18+ | content warnings… top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!character, two best friends have sex
twt link… moaning against your mouth because he forgot how to kiss.
it all started so innocently, just two “friends” cuddling together—what’s wrong with that? and now the room is too hot—should we take off our shirts?
the two of you were just laughing, making jokes like it was just another day, the kind of jokes that'd make anyone question your relationship. you pretended to ignore the sheen layer of sweat that glistened on his skin, the goosebumps that erupted when your fingers brushed his skin.
he pretended not to notice your nervous swallow when he rested his head on your chest, though he watched your adams apple bob his periphery.
then it was silent. the sheets ruffled as you adjusted, awkward huffs of air when the positioning still wasn't right.
“let me try…”
though you weren’t expecting him to roll on top of you and plant his palms on your chest with such a feverish expression. grinding his hips down, pulling a sharp gasp out of you, and he bit his lips to stop the whine he would've let out.
what a silly boy, thinking he’d be the one to control the pace—his arms were weak the second you slipped your cock past his puckering hole. you had no mercy, using your hands to keep him up, fingers twisting and tugging his sensitive nipples as you pleased.
your lips met, and for a moment, it was tame.
but he just couldn’t get enough, now messily lapping against your mouth, trying to savor every hushed sound of pleasure that escaped your throat as he sucked you back in with every roll of his hips.
The makers of Kinktober 2025 are back again with a brand new list! The graphics are once again created by latte-cucumber. Check out our AO3 collection, or keep reading for more information.
More information
Kinktober is a kinky October prompt challenge that’s been running in one form or another since 2016. There are three prompts for each day in October, and the challenge is to use one (or more!) of the prompts to create something for that day. If you don’t want to use any of the three daily prompts, you can swap them out for the bonus prompts at the bottom of the prompt list.
If you have any questions, check our FAQs. Unfortunately, due to personal commitments, we won't be opening our askbox for questions this year. We've made it as rules-light as possible, though, so if your question is "Can I do this?", the answer is almost certainly yes!
a/n: a gift from me to all of u for hitting 1k followers! hope you like it and thank you so so much for all the support🥹❤️ love yall fr
yan mage! who turns back time for you. Forbidden magic? Human sacrifices? Doesn't matter. He'd use any means, pay any price just to get you back. To save you.
yan mage! who's delighted to find out that you had all your memories intact after returning to the past. Why else would you suddenly claim to go on holiday, travelling all the way to the north and away from your family? He knows you too well, the old you would never do that.
yan mage! who doesn't blame you for running away from the capital, of course you'd be afraid of making the same mistake and letting history repeat itself, it's just a natural reaction. He understands.
yan mage! who had no trouble at all locating you, he only had to track your mana signature by covering the whole country in his mana and seeing where it resonated. Easy enough for him since he's the most powerful mage in the kingdom. While other mages may have a cup's worth of mana in their lifetime, his mana supply was akin to a vast ocean. Endless.
yan mage! who teleports to your location, in a small village up north. He quickly learns of the life you've just adapted to, teaching the orphanage children to earn a living, using a fake name and abandoning all the influence and money you had as the youngest child of the Grand Duke.
yan mage! who suppresses the thrill of watching the shock on your face when he appears right at your doorstep. It was fun watching you from afar, living your new life, but now it's time for you to come home.
yan mage! who watches as you pretend to not remember him. Cute. Even if you truly had no memory of him, he wouldn't leave this village without you. You'll be safe with him, you'll see it for yourself soon enough.
yan mage! who teleports you into a pocket dimension he created just for you. Aren't you surprised? He made it to look exactly like your family's estate, right to how the warmth of the sun felt on your skin and the chirping of the birds in the garden. Now, no one can hurt you and you can stay here happily with him!
yan mage! who has no choice but to restrain you with his magic. You'd finally dropped your act of not recognising him but why do you resist? Please don't break his heart, he doesn't want to use his magic on you, not like this.
yan mage! who fills your room with all sorts of luxuries in an attempt to appease you. Custom clothes from the best boutique shop, rare jewels, flowers, everything you could possibly think of. All so that you would come to enjoy staying here, with him.
yan mage! who conveniently leaves out the fact that your family is desperately searching for you after realising you were missing. Or the fact that he's currently leading them on a wild goose chase, leaving fake clues for them to follow. He won't let anyone try to separate you from him.
yan mage! who only smiles calmly as he watches you trash your room in protest, hurling all sorts of threats at him. With a snap of his fingers, everything was back to its original place, and he reassures you that he's only doing this for your own good.
yan mage! who decides to leave you alone for a few days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't it?
yan mage! who moniters you silently from the real world. It hurts to be apart from you for so long, but if this is what he must do for you to realise your own feelings, so be it. The lifeless puppets he placed in the pocket dimension seem to be serving you well, bringing your food, helping you get dressed, following you around as you finally explore the little dimension he created for you.
yan mage! who watches through the eyes of the puppets as you grow quieter as the days stretch into weeks, no longer making a mess out of your room, no longer yelling and demanding to be let go. Unkempt hair, refusing to eat, and locking yourself up in your room, it seems that it'll only be a few more days before he can finally reunite with you.
Just a little longer, my love, and I'll never leave your side ever again.
yan mage! who stumbles back, shocked, as you hug him tightly, welcoming him home.
Finally.
yan mage! who looks down at your clouded over eyes, cupping your face in his hands. "Did you miss me, my dear?"
You nod fervently.
He smiles at your eagerness. "I missed you too," He began to turn towards the door. "But first, let me get something for you to ea-"
"NO!" You yell, hugging him tighter. "Don't go...don't leave... i'm sorryimsorrypleasestay-"
The mage's eyes widened.
You've truly opened your heart to him. You're finally reciprocating his feelings for you.
He happily wraps his arms around you, embracing you in his warmth. How long had he waited for this moment?
"Alright, my darling. I won't go anywhere, how about that, hm?" He spoke softly, chastising you. "I'll stay right here with you."
yan mage! who continues living in his pocket dimension with you, ignoring the summons to join the hero's party to defeat the demon king.
yan mage! who can't care less about the chaos and havoc being wreaked throughout the country as the demon king runs rampant. Why should he care about them when he has you? It doesn't matter if the hero is dead, or if the country, this world, has been taken over by demons. They can't hurt you in his realm.
Yandere!Boyfriend x Reader (ft. Reader's cat that hates him)
Yandere!Boyfriend views himself as a dark, calculating mastermind who has meticulously eliminated every rival in your life. He took care of the flirty coworker, he blocked your annoying ex, and he curated your entire schedule around him. But his entire criminal empire completely crumbles the second he steps into your apartment and locks eyes with your 8-pound tabby cat, Mr. Chonk.
Mr. Chonk doesn't just dislike him; Mr. Chonk recognizes him as an apex predator trespassing on his territory. The very first time your boyfriend tried to sneak a lock of your hair while you were napping on the couch, the cat dropped from the top of the refrigerator like a tactical navy seal, hissed directly into his face, and swatted him across the nose. It was an instant, blood-soaked declaration of war.
His yandere logic is completely warped by this animal. He genuinely treats the cat like a romantic rival. He’ll sit on the kitchen floor, glaring at the cat under the dining table, and hiss back in a whisper so you won't hear him. "You think you're safe because she feeds you? I could replace you in a second, you furry little demon. She’s mine. Stop looking at her like that." Mr. Chonk just blinks at him and licks a paw, completely unfazed.
Yandere!Boyfriend realizes very quickly that if he wants to achieve his ultimate goal of moving in with you and keeping you all to himself, he has to earn the cat's trust. If he doesn't, you’ll never let him sleep over. So, his data-mining and stalking skills are suddenly redirected toward animal behavior. He spends hours on the dark web and sketchy forums, not looking up your background, but searching: “How to bribe an aggressive feline,” “Cat psychology manipulation,” and “Can you gaslight a cat into liking you?”
Yandere!Boyfriend's attempts at bribery are incredibly intense and deeply dramatic. He’ll show up at your apartment with a bouquet of roses for you, and a literal premium can of wild-caught salmon for the cat. He’ll slide the dish under the couch where the cat is hiding, kneeling on the carpet with a deadpan, serious look on his face. "Eat the tribute, beast. Let us form an alliance. We both want her to stay inside forever. We are on the same side." Mr. Chonk just bats the can away and claws his finger.
Yandere!Boyfriend gets aggressively jealous of the affection you give the cat. If you’re sitting on the couch, scratching Mr. Chonk behind the ears and cooing about how he’s "the handsomest boy in the whole world," your boyfriend will literally pout. He’ll crawl over, shove his own head into your lap right next to the cat, and look up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "I'm handsome too. I don't shed. And I don't scratch you. Pet me instead, please." This usually results in the cat swatting his forehead again, sparking a silent glaring match right in your lap.
