer – Suguru's smile widens – and rise to your feet. The rim's already at your lips, and rapid bob of your Adam's apple as you swallow invokes a wave of screams and a chant of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" that fills the bar.

Droplets run down your throat and soak into the collar of your shirt. Your skin glistens. Sweat dampens your throat and the furrow of your brow.

As the melody builds to a crescendo, you slam down the empty mug and launch into the song's chorus, the rough metal gravel of your voice sending more than one fan into hysterics.

Suguru watches the way your fingers fly over the guitar neck with impossible ease, smiling into his beer at the memories of those same fingers wrapped around his neck, his hips, his—

An arm falls over his shoulders. "Suguru! Don't run off like that again! Where you go, I go."

He glances over his shoulder. Satoru's almost shouting in his ear, and some ways behind him, he spots at the bar the empty glass with the pink umbrella balanced recklessly on the rim.

"Sorry," he shouts back, a sheepish, apologetic grin on his lips. "Got carried away. Did you like your drink?"

"Yeah," he says above the noise. "C'mon, hard to talk here! Let's find a booth."

Satoru slips in on one side, and Suguru takes the other. The deep red leather of the seats feels decadent in the low lighting, the same way velvet and jewels go together. Satoru peers over his glasses at Suguru with a shit-eating grin.

"Not gonna lie to you," he begins. "I'm pretty sure that normie over there was eyeing you up like a piece of candy."

There's a twang to his words, and Suguru smiles behind his glass of beer, leaning in and peering at Satoru closely. Nearly imperceptibly, Satoru leans away.

He straightens. "Are you jealous?" he says, almost in disbelief. "No way."

A pause.

"What?" he laughs, waving a hand as if to disperse the very thought from the air. "Jealous? Me? Of him? Don't make me laugh, Suguru. I'm way cooler! And better-looking."

"I'm not sure," Suguru hums, sparing a glance at the fans trying their damndest to touch the singer's steel-capped boots. "For starters, he drinks well."

"Don't say 'for starters' like you're about to dive into a list of compliments." Satoru pouts, crossing his arms. "Is he the person you were looking for earlier?"

"Mmh. He's got a good voice, doesn't he?"

"He sounds like he smokes three packs a day. But you don't care what I think, do you? You've already made up your mind."

Suguru chuckles, vanishing about half of his drink in two gulps. It's rather impressive. "That sound is raw talent and cultivated skill. You sound like you hate him."

"Nah, you're just trying too hard for a guy in some no-name garage band. Did you see his clothes?" He peers over his glasses at his friend. "They're western brands. Not cheap here. He's a total poser."

"But he looks good in them, right?"

"Eh. So-so."

"I bought them for him."

"I mean, they fit well on him. And they match the whole 'rockerboy' thing, but that's more because of you than him."

He hides his grin behind his beer, sipping on what remains to nurse it until your gig ends. Satoru's too predictable.

—

Later, Suguru ventures into the staff lounge with Satoru on his heels. Pleasantly warm with alcohol, he finds you alone by the couch, one boot kicked up on the footstool and an arm thrown over your eyes. Your chest rises and falls slowly with your breaths, and Suguru quietly slips around the furniture to take a seat next to you. He grasps your forearm and lowers it.

Satoru stares.

You're handsome. He gets it now.

One eye cracks open. Your hazy eyes pass over Satoru as if he's not even there – how annoying – and land on Suguru. Your gaze brightens and you sit up, lowering your boots to the ground.

"Oh, it's you!"

Your voice is surprisingly mellow, low and smooth like caramel. Despite your neutral affect – and the fact that you're not even addressing him – Satoru's cheeks warm.

"It's me." Suguru's voice is soft.

You gaze at him a while longer, the pause filled with your bright, contradicting smile. Then you grunt and sit forward with your elbows on your knees, your leather jacket creaking quietly. "My favourite man. What can I do you for?"

"You're too sweet, YN," he says, a flicker of shyness crossing his features. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Your brow furrows and you sigh, glancing aside. "I know, I'm sorry, doll. It's been difficult trying to adjust to my new job – just been dead tired all the time. Anyway – what is this, an interrogation? You gonna introduce me to your buddy or what?"

You cock your head up at Satoru, who stands in front of you with his hands in his pockets. With Suguru to your side and the corner of the room on the other, you have nowhere to go.

Suguru spares a glance at his friend. "Satoru, sit down." He turns back to you. "He wanted to come and I couldn't stop him. Just ignore him. I wanted to talk to you."

"Sure. What about?"

He places a hand on your knee. His nails are painted black. "I really wanna stay at your place."

If Satoru wasn't watching closely, he would've missed the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. He has to commend you – you smother it quickly.

"Tonight?"

"Mhm." He shuffles closer to you. His fingers twitch as he glances down at your hand, as if he has to suppress the urge to take it in his own. "Thought we could catch up a bit – braid each other's hair, do our nails, the whole nine yards."

You blink. "That's... awfully forward of you. You usually dance around these things until I finally figure it out."

His lips twitch up. "I can be direct when I want to be."

"Oh, so you just enjoy riling me up."

"I like what comes after."

Suguru's head tilts slightly, and your faces are an inch apart. His eyes flicker to your lips.

"Of course you can stay, Suguru," you murmur, your expression softening. "I'm glad you came here."

"Even though I'm breaking the rules?"

"My whole shtick is being counter-culture. That includes disobeying rules when they're stupid."

"When they're stupid," he echoes. He smiles, his dimples losing him his tough-guy persona. He bumps your shoulder with his, tucking his loose hair behind his ear. "Are you staying here for any reason?"

You shake your head. "Been paid and everything. I'm just abusing the couch for an air-conditioned nap. The others are going clubbing in a few hours if you want to meet up with 'em and say hi."

"Did you want to go?"

"Nah. I had a killer headache last night and don't want it coming back. Mostly, I planned to bake something."

Satoru can't hold it in any longer. "You bake?"

Two sets of eyes swivel to him where he stands by the fridge, checking out its contents.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to Suguru and stretch, resting an arm over the backrest behind his shoulders. A classic, almost dorky move, and one you do all the time, but Suguru's heart still flutters. "Who is this guy, by the way? Why's he wearing sunglasses inside? You're not cool, dude."

"I have sensitive eyes," he declares, pointing overhead at the bright, artificial white lights. "Name's Satoru."

You raise a brow. "I think you've been mentioned once. Last name?"

"Need-to-know basis."

You narrow your eyes at him.

Suguru interrupts the staring contest, shoving himself into your line of sight. "You said you had a headache. Are you okay?"

You drop the glare and smile at Suguru, squeezing his shoulder. "Mm, don't worry about it, baby. Nothing a few painkillers can't solve."

He lifts a hand to your face, tracing the shape of your cheek with his knuckles. His touch is so light it almost tickles. "If you say so. Don't forget to sleep more. It's not good for your skin."

You offer a fond smile. While swiping a few chocolates from the bowl on the table, Satoru notices how Suguru leans into your touch and how he presses his side into yours as much as he can, thighs and shoulders brushing. He didn't know he was... that sort of person.

Rather vacantly, Satoru thinks he should be more upset right now. After all, he's been pining after Suguru for the past year, and now he finds out that Suguru's got some normie with tight leather pants falling into his bed? He was planning on confessing after Suguru's birthday, but he supposes he should trash that plan.

Fuck. Awkward.

"Hey, Satoru." Suguru's soft voice draws him out of his thoughts. "YN wants to try a new recipe. Wanna come with?"

"You're gonna be my guinea pigs," you agree. Your heavy gaze rakes Satoru's body, and he suppresses a warm shiver. "Or my little white mouse."

Satoru tries to ignore his blush. He straightens, pocketing another chocolate. "You don't care about inviting a stranger to your house?"

"Any friend of Suguru's is a friend of mine." You stand and stretch with a pleased groan that feels far too intimate. "I don't have shit worth stealing, anyway, unless you count my banged-up guitar. It's, like, twenty years old."

"Not old enough to be vintage, too young to be seriously desirable." Suguru sighs, slumping against your side dramatically as you pass through the door together. "Story of my life."

"Ew. Don't joke about that." You glance past Suguru – Satoru's eyes, you notice past the glasses, are an unexpected shade of cornflower blue. "Hey, Baby Blues. How'd you two meet?"

"Hm? Oh, high school."

"Ah, you two are the same age?"

"Same class and everything," Suguru says as you wander towards your car, the keys jingling in your pocket as you try to find the correct one by touch alone. There's a shadow of a guitar case in the back of the car. "Can't get rid of him anymore."

"That just means you always have someone to shout you a drink or two." You pull open the door for Suguru and draw a vaguely round shape in the air with a finger. "Karma's a circle."

"Yeah? And where are you in that circle?"

Swiftly, you shut the door and turn to Satoru, nodding your head in the direction of the car. "Hop in, Blue! You'll be glad you came when you try my tiramisu."

—

Some time later, Satoru finds himself on your soft leather couch, nursing a very flushed Suguru on his left and a less-flushed you on his right. You cackle at his attempts to take the game controller off Suguru, and when Suguru gets touchier in order to body-block him, you can tell from his flustered expression that he doesn't really know how to deal with it when you're right there.

"I'm fine," Suguru sighs, batting Satoru's hands off. He leans in further, trying to push him back, when he persists. "Satoru, you're blocking my view with your big head! It's your fault if I die."

You own a PS2 with a pretty neat collection of games. Suguru is doing less than well with Metal Gear Solid 3.

"Let me have a turn," Satoru pleads, pouting when Suguru expertly weaves the controller away from him. He's had years of practice with it. "I'm so good at stealth games! Lemme try, I wanna go—"

"Just say you wanna impress YN. It's less desperate, man."

