succubus

i write for black girls

[nanaminslut]

jay ♱ 22, black, queer ♱ m.list

© 2025—nanaminslut. All rights reserved.

Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this content without explicit permission is strictly prohibited.

picture above is not me, saved from pinterest.

[liliacsdelight]

Mimick

Connie Springer x Blackfem!reader

You’re lost in the rhythm of sorting clothes until your best friend, Connie, breaks the silence with a question that catches you off guard. When your verbal answer doesn't cut it, he takes matters into his own hands, trading the laundry for a vocal demonstration you won't forget.

. ݁໑. ݁3,197 words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), Reader is said to be talkative and outgoing, brief tickling, mocking, dirty talk, bent over the bed-> mating press -> variation of missionary, no condom (wrap it!!), petnames/name-calling(e.g., baby, princess, sweetheart, and slut), etc ݁໑. ݁

Inspo [1, 2] < not p!links

⋆. ݁໑. ݁˖18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕⋆. ݁໑. ݁˖

The late afternoon sun filtered through your bedroom window, catching the dust motes dancing over the piles of clothes scattered across your bed. You were in the middle of a seasonal purge, folded tops and bottoms from your many styles and phases; Alt, Goth, Coquette, Bohemian, Y2K—the list is long—forming towers around you. You were currently sporting a matching set—a tiny top that showed off the curve of your waist and soft, low-slung pj pants with little Snoppys that dragged slightly on the floor.​

Connie was sprawled out across the foot of your bed, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who was just "waiting for his phone to charge." He was dressed down in cotton shorts and a graphic tee that stretched across his chest. The most distracting thing about him was his hair. He’d recently let it grow out just enough to bleach it and dye it with leopard-print spots—a look that was objectively strange, yet somehow, on him, it looked rugged and cool.

He was scrolling through your phone with a casualness that only came from years of being best friends. You didn't mind; you had nothing to hide, and usually, he was just looking for memes or checking the score of a game.​

You were folding a sweater, your brow furrowed in concentration, when his thumb suddenly stopped moving. The room went quiet, save for the distant sound of traffic outside.​

"Hey," he said, his voice dropping into a lower, suspiciously casual register.​

"Yeah?" You didn't look up, struggling with a stubborn wrinkle in the wool.

​"How loud do you get?"

​You stopped mid-fold. You blinked, slowly turning your head to look at him. Connie wasn't looking at you yet; he was staring intently at the screen, a little smirk playing on his lips.​

"Excuse me?" you asked, your tranquil energy replaced by a sharp, stunned edge. "What did you just ask me?"

​He finally looked up, and the look in his eyes was pure mischief—that classic, goofy Connie spark, but with a new, heavy layer of heat you weren't used to seeing. He didn't look embarrassed at all. If anything, he looked challenged.​

"I asked how loud you get," he repeated, tilting the phone toward you. "During sex. Like, are we talking neighbors call the cops or just muffled whimpers?"​

"Give me that!" You lunged for the phone, but he lifted it high above his head, using his reach to keep it away. You ended up hovering over him, your chest inches from his face, your calm expression now dampened, twisting into something abashed. "What are you even looking at? Why would you ask me that?"​

"Relax, I'm not just being a creep," he laughed, his free hand coming up to rest on your hip to steady you as you leaned over him. His palm was warm, and his fingers dug slightly into the soft fabric of your pj pants.

"Mikasa texted you. Apparently, she’s overthinking things with Eren. She asked 'how loud is too loud' because she knows he likes hearing her, but she’s terrified of embarrassing herself."​

He pulled the phone back down, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. The goofiness was still there, but his gaze dragged slowly down to your mouth and then back up.​

"It got me thinking," he murmured, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the skin of your hip. "Since you’re always so bubbly and talkative... I bet you’re a screamer. I bet you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut when things get good."

​You snatched the phone out of his hand, huffing as you sat back on your heels. "You’re so gross. And for your information, I am a lady."

"A 'lady' who's getting all coy because I mentioned her vocal cords," he teased, sitting up and leaning close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Come on. Tell me. If I were the one in there with you, would you be making enough noise to wake up the whole floor? Or would you be trying to hide it?"​

You stared at the text from Mikasa, your heart hammering a rhythm that had nothing to do with the laundry. You could feel him watching you—waiting, playful, and far too observant.

​To: Mikasa 🩷

> ​Don't overthink it. If Eren likes hearing you, that's all that matters. Just be yourself and do what feels natural in the moment—there’s no such thing as too loud when it’s someone you love. You won’t embarrass yourself!!

​You hit send and tossed the phone onto the pile of clothes.

Connie was still hovering, his eyes fixed on the screen. "So? What'd the expert have to say? Give me the details."​

"Stop being nosy. That’s girl talk." you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

​"Oh, come on, I'm the one who gave you the phone!" He reached for it, but you swiped it away, tucking it behind your back.​

"Too bad. You’ve officially lost your phone privileges," you said with a playful glare. "Go back to your own device."