Yandere!Boyfriend eventually tries to use high-tech gamer gear to win the war. He buys a super-powered, military-grade laser pointer to entertain the cat, thinking he can tire out his rival. He stands in the center of your living room, frantically flicking his wrist, running the red dot up and down the walls while laughing like a cartoon villain. "Yes! Run! Consume your energy, creature! Collapse from exhaustion so I can have her undivided attention!"
The day Mr. Chonk finally decides to tolerate him is the funniest day of his life. Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch, completely drained and miserable because you went to the store, and the cat casually hops up, sniffs his leg, and plops down right on his chest completely pinning him to the cushions. When you walk back into the apartment, you find your terrifying, possessive boyfriend frozen stiff, breathing softly, with a terrified but triumphant look on his face. He whispers to you: "Don't move. Don't make a sound. The demon has accepted my offering. I am officially part of the hierarchy. We can get married now."
YAN! FASHIONISTA who doesn't give a damn about the new secretary they put in place of the old one. Honestly, where did you get that ridiculous sweater with kittens on it? He wanted to fire you as soon as he saw it, but he changed his mind when he remembered all the paperwork he'd need to sign to make it happen.
YAN! FASHIONISTA who finds it funny how you try to simultaneously hang his designer coat on the hanger while talking to a client on the phone.
YAN! FASHIONISTA who rolls his eyes every time you take too long to bring the coffee to his desk.
YAN! FASHIONISTA who, on any given day, has to blink twice when he sees you walk into the office wearing one of the dresses he designed years ago. The dress accentuated all the right places, the ones he'd never deigned to glance at before. He hummed with satisfaction at his choice and returned to work in silence.
YAN! FASHIONISTA who tried to hide his flushed cheeks when he saw you bending down to pick up a pen from the floor, revealing a little more of your thighs.
You, a recent journalism graduate with a mountain of bills to pay, were surprised when your strict boss, known as the Ice King, started giving you clothes from projects he wouldn't be using anymore. Blouses, coats, bags, hats, scarves... in a single month you could barely rummage through your wardrobe without a piece of clothing falling on your head.
Your relationship with the other secretary was reasonably good, but lately she seemed afraid to talk to you. On the other hand, your boss started taking you from one place to another, taking you to fashion shows and charity auctions.
YAN! FASHIONISTA who became desperate when you spent a day away. It's fine that you went to the doctor, but not seeing you wearing the clothes he gave you or leaving coffee on his table made him deeply upset. The other secretary and the other workers in his department avoided him for the rest of the day. In that fit of rage, he was capable of choking someone with a magazine.
YAN! FASHIONISTA who pretended everything was normal when you returned. However, for some unknown reason, your table was now next to his.
The mimic you replaced your husband with finds out you've been lying.
Part one
You're really lucky your former husband had no job and drove away all his loved ones except for you because it really makes passing his replacement off much easier.
One morning while making yourself and your husband some tea (he prefers no milk or sugar apparently) you notice that he seems a little agitated. It's been a week since you brought him home, you assumed city life would be a hard adjustment but maybe you should check if the forum says anything about-
You can't finish your thought because he suddenly shoots up from his chair, scraping it against the floor and making you flinch back on instinct.
You both freeze, he's clearly confused by your reaction and you puff out a little laugh to ease the tension, remembering that he might look near identical but this is a different person. He eyes you with concern, almost looking pained, and you slide him his tea, giving him a reassuring pat on the arm.
“It’s fine, I’m just a little jumpy today."
He nods his head but it's clear that he knows there's something else. You’ve seen that look a few times, you think he gets it when he’s remembering something from your ex’s memories that doesn’t add up with the present. It’s just like what someone from the forum said, they clearly don’t remember things in detail, it’s more like they mimic a person’s muscle memory. Though your mimic doesn’t seem to even remember much of that, he doesn’t really speak or move or act like your ex at all, even his expressions incredibly different.
Maybe your mimic is less experienced with mimicry or maybe he doesn’t care about your ex enough to mimic him right. That thought makes you smile just a little before you realise your husband is still looking at you with concern in his eyes.
You brush your fingers up his shirt,
“What's the matter?"
His fingers fiddle with the hem of your sweater, waiting a minute before asking,
“Can we go outside."
You blink, looking at the early morning sun peeking through the kitchen window.
“Now?"
He nods and you shrug your shoulders, “Why not."
He smiles, still a strange site to see on your ex-husband's face. The way he does it looks a little off, like he’s out of practice. You're not even a little concerned when he downs the mug of just boiled tea in one go, this is the same creature who ate a handful of dirt from one of your potted plants once when he thought you weren't looking.
You watch him march to the front door of your apartment and call out,
“You have to put some pants on, Babe!"
He whirls back around in confusion, “I’m wearing-” He looks down at his boxers for a long moment, you imagine him looking through your ex’s mind to evaluate the difference between baggy boxer briefs and pants. He looks back up at you, “Right.” and marches off to the bedroom.
The inexperienced mimic theory only strengthens.
Once you're outside, you walk him to where you're pretty sure he wants to go, holding his hand firmly so he doesn't get lost or overwhelmed by all the people.
He brightens up the moment he's under the trees of the city park.
“I know It doesn't compare to the woods we were in last week but…"
He smiles up at you, sitting on the ground picking at grass.
“It's nice…Babe."
His eyebrows furrow, the word must be unfamiliar on his tongue, your ex never called you by any pet names, none that you could call affectionate. He does that often, tries to do things he thinks you'd like to keep up his charade but it seems he has difficulty finding the muscle memory in his stolen body for any tender actions.
He clearly struggles with his wants and his desire for his nature to stay a secret, and it makes you wish you could just confess that you already know but everyone on your little forum advised against it. Nobody gives much information besides the basics, the location and what mimics are, you assume if you even hint at what you’ve done, you’ll be blocked and banned from the secretive group.
Worst case scenario is your mimic starts acting more like your ex in an effort to keep his secret safe. Maybe if you encourage him to do things your ex would never do then he’ll continue forming an entirely different personality on his own without even realising it.
He closes his eyes and lays flat on the grass, the site makes you stifle a laugh before you sit down next to him.
“Y'know, you could work here as park staff. You'd get to come here every day and look after the park and the animals, maybe improve your people skills a little?"
You confidence fizzles out a little as you speak, your ex would've had an outburst if you even mentioned him getting a job. He looks up at the trees and breathes in deeply, unlike the stiff mechanical breaths he usually repeats.
Your husband nods his head, turning to look at you.
“I want that."
You smile back down at him. He wants that. Not you nor your ex’s ghost. Him.
You’re both cuddling on the couch, eyes glued to the documentary playing on the TV, the calming voice of David Attenborough helping you relax after a long day.
“The leader raccoon and I are on good terms again."
Your husband mumbles, sliding his hand up and down your back. You hum for him to continue, head resting on his harder than normal chest as you breathe in his always piney scent.
“He wont be messing trash all over the walkways anymore.”
You mumble a little, “That’s great, Honey.” watching a very majestic humpback whale come up for air.
He says your name softly and you crane your neck up to look at him. The conflicted look on his face makes you pause.
“I used to work in I.T before I quit a few years ago… Why did you think I would like working at the park?"
You expected questions from him, far more than he’s actually thrown at you but you still tense up when he actually asks you something from your ex’s memories. You try to recite exactly what you practiced in your head many times over.
“Well…ever since that camping trip you've been acting different…in a good way. I think getting out there and reconnecting with nature really helped you out of your slump. You have a job now and a friend even though he's a raccoon."
He looks away almost bashfully, giving the TV a long calculating look before meeting your eyes again. “I changed… for the better?”
You nod, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. Maybe this is it, this is how you keep him from realising you know but also keep him from acting more like your ex for his own self-preservation.
“Yeah, that trip was good for you. You’re happier and kind and helpful and you don’t get so… angry all the time. I- I really like it.”
You stroke his cheek lightly, this past month has really been the happiest you’ve been in years. You just wish you could show him how much you want him, not who he’s failing at pretending to be.
“Even if it’s different?”
The hope in his voice lights up your heart.
“I love the new you... more than I ever loved the old one.”
He meets your eyes and it’s like you can see all his emotions in his blown out pupils. His fingers graze your cheek and he leans forward, bringing you into a kiss. You kiss him back, straddling his lap as he sits up. He pulls on your sweater, bringing you closer,
“You love me. You love me.” He mumbles like a prayer into your skin as he kisses your neck. This poor creature spent all this time thinking you wanted another man, probably carrying guilt at being the one to take said man away from you. If only he knew.
His hand carves through your hair and you think you feel him shiver before you softly bite his neck, not hard enough to hurt, just to leave a mark. He bucks his hips and moans, actually moans.