Satoru's jaw snaps shut with an audible click. His eyes are so blue that Suguru can see the shine of them behind his almost-opaque glasses.

Suguru smirks and shifts on the couch, tossing his legs over Satoru's lap victoriously. He settles comfortably among the pillows and returns his attention to the television.

"W-What?" he stutters. Did he hear that right? Was he drunk on the tiramisu's brandy?

"It's okay," Suguru says, sneaking past a guard successfully. He smiles victoriously, lip piercings glinting in the light. "I wouldn't mind sharing if it was you. Have you seen the size of him? I can't eat all that by myself."

You chuckle, one arm slung over the back of the couch. In your other hand is a brandy glass, the dark amber alcohol you used in the tiramisu sparkling under the light as you gesture with the glass. "Dunno 'bout that last bit. You try pretty hard to."

"I don't like leaving my meals half-finished. I'm also generous to those less fortunate – Satoru's never dated anyone, you know? I wouldn't want him getting hurt by some selfish asshole because he doesn't know any better. That's why I think you'd be good for him."

The colour of Satoru's face rivals Suguru's. He rubs his cheeks, sinking into the couch. "Stop telling him my life story! You're making me sound really uncool. You're so wasted, Suguru – is this what you're like outside of school?"

"I'm not that far gone," Suguru groans, controller going limp in his hand. He reaches around Satoru to give it to you, which you accept – you immediately start blitzing through the in-game building, attention now completely elsewhere. He levels him with an unimpressed stare. "I could probably take you right now."

"You want to fight me in your boyfriend's apartment?" Satoru squawks. "He made food for you! Control yourself. Gosh..."

"'Control thine emotions'," he mocks. "I'm perfectly in control. You need to admit that you like my boyfriend."

"I don't." Panic drips from his voice.

"You totally do. It's cute – I've never seen you with a crush on anyone. A rich boy liking an underground rockstar? Embarrassing. I've read that manga before."

"No, I don't – I'm not a manga protag—" He cuts himself off, jabbing a finger into Suguru's chest. "I just have eyes, okay? I can tell when someone's, like, visually appealing. You're visually appealing. Doesn't mean I'm going goo-goo over you."

With a roll of his neck, Suguru leans in, propping his elbow on his shoulder. He levels his gaze at him, blinking slowly.

He sucks in a breath. He can smell his honey-scented shampoo. He's holding on by the skin of his teeth.

"A-And," Satoru continues, shifting in his seat. How incredibly unfortunate it is that he's sitting between you and Suguru. Why is that, anyway? Weren't you the ones dating? "You're being weird. Who the fuck talks about this? Like, seriously."

"YN and I talk like this all the time. You're just a prude." He sticks out his tongue, and the flash of a silver piercing studded into his tongue leaves Satoru breathless and shocked. He scrambles forward, reaching towards him, and pinches Suguru's jaw with one hand.

"What the hell is that?" he exclaims, brows furrowing. Memories of the previous conversation are all but gone.

Suguru lifts an eyebrow, glancing aside. He'd almost forgotten how strong Satoru can be. "What's what?"

"That." He shifts his grip, forcing Suguru's lips to part. His tongue flicks against his front teeth, and the little silver ball catches the light.

"A pierthing," he replies, muffled. He lets Satoru, alarmed at their sudden closeness, pull away first with a scandalised blush. Suguru rubs his cheeks and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, showing it off with a glint in his dark eyes.

Satoru stares. How is his tongue so long?

"Cool, right? I wanted to match YN's look. It makes us look ten times better than the next couple."

He blinks himself out of his daze. "Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as you'd think. I had to get used to talking with it, though – I was lisping like crazy while it healed. I was thinking of getting a septum piercing to balance it out – or just more on the ears."

"You never tell me anything." He pouts. "How'd I never notice it...?"

"You think I don't tell you things? Fine. How about this?" Suguru shuffles forward and drapes an arm over Satoru's shoulders. He offers a lazy smirk and cups a hand by Satoru's ear. "It makes guys feel great."

His heartbeat pounds in his skull. He swears Suguru glances down at his lips – but that could be his woozy double vision. His hair looks so soft...

"Done," you announce, setting the controller in Satoru's lap – he picks it up hastily before Suguru can nab it. He huffs and crosses his arms, empty-handed. "Your turn, Blue. I wanna see some slick action, or we both get to watch Suguru struggle with holding people up."

"I am not that bad!" he snaps. "The controller buttons are sticky."

"A bad workman blames his tools," Satoru says automatically.

He immediately begins to argue.

Hm. You can see why Suguru's so endeared with the white-haired man, especially when he takes off his glasses to blink his huge, glossy blue eyes up at him. He's pouting, Suguru's waving his arms around, and you're certain you've got enough room in your bed for three.

—

In the darkness of your bedroom, you're slowly dragged from the depths of sleep by a weight above you. Your brow furrows, a little grumble falling from your lips, as hands trail down the sides of your face and play with your hair.

"YN."

You release a soft breath.

"YN. Wake up."

Your eyes crack open, and you find yourself frowning up at Suguru's shadowy figure. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you notice that he's not wearing any pants.

He shifts on your lap, face inches from yours. His long hair is swept over his shoulder, slightly messy with sleep. His eyes, however, are perfectly awake, staring down at you with an animal hunger.

"Hey, you," he whispers fondly, barely a breath. He lowers his body over yours even further until your chests press together. You wrap a lazy arm around his waist. "Need you, baby."

"Suguru," you whisper back, only just now noticing the state of your boxers. They're slick and sticky, and you know for certain not all of it is because of you. "How long have you been at this?"

"Five, ten minutes. I don't know. I got impatient." He ghosts his lips over yours, tucking his hair over his ear before he cups your face. "Need you so bad. Need you right now."

"Fuck, seriously?" you huff, shifting slightly so you can rest back on an elbow. "Damn nymphomaniac..."

A body beside you rolls over. You freeze.

Shit. You'd forgotten he was here. Satoru had been insistent on taking the couch, but Suguru's large brown eyes and sweet words had worn him down. When you chimed in to express your agreement with your boyfriend, he'd broken fully, and accepted.

"I've already prepped myself," Suguru breathes, pressing his bare cock against the front of your boxers. He rolls his hips slowly, kissing you equally torturously. "Please, baby? Needa come so bad."

His words are slurring. Usually so put-together, Suguru grinds against your growing bulge with a soft whimper, eyes fluttering shut as his cockhead catches on the cloth.

He's going to be the death of you.

You place your hands on his waist, lifting him just enough to reach your waistband and free yourself from your boxers. Suguru sighs shakily and tucks the band below your balls, batting away your hand to be able to hold it himself. You roll your eyes at his attitude but allow him to admire your cock. He nibbles on his lower lip as he rakes its length with his heavy gaze.

"You're already hard," he teases under his breath, closing his fist around it and stroking it from tip to base and back again in one rough motion. You jump slightly, a hiss slipping out between your teeth. Suguru silences you with a hot kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he strokes you and swallows your sounds.

He shifts cautiously on his knees, mindful of Satoru's still body next to him, and opens his hand to slot his cock against yours. He purrs as he tugs them both, head falling against your shoulder as he rocks back and forth atop your lap.

"So good," he whispers into your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck. You can feel him tremble – with excitement, with exertion. His breaths are shaky as he quickens his fist, rutting against you.

He's dripping. Your shared arousal slicks up your cocks, and Suguru's wet palm squelches quietly with every stroke. He shudders out a soft moan, nails digging into the pillow beneath your head.

"Is this what you wanted?" you growl under your breath, hands pressing firmly against his waist and forcing him to grind harder into your cock. His hips stutter. "Fuckin' whore, doing this when your best friend's a foot away from you..."

He swallows a moan as you dig your thumb into his leaky slit. "Y-Yes – yes, I wanted this. 'M sorry for being such a slut," he whines softly, his thick thighs tensing atop yours. His cock jumps as Satoru shifts in his sleep. "Oh, fuuuck..."

You chuckle breathlessly as Suguru leans into you, his slick fist squelching louder as he grinds more desperately into you. You hold your hand in place, formed into a loose circle, and allow Suguru to fuck into it as his tip catches on the ridge of your glans with every thrust.

"G-Gonna come," he whispers against your jawline, free hand tangling in your hair. His little moans feel so much louder right by your ear, and your heart races whenever it pitches that much higher. "Ohh, god..."

"Yeah," you pant, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. You press your palm against his shoulder – his heart pounds through his back. "That's right, dollface. Don't hold back. I wanna see my pretty slut come for me, alright? Wanna have your come all over me."

His rushed, shallow little humps rock the mattress dangerously. You grip the shelf of his hips in warning, slowing him down. He whimpers like an injured animal, pleading.

Swallowing roughly, you wrap one hand around his cock and use the other to grip his plush ass beneath his oversized t-shirt, your fingers digging into the soft skin. He gasps softly and presses into your touch, humming gratefully as you jerk him off, your thumb swiping over his swollen tip.

With an arch of his spine, his arms tightening around you, he comes, his pants and sighs soft and breathy against your skin. He presses his hips against yours, coating your cock and stomach with spurts of hot come.

Your head falls back against the pillow, an exhale escaping your lips as your eyes flutter shut. Suguru collapses on top of you, hips still jerking intermittently, and you can feel his sticky pleasure dripping down your sides in rivulets. Fuck.

Suguru tucks his head under your chin, dragging a thumb down your side and smearing his pearly release over your warm skin. Your stomach tenses under his touch and he smiles, tongue running over his piercings.

"I want yours inside me," he declares, leaving no room for argument. "Don't waste it."

"Waste it?" you breathe. "Waste it for what? You want kids or something?"

His lashes flutter as his gaze lifts to yours, dark and smoky. "Something like that."