​"Fine," he muttered, but he didn't move toward his phone. Instead, he lunged forward, his large hands catching your waist and hauling you onto his lap. You yelped as he forced you to straddle him, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips.​

For a second, the playfulness shifted. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his face in your shoulder. "Sorry," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and unusually soft. "I'm being annoying."​

You softened, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, fingers grazing the leopard-print fuzz of his hair. "You really are, but I'm used to it."

​Suddenly, he gripped your hips and rolled, pinning you onto your back against the bed. Before you could even catch your breath, his fingers were digging into your sides.​

"Connie! No! Stop it!" You shrieked, your legs kicking out as you dissolved into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. You were squirming, trying to shield your ribs, but he was relentless, his face lit up with a mischievous grin. "Stop—Connie, I swear—I'll beat your ass! Constance!"

​He stopped abruptly, his hands hovering over you, laughing as he remembered the last time you’d followed through on the threat. "Alright, alright! Don't kill me now."

​He let his weight settle on you, laying his head on your chest and listening to your racing heart. The room was quiet for a moment, just the two of you breathing in the afternoon heat.​

Then, his voice came out low, vibrating against your ribs. "I bet you moan and beg for more, even when it's too much. You seem like the type who doesn't know when to quit."​

You scoffed, your hand coming down to playfully shove at his head. "Please. That sounds like projection. You’re probably the one who gets all whiny and needy the second things get intense."​

Connie lifted his head, his chin resting on your sternum as he looked up at you. The goofiness was gone, replaced by a dark, steady challenge in his eyes that made your stomach flip.​

"Whiny, huh?" he repeated, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face. "You want to find out?"

-

The shift from best friends to this was like a physical blow. One minute you were laughing about laundry, and the next, Connie had you stripped and bent over the edge of the mattress. The playful goofy Connie was buried under a layer of raw, unchecked hunger, though that signature streak of mischief was still very much alive—and it was meaner now.​

He was behind you, his large hands reaching around to grip your jaw, forcing your head back and down as he drove into you from behind. The leopard-print spots on his head were a blur of motion as he worked, his chest slapping against your back with every heavy, rhythmic thrust.

​"Connie—ah! Fuuck—you’re so deep—" you cried out, your voice echoing off the bedroom walls. Your fingers dug into the tangled sheets, your back arching as he hit a spot that made your toes curl. "Connie, please—"​

He let out a sharp, jagged laugh, his fingers squeezing your jaw a little tighter. "'Connie,'" he mimicked, his voice a perfect, cruel imitation of your high-pitched, desperate tone. "'Oh—Fuuck, you’re so deep!' God, you’re even louder than I thought you’d be. The neighbors definitely know who's fucking you, don't they?"

​"Shut up!" you hissed, trying to turn your head, but he just used his grip to keep you pinned.​

"Make me," he challenged, his voice dropping into a gravelly rasp as he increased the pace, fucking you with a mean, relentless energy that had you gasping for air.​

You’d had enough of him having the upper hand. As he lunged forward again, you planted your hands firmly on the bed and pushed back against him, meeting his thrust with a sharp, aggressive roll of your hips. You clamped your walls around him as tight as you could, a slick, lewd sound filling the space between you.​

"You like that, Connie?" you whispered, your voice dropping into a dark, sultry purr. "You like how tight I am? You're shaking."​

A high, thin whine escaped his throat—the exact sound you’d called him out on earlier. He tried to cover it with a grunt, but you heard it. You reached back, your fingers find his jaw, mimicking the way he’d held you. You pulled his face closer to yours, your eyes flashing with a dangerous sort of triumph.​

​"What was that, baby?" you teased, your voice dripping with a honeyed, cruel sweetness as you felt him throb violently inside you. You leaned back, feeling his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against you. "Sounded a little whiny to me. A little desperate."

​You shifted your hips, grinding back slow and heavy against him, watching his eyes roll back as he let out a strangled, needy sound

​"How about this..." you whispered, your breath hot against his ear, "after you're done fucking me like a good boy, I tie you down? I’m gonna spread those thighs and tie you to the headboard. I'll play with this dick until you're crying sobbing for me. I'll get you right to the edge, let you see the stars, and then I’ll just... stop. I’ll make you wait until you’re begging me to let you cum."

​You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, a wicked smirk playing on your lips as you saw the raw hunger in his gaze. His breath hitched and for a split second, he looked completely undone, his resolve wavering under the sheer audacity of your words.​

"Fuck..." he breathed, the word breaking in the middle. But then his eyes darkened, and he shoved your hand away, grabbing your hips and slamming into you with a force that knocked the wind out of you.​

"You're so fucking nasty," he gritted out, his jaw tight as he regained control. His voice was thicker now, more desperate. "Think you're in charge because you heard a little noise? Forget it. You're not the one doing the work right now."