Your sex lives have mostly consisted of pretty vanilla fucking with him only letting out grunts every now and then. You figured that’s all he knew how to do and he just needed some time to get comfortable. It was far better than your sex life before him so you were sure to never complain lest he start trying to look into your ex’s memories for reference.
But hearing the sound he just made fired up something inside you that's been dormant for a long time. You want to hear it again so you bite down again but you were clearly too overzealous because he winces and pulls you back by your hair, making you let out a surprised whine of pain. Suddenly you’re not warm anymore, you’re freezing and the man in front of you isn’t your mimic anymore, it’s your husband. It happens in an instant, you push him away from you and scramble back to the other side of the couch.
He goes completely rigid and the horrified look on his face knocks you out of your panicked state immediately. He looks down at his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist and then looks back to you. It’s almost like you can tell exactly what memories you’ve just triggered, just by looking at his face. You crawl a little closer to him, trying not to shake too much.
“No, no, It's okay, It’s- I’m fine."
He shakes his head, suddenly standing up, straight and rigid like a tree.
“I need the bathroom."
He walks off, twitching slightly, shoulders tensed all the way up to his ears and you hear the bathroom door slide shut.
He stays in there for hours. Hours of alternating between frantic pacing and sitting on the couch with your head in your hands trying not to cry. What’s worse, killed by a monster you thought could love you or abused by said monster just like the husband you killed.
You want to believe your mimic wouldn’t do that to you but there was a time where you thought your husband would never lay a hand on you either. When it gets late enough, you decide to head to bed, not to sleep but to at least have somewhere soft to wait for your fate. You can’t run even if you wanted to, the other members of the forum made that clear, if it wants to, it’ll find you.
Curled on your side, you don't turn around when the door creaks open and he pads into the room. The footsteps stop at his side of the bed and everything is silent except for those distinct snapping sounds you haven’t heard since that night. You take deep breaths, readying yourself to get what you probably deserve.
You feel the bed dip and he pulls himself under the sheets. He slinks an arm around you, pressing you against his unmoving chest. He isn’t even trying to pretend to breathe anymore, not trying to seem human any longer because what would be the point?
You hear something from behind you, a whispery, scratching sound, you don’t even register that it’s coming from him at first. Eventually it becomes more distinct, a voice, his voice, not your husband’s but a voice that sounds airy and sharp, like leaves rustling in the wind.
“He’s dead.”
The bed dips further behind you, like he’s getting heavier somehow. You feel a strange thickness climb over your body under the sheets, it smells like pine and you let it slowly swallow you.
“We killed him."
Your tears flow freely and you pull the sticky, viscous form of your lover closer to you, seeking it’s warmth, it’s comfort. You cling to it, feeling vines wrap around your legs and sturdy bark under your fingers. It brushes your tears away with the softness of a flower petal.
“I will never let you suffer like that again.”
The smell of dirt and moss is strong, you welcome it into your lungs.
The animosity between you two was less of a grudge and more of a permanent low grade infection that seemed to fester every time he entered your life.
He was the most reprehensible, loathsome man you had ever met. That chard thing having not only the appearance of an ash tray, but the intelligence and emotional bandwidth of one as well.
The only thing he was good for, really, was a cruel laugh to make yourself feel better.
Or a good fuck.
“Fuuuuck-“
The sound tore from your throat, low and guttural, before you could even think to stop it. You buried your face into his mattress, inhaling the scent of musky sheets and the vague odor of wet dog, desperate to muffle the sounds of your pleasure before that asshole’s name could follow.
Sadly, the physical reality of him was something you couldn't deny, no matter how much your brain tried to hate him. His admittedly huge cock was splitting you open from behind, stretching you in a way that made you feel both stretched and incredibly full. Somehow, he knew exactly how to angle his hips to hit both your gummy g-spot and your cervix all at once, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your entire pelvis
The hand splayed across the small of your back was probably to blame, forcing your trembling body into a sinfully exquisite arch that had you gasping and writhing beneath him, squealing in ecstasy.
“C’mon, you’re getting fucked like a whore, you might as well sound like one too.”
Unluckily for you, Jeff’s free hand made itself useful when he noticed you trying to smother your cries and moans.
Grabbing the back of your neck and the base of your skull he grabbed a healthy fistful and yanked—firm enough for it to hurt, but gentle enough to keep all of your precious hair intact.
“Shit, shit—Jeff you fucking asshole.” You whined, blood rushing to your already red cheeks in shame as you cried out his name.
“An asshole, huh? For being a slut—“ your walls fluttered at the insult, making him groan and stutter as he felt every twitch along his throbbing length. “For being such’a *slut*,” he repeated, more out of breath than before, “you sure are afraid to act like one!”
All you could do was groan, too fucked silly to formulate a proper response and too well aware that he would stop if you complained too much. Not due to his exceptionally fragile ego, but simply because he enjoyed a just reason to make anyone suffer.
“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.” He chortled, hand leaving your neck as you fell back down into the sweaty sheets below.
Cheek pressed into the mess of fabric, your eyes fluttered shut as an immense pressure began building in your abdomen—something *different* from your previous orgasms that night. It was a pressure that wasn't just in your stomach, but in your entire body, a feeling of impending explosion.
Before you could so much as part your lips to warn him, Jeff’s scarred hand returned to your body, slipping betwixt trembling thighs to your swollen clit that had been neglected for some time.
Pinching the sensitive nub with enough pressure to make you see white he rubbed it in circles between his fingers, leaning more weight into you as he did. His thrusts never faltered, but his breath did—a stuttered staccato of moans and gasps.
You fell in step alongside him, nearly screaming as your walls began to spasm and twitch. The sensation was overwhelming, a cascade of pleasure that felt like it was going to tear you apart. You were right there, on the edge of a precipice, and you knew he was about to push you over.
“Be good and make a mess for me, let it all out for me.”
At his command, you couldn’t help but oblige. Your sex gave one final seize before he came inside of you just as your walls forced his cock out, dripping a sticky, bitter substance in its wake.
“There we go…” he crooned, rubbing your clit through the aftermath of your orgasm, forcing you to squirt one more time before finally pulling away.
He seemed oddly proud and you couldn’t quite tell if it was of himself, or you.
————-
The ache between your legs had finally faded, but the memory of it remained—a phantom throb, a reminder of the last time Jeff had wrung you out and left you to dry on the sheets. Three days. It had been three days of blessed, maddening silence. Your apartment felt too big, too quiet without his heavy tread scuffing up your floors or his grunted complaints about your lack of edible food.
You missed him. And that fact was a more bitter pill to swallow than the cheap whiskey you were currently nursing.
That’s how you ended up on the fire escape, a thin metal platform perched on the edge of the woods. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant traffic. You wore nothing but an old, oversized hoodie and a pair of his boxers you’d stolen—the fabric worn soft and smelling faintly of him, a comfort you despised. Your legs dangled over the edge, swinging gently in the breeze, your eyes tracing the treeline where the city lights dissolved into darkness.
This was your ritual. A twisted form of birdwatching. You were waiting for the magpie, the one with the chard-skin and scavenger’s soul. Sometimes he’d emerge, and you’d trade barbs across the distance, a verbal sparring match that left you buzzing. Sometimes he’d climb the ladder, raid your fridge, and leave without a word. Most often, he’d climb up, pull you inside, and fuck you until the only thing you could remember was his name, before vanishing before the sun came up.
He was a ghost, a headache, and the most regular thing in your life. You hated how much you craved that awful consistency.
Tonight, the woods were still. The moon hung high and round, a sterile, perfect disk that made the shadows below seem deeper, more menacing. You took a long, slow sip from your bottle , watching the exhale of your breath curl and dissipate into the night. Just as you were about to give up, to retreat back into the hollow quiet of your apartment, a voice rasped from the darkness below, startling you.
“Lurking out here again? You gonna start paying rent for this ledge?”
The sound was a physical thing, a gravelly vibration that seemed to travel up the metal frame and straight into your bones. You didn’t bother looking down. You knew the shape of his shadow, the particular crunch his boots made on the gravel.
“It’s a better view than your face,” you called back, your voice raspy. “And it smells better, too.”
A low, rusty chuckle echoed up to you. Then came the sound you’d been waiting for: the groan of the old fire escape ladder as it took his weight. It protested with each rung, a rhythmic groan-metal-scrape that announced his slow, deliberate ascent. He wasn’t in a hurry.
He never was.
When he finally hauled himself over the railing, he was a study in beautiful decay. The moonlight carved him in sharp relief, highlighting the uneven, scarred terrain of his face. A fresh gash ran from his temple to his jaw, still raw and weeping. He was caked in dirt and what looked suspiciously like blood, and his clothes were torn in several places. He smelled of pine, damp soil, and something coppery and sharp underneath it all.