He picks himself up and positions himself upright on your lap, shifting on his knees to better balance his weight. He glances at Satoru's curled body and mop of messy white hair, almost glowing in the darkness. Heat swirls in his stomach as he notices how tightly Satoru's gripping his pillow. A wicked grin tugs at his lips.

Suguru grinds his ass against your cock, one hand reaching back to rub the tip and press it against his fluttering hole. He lets the tip catch against his rim, throwing his head backwards and scattering long locks of hair in a cascade down his back. His hole clenches around nothing.

"Feels like you're about to burst," he teases softly, continuing to rub against the shaft. "Your balls are so heavy, too... Please let me have your come, daddy. I want it all inside me."

"Dirty little thing. If you can stay quiet, I'll let you have it," you mutter, bending one knee to give him some support. He grips it, lifting his hips, and slowly sinks down on your thick cock, hole clenching and fluttering around you at the stretch.

"I can, I promise." He exhales shakily, expression twisted with pleasure and pain. "Fuck."

"Take it easy," you murmur, eyes flashing with concern.

He chuckles, breathy. "What if I said I liked it?"

"I'd call you a whore."

"And I'll prove it." With a sharp inhale, his hole swallows the rest of your cock in a single gulp. His thighs quiver, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. His cock throbs, hot against his skin.

"Holy shit," you exhale, eyes wide as he trembles around your dick, his long hair flowing over his shoulders as he stares down at the join of your bodies, fascinated by his own capacity. You can feel every pulse of his heartbeat, every ripple of his silken insides. He's tight as a vice, gripping your cock, and he moans softly as a spurt of precome makes the fit a little easier.

He grins, eyes dazed but focussed solely on you. He moans when you wrap your fingers around his cock, wet and hot, and begins to rock his hips, fucking into your grasp.

"Hard already," you note in an almost condescending tone of voice, twisting your fist and making him suck in a sharp breath. "You're such a pervert, aren't you, Suguru? Touching your boyfriend when he's sleeping, riding him where your best friend could wake up and see how shameful you are... I bet you'd fuckin' come if he watched you like this."

A hand shoots up to muffle his cry. Your cock nudges his prostate and he presses into it, but you keep shifting your damn hips to avoid knocking into it directly.

He's helpless. Why did you know him so well? Why was he cursed to suffer at the hands of a sadist?

"Quiet," you whisper warningly, grip tightening on his hips and forcing him to keep moving. You experiment with a few upward thrusts, meeting his bounces halfway with meaty smacks that feel far too loud in the silence of the room.

"I can't keep quiet if you're fucking my brains out," he hisses, but his aggression melts away the moment you crush his prostate head-on. Briefly, his eyes roll back to show their whites, and he shudders out a broken, muffled moan.

You pat the side of his ass, making him flinch at the sound. "Relax," you huff offhandedly, "I'm not even doing all that much. You're just too much of a slut to notice the difference – a cock inside you, and all your thoughts fly right out the window. You're so pretty, doll. Stop thinking so hard."

"Asshole," he grunts, but doesn't stop bouncing. He throws his head back. "Ohh, fuck me, your cock is so damn good..."

"That's right, baby. Just like that," you groan, his tight slick hole dragging with every lift of his hips. His pace grows unsteady, messy, a creamy white ring forming around the base of your shaft. You quicken your strokes, matching Suguru's shallow bounces, and he gasps your name, cock spurting precome that you smear over his shaft to make the glide easier – filthier.

"Fuck me," he curses, his voice growing dangerously whiny. "Why are you holding back? Just come! Come inside, please, I-I'm so close, wanna come with you—"

You thrust into him roughly and squeeze his cock. He chokes out a sharp gasp, far too loud, as thick come paints his insides white. He spills into your hand, his creamy release running over your knuckles and down his swollen, pulsing shaft. He grips your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and his sides tighten as his movements slow, each bounce long and slow as he grinds down as deep as possible.

His muscles loosen as he pants, slumping down on top of you as he dips his tongue between your lips. You groan lazily as his piercing bumps your teeth and rolls against your tongue. You squeeze his hip, smoothing your palm over the generous curve of his ass. Your lips smack softly and he shivers, his cock giving one more valiant throb.

In the corner of his vision – the peripherals of his senses – Satoru twitches.

Suguru sits up immediately, to your confusion.

"Baby?"

He hushes you, not sparing you a glance. His gaze bores into his friend's back.

"Satoru?" he whispers.

Like clockwork, he stiffens.

A grin tugs at Suguru's lips. You stare up at him, propped up on an elbow. You don't have his sorcery-enhanced sensitivities – you don't notice that the white-haired figure next to you is breathing harder than usual, or that he's shifting far too much for sleep.

"Satoru," he hums, soft and coaxing. "I know you're awake."

Your heart drops like a stone. Suguru, however, smiles wider.

"Not moving won't do anything, you know."

Then—

Slowly, he sits up. His hair is more of a mess than it usually is. His oversized white shirt has risen slightly and shows off a sliver of pale skin.

Suguru is going to kill him. He's sure of it. His voice is soft and dangerous.

"How long were you awake?"

His head feels foggy, still reeling from shock. "Uh..."

Suguru lifts a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling with a little titter. He points down at Satoru. "Long enough, I'd wager."

He looks down. His face explodes with heat.

The hard-on strains at the front of his shorts. A dark spot mars the cloth where his tip would be.

Shit. Fuck. He'd borrowed your clothes – so had Suguru – and here he was, soiling them with his envy and desperation. He was such a freak.

"I-I can explain," he stammers, and you can't help admiring the way he seems to swim in your clothes. The elastic in the shorts had to be pulled as tight as possible for it to stay up without help, and even then, they sat teasingly low, showing off his delicate hipbones whenever he stretched.

Smirking, Suguru gradually lifts his hips, eyes fluttering as he pulls off of your cock. Satoru's ocean eyes widen at the sight of it resting on your stomach.

"No need," he says evenly. Satoru doesn't need his Six Eyes to catch the drop of pearly liquid rolling down the inside of his thigh as he leans over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. It douses the room in a faint golden glow. He bites back a whine as Suguru continues, as if nothing's wrong. "Come here, Satoru."

When he extends his hand, it's like salvation. Satoru stares at his kind, open palm.

He takes it. Suguru's slender fingers wrap around his, tugging him closer. He coaxes him nearer, the way one would with a frightened animal.

You're looking at him. You're both looking at him. Something sick and twisted in him likes it.

"Do you want us?" Suguru says softly. "Or have I read you wrong?"

Satoru swallows around the dry lump in his throat. His lips part. "I... I thought you wouldn't like me that way."

"Oh, Satoru," Suguru croons, lifting a hand to brush his white bangs out of his eyes. "Always so perceptive about everything but yourself."

Satoru's eyes dart away and amongst his jittering nerves, he latches onto the steadiness of your gaze, trained on him. He flushes when you smirk, your bare upper body displayed like a piece of art beneath his stare.

"Who do you want first?" you ask, and Suguru presses himself into your side. You level your gazes at him, and he stutters out some nonsense before falling quiet, pinned beneath your attention. "Suguru's already prepped, if you swing that way."

Suguru rolls his eyes at your choice of words, though he smiles fondly. "Surely he wants you, rockerboy. You're new – a novelty."

"And you're something familiar in an unfamiliar situation. Why wouldn't he choose you?"

"Can't I have both?" Satoru says quietly, though he blanches when your shared attention turns to him. "U-Uh, I mean—"

Suguru turns to you thoughtfully. "Hm?"

Your eyes glitter. "Hm."

—

"That's it, sugar," you chuckle, sliding a warm palm up Satoru's side to wrap around his throat. He gasps as you grip his jaw, forcing his lips to part, and maybe you're stronger than he'd like to admit – one hand on his shoulder, one around his throat, and that's all you need to lift him plain off the bed. His fingers scrabble at the sheets, barely brushing, and in his desperation, he grips your waist. The position only has him arching even further, your cock slamming into his bruised and sensitive prostate.

"Ah, ah, ah," he moans, eyes fluttering and silvery hair sticking to his damp temples. "Ah – Suguru, d-don't watch...!"

You wrench his head up, forcing a cry from his throat. You click your tongue, shaking your head. "Tsk tsk tsk. Look at him. Look, Satoru."

He mewls and obeys despite the hot shame and arousal crawling around his guts. The way you say his name makes him dizzy – not soft and purring like Suguru, not reverential or tense like other sorcerers. To you, he's just a brat, and you're firm with him in a way that nobody else has ever been. Not cruel – just firm.

When Satoru lifts his watery gaze to Suguru, he finds him staring down at the length swinging between his legs. His hole clenches as his thighs attempt to close – to hide himself away. You hiss in pleasure, knocking his knees apart with your own.

"Fuck," you rasp, stroking his lean hip and admiring the way bruises bloom red on his pale skin. "Look him in the eye, Satoru. You wanna make him come, right? We're doing this for Suguru. Don't be so selfish that you forget who you're serving."

"S-Sorry," he hiccups, shakily arching his back and exposing his bare, leaking cock, deep red with want. His gasps and moans are loud, echoing off the walls, almost drowning out the sound of your thighs smacking his ass. "Ah—! S-Slow down, I – nngh!"

Satoru's cock throbs painfully. The cockring you'd placed on him strangles his base, and his heartbeat pulses in his dick. He wants to come really bad.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Suguru's foot nudges his pulsating cock, pressing roughly against it. A teasing smile plays at his lips and he hums as Satoru chases the friction with a miserable, choked noise, whimpering when you drag him back towards you.

"I-I – it feels—" He can't think straight, head spinning like he's been slammed against concrete one too many times. His breath snags on the thick air as your fingers dig into his jaw. Your dick punches the breath from his lungs, dragging the painful pleasure up from deep in his belly. He sniffles softly, hazy eyes welling with crystal tears. "Ahn – Suguru," he sobs, so weak and pathetic even to his own ears that it makes his cock swell within its cage, its tip drooling incessantly.