He stood there for a moment, a predator surveying his territory, before his eyes found yours. They gleamed in the dim light, dark and unreadable. He ran a grimy hand through his matted hair, dislodging a twig that fell to the grating with a soft clink.
“Rough night in the woods?” you asked, taking another drink of your well-earned booze.
He grunted, a non-committal sound, and moved closer. He didn’t sit, just loomed over you, blocking the moon. His presence was suffocating, a gravitational pull you both hated and craved.
“Something like that,” he rumbled, his voice a low vibration. “Figured I’d come see if my favorite pain in the ass was still up here acting like a gargoyle.”
He reached out, his fingers calloused and rough, and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence etched into his skin.
“Miss me?”
His question hung in the air, a challenge or a taunt—you couldn’t quite tell.
You flinched away from his touch, the brief gentleness feeling more insulting than a slap.
"Go fuck yourself," you muttered, swinging a leg back over the railing to retreat inside. "I was just enjoying the quiet before the garbage truck showed up."
He laughed, that same rusty, grating sound. "Liar." He didn't move to stop you, just watched as you clambered back through the open window, the boxers riding up your thighs. "You're all prickly because you're empty."
The word hit its mark. You were empty. Your fridge was empty, your apartment was empty, and the ache in your gut was a hollow, hungry thing. You spun around, glaring at him from the relative safety of your bedroom.
"And whose fault is that? You ate the last of my frozen pizza three days ago."
"So get more," he said with a shrug, finally swinging a leg over the railing to follow you inside. He moved with an unnerving grace, his big body fitting through the window frame with practiced ease. He landed on your floor with a soft thud, his boots tracking dirt and pine needles onto your clean rug.
"And what? Pay for it with the good vibes you bring into my life?" you shot back, crossing your arms. "I'm out."
He stopped, his head tilting. "Out of what?"
"Everything. Food. Alcohol. Patience." You gestured vaguely at him. "I'm not hosting you, you dickwad. We're not doing this here tonight."
For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—disappointment?—in his dark eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual sullen indifference. He looked around your small apartment, his gaze lingering on the empty bottle on your counter.
"Fine," he grunted, turning back toward the window. "Don't get your panties in a twist."
"Where are you going?"
"Out," he said, his back to you. "To get a drink. Since you're all out of hospitality."
A ridiculous, desperate idea sparked in your mind. You didn't want to be alone. You didn't want him to leave, not really. But you couldn't stand the thought of him sulking in your space, a constant reminder of your own need. You grabbed a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from your dresser and shoved it in your pocket.
"Wait," you called out, just as he was about to swing his leg back over the railing. He paused, looking over his shoulder. "Don't break your neck. I'm coming with you."
He raised a scarred eyebrow. "Coming with me where?"
"You want a drink? I'll buy," you said, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. "But we're not going to a bar. And you're not coming back here. We'll go to your place."
A slow, predatory grin spread across his face. He saw right through you, of course. He knew you were just trying to maintain some semblance of control, to dictate the terms of this miserable arrangement.
"My place?" he chuckled. "You sure about that, sweet cheeks? It's a bit of a walk."
"I'm sure," you lied, slipping on a pair of boots. "Lead the way, caveman. Just try not to trip over your own knuckles on the way."
———
The air in the clearing was thick with pine needles and the heavy, humid stillness of the woods. You’d dragged Jeff out here because you were desperate to get a drink, and he had made the mistake of agreeing to come along.
You sat on a fallen oak log, legs swinging idly as you shook a bottle of cheap whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing against the glass. Jeff was slumped against a tree stump a few feet away, looking thoroughly unimpressed. He was staring at the ground, one boot kicked out, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You look like you’re waiting for a funeral,” you called out, cracking the seal on the bottle.
He looked up, his eyes narrowing. “I’m waiting for you to stop making me walk into the middle of nowhere for a sip of swill.”
“Gee, thanks for the hospitality,” you shot back, unscrewing the cap with a pop. “Open up. It’ll make me less annoying.”
You held the bottle out to him, offering the first pour without waiting for a verbal invitation. He didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, snatched the bottle, and took a long, desperate gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed it back, looking only slightly less miserable.
You took a swig yourself, grimacing at the burn. It was rough, but it did the job. You took another, more generous pour for yourself and leaned back against the log.
“Seriously,” Jeff grumbled, kicking a small pebble that skittered across the forest floor. “Why here?”
“Because it’s quiet,” you said, tilting the bottle back. “And because I needed to get you out of my apartment. You’re like a bad rash.”
Jeff scoffed, a sound that lacked any actual humor. “A rash that fucks like a freak. I’ll take it.”
You laughed, a sharp, short burst of air. “You think that’s the only reason I let you stay over.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watched you drink. The silence between you was comfortable in a way that felt dangerous. He shifted his weight, leaning his shoulder against the tree, the rough bark catching on the sleeve of his jacket.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he finally said, his voice low. “But don't pretend you don't like it.”
You took another drink, letting the burn settle in your stomach. “I hate you, Jeff.”
“I know,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You’ve been saying it since the day we met. You hate that you need me as much as you do.”
You stared at him, the whiskey burning a hole in your gut. The confident smirk on his face, the way he so casually laid bare the ugly truth of your dependence, made you want to slap it right off his scarred mouth.
"You're so fucking full of yourself," you snarled, shoving the bottle towards his chest. He caught it easily, his expression unchanging. "You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? That I'm just some pathetic, needy thing who can't function without your magical, savior dick."
He took a slow pull from the bottle, his eyes never leaving yours. "I never said it was magical," he said, wiping his mouth. "But it's the only thing that shuts you up, isn't it? The only time you're not fucking complaining or moping."
The words hit you like a physical blow, because they were true. That was the part you hated most. He didn't just fuck you; he silenced the constant, chattering noise in your head. He gave you a moment of peace by drowning you in sensation, and you hated him for being your only antidote.
"You're a goddamn parasite," you hissed, scrambling to your feet. The world tilted slightly from the sudden movement and the cheap liquor. "You show up when you're hungry or horny, you take what you want, and then you crawl back into your little dirt-hole until you need something again. Don't you dare stand there and act like you know a single thing about what I need."
"I know what you want," he shot back, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. He stood too, his full height imposing in the dappled moonlight. "You want to be treated like you hate it. You want to be used so you have a reason to complain. You want to be able to point at me and say 'he's the problem,' so you don't have to look in the fucking mirror."
"Fuck you," you spat, turning away. "You don't know me."
"I know you better than anyone," he said, grabbing your arm. His grip was like iron, stopping you cold. "I know you hate your job. I know you hate your neighbors. I know you lie awake at night thinking about the woods. I know you hate being alone more than you hate me."
You wrenched your arm free with a violent jerk, the skin tingling where his fingers had been. "Let go of me," you seethed, your voice trembling with a fury so hot it felt like tears. "I'm not your fucking project. I'm not a puzzle for you to solve so you can feel smart or like less of a roach than you really are."
He just watched you, his infuriating calm a stark contrast to your raging emotions. He took another swig from the bottle, holding it out to you like an offering. "Then what are you?"
You looked from the bottle to his face—the smug, scarred, beautiful face that you both loved and hated with every fiber of your being. And you realized he was right. He was right about all of it. He was the problem, but he was also the solution, and that paradox was going to eat you alive.
"I'm done," you whispered, the fight draining out of you all at once. "I'm so fucking done with this."
You spun on your heel and started walking, not even sure which direction would lead you back to the city. You just needed to move, to get away from the suffocating truth of his words and the suffocating presence of his body
"Where are you going?" he called after you, his voice laced with the first hint of something other than cool indifference. Annoyance? Maybe even concern.
"Away from you!" you shouted back, not looking back. You stumbled over a root, catching yourself on a tree. The bark scraped your palm, but you didn't feel it. You just kept walking, deeper into the woods, away from the clearing and the man and the bottle of whiskey that held up a mirror you refused to look into.
_________
You stumbled through your front door, kicking off your boots with a clumsy, frustrated thud. The woods had been too cold, the air too thick, and the silence of the night had done nothing but amplify the gnawing ache between your legs. You wanted a drink. You wanted to be alone. You wanted to forget that you’d been so easily swayed by a man who treated you like shit.
You dropped onto the mattress, not even bothering to change clothes, and buried your face in the pillows. The exhaustion was absolute, dragging you under before your head even hit the foam.
The transition into sleep was violent, a sudden drop into blackness where time ceased to exist. You floated in the void for an eternity, then—you were suddenly drowning in heat.
It wasn't the suffocating dark this time. It was a wet, searing friction against your hip. You gasped, a ragged, involuntary sound that didn't belong to you, your body seizing in the sudden, sharp jolt of sensory overload. Your eyes snapped open, but they were unfocused, seeing only static and grey shadows.