How cute – begging his best friend for help. As if he'd listen.

"Don't slow down," whispers Suguru, voice like silk. "He can take it. He's the strongest."

That means nothing to you, but Satoru's gut clenches violently. Humiliation curls around his thoughts, burning the fringes of his mind with an electrifying shame.

Suguru slinks forward, sliding his thigh between yours in the mess of legs. His touch flutters over Satoru's warm cheeks and he presses close. You slow your pace to a snail's crawl, dragging against and kissing Satoru's swollen gummy prostate.

"I can't," Satoru whimpers, weak in your hold. He leans into Suguru's gentler touch. "I can't do it. I can't. It's too much."

"No, it's not. Don't be silly," Suguru hums, taking his cock in his hand and making Satoru sob and jerk. He aligns it with his, rutting against it lazily. God, he's got another fucking piercing right beneath the glans of his dick – it catches, smooth and hard, on the ridge of Satoru's tip. His bright eyes lose their focus and his hips twitch. "I'm not letting you go until I think you're done. Just try not to pass out, okay?"

"He won't. He's a good bitch – barely needs any training. He takes me like a fuckin' champ." Your cock punches into his guts and he squeals, his cries high and melodic even as he falls limp in your hands, his fingers scrabbling at your hips and thighs. Suguru moans at the contact, his fist wrapped around both his and Satoru's lengths. "F-Fuck – you're both so damn pretty like this."

Satoru gasps as Suguru smiles and leans over his shoulder to kiss you. Pressed between your bodies, Satoru can hear every wet smack and soft moan of your kisses right in his ear. His cock throbs violently, leaking a constant stream of pre.

Suguru's hands rest on his hips, gently guiding him back and forth between your cock and his. His cock is warm and velvety, and Satoru whimpers as Suguru presses further into him to kiss you deeper with a pleased sigh. Your grip tightens on Satoru's jaw, pulling him into your chest, and he mewls, squeaky little moans falling from his lips as your cock fills him up over and over again, fucking him like he made you angry.

"S-Suguru—!" He can't get the rest of his sentence out before two thick fingers shove into his mouth. His yelp melts into a moan as they press down on his tongue, silencing him.

"Hot," Suguru observes, parting from you to catch his breath and watch the way his friend sucks and drools on your fingers, his cerulean eyes dazed and glossy. "Kiss me again."

You oblige, twisting your hand in his long, loose hair and pulling him towards you. His lips are warm and plush, and his breath hitches as your tongue rolls across his, flicking the silver piercing there. You pull back for air but he doesn't let you, yanking you back in and tracing the length of your tongue with a debauched moan.

Satoru can hear it all. He can't watch – no, not with your firm grip on his jaw – but not being able to see makes everything ten times worse. He feels like a toy, his high withheld and his sight limited. For all his gifts, he still has to fucking turn to see things, and he wishes really, really badly that he knew what it looks like.

He can imagine it clearly. Your faces flushed, your hair mussed. Suguru's delicate features relaxed into a wanton expression, his piercings glinting in the low light as his tongue twists with yours. Your brow furrowed, your lips swollen, as you suck on his tongue.

Desperately, with tears in his eyes, he slobbers around your fingers, gripping your wrist in both hands. Saliva runs down your knuckles and Satoru chokes as you push your fingers deeper, sliding over his tongue possessively. He adapts quickly, muffled moans high and needy as your cock slams into his guts.

He swears you can't be a non-sorcerer. How else could you ruin him so easily? How else are you tracking every little twitch that gives away his most sensitive places? How else are you still going?

You've backed off now, instead staring at Satoru and the way his lips close around your fingers like they're a cock. Suguru, equally mesmerised, licks his lips.

As if you're one being, you remove your fingers from Satoru's slick mouth, and Suguru cups his face and kisses him.

Kisses him.

Kisses him.

He can't think. His body moves on instinct, his teeth clashing with Suguru's in a messy and uncoordinated manner, but he is kind, and he coaxes control from him to teach him how to kiss. Blue eyes made even bluer with the red ringing his lashline, Satoru moans and scratches at Suguru's shoulders, cock throbbing as the ring bites into his raw shaft. Suguru's fingers brush against his tight, aching balls and he blubbers like he's going to die.

"Please," he manages to choke out, gasping and jerking as Suguru scrapes his nails down his dark red length. "P-Please..."

He doesn't even know what he's begging for. More? Less? For Suguru to stop looking at him as if he'd hung the stars? He's a sinful, degenerate mess, he knows it – far from the perfect and powerful sorcerer the world expects. The Gojo clan heir, ruined on something so obscene and mortal as a big, thick cock.

You turn his face towards you, watching the tears fall over the flushed apples of his cheeks. He's so pale that every little touch burns him with lust, and his embarrassment spreads from his cheeks to his chest and down his shoulder blades.

You press your lips against his and he whimpers, a hand shooting up to grip your hair. He kisses back, moaning as you swipe your tongue over his lower lip, and the slick sounds of your lips smacking makes his walls flutter and clench around you.

He's clumsy, but eager. He whines like a puppy, bouncing on your cock, and leans into your touch when your hand smooths over his stomach, shiny and slick with his pre. He pants into your mouth. You swallow his moans.

Firm and swift, Suguru snatches Satoru's chin and pulls his face towards his. He makes an ugly sound as Suguru wraps his hand back around their cocks, forming a loose hole for them to fuck into – Suguru's release is thick and creamy, and it feels filthy when he smears it over both their cocks.

He came! He came, he realises joyfully, relief and arousal flooding his veins in equal parts – he came because of him! Satoru melts into the kiss, lips slick and parted as they pant and moan, sharing hot breaths between them. The air is muggy. Suguru licks into his mouth, hardly human, and tears stream down Satoru's cheeks, his brain so mushy he can't tell your limbs from Suguru's, or his own from the bedsheets.

Barely letting him breathe, you grab Satoru's face and stick your tongue down his throat. He hiccups, eyes rolling back as you grind into his ass and come with a grunt in hot, thick spurts. His toes curl and his lips pout pathetically, chasing yours when you pull back to check on Suguru. He whines and tugs your hair to make you turn those pretty eyes back to him again, your warmth spilling into him and making him yours. You allow it, your tongue running over the slick nubs of his teeth.

Suguru scrapes his canines over Satoru's pale throat, only marred by his blush. That won't do. He drags his pierced tongue down his jugular and across his Adam's apple, made more pronounced by the angle of his neck – Satoru sobs into your mouth, chest heaving as he grips Suguru's hair and feels the sting of hickeys bitten into his fair skin.

Through his tears and dizzy pleasure, he's given back to Suguru, who coos at him and kisses him sweetly – no tongue this time, just their swollen lips moulded together as if they belong right there and nowhere else. He twitches as your teeth sink into his shoulder, decorating his other side with love bites. He's never gonna be able to hide them all.

Passed around like a cigarette, like a whore, Satoru barely realises it when Suguru slips off the cockring – with some difficulty, as his cock, stomach, and thighs are so wet with pre that it makes everything feel like a damn waterslide. The moment it scrapes over his swollen tip, he's crying out and tensing, sobbing as heavy spurts of sticky come spray Suguru's stomach and thighs.

He tries to say their names – because they're so kind, so good to him, he has to say thank you and be grateful because they could've left him there all by himself – but the first syllables of their names devolve into relieved, babbling moans. Suguru strokes his hair, holding him close, as you help him ride out his bliss, your pace gradually slowing as he twitches and jolts in your hands.

As his high peters out, he slumps into Suguru's arms, whining shakily as you pull out with a slick pop. He clenches around nothing, his hole gaping and abused, and clutches Suguru like a lifeline.

You hum, pressing a thumb against Satoru's dark puffy hole and pulling gently. Feebly, it clamps around nothing, and a dribble of thick white come leaks out, joining the mess between his legs.

Man, those legs. He could be a model with a body like that. Despite being taller, Satoru's slimmer than Suguru, and he feels tiny and fragile in your palms, shuddering and trembling. You squeeze his slim thighs, watching his fair skin dimple under your touch like marble, and his muscles twitch, unsure whether to pull away or press into you. He decides on the latter, moaning softly when you grab his ass appreciatively.

"Such a darling," Suguru hums, voice light and adoring as he brushes the tears from Satoru's warm red cheeks with his thumb. "You did well, Satoru."

Giggling dreamily, he nibbles on his lower lip, pushing his cheek against Suguru's shoulder. He reaches blindly behind him, and when he finds your hand, he pulls you in behind him, forcing your arm to wrap around his little waist. He purrs, perfectly pleased now that he's squished between two big, warm bodies. "Yeah...?"

Suguru nods, his long hair falling over Satoru's shoulder too. "Yeah."

Eyelids half-closed and nose buried in Suguru's neck, Satoru follows easily as you lead them to lay down on the bed. When your arm loosens around his waist, however, his hand shoots out with startling speed and accuracy.

"W-Where are you going?"

If you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounded afraid.

"Bathroom. Gotta get you two cleaned up before it gets gross," you reply gently. He has Suguru to ground him. That doesn't seem like enough, though, because his large blue eyes well up again and his lower lip trembles. His grip tightens around your wrist and you're surprised when it almost begins to hurt.

"Stay," he whispers, slender pale neck craned to look you in the eye. It's covered in bruises and bite marks.

"I'm not leaving," you chuckle, stroking his inner wrist with your thumb. "You're in my bedroom. Nowhere else for me to go."

He shakes his head, stubborn – they're both like that. "Don't care," he whimpers, tugging insistently. "Come back. Clean later."

"But you're the messiest one here, Satoru," you point out, amused, and you don't miss the way he shivers when you say his name. "Surely you don't want to stay that way?"

"Don't care," he repeats in a mumble. He hums as you obey his iron grip and return to the bed, lying down in front of him. He snuggles into your chest, sighing soft and content as Suguru shuffles closer behind him. He feels your arm join Suguru's, resting over his waist. The heavy weight of them combined and the radiating warmth from your chests fade his thoughts into pleasant nothingness.

"Suguru?" you murmur.

"Hm?" His chest rumbles delightfully against Satoru's back.

"I've got him. You can get washed up if you like."

"It's alright. He'll pull me back down, just like you. It doesn't feel bad – I sorta like it. I've been covered in worse, anyway."

You curse under your breath, arm shifting around Satoru. "Do I wanna know?"

"No."

You chuckle lightly, and your next words are soft and teasing. Suguru responds in kind. Satoru's eyes flutter closed, the rest of your quiet conversation becoming hazy background noise as it lulls him to sleep.

Surrounded by warmth – a very human warmth that Satoru's been chasing for years – he can't help curling up like a cat, breathing soft and even as your rumbling voices pass over his head. Yours is deeper than Suguru's smooth, easy cadence, something of your musical talents emerging in the depths of your voice. It makes it easy for his subconscious to follow – at least for a while, before they blend into one lilting track.

Dreams come easy to him. How could they not when this pretty fantasy of his has just come true, tucked in the arms of Suguru and his dreamboat of a boyfriend?

Well, it's like Suguru said: can't get rid of him. He's yours, now – no takesies backsies.

[privitivium]

THAT CONCEPT IS INSANE TO ME🤯🤯🤯 just one more and I might bust a nut to it😔

Mean cruel loner reader and popular playboy yan who has been trying so hard to keep his virginity and prove it to you but you won't believe him >:(((!!!

YES. THATS WHAY IM GRTTING AT.

like, dude being so upset that you dont believe him because he really does have his virginity and no hes not gonna let some slimy fucking cunt take or give it to anyone besides you!! even if you are a slimy bastard to him - he fucks himself to just that, imagining you actually fucking him hard into his bedㅡimagining how you would fill up him so good to his belly and how your dick would look,,, daydreaming about being praised by you because all you ever do is insult him - yeah, he gets positively soaked from that but a little compliment here and there never hurt anyone!!! you, an ignorant loner guy, totally thinking of him as a stupid whore that lets himself be passed around because of his flirty nature. ignorant ! a quiet loner guy - flirty "player". so so so real. imagining flirty player guy trying to get your attention - using all his tactics that he's mastered to get you to fuck him hard with your cock but all it gets is him being fingered roughly in a dark ass corner and berated for being a whore. HOORAY!

[privitivium]

HEAR ME OUTTTTTT

......... Masochistic Delinquent Yan

i hear u loud n clear….. yan masochistic delinquent x himbo-ish reader. i enjoy this. might fuck around and make more and whatnot. delinquent bully yans have my heart fr.....

imagine him literally just fucking with you constantly just to get a reaction to put ur hands on him,, however, you provide none. you think it's just guys being guys and messing around, bullying one another! smacking each others’ bare asses with towels in the locker room, along with a little shit-talking type deal.. casually throwing insults at him, ruffling your hair dry - facing away from you with crossed arms - dick hard as he tries to form a coherent insultㅡ

before you slap his arm a little too hard on accident, playfully hitting him after throwing out an insult about his physique.. “don't fucking touch me, man..” he'd look at you as if you were stupid, even if you were just a little bit, yeah, it still hurts,,, fuck he didnt msan literally!! don't look at him with that sad puppy dog look!!! you can touch him, he promises!!!! but alas, he has to keep up his cruel and enigmatic nature with other people around… he can't beg you on his knees that yes please hit him, please continue playfully insulting him in that dark toneㅡ

delinquent often daydreaming while staring at you. very obvious. pressing on the accidental bruises you'd leave on his arms while he jerks off,,, thinking about his hair being pulled by your strong hands, muttering insults in his ear that would make him writhe tearfully and cum spurt from his tip,,,, being in a chokehold by ur thick arms while being fucked from behind against a hallway of the campus or in the very back of a library, classroom.. in a dark corner where no one can exactly see nor make out that he's riding you while you pinch his nipples under his shirt while biting at his neck harshly - reprimanding him about being quiet and that he's a fucking pussy and not at all a badass that he thinks he is - an exhibitionist of sorts.. ultimately going through all of your physical features, trying to rile you up,,, that gets him no where. you were confident in yourself. tch… your friends maybe? you seem the chivalrous type? no, nothing.. they're all idiots who can hold their own.

then he finally makes it to your car. your prized possession, with your own money. that is your baby. he scratches it up with his loser little switchblade, something small but still noticeable to the owner rather than a mere passerby.. he was leaning against it all coolly, waiting for you while popping the blade in and out of place - that, is when you lose your mind,, realistically, it'll buff right out, but still! that's your car! literally, just what is this guy's deal???! you think it's a little too far, but you leave him bloodied and battered, heaving over him; eyes glazing over the bulge in his admittedly tight black jeans. “jeez bro, i'm so sorry,,, ur gonna be okay, alright??? im so sorry,,” you'd meekly squeak, repeating almost tearful apologies, losing urself in ur rather gentle rage. your hands roaming over his face and fingertips shakily grazing his bloodied nose,,, before telling him you'll help him out, dragging him into the passenger seat of your car;; offering him a ride home or maybe to simply fix him up.. he lets you - offering no words of disagreement nor displeasure, obviously,, i mean who else is gonna take care of his fucking boner??? you gave it to him, you have to make it go away, no?? Tis only fair..

[privitivium]

a rich touchy guy who looks like a nerd cuz of glasses but is otherwise perceived as an "idiot jock"

yanderem x mreader, nsfw

he knew all about your weird fascination with relatively big guys... i mean, you leave your fucking tabs open for anyone to see!! well, in the comfort of your own room, living alone.. but still! like, what are some of these titles? surfing on your computer while you're gone - leaving your door unlocked ( he has a key. ) big busty male gets milked like the cow he is. what are you even... what... you were just a relatively goofy guy, but... What are these videos of you putting your dick in orbeez with your friends laughing in the background.??*?... copying it and sending it to himself just to jerk off to the image of your dick.... needy ass.

doesnt even have it in him to hold it together, oftentimes bursting out in soft laughter behind his hand everytime he looks at you merely doing your work, studying... this fucking guy... takes advatange of the fact that he's a stocky guy with big soft pecs as you seemed to prefer.. playing dumb as he touches on you mindlessly while laughing at a particularly stupid joke you told him - trying to impress.. fleeting touches that his dick gets wet from. ahem hrm. anyway. totally kidnaps you against your will after seducing you with his chest. knocking you out, rudely, stuffing you in his car and trying to make sure you're laying comfortably. tying you to a velvety "renaissance" throne chair he got at an auction afrer bringing you home, in an empty room in one of the lower levels of his fancy ass mansion,,, wrists tied to the fancy wooden arms, legs spread and tied to the legs of the chair.. staring lecherously at your groin and your pretty sleeping face as he patiently awaits your awakening..

immediately makes fun of you when you do wake up. "did you think.. that i didn't know how to use these?" he questions incredulously, tilting his head at you - your pitiful, squirming figure - trying oh so hard to be free!!! squeezing his pecs together with his biceps, wide innocent eyes leering behind glasses,,. "i got you soo good, huh?" he remarks smugly, arms loosening from squeezing his tits together. snickering, as he lazily saunters around your frame, of course; tied to a chair. comfortable and cushioned, no less... pulls out a remote, clicks a few buttons before a television began ascending from the floor in front of you,,, then fucking pulls up the fucking pornography you fancied yourself watching. big dudes, soft tummies getting fucking wrecked. standing, leaning his elbow nonchalantly on your chair with a dick straining against his pants while he stares down at you, while you stare in horror while hard yourself at the television displaying naked bodies. sadistic kinda guy, wants to embarrass you, but also wants to be embarrassed ,,, what a cruel guy. leaving you bound, drooling and tearful as you you stare up at him bouncing on your dick and ever so slightly grinding into you - tugging at your restraints just to feel the plush flesh of his assㅡso cruelly leaving his shirt on just so you couldn't see his tits bounce,,, ugh

[privitivium]

yandere big guy tries to comfort you,,, after, kidnapping you pretty sloppily. subtop m reader, dubcon,,,

being taken from your room in the middle of the night and thrown over a muscular shoulder is not the ideal way of waking up, no. you werent all that worried, if you were being honest. your friend, janey, your best bro.. you trust him and his idiotic antics. he seemed a little ditzy, and he was probably just drunk, yeah?.. you were just a little peeved at this minor inconvenience, rather than concerned.. he's done things like this before, carrying you out of bed just to sit you in the living room and have a bro-cuddle session while watching whatever the hell he wanted to show you.,.

"aw babe, come on.." he grunts softly, heaving in deeply before huffing.. growing annoyed. he reaches over to touch you and you flinch away. he was trying so hard to get you settled, but he knows it's only been a day! - "i know how much you like big chests.. it was all over your porn search history!" he cheered, chuckling softly as he wraps his thick, muscular arms around your head and thoroughly making you bury your nose into his fat pecs.. hnngh-! i-in an attempts to comfort you, after the whole um.. shoving you in the back of his car after tying you up and leaving you moderately injured since you did struggle - in front of your apartment complex. now.. where? a nice looking house, uhm.. comfortable.. there were pictures of you and him along the walls and a whole wall of polaroids and .. clothes? your clothes that you were upset over because they were missing??