You were on your bed. The sheets were twisted around your legs. A shadow loomed over you, blocking out the moonlight from the window.
It was Jeff.
He was on his knees between your thighs, his face buried between your legs. The reality hit you with the force of a freight train, your brain struggling to piece together the scene.
You were naked.
He was naked.
His mouth was buried between your legs, his tongue a rough, demanding muscle working you over with a fervor that bordered on aggression.
You couldn't help but moan, a long, shuddering sound that escaped your throat. Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more of that exquisite torture. Your walls fluttered and clenched around nothing, a non-physical tightness that you couldn't seem to scratch.
He pulled back slightly, a strand of saliva connecting his lip to your swollen clit. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense, a predator inspecting its prey
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, dripping with satisfaction. "Still trying to act like you're so tough. Like you're better than me."
His hand moved to your hip, his fingers digging in hard, leaving bruises that would surely be there in the morning. "But you're not tough. You're just a needy little thing who can't get enough of my mouth."
He leaned back in, his tongue flicking against your clit, causing you to arch your back off the mattress. "So tight," he groaned, the vibrations traveling through your body. "You get so wet just from being close to me. Pathetic."
You gasped, the degradation washing over you, mingling with the intense pleasure. Your mind went blank, the only thought being of his mouth and the incredible sensation of being eaten alive.
He pulled back again, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wide. "Look at you," he said, his voice dripping with pride. "Look at how good you look when you're being used."
He leaned in, his tongue diving deep, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. "You're so good," he whispered. "So fucking good. You take it so well."
You came with a cry, your body shuddering, your walls clenching around his tongue, milking him for all he was worth. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, and you felt him swallow, his throat working as he took everything you gave him.
He pulled back, his face glistening with your arousal. He sat back on his heels, looking at you with a look of supreme satisfaction, a look of pure, unadulterated adoration.
"Good girl," he said, his voice a rough, whisper. "Such a good girl."
You lay there, gasping, your body still convulsing around the blissful sensation of his tongue. The air in the room was heavy, thick with the scent of sex and pine, and you couldn't bring yourself to care that you were completely bare and exposed to him.
Jeff didn't give you time to recover. He moved quickly, his large frame looming over you as he braced his hands on either side of your head. He didn't ask for permission; he didn't even look for a sign of consent. He just knew you were awake enough to take it.
"Open your legs," he commanded, his voice rough with lust.
You did as you were told, your body moving on instinct, parting your thighs to accept him. He groaned, the sound low and primal, as he positioned himself at your entrance.
He didn't tease. He didn't wait. He thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, hard stroke.
You cried out, your back arching off the mattress, your fingernails digging into his shoulders. He was huge, stretching you wide, filling you up in a way that made you feel both full and empty. He began to move, his hips snapping against yours, his thrusts deep and fast, driving you higher and higher.
"You're so tight," he grunted, his face contorted with effort and pleasure. "I can feel every inch of you. You're squeezing me so hard."
He reached down and grabbed your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, leaving bruises that would surely be mixed with the ones from his mouth.
"Look at me," he ordered.
You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark and intense, his jaw clenched tight.
"You're so beautiful when you're being used," he whispered, leaning down to kiss you. His kiss was rough and hungry, tasting of you and him. "So perfect."
He pulled back slightly, his thumb rubbing over your clit, making you gasp. "Such a good girl," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You take it so well. You're my good little slut.
You moaned, your body tightening around him, your walls fluttering as he continued to pound into you. The sensation was overwhelming, a cascade of pleasure and pain that washed over you. You felt like you were going to scream.
"You're so wet for me," he groaned, his breath hitching. "I can hear you. It's so fucking loud."
He shifted his weight, pulling your legs up onto his shoulders, giving him deeper access. The new angle made you cry out, your body shuddering, your toes curling.
"Take it," he ordered. "Take all of it. You're made for this. You're made to be fucked."
You couldn't speak. You could only moan and beg, your body moving in perfect sync with his. You were floating on a sea of sensation, your mind going blank, the only thing that existed was the feeling of him inside you.
He reached down and grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your neck to him. "Look at you," he groaned, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're so beautiful when you're cumming."
He thrust deep, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars, and you came with a cry, your body shuddering, your walls clenching around him. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, and he came with a roar, filling you up, his seed spilling out of you as he pulled out and collapsed beside you.
He rolled onto his side, pulling you close, his arm around your waist, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Good girl," he whispered, kissing your forehead. "You were so good. So fucking good."
Part 2 to When another girl tries threatening the relationship between a yandere and his darling
Tw: death, blood and it is described a bit
Part 1
——————————————
You could only stare up at him in horror from what he said. You could still hear her. Choking on her blood, her trying to cough it out so she could breathe but you knew no matter what you did there was no hope in saving her. She would soon die from how deep her wounds were and how she was loosing blood.
“N-no.. we can’t..” You started to shake your head as you slowly came out of the shock. You tried pulling away from him but his grip only tightened. Tugging you back to him as he looked at you with faux concern.
“Shh shh.. shh.. it’s okay. No one will find out.” He whispered softly. As if someone finding out was the only concern there was about all of this. His hand on your cheek moved up a bit, wiping at the tears starting to fall.
When did you start crying?
You didn’t even know when the tears started to spill or how shallow your breath was now. You felt yourself now on the verge of a panic attack.
Hearing her gurgles as she stared to drown on her blood. Feeling his blood stain hands on you and the guilt that you could’ve been the cause of this. It was all too much. Just a few hours ago you were laughing about some stupid joke with him. Now you’re here with him like this.
“N-no..! You just killed her!” You suddenly snapped at him, trying once more to push him away but he barely budged. Instead he looked at you as if you were the crazy one, like what he did wasn’t a literal crime. As though taking away a life was nothing to him.
“My love.. she was in the way. Who knows what she might have done if I was no longer around.” He spoke to so softly. Trying to justify his actions, as if something like this could be justified.
“She wasn’t in the way. You just couldn’t keep your temper in!” You exclaimed. Forcing yourself to look up at him with a glare.
His eyes narrowed a little before he softened his expression once more. He didn’t like how you sided with her. After everything she did, how she had hurt you and tried to separate the two of yall.
But you were just a bit emotional. Maybe even tired from work that it was the reason you were now saying nonsense. He could let what you said go for now but his patience was running thin.
“You’re just tired. I’m sure after some sleep you will see what I was doing.” He said calmly, a bit too softly and tried to usher you to the parking lot so yall could leave.
“No! I’m not just tired..! Let me go-!” You yelled once more and tried to pull your arm away from him this time. But that was the final straw. Next thing you know your back was pressed against the wall and pinning you against it.
Harshly grabbing your chin he tilted your head up, forcing you to look up at him.
“No you stop.” He growled and you couldn’t help but freeze. He’s never been this harsh, this mean that you couldn’t help but feel a little afraid.
Though when he saw the scared look in your eyes the anger he felt immediately vanished. He didn’t like that, he didn’t like seeing you scared of him when you should feel protected in his presence.
“Fuck… no im sorry i didn’t mean to scare you. You just aren’t listening..” He said softly this time. His grip on you loosened but you were afraid to try to run. Knowing he could easily catch you and what he would do if you did.
“I’m so sorry, love.. please don’t be scared.” His hand was now cupping your cheek. His touch so gentle as if he was holding something fragile.
A soft gasp left your lips feeling something poke at your skin. You glanced down to see a needle piercing into your thigh. Looking back up at him in disbelief and betrayal.
“I only want what’s best for you. You’ll see, I only want to care for you.” He whispered and immediately caught you as you started to stumble. Barely having any strength to stay standing up. Things were starting to get dizzy and you tried to blink away the darkness that tried to overcome you.
“H-how… could you..?” Your voice was weak and but slurred as you weakly cling onto him before he threw the needle away and effortlessly picked you up. You have no more strength in you to fight back.
Walking straight to the parking lot with you in his arms he knew he would have to figure out a cover story fast. He wasn’t letting you go so easily again. He would make sure that this time, there would be no way yall could be separated. No matter what it takes.
————————————————
Please no putting my writing in any AI chat, bot etc. And also no reposting as your own. Thank you for reading (つ˃ᵕ˂)つ⸝♡
Hey, babs, how silly do the creeps get during sex? Are there any moments that they just cant go on without laughing? Emberrement or failed sex hcs?
GIGGLED SOOOO BADDDD
!! SO HELP ME GOD !! ⟡
AKA -> What happens when your smooth, ice-cold killer, fumbles between the sheets?
Ft. T. Wright, B. Thomas, T. Rogers, J. Woods, J. Nyras & A Jack In The Box !!
Suggestive, GN! But reader menstruates in EJ’s :p
— ^ ^ —
Tim -> ->
Heat and hands, nothing else.