"I'm.. dirty.. and i stink really .. bad!" you grunt exasperatedly, as though that were reason enough to let you go - trying to find more reasons; no matter how lame they might appear.. seemingly not understanding how far he was willing to go for you. did you already forget? the pictures of a bloody mess of a harrasser in your phone sent to you by an unknown number. "why do you still like me? what is there to like????" you squirm, jaw clenching as you resist the urge to take a fat fucking chunk of flesh from his boobs.. "what isn't there to like? you're so paranoid.. but that's alright, babe." He chuckles, removing one of his thick arms to pet your head rather gently.. "and.. you don't even smell bad.." to prove his argument, he dips his head in the crevice of your neck, humming contentedly as he nuzzles his nose into your neck - squirming to get away because holy shit that feels weird. at least he took you on this getaway just before your days off.. ugh.

"I-i just.. what are you even doing?? where even are we?" your voice cracks as though you were about to start crying, which wasn't far off the mark - you were trying to stay strong, but the heat behind your eyes prevailed annoyingly enough.. and being smothered.. well, it did soothe you.. "you're only gonna make me more nervous the longer you don't answer.." you choke out - trying to sound aggressive, still ever so moody as you nuzzle into his chest without complaint..

janey coos, gently rubbing his palm over your head with pouting lips, "awh.. fret not.." He tries to sound smaller, petting the back of your head like an affectionate owner with their cat.. "i know something that'll make you feel better.. you don't need to tell me why you're so moody - i can tell!" janey chuckles good-naturedly.. "i've been watching you all this time, babe. and i meanㅡit makes sense! you're pent up! you haven't touched yourself for a really long time - a week and a half! you usually do it every other day, but this was a stretch.." he pats you on the shoulder, grinning cheekily. you dont have it in you to look at him....... bro, how could you?

"c'mon.. this'll feel much better than jerking off to me all by your lonesome, huh?" he teases, god he felt so free - free to finally be as lewd and forward as he wants with you... all held up together, no way out.. isnt that just so romantic? he thought of everything-! he pulls you away, big hands on your shoulders - startled, as you stare at up wide-eyed. a little upset that he pulled you away from your safe haven..

"why are you talking like that?" your eyes narrow, squinting as your face grows warm. so embarrassing.. a-and, why is he pushing you back? you trip over your feet, landing on your ass - thankfully, on a cushion.. "you're being fucking weird, bro." You complain, gritting your teeth as you grip his wrists - trying to tug his hands from off your body. he relents, looming over you as you sit on the edge of the bed. uhh.. his groin in your face.

"dude, don't act like you dont like this!" he chuckles, hands on his hips as he tilts his head down at you, he looks so.. at ease. fuck this guy! in aㅡin a bad way, though.. "like, you're finally my babe! i can touch you as freely as i want without you having to be asleep!" he mentions, grinning wildly as he crawls ob top of you - being forced back and propping yourself up with your elbows - fuck he was a little heavy.. all that muscle mass.. and huge tits weighing him down... "i know i'm having a good time.." janey coos, reaching up and pinching your face gently - thights straddling yours and his meaty hand worming along the inner of your thigh - cupping your bulge very much boldly-! you yelp in surprise, thighs tensing - and i mean, hey, can you blame yourself?? you cannot be held accountable for not being able to control your body's instinctive reactions to his fleeting touches.. blood rushing to your concealed cock and merely fueling janey's amusement..

he didn't mind taking the lead, he supposes.. you seemed a little too sensitive.. though, most of his fantasies include you being the dominant one in this situation, so he certainly wouldn't mind a surprise such as that..

"ah, nuh.. wait..." you try to mediate, fumbling over your words of denial - nervous and beginning to tremble the longer his palm glides along your clothed groin, rubbing the fabric of your boxers into your dick and causing a moderate pleasureable friction,, you shift, feeling sweaty, and squirm underneath his much larger body ㅡlifting your hands to try and push him away by his shoulders while trying to worm your knees inbetween his body and yours.. god he was so much stronger. useless - as he fondles your junk to try and liven up your dick,, janey shivers, whimpering as he squirms atop your lap, heaving as he pushes himself off you - he mewls your name, rushing to kick off his pants - a wet spot on the crotch of his pants.

"i'll help you.. i'll - i'll help you ease into this, babe.. don't even worry.." janey breathes out - and you jump up - making a move away from him, not necessarily escapingㅡbefore he reaches out and harshly tugs you into his thick arms, shirt unbuttoned completely and only in his cum stained boxers..

“fuck.. no.. janey!” you squirm in his grip - you weren't in the mood, were you? fuck, your dick straining painfully against your boxers and zipper of your jeans - body weakening as you feel him palm your erection so gently, trailing his thumb along the print of your cock... “it's okay, babe.. really, i promise..” he assures, smiling comfortingly - his free arm wrapped around your midsection and holding you firmly on his lap, pressing against his own erection… he's sure to last longer, cumming so easily in his pants from merely touching on you..

you.. didn't have any complaints.. Did you? i mean.. fuck, he was getting you all heated, dick aching in pain from not being touched - but to fuck him, your crush, the guy who kidnapped you and who would send you weird cryptic shit? uah, fuck.. “.. no.. bro..” you try, once again, as he shucks off your pants roughly - kicking your legs before he was stripping down completely and straddling your lap again - hovering his ass over your tip.. he shivers, dick pressing into your body and smearing his juices messily over your skin,, you marvel, pressing the side of your face into his belly. he was so big,, tall. so tall and bulky,, your hands roaming his tanned muscular thighs before moving to his backside - completely in wonder as you try to distract yourself with the plushy, squishy feeling of his ass in your palms..,, pulling, spreading him apart as he lowers himself, really, it was a subconscious action..!

“fuck!” he whimpers, the tip of your thick cock finally making it passed his lubed up ring of muscle - continuously muttering fuck, as he proceeds to slowly rock himself down,, wanting his insides to remember the shape of your cock,, he sits there for a moment - shuddering, and trying to relax - trying to focus on the feeling of your hands fondling his boobs,,

“fuck.. that's.. my good boy..” he cooed.. janey knew how much you liked that.. his good boy.. everytime he watched you in the privacy of your room, touching yourself and writhing in your bed - cumming almost immediately after the pornstars that sounded similar to him praise the camera.. god you were so fucking cute. he tenses his walls around your girth, cock twitching and mewling and positively drooling - you really were such a good boy, fucking into him so well.. he could get used to seeing you like this,, splayed out underneath him while he rides on your cock - painting his insides white as he cums along your chest - heaving breaths,, “isnt that romantic? we came at the same time, babe..”

[miguel-owhora]

I think Micah would be into the whole hunter/hunted thing, and maybe cnc. There's nothing more that gets his blood pumping than being chased down by you. Letting taunts and mocking words slip out of his mouth, especially when he knows it gets under your skin.

And you can bet he won't go down easy when you finally catch him. He'll fight and thrash his way, make you angry, force you to be rough with him and maybe beat him a little. He'll concede if you slap him hard enough, or choke him until he's strangling to breathe.

You pull his pants down and his pussy will be soaking wet, coarse hair damp and slick, his cock poking out from under its hood, throbbing with need. He'll be flushed all over, from his face to his chest, to his pussy when you smack your heavy hand on it. Try as he might try to get away, even when you're fingering him or fucking him roughly, he'll be moaning like a cheap whore, begging you to breed him.

[narcissistshandler]

can't stop thinking wooin would be some kinky shit in his relationship with the reader, maybe you can write something with top!sub reader? I leave the details for you

𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗦

pairing. wooin yoo x male reader

warnings. sub!amab!reader, brief mention of top!reader, dom!wooin, light breath play, masochist!reader & sadist!wooin, kink negotiation, mention of shibari, BDSM practiced in an unsafe and unhealthy way, sounding, urethral play, pushing/testing limits

a/n. I can totally see that and this ended up deeper than planned

"You'd let me take you to your limits, wouldn't you?" he ponders, unhurriedly, almost provocatively. Your silence prompts him to continue: "Can I choke you?" your boyfriend asks, his slender form weighing down on your chest already halfway through.

He sits firmly on top of you, his weight light enough to not crush you, but enough to make each breath shorter, more labored. Your lungs squeezed under the constant pressure, a warm, insistent weight. He wore that usual smile, toothy and bright as the devil himself over you; the two of you still completely dressed.

You tried to suck in air, a natural and unconscious instinct that was now difficult to exert. Your body seemed unwilling to cooperate, leaving you hyperaware of every cell in your body struggling to breathe. "Y-you can."

"What if I spank you a little?" he continued. Now it sounded like a taunt, not a real or genuine interrogation. The words went straight to your cock. The image of him hurting you, causing you pain, his perverse attention all on you. "Not enough to bleed, not if you don't want to."

"Yes," you bit out through gritted teeth, fingers gripping Wooin’s heels sunk into the mattress beside you. Yes, fuck, yes. Whatever he wanted. "What's all this, another kink negotiation? We've already done that." He shakes his head, his hands on your shoulders moving in a caress; the act makes the orange lenses of the glasses atop his black hair glow against the room lights, the flash attacking your skull. "And take off those glasses, the color of them makes me dizzy."

Wooin chuckles, but takes off his glasses, placing them somewhere near your head. The movement makes his weight sink even further onto you, your ribs complaining with a pressure that makes it difficult to breathe without deep pauses and the beginning of a hoarse cough. It seems like just a little more and they'll shatter like glass. But you don't ask him to get up, instead swallowing the discomfort, ironically, like air.

"I want to try something new, so we're just... updating your boundaries."

"You almost dislocated my shoulder with your blunt knots when we tried shibari, if I remember correctly. What now?"

"That was the first time I had to tie so many knots and immobilize someone, my skills will improve if we keep trying."

"I don't want to pay to see."