The mission had gone to shit. Fire covering every corner he turned, and that was after the week he’d had. Pent up couldn’t even begin to describe what he felt upon seeing you.
He’d thrown you onto the mattress, pinning you with your hands above your head. His kisses were simmering, barely contained hunger in each one. Yet, when he dipped down to trail along your navel, you cradled his jaw.
“Let me take care of you.”
Softly whispered; he gave in like a man hypnotized.
Now, Lying on his back while you crawled over him, he sighed. Letting his tension fade as you dropped your hips. Grinding through the fabric. “Missed you, sugar. Missed you bad.” He grunted, tone quiet. His head tilted back and you slid your palms up to rest on his chest.
Squeezing the plush muscle, you hummed. “Poor baby.” Cooing, your tease made him huff a laugh. “Yeah, yeah- I know. I’m real needy.” You always knew exactly where to touch, what to say. Easing him slowly, a cure-all elixir in the shape of something warm.
You leaned forward, slipping your palms to cup his face. Lips molded to his. “Always take such good care of me-“ You spoke into between pecks, freckling his skin with affection. “Make me feel so, so safe.” Kiss. “My pretty boy.” Smooch. “All mine.” Mwah.
Tim could die here. Wrapped up in a bubble where you held him close- gun to his head at this second? He’d pass on blissful.
Breathing in deeply, he craned his neck to the side. Giving you room to trace down to his collar while you murmur. Voice softer than silk. “Missed you too, y’know? It doesn’t feel good if it’s not you.” He groaned in response. “If yer’ tryna’ butter me up, it’s workin’.” Rasping a chuckle when you grinned against his throat.
Sultry, you nipped at the exposed skin. “I’d never.” It came out hushed, and he sank his fingers into your hips. Rocking you onto denim. “My baby’s a liar—“
He jolted like he’d been shot.
“Ow- ah, shit.” Sputtering, he cringed, making you sit up. Perplexed, you arched a brow. “What-?” Then the culprit made itself know. You watched as Tim awkwardly shuffled, reaching behind him to tug out a stray dagger. It had somehow unlatched itself from his holster, stabbing him in the back. Literally.
See, while getting it on right after a mission was hot in theory. It wasn’t exactly… practical, in his line of work. He returned, immediately pouncing on you without removing anything. Which meant his tools, knives and guns alike, were very much still attached. Activating in the middle of foreplay, and embarrassing him to hell and back.
He grimaced, guilt painting his features. “I- uh- sorry, hun.” The expression made you giggle before you could hold back.
“Oh, Tim-“
“It’s fine, I’m fine. We can just-“
His attempt to brush it off was interrupted by a sharp hiss. Face scrunching up in pain as you pressed your lips together. “Let’s take off your belt first.” He hated how logical you were.
Scooting off him, you swung your legs over the side of the bed. Gaze following his frame when he propped himself up. Shrugging off his jacket- and sure enough, there was blood. A red patch that stained your linen. He noticed it the exact moment you did, sighing heavily.
“… We should look at your cut.”
“The lord wants me dead, sug’. He does.”
Your poor lover looked so defeated, you had to laugh. “It’s okay, we can kiss after. I just wanna’ make sure you don’t bleed out.” The brunette tensed his jaw. All he wanted was to have a nice night. One, singular moment of peace. Why must this happen? Why must he be cursed in this way?
“Stop sulking- I still think you’re very sexy. Even if you get stabbed a little sometimes… in bed-“
“Don’t patronize me.”
ᯓ★
Brian -> ->
May lightening strike him swiftly.
It had started out effortlessly, nearly perfect. A slow night in, where you two would relax. Wind down, enjoy the peace. You’d settled yourself on his lap, perched atop his thighs and aching.
His touch left goosebumps in its wake, making you shiver. “Bri-“ Your gasp was breathless, and he chuckled. Trailing carefully up your spine, precise. “I know, ‘m here.” The baritone in his voice was intoxicating.
Unraveling you with ease, he played your body like a fine tuned instrument. Every movement was exact, every line delivered with purpose. Brian knew you better than you did.
“Please.” You whispered against his skin. Lips brushing over his as you grind. The zipper nudged into your clothed core, and you grasped at his shoulders. “Please… what? C’mon dolly, talk to me nice.” Always mocking, teasing you, driving you up a wall. Only to calm your nerves with the thick drag of his cock.
You were desperate, throbbing with need. Humping his bulge pathetically while he cocked his head to the side. “Want it?” Cadence low, you nodded. Pawing at his sweater when he cupped your ass. “Mhm- so bad. Want you so bad.” You whined, the pitch making him twitch in his jeans.
“Yeah? Then—“
ACHOO!
A sneeze, spraying across your neck. It was so loud you jumped, and the surprise hit you right after. Blinking, you stared at him while he stared back. A solid ten seconds of silence before he spoke. However, the moment he parted his lips- “Excuse me-“ His voice cracked.
Never, in all his years, all his experience and violence, had Hoodie ever been this humiliated.
Another ten seconds of silence and bless your heart because lord knows you tried. But unfortunately for him, you couldn’t hold it in. You snorted, then slapped both palms over your mouth. Ruined underwear be damned, his expression was killing you. Absolutely distraught.
He looked like he genuinely couldn’t believe that happened. Squinting at the wall behind you as If questioning everything he’d ever done.
A smooth talker, they’d labeled him. Silver-tongued and stone-faced. Allegedly- because right now, he felt anything but. He grimaced, rigidly meeting your eye with a tight frown.
“… Darlin’-“
“Brian.”
One syllable, yet your voice trembled. Breath unsteady with each inhale. You were desperately trying not to laugh. It was just so difficult when he’d never looked like his mask more.
The dam broke with a bang, and you double over. Giggling behind your hands, your forehead fell onto his shoulder. Body shaking on the spot. The groan he let out vibrated to the roof.
Reaching up, he grabbed a fistful of his hood. Yanking it down to cover his face harshly. “Alright- okay.” He mumbled, teeth grit. This must be his punishment. The tax that came with his accumulated sins. It had to be. Like seriously? The guy had barely even stuttered before he met you- so of course this is when his mouth fails.
You were never going to let him live this down. It would be brought up during every conversation, every possible scenario where you were allowed to speak freely.
So much for mysterious and brooding. Or whatever the hell else you called him. This singular moment had undone all his reputation in your eyes. He knew it- you for damn sure knew it. It was over, and he had been condemned to a lifetime of embarrassment.
Hoodie’s hand was still on your hip, and you reclined. “Consider me swooned, lover.” Your tone had him pouting, before he burrowed his face into your collar.
“How much for you ta’ forget that happened?”
“More than you could ever afford, Bri.”
ᯓ★
Toby -> ->
Teeth clashing, down and dirty.
His appetite was insatiable, ruthless as he swallowed your whines. He had arrived home extra agitated, beyond stressed from the mission.
Tics flaring, the emotions swirled through him. They made all his muscles tense, contract, and jolt. Toby needed an out and he needed it now. He’d borderline slammed you onto the couch. Putting his strength to use while you squirmed.
“Tobes- what’s gotten into you-?” A breathy mewl interrupted your pry, and you arched. His teeth had sunk into your neck, the feeling making you gasp beneath him. “N-need you- need you s-suh-so fucking bad.”
He mumbled, hurriedly tugging up your shirt. Latching onto the perky nubs with a hum. “Fuck-“ His tongue was so wet, mouth drooling onto your skin. From zero to one-hundred, you were panting. Locking your ankles behind his back.
Each grind of his hips sent sparks of pleasure up your spine. Thrumming into your blood, making you shiver off the high. “Ngh- Toby.” Your lids were heavy. Lips parted as he rutted forward. His head jolted to the left roughly- and the loud crack had your eyes shooting open.
Above you, the brunette had stilled. While he couldn’t feel the pain, his neck was still egregiously stiff out of nowhere.
Toby had pulled a muscle.
The lines along his throat protruded, and you could clearly see the strained tendon. Veins pulsing under his pale skin. It looked genuinely concerning- there was no way you could brush it off. Especially when he glanced down, perplexed.
“I t-think it’s fine-“
“We should pause.”
His jaw dropped, utterly aghast when you pushed him upright. “What? No- I can’t even feel it. I’m fine-“ He tried rolling his shoulders, and your hands shot out in panic. The tight muscle had lurched terribly, appearing an inch away from snapping.
“Please just sit still, I’ll grab ice.” Your worried mumble had him groaning. Slumping into the cushions with his arms crossed. What the hell did you mean he couldn’t fuck his pretty baby? Just because his stupid neck gave out? It didn’t even hurt.
You returned with an ice pack in hand, the frozen brick wrapped in a towel. It was placed against the area, and his pout deepened. This sucked.
“Can we continue after?”
“Toby.”
“Ughhhhh-“
Rolling his eyes so far back he saw his skull, he puffed. “I’m literally f-fine. I’m not g-gonna’ break or somethin’.” Almost bratty, you sighed in response. “I know you’re fine. I just don’t need you explaining to your medic that you’re there because we got too rowdy. Again. Do you remember last time?”
The memory was something he’d rather forget, but he gave a stiff nod anyway. Clicking his tongue. “C-can we do it gentle then? I’ll be careful.”
Curse your lover and his comically large puppy eyes.
You exhaled slowly, cupping his cheeks. “No speeding up and no choking tonight.” Toby’s expression could make someone believe you’d just killed his mother. Brows pinched up in anguish, the boy had never looked more betrayed.
“Y-you hate me.”
“I am not holding your hand when your boss yells at you ‘cause you’re out of commission. From being lustful, Tobias. Comatose from greed-“
“Then let me be paralyzed.”
ᯓ★
Jeff -> ->
In hindsight, maybe killing himself would’ve been smarter.
It’d been a long, long assignment. He had been sent away for over two full weeks. Leaving him with nothing but his hand and a worn down Polaroid of you. Well, it was more your ass than you, but same difference.
Jeff came home starving. Ripping the clothes from you, his knife shredding your shirt clean in half. He’d bent you over the counter right then and there. Blood still crusting on his sleeve as he yanked down his belt.
He kneaded the fat of your ass, spreading you through your underwear. Slotting his cock against you, snug. “Look at you, needy fuckin’ whore.” He snickered, hooking a thumb under the elastic. The cotton was tugged off you in record time, and you gasped.
Head thrown back when he nudged the tip at your entrance. “Ah- please.” Missions were tough on you both, the distance making you more than restless. It’d been awhile since he’d stuffed you full, and you white-knuckled the counter.
The stretch of his girth had your jaw slack. “Mmph- f-fuck-“ Eyes crossing when he brought his hips back, slamming balls deep in a blink. Too much, too good.
He grunted into your nape, fingers digging into your waist. You were so fucking tight, he could barely even move. Which was great and all, except for the fact that he hadn’t seen you in weeks.
The lack of stimulation had made him sensitive. Along with the sudden ‘all or nothing’ mindset- this was a recipe for disaster. For him, anyway.
Because just when you go to ask him why he hadn’t started- Jeff slumped onto your shoulder. Pressing you flush while he shuddered. His eyes were scrunched shut, lips parted in a pathetic whine. “Ngh- haah, shit.” Then you felt it.
Warm and thick as he pumped inside your hole. Hips twitching every few seconds, he had cum in less than a minute.
You froze, glancing back to meet his gaze. He’d stopped dead in his tracks. Looking at everything but you. “—Jeff?” The sound of his name made him squeeze your hips. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him flustered, but this had to be a close second.
Ears bright pink, your lover grit his teeth. Forcing a stiff rasp from his throat. “Don’t fucking start.” He coughed roughly, and you pressed your lips into a thin line. This was a golden opportunity.
Jeff was untouchable most days- or at least he pretended to be. So this was a blessing in disguise. Still with your pelvis anchored against the ledge, you hummed.
“I see, I was very dearly missed.”
“I’ll take you the fuck out right now.”
The man appeared on the brink of explosion. Adrenaline and shame buzzing through his palms into your skin. Technically, you could forget it- but where’s the fun in that?
His face was red, cheeks aflame while you let a giggle slip. “So sensitive.” He cussed himself out mentally. His stupid dick had given up, going soft from his release. The scarce diet, along with lacking sleep from the days away, had caught up to him.
The refractory period would be a hefty fifth-teen minutes at least.
“… That tight, huh?”
“I swear-“
ᯓ★
EJ -> ->
Devouring your soul, he ate you to the bone.
Cramps or not, Jack never minded the mess. And if you thought he did, you must’ve forgotten who your lover was.
Dragging his tongues along your folds, he lapped at the pooling blood. It was embarrassing in your opinion, but he strongly disagreed. To him, this was basically the perfect scenario. He could taste you to his hearts content, not harming you in the slightest to indulge.
You mewled, thighs clamping around his head. Fingers tangled in his hair. “Hah- oh, god. I can’t-“ The pitchy gasp had him groaning into your cunt. You were always at your sweetest- your ripest on the second day.
The cannibal was settled between your legs, gulping down your syrup. Dark scarlet staining his chin as he murmured. “Yes, you can. Breathe, little dove.” Talking you through it in a base so deep your eyes rolled.
His claws pressed your thighs to your chest. Holding you open, your pussy put on display. He was relentless. Tongues driving in and out of your dripping entrance. Though, as good as it was, you noticed a slight change in his demeanour halfway through.
Slowly but surely, instead of baritone growls or filthy whispers, Jack fell silent. Simply licking at your cunt, he seemed nearly dazed. Contently swallowing mouthful after mouthful- the man didn’t even look horny.
Glancing at him, the dull pleasure pulsed up your body- but not enough to distract you. He had eased his pace to a leisurely suckling, nose nudging your clit here and there. No crazy snarling, his talons hadn’t even broke flesh.
Was- was he just eating?
You lied back down, giving it another second to make sure. Then after about five minutes, you cleared your throat. “Jack?” Smoothing your touch on his scalp, he paused. Blinking at you like he had rebooted. “Yes?” You truly didn’t need to ask, but you kind of- absolutely- wanted to.
“Are you- like, did you hunt yesterday?”
“No, why do you ask?”
Perplexed by your question, he arched a brow. What could you possibly mean—
Oh.
Wait.
Embarrassment came with the realization that he’d somehow gotten lost in it. Your pleasure losing priority when he began just feeding on the blood. Honestly, now that he was thinking about it, he had been a bit peckish before you’d called for him.
A beat of quiet, then you smacked your lips together. Struggling to contain your laughter as his ears tinged with blue.
“Were you snacking on me?”
“… Apologies. It appears my appetite was not as fulfilled as I’d thought.”
His confession was sheepish, and you giggled. Your lover was an eater in all sense of the word, a responsibility you’d come to terms with long ago.
He dropped his face into the crook of your thigh, humming softly. “Forgive me, my flower.” You had to sigh. Jack came off so brooding sometimes- only to do things like this. Getting distracted by literal hunger and using you as an energy shot. Like the electrolyte jellies people could find in a fitness isle.
“When I visit- is that like delivery for you-?”
“Spare me.”
ᯓ★
LJ -> ->
Sometimes clown magic is better left out of the bedroom.
It had been a foolproof plan- in theory. He wanted to surprise you, be a little spontaneous, you know? So, what a better way to do that than scare you?
Sexually, of course. He was going to jump out from the corner when you got home. Flicker the lights to distract you, change up his form so you wouldn’t recognize him. Then BAM, he’d tackle you onto the carpet. Shredding your clothes, with adrenaline and lust clouding your mind.
It would’ve been great- aside from the part that he’d forgotten about. The whole “telling you beforehand” thing was lost on him, and he was doomed from the start.
Stepping down the hall, you rounded into the bedroom. Tired from work, all you wanted was to rest. Cuddle up with your oversized striped cat (Boyfriend) and pass out. Maybe cook if you had recharged enough. Though your evening was suddenly interrupted by a loud thud from behind you.
The once well lit corridor was now drowned in shadow. Darkness staring back at you from past the frame, you swallowed. Palms already clammy. Logically, you assumed it was Jack- but there was a whisper of doubt that lingered anyway.
If things like LJ existed, what’s to say worse monsters didn’t? What if the next paranormal beast you encounter isn’t so easy to befriend? Then what? Especially now that an inky abyss had replaced your hallway, your anxiety was through the roof.
You swallowed, carefully fidgeting on the spot. “H-hello?” You cringed at your own voice. That was so cliché.
Padding near the entrance of your room, you placed a hand on the door’s edge. Ready to swing it shut any second, yet there was nothing but silence. Your bated breath in the still air.
You sighed in relief- your bulb probably just burst. Creaking the door to a close—
A creature moving too fast for the eye to keep up with. It slammed against the walls, scrambling to the bedroom. You couldn’t reach the lock in time, and it broke through. Pouncing on you, the force making your shoulders collide with the rug.
Fear. It flooded you, weaving into your veins like a chemical. Setting off every alarm in your body that you were in danger. Your vision blurred, and you trembled. Bottom lip wobbling pathetically while it trapped your wrists.
Above you, Jack halted immediately at the sight. That was not the correct expression. You were supposed to be a tad shocked and horny. Not genuinely terrified and about to have a panic attack. He’d hyped himself up and everything. Preparing to absolutely ravish you the second you arrived. This was not going well.