Wooin clicked his tongue. "Coward."

You ignored the taunt and asked once more, "What is it this time, Wooin?"

"I bought something for you— for us to play with," he said, the sensual tone that always promised danger. Maybe a night full of pleasures, maybe pain and discomfort, and why not both? Agreeing to your boyfriend's requests was always Russian roulette, promising either ecstasy or ruin.

Your eyebrow arched in doubt, urging him to continue.

His smile grew even wider and without warning, Wooin jumped out of bed. The pressure in your chest disappeared so abruptly that for an instant, breathing became impossible—a sharp pain piercing through your muscles. The air pressed like a stone into your lungs. The sensation was overwhelming and you rubbed the spot, trying to calm your racing heart and rapid breathing.

Wooin soon returned, sitting on the bed with a small box on his lap. One of his hands joined yours, helping to massage your chest, but there was no concern on his face, the eyes dark with excitement and the tent stretching the front of his pants that had been there since he settled above you earlier, still firm and present.

"Breathe," he instructed.

"I'm trying," you replied. "What's in the box?"

"A urethral sound."

"What now?" Your voice came out as a whimper. You choked on saliva and air and coughed.

"Breathe."

"I'm breathing," you repeat again, eyes locked on the mysterious box, "A what?"

"A urethral sound. You know? Like the ones doctors stick in your dick when you can’t piss on your own."

"Jesus."

"Want to try it?"

You didn't have much time to speak in response when Wooin kissed you. You could feel his smile against your mouth every moment. How could you deny him when he was already so excited about it?

"If you keep squirming I'll tie you up," Wooin warned. It was meant as a threat, but he sounded too tempted to do it to actually be one. You remembered the last experience involving Wooin and ropes, though. The sharp pain, the hot, thick despair as he struggled to undo the knots as you panted and then almost passed out when in the midst of it all, orgasm overtook you.

Your cock twitched between Wooin's fingers as you remembered one of your most intense orgasms.

You sighed, trying to stop your legs from closing once more at the contact of Wooin's cold, lube-slick fingers. What was about to come was already chilling enough to make you tense, you didn't want to add anything more to it.

"Damn, Wooin."

"Wooin?" he inquired, sliding the metal object over the sensitive head of your member in an action that sent shivers down your spine. It was very cold and hard against your burning skin.

"Sir," you immediately corrected yourself. "Just... just don't hurt me, okay? You know you love my dick too much to break it."

He rolled his eyes. "I have plenty of lube and skilled fingers, what could go wrong? Fear doesn't look good on you, [name]."

You didn't want to think about what could go wrong, so you chose to stay quiet and nod, silently granting Wooin permission to continue.

He didn't hesitate.

The long, straight stainless steel rod didn't look like much if you disregarded where it was supposed to go.

Breath caught in your throat in anticipation as Wooin aligned the hollow tip against your sensitive glans. Contrary to the anxiety in your stomach, you were already wet and sticky, balls so tight they hurt. "Deep breaths now." Your chest rises, slowly, ribs distending as air enters your nostrils, then falls, your breath comes out in a deep puff. This helps, it relaxes you and gives you something else to focus on if not the contact of the sound on your cock, the poisonous anticipation and— your teeth clash at the sensation of the object pushing against you, into you.

It feels too sudden and too much, too soon. Even though you know any movement could hurt you right now, your body wants to jump and run away.

A burning sensation accompanies the invasion.

Wooin is saying something above you. Nothing new, he never seems to shut up, his attention hungry and obsessed on his working fingers. But you can't focus on anything other than the sound sinking inch after remarkable, suffocating inch into your urinary tract. He's not as cruel and evil with it as you initially assumed, pausing every now and then to pour more lube over your cock before continue to press in and in and God help you, in.

It's a strange sensation rather than a painful one. It feels wrong, having something filling that channel, stretching a space that wasn't made for it, reaching a deliriously good point inside you that can only be due to its proximity to your prostate. Now you understood why Wooin always seemed to go crazy when you hit that spot inside him, begging and ordering—don't fucking stop, keep going, right there, hit that spot again. It was getting harder to think now, your breathing becoming heavier.

The steel seems to burn inside your hot, heavy member that pulses along with the rapid beating of your heart. It twitches shamefully and helplessly. Your fingers grip the sheets, feet clenching and thighs struggling to stay apart around Wooin. You feel the stem as if in your stomach, as if in some place you cannot quite describe.

It's too deep. It burns. It hurts... It feels good.

"How does it feel? It's all inside." Wooing makes a point as he proudly puts pressure on the metal tip peeking out of your cock with his thumb. The entire remaining length of the urethral sound is buried in your canal. "See? Didn't I tell you? I know what I'm doing."

No response.

Looking like the anticipation of your answer might kill him, he repeats: "Tell me how it feels to have a rod shoved up your dick."

You don't know if you're still breathing.

"...F-full... weird... I-I don't really know. I can't think." Your throat is dry and your eyes focused on the ceiling of the room, the light burning your orbs. Moisture had at some point appeared in the corner of your eyes, you didn't know exactly why the tears were coming. Wooin would kill you one day.

"You look completely helpless like this, poor dear. Makes me want to devour you."

Wooin's hand is too hot as it wraps around your member and before he even gives the first tug you're already squealing like a wounded animal. This doesn't stop him from continuing to torture you, masturbating you in long, slow strokes and thumb always resting back on the shaft to make sure it stays inside you.

"Too much. Too much."

A voice in the back of your mind screams at you to slap Wooin’s hand away, screams that this hurts, that the thick, oily feeling swirling in your stomach is not a good sign and that your dick is going to break. It screams: He will break you and you will never be the same again. It's a small, desperate, terrified voice that's drowned out by the pleasure rattling through your bones. Discomfort coils like fire in your muscles, much like the burning need for more.

Wooin always manipulated you like a skilled ventriloquist. You never wanted to be whole again.

"You little thing beyond repair," Wooin clicks his tongue as if in reprimand, but you hear the ever-present smile in his tone. "You're going to cum, aren't you? Fucking masochist."

It takes you a few seconds to form a response. The sheets feel like ice as they stick to your sweaty skin. “Can I, sir?”

"No, not yet."

But you weren't sure you could control yourself, push the crescent away—not if Wooin kept touching you, pulling your aching cock through the discomfort of the steel burning inside. Not when he sounded so breathless and excited just from having you exposed and suffering and dying at his hands. Because that's what all experiences with your boyfriend were: petites morts—little deaths—like dying and being reborn a million times. Like living hundreds of lives and feeling each one of them dissolve under his touch.

You would cum, soon, permission given or not, and it would probably hurt even after and through the pleasure. It would probably hurt to pee afterward too. But you knew the memory of the overload would be enough to electrify you and excite you again. You'd find your devil with the glasses and the cruel smile and ask: can we do it again?

"Just a little more... Let's see if we can figure out what your hard limit is today."

[blvdprn]

— VALENTINE’S DAY SPECIAL

jjk (human) men x dom!top!male reader

special day with your lovely boyfriend

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, & naoya

nsfw — non-specified, suguru’s part is shorter srry, slight homophobia & misogyny from naoya surprise surprise

wc: not counted

It was your first ever Valentine’s Day with your boyfriend. Or rather, the first Valentine’s Day when neither of you was busy. Usually, one or the other had a job to do that day —seeing as work never rests— but today, finally, you were both free.

And you were pretty excited.

See, you’ve been planning a little something for a while. After a nice and romantic day filled with sexual tension and ending with a candle-lit dinner, a surprise was waiting for you and your boyfriend at home.

Your sex life wasn’t lacking per se, it was more so some things went unexplored because of an insufficient amount of time. Usually (and sadly), you guys had quickies. There was nothing special about it, it was just a way to relieve stress and show each other that yes you still find the other very appealing. I mean, how could you not? Living with an insanely attractive man and what’s that? Dating said, attractive man? Mmmm, yes, please.

Pushing the key into the lock after paying the bill and driving home, you were nearly shaking with anticipation for what was about to come. Opening the door to your shared house, you quickly pulled the man in, knowing damn well you’d get a noise complaint in the morning. Or at the very least, a nasty stink eye from your neighbours.

—GOJO SATORU : cock bondage

“Fuck!”

“Mm— what’s wrong Satoru? I thought you could take it?”

Right now he was spread out so beautifully for you, knees touching his shoulders and ankles near your shoulders as a result of you pushing his thighs upwards. You were fucking him deep and slow at the moment, making him see stars.

Oh, and how could you forget the pretty pink ribbon tied under and between his balls, reaching the base of his cute red dick and creating a small bow.

“I-I can! This is nothINGGGHH,” cried the man under you, moaning the last part of his sentence.

You laughed. “Doesn’t seem like nothing, sweetheart.”

Satoru blushed even harder, whether from you calling him out or the endearing pet name, you couldn’t tell. Pouting a little, he scratches the hands holding his thighs down. “Just take this thing off… I want to cum already and this stupid thing won’t let me!”

“Awe,” you coo. “Other than giving your cock a nice touch, that was the whole point of it.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, but you’re taking this dick though!”

“Man just shut up and— FUUUCK!”

Your hips switched pace, from slow to fast, but equally as deep. You should thank all those stupid times Satoru dragged you out on a run for the insane speed you currently held.

“S-shit,” you groaned. “Look at your cute little dick. Looks s-so pretty with the bow…” And although his length was perfect (just like him) and you were just teasing, it really did look pretty. The light pink of the satin ribbon contrasted nicely with the darker shade of him.

Satoru could barely respond, overwhelmed with both the feeling of needing to cum but not being able to, and feeling your cock touching his prostate with every thrust. Slight tears left his eyes, blurring his vision from fully seeing the way small amounts of pre cum ran down the satin around him.

You noticed this, and feeling pity for your pathetic boyfriend, you let one of his thighs go in order to untie the ribbon, knowing you were at your limit too. Immediately, he threw his head back, letting out a loud and whiny moan that would surely wake the neighbours if they weren’t already awake.

Muffling his moan with a kiss, you pulled out right on time, both of your hot fluids mixing together and on his stomach.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you mumbled against his lips. Only receiving a slight laugh in response.

When you were about to pull away, his legs slid down, wrapping themselves around your hips and waist with surprising strength from someone who was just shaking.

“Where do you think you’re going, babe? We’re not done here yet.” Satoru said, staring at your eyes darkly, and all you could do was gulp.

‘Oh, boy.’

—GETO SUGURU : collars

“Is this really necessary?”

“What?” you questioned. “You don’t like it?”

“Darling, it’s embarrassing.”

You huffed. “Which part? The leash or my name on it?”

“Both.” You could practically see him giving you a side eye from your question, even though his back was facing you.

“Well,” you hummed. “Just don’t think about it.”

“And how am I not supposed to do that?”

Expecting an answer, he didn’t imagine you would pull the leash back while giving a powerful thrust. Which is why he couldn’t control the loud and surprised moan that escaped from his lips.

“A-ah! A warning would’ve been n-nice.”

You shushed him. “Don’t think.”

“Mmh— this is going t-to make my throat sore…”

“Liar,” you tutted. “I’ve seen you swallow those curses. This is nothing for you, Suguru.”

He stayed silent, but not for long, because you started rapidly thrusting again with only one goal in mind.

“F-feels so good, darling!” He moaned, gripping the sheets below him, only being able to see your silhouette moving because of the small candles on each side of the bed. “Haaahh—”

Pulling the leash again, you lowered your body so your stomach was almost directly onto Suguru’s back and your face hooked onto his shoulder. In this position, his head was pulled back, and you were able to see the way the nameplate with your name on it moved with each of your thrusts.

Suguru moaned louder, somewhat liking how your name was engraved into something that was on him. He enjoyed the harsh feeling of the collar digging into his Adam’s apple. And he certainly savoured the sounds leaving your mouth that was directly behind his right ear.

Drool escaped his lips, having no choice but to let it fall out of his mouth because he wasn’t able to properly swallow it.

With one strong arm holding him up, he let the other grab your head, pulling you into a necessary and messy kiss. Gasping with every breath, his fingers tightened more and more on some of your longer strands, feeling himself about to cum.

“Darling— I’m ab-bout to—”

“It’s okay… You can cum more anyway.”

And with that, he knew the night was going to be long.

—NANAMI KENTO : wax play

Quiet pants slipped past your boyfriend’s lips. The heat of the wax on his skin was a great contrast to his cold body. It was embarrassing, how much he liked it. When you first brought it up, Kento was hesitant, never before trying something that was considered so… kinky (by his standards anyway, not yours).

“Ngh…” he moaned softly.

You smile at him, eyes bright with happiness. “It seems like you’re enjoying yourself, Kento.”

Pink dusted his cheeks, shamefully averting his eyes from your face. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

With amusement in your voice and a raised eyebrow, you ask, “Not as bad? But you’re making such cute noises.” Your teasing doesn’t stop there. “It’s bad to lie to the love of your life, you know, and on such a special day too.”

“Don’t tease. Fine, I like the warmth.”

“Of course you do, I knew you would.”

With that, you dipped the candle in your hand, hot wax falling and hitting the blonde man under you. His fit stomach clenched, abs pronounced more than normal as a result.

“By the way,” you muttered. “The wax turns into lotion.” To show him, you moved one of your fingers around some of the hardened wax, watching how it turned into liquid again, but this time it had a semi-cold watery texture. And to your enjoyment, you see the way his eyes watch and silently plea for your hands to move the wax somewhere else.

“That’s…” he begins, eyebrow twitching a bit. “Nice.”

“Very.”

Continuing to pour the hot wax down, down, down. You reach his naked thighs, seeing his pale skin slightly tremble. He wasn’t able to hold in the “hurry” that he covered by putting his hand over his mouth.

“S-shit!” Kento said, being muffled by his hand, letting out an uncharacteristic squeal the moment the blistering heat travelled to his inner thighs.

You chuckled, appreciating the almost once-in-a-lifetime view.

Closer and closer, all Kento was able to feel was a need that he never thought he’d have. A shameful and embarrassing thought rushed through his head, one that he wasn’t quite sure he could vocally tell you in fear that it was a little too much. But like always, you could read him like the back of your hand, so you knew exactly what he wanted.

“Fffffffuuuuuckk—” Was all he let out the moment the wax made contact with the base of his dick.

With an idea in your mind, you swiftly stained his cock with the red burning heat, hearing the desperate cries he let out for you to continue. Even louder moans reached your ears the moment your hand went into contact with it, sweetly massaging up and down so the now lotion wasn’t able to cool down quickly enough.

Kento unexpectedly reached down, grabbing onto your hand so the lotion could be spread everywhere. From his balls to his stomach and up his pecs, it didn’t seem like he knew what he was doing, only trying to feel the fire-like warmth from smearing all over him.

With his moans in the air and his senseless voice sounding in the quiet night, you knew this was just starting. After all, you guys hadn’t even fucked yet.

—FUSHIGURO TOJI : riding crop

Never in your fucking life did you think he was actually going to let you do this? I mean sure, you’ve explored a little bit before but you thought this was going to be too excessive for him, that he was even going to be annoyed with you.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

Sure he looked a little ticked off at first, but after thinking about it for a bit he laughed and challenged you.

Which is what brought you to now.

Toji’s strong form was lying on the rose-covered bed, something he scoffed at but you were sure you saw a tiny dust of pink on his cheeks before he turned away. His back was to you, a rare sight, seeing as it made him feel like he had no control. Although you were certain it also made him feel exposed and embarrassed if his red-coloured ears were anything to go by.

You could see his muscular back flexing with any slight movement he did, his veiny arms twitching and big biceps tightening.

All in all, he looked delicious.

The crop tightened in your hand, its leather end glided down the curve of Toji’s spine. A perfect fit, touching every nook and cranny, leaving absolutely nothing unmarked.

An annoyed huff left his nose. “Would you hurry it up?”

You tsked, “Patience.”

“That’s something I don’t have right now and you know it. Unless you don’t know what you’re fucking doing?”

With a hum, you decided to give him what he wanted, knowing this was going to be the last time you did so tonight.

A harsh slap was heard when leather hit unblemished skin, turning it into a soft pink.

Toji’s shoulders stiffened, and you were sure he held in any sounds he was about to make.

“Hey,” you called out. “Don’t hold your noises in.”

“I’m not, you’re just weak.”

‘Right.’

Hit. Again.

Hit. Again.

Hit. Again.

This continued on until his back was covered in colour, yet nothing escaped his lips. Not until the leather hit his ass.

“Fu—”

Continuing your assault on his round ass, you never gave him enough time to complain. And even though it was embarrassing for him, he was glad you didn’t stop, because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to say anything anyway, and it felt so good.

When you knew bruises were going to form, you stopped to turn Toji around, letting the crop trail from his giant pecs to his twitching dick. Only then did you notice that he had come already, but the look in his eyes was telling you to hit something else.

And who were you to deny? Guess he really had you wrapped around his finger.

—ZENIN NAOYA : feminisation

“What the fuck is this?” Were the only words to come out of your boyfriend when he saw the short red dress with a frilly skirt on your shared bed.

“A present.”

“It’s a fucking dress. Do I look like a damn woman to you?”

Ah yes, you decided this was going to be a slight punishment for all the times he’s said some dumb shit about women.

“You call women whores. Maybe I should treat you like one so you can know the difference, no?”

Naoya’s eyes screamed in rage, how dare you compare him to them? “It’s bad enough I’m with you —a man who can’t even give me an offspring— but now you want me to be a stupid woman?” His fists were clenched and ready to beat some sense into you (as if he could). “You fucking—”

And then suddenly his top half was leaning on the edge of the bed, wrists pinned behind his back by your hands, and his legs trying to keep himself up to not slide down and fall to the floor.

He hiccuped, not understanding how one minute he was about to launch a punch at you, then the next he had the stupid dress on with the skirt flipped up so as to not get in the way of your continuous thrusts.

“Awe,” you coo mockingly. “What happened to all the talking back? I thought you didn’t want to wear this, but look at you! Looking all pretty and taking me so well. Now aren’t you a doll?”

Naoya was so fucking embarrassed, both by your words and what he was wearing. Why did he like this?

“S-shut the fuck uP— NGHH!”

With only one of your hands pinning his wrists, the other slipped past the cloth of the dress on the chest area. Luckily, your arms were long enough, so there was no need to take your eyes off his hole swallowing your dick, just to pinch one of his nipples.

“I’m not a w-whore! Stop it!” He cried out, but really, he didn’t want you to stop.

“Really?” You pulled on his perky nipple, feeling the way he clenched around you. “But your pussy seems to like it when I play with your tits?”

He whined, slight sobs making his shoulders shake. “Not a pussy!”

You moaned, liking how his voice rose when he said that. “You’re so wet here though.” And with that, your other hand let go of his wrists, Naoya hastily having to grab the sheets under him.

Your hand slipped around his surprisingly slim waist, grabbing a handful of his nodding cock and tracing your thumb against the slit.

“See? You’re so sensitive when I touch your clit.”

Naoya’s mind went blank, everything around him went ignored except for your words and the pleasurable feeling you gave him everywhere your hands and dick touched. Before he knew it, he came, panting against the sheets stained with his drool.

But, oh, you weren’t done with him yet. You still hadn’t come after all.

notes: better late than nvr! i ws planning on writing for sukuna & choso too but ran out of time so 🤷