He morphed his physical back- revealing the face you’d grown to love. “It’s just me- oh, dang it.” His gaze had flicked to your face, only to find that your breathing still hadn’t evened out.
A claw gently cupped your cheek, releasing his hold on your wrist as your pulse slowed. “Sorry- sorry-“ He pecked the corners of your eyes, letting his touch absorb the salt. “Jackie?” Your sniffle was terribly shaken, and you slipped your hands into his feathered cloak.
“I was trying to surprise you! I just ah- got carried away… perhaps?”
“You looked like you wanted to eat me. And not in a good way.”
Inhaling deeply, you cuddled into his chest. Allowing yourself to lose the tension- you felt a very distinct, familiar, hardness against your thigh.
Your enthusiastic lover was trying a kink thing.
You sighed, a smile forming before you could help it. “Did you want me to fall dramatically and rip my shirt in the escape?” His lids shot wide, your comment making him clear his throat.
“…. Whatttt??”
“I can feel it- your slacks are super thin-“
“Shit.”
— ^ ^ —
This was very silly LMFAOOA 10/10 would write again :pp
In which crazy gf!reader argues with Boyfriend!Sukuna on a bridge in broad daylight
“It was a fucking milkshake!” he roars.
“It was cheating!” you shriek. People look and point. You ignore them. “You paid for a girl’s milkshake! That means you want her milkshake! I see your infidelity. Real eyes realise real lies, asshole!”
Sukuna groans, face in hands. This day was going from bad to worse — waking up late because you turned his alarms off, getting a ticket when you leaned over to beep the horn at a police car, almost getting into a fist fight after you shoved him into a random man, and now?
Now, he’s stuck on a bridge because his vengeful girlfriend’s pissed he treated a classmate to a milkshake. Apparently, milkshakes are equivalent to head in your books. Suffice to say, he’s ready for the day to end.
And it’s not even 12pm yet.
“Jesus, you drive me fucking insane,” Sukuna grits out. His foot taps relentlessly against the cement, muscles in his face ticking, jaw flexing. “You’ve got a real skill for ruining my goddamn life, I swear to god, woman.”
“Oh? Well, if your life sucks so much, then make a new one without me!” you screech, arms flailing wildly. “In fact, lemme help you out by just, I don’t know, jumping off this goddamn bridge!”
“Yeah, please fucking do! I’ll join you!”
People passing by whisper: “Oh my god, they’re causing a scene,” “should we step in?”, and “are they actually going to jump?” Or some variations of those. Concerned, an old lady steps forward and offers, “My dear, if you need help, we’re here for you.”
You whirl around, throwing the death glare you had at them instead of your boyfriend. That isn’t enough for them to take the hint, it would seem. Taking a deep breath, you give Sukuna only a second to brace himself before you proceed to start…barking. Like a chihuaha. Yipping is probably more accurate. You bark and bark and bark until even more people stop to look. They flinch back, aghast. The old lady splutters, “What on Earth is wrong with you?”
“Fuck you, you old bat,” Sukuna snaps, angry for a new reason. “Never heard a woman bark before? Grow the fuck up and get the hell away from us — our foreplay’s none of your goddamn business.”
Blanching, they stumble back. Then, they march away from the train wreck of a couple making a scene on the bridge flustered and embarrassed. You watch them leave. “Ugh, people these days,” you scoff. “No manners.”
Sukuna grunts in agreement. “Weirdos.” He glances down at you. “Where were we?”
You hum in thought, then beam. “I was gonna jump off the bridge.”
“Oh, yeah.” Shaking tension back into his body, he moulds his face back into an angry scowl. “You can’t keep threatening to jump every time you don’t get your way!”
“Says who?” you yell.
Across the bridge, two policemen sigh and shake their heads at the people silently questioning if they’re going to do something. All they say is, “They’re here every week.”
Based off a couple I saw actually arguing on a bridge a couple days ago. Hope they’re doing well
Toby’s obsessive tendencies and need to be overwhelmingly close to you.
He’s so desperate about it that he grows stricter on that fact alone. Grabbing your face roughly like “Look at me.” When he’s fucking you and constantly asking you who’s inside you because he needs to hear you say his name.
It’s so intense it’s almost unbearable. He refuses to let your eyes close and gets meaner if you start going dumb on it. It’s the ego trip mixed with his fixation on keeping you aware of who’s on top of you. It needs to be him. The last thing you moan when you cum needs to be his name. The last thing you see has to be his face.
That’s where his cannibalistic urges resurface- he physically needs to keep a piece of you with him. He’ll bite you hard enough to bleed and tear up licking the wound because he wants it so badly. He’ll cry like he’s the one in pain, matching your whines nearly perfectly.
It’s nearly uncontrollable to him. Toby mimics your sobs and twitches because he wants to feel everything you do, becoming your literal other half. It makes him genuinely sick to imagine you distancing yourself in any way, and all his paranoia hits you full force when you’re intimate during one of his moods.
Most of the time, he’s expressive, squirming and rambling praise. But when he’s already in that head space, he turns into a different person.
He pins your wrists down hard enough to bruise, begging you with so much agony it borders on uncomfortable. His words don’t match his tone, his cries don’t match his actions. Toby’s sobbing while staring directly into your eyes, close to sneering in your face and telling you to that he loves you to the point of mental breakage.
“Say it- say you love me. You mean it, right? Tell me you fucking mean it.”
“It feels like I’m fucking dying when I look at you. I love you so much- I love you so much it’s killing me, angel.”
It helps when you overwhelm him back, though. The only thing that slowly eases him out of that state is your constant reassurance, signs of trust and forcing him to stay present. If you bring his hand up, wrapping it around your throat- “It’s okay. It feels good, keep going.” He’ll whine like a dog and spasm over you.
You swipe the shallow wound on your neck, collecting the blood before slipping your fingers into his mouth. He drools around you and gags trying to take you deeper- going until saliva and scarlet dribble onto your bare chest. His eyes are rolling up, Toby moaning as if he’s huffing gas after withdrawals.
He fucks you harder every time your fingers hit the back of his throat. It’s disgustingly messy, and he’s not even coherent by the end, slurring his words while he stuffs you over and over again. You have bite marks all over your hand because he chews on you like a mutt, using your limbs as a muzzle, then lapping at the cuts with the most pathetic hiccups you’ve ever heard.
And if you bite him back, he cums so hard he blacks out.
he has you on your knees in front of him in the library he told you to come to. it's late at night and there's hardly anyone around. you were a little nervous but he assured you that "it's fine" and to "stop being a baby."
he leans back and spreads his legs, revealing his hard cock through his pants.
"alright. first step, get it out." he says, broad smile on his face. you look up at him, eyes wide before you reach a shaky hand out to his belt. undoing it slowly, you take it off and place it on the ground.
gojo watches almost endearingly as you nervously unbutton and unzip his pants. he sighs softly and ruffles your hair with a lazy hand. after lifting his hips to pull down his pants a little, his boxers remain the only barrier.
"come on, i didn't think it would take this long."
"s-shut up, i-i, i just-"
"i know you're nervous. it's cute. so scared of me and yet you're still willing to suck my dick."
your face reddens as you slightly pull down his boxers and take out his cock. it's heavy in your hand and pink at the tip, already weeping a little. you swallow nervously, to which gojo laughs soflty.
"relax, i'm not gonna hit you with it. now, spit on your hand and rub it alllll over."
you hesitate only for a moment before listening, covering his cock in your spit until it is glistening. he grunts whilst you run your hand up and down his cock, containing his moans.
"okay, now pump it, up and down. slow at first."
he shuts his eyes as you listen, shifting his hips forward. he tilts his head back and breathes deeply.
"a-am i doing it right?"
"you're doing perfectly well, honey." he says, looking back down at you. "now, put your little tongue on the tip of it. that's right."
you take in your mouth and grimace slightly at the salty taste. letting your tongue explore the ridges and dips, gojo has to try and contain himself.
"now do that, and the hand thing at the same time." he grunts. you continue licking his tip and pumping his shaft at the same time, looking up at him as you do so. he makes eye contact with you and you notice the way his cheeks have slightly reddened, and how his brows crease. you pick up the speed and he curses, hands gripping the chairs handles.
"f-fuck, that's it. keep going." he struggles to keep himself in his chair as he grows closer. his hand nearly reaches out to push your head down, but instead he gently grips your hair, caressing.
"i'm gonna, i'm gonna cum, okay? swallow it." you keep your mouth on his cock as he bucks, letting out strangled moans and growls. his eyes roll back as he cums into your mouth, hips bucking with desperation. you close your eyes and swallow his cum, face contorting in slight disgust.
you pant a little when you lean back, face flushed. he pants too, looking down at you.
"good job honey, didn't know you had it in you." he says with a smirk. you wipe your mouth and stand up and he grips your wrist.
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