He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, biting at the skin where your shoulder met your collarbone. His teeth grazed you with a sharp, possessive hunger that made you yelp, the sound echoing in the humid quiet of the room.​

"Keep talking like that and I'll make sure you can't scream anything but my name for the next hour," he rasped, his breath hot and damp against your pulse. "You want to see 'whiny'? I’ll show you who’s begging by the time I’m through."​

He didn't wait for a rebuttal. He began to tease you, using shallow, agonizing strokes that barely crested your entrance before pulling all the way out. Each time he retreated, you felt the cool air hit your slick skin, making you whimper and reach back, your hips stuttering in a desperate attempt to find the friction he was stealing. Whenever a particularly pathetic sound left your lips, he was right there, whispering it back to you in that mocking, ruined voice, forcing you to hear exactly how much he was affecting you.​

"Is that a moan, princess?" he whispered, his thumb catching a stray tear on your cheek as he hovered at the very edge of you. "Sounded a lot like a 'please' to me. Say it. Say 'Please, Connie, fuck me for real.'"

The ghosting strokes were driving you insane, making your skin itch and your core ache with an empty, throbbing need. You were trembling, your forehead pressed into the mattress, your breath coming in short, jagged hitches that betrayed your every thought.​

You couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

"Please," you finally broke, the word cracking in your throat like a dry branch. "Connie, please... fuck me for real. Stop teasing."​

He let out a low, triumphant hum, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. "That’s my girl," he whispered, mocking the way your voice had gone small and desperate. "'Please, Connie...' Much better."​

He didn’t just give it to you, though. He grabbed your waist, his fingers digging into your hips with an athletic, predatory strength, and hauled you upright. He flipped you over in one fluid motion, the sheets tangling around your legs as he crowded over you immediately.

He pinned your wrists beside your head, his sweat-slicked chest heaving as he looked down at you. This was exactly what you wanted—to see the way his hazel eyes were blown wide with lust, the way his leopard-print was damp and mess, and the way his jaw was set in a hard, possessive line.​

He didn't waste another second. He hiked your legs over his broad shoulders, opening you up completely, and drove in. It was a deep, soul-shattering thrust that bottomed out instantly, the sheer volume of him making you scream his name into the quiet of the room.

​"Yeah, you like that?" he rasped, his face inches from yours, his pupils dilated until they swallowed the hazel. He began to fuck you with a frantic, messy energy, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythmic, wet slap. "Look at you. Face-to-face and you still can't keep it together."

​"Connie—ahn, you're so—mghn—" You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could bite his shoulder, trying to stifle the sounds you were making, but he wouldn't let you hide.​

He let out a ragged laugh, his head falling back as he hit that spot again, deep and certain. "What happened to that big talk, huh? What happened to tying me down?" He started mocking your moans again, right into your mouth, his tongue grazing yours as he imitated the pathetic, high-pitched whines you were making.

"You’re so loud, sweetheart. I bet the whole building knows you’re taking it right now."​

You were losing your mind. The friction was perfect, and the way he was looking at you—with that mix of intense love and bratty, mocking mischief—was pushing you over the edge. You arched your back, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades, scratching thin red lines into his skin.​

"I hate you," you gasped, even as you tilted your hips to take him deeper, wanting to feel every ridge of him.​

"Liar." he grunted, his rough pace accelerating, breath hitching in that way you knew meant he was getting close. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours, his eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, startling intensity. ​"You love it," he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration that you felt in your chest as much as your ears.

"You love this dick. You love that I’m the only one who can make you sound like this—screaming and crying like a brat when I hit that spot."

​You let out a shaky, broken laugh, your fingers digging into the corded muscle of his shoulders. The overstimulation was peaking, making you feel reckless, your mind hazy from the way he’d just dismantled you.

​"Yeah?" you whispered, your voice thick and syrupy. You tilted your head back, exposing your throat, your eyes fluttering as you felt him twitch inside you. "And what about you? Look at you... obsessed with me. You're such a slut for this pussy, aren't you? Following me around all day, acting all tough, but the second I let you touch it, you lose your damn mind."

​His jaw locked, a vein jumping in his temple. He didn't like the truth of it, but he couldn't deny it. He ground his hips forward, a slow, punishing roll that made you moan.

​"I’m the slut?" he asked, his hand leaving the bed to wrap firmly around your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel the weight of his possession. "When you're the one dripping all over the bed? When you're the one begging for me to go deeper because you can't get enough?"

​"You are," you provoked, your voice a breathless dare. You reached down, your nails dragging over his sweat-slicked hip. "All that muscle, all that mouth, and you still work yourself into a frenzy just to get a taste of me. You’re addicted, baby. You’d do anything to keep me under you like this."

​He let out a low, guttural sound. He didn't argue. Instead, he pulled back just enough to slam back home, his pace turning fast, crude, and unapologetically dirty.

​"Yeah, I am," he gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours as he hammered into you. "I want to live inside you. I want to fill you so full of my cum you can't even stand up straight. I want to make you cum all over my dick until your crying."

​He wasn't being careful anymore. He was taking what he wanted, his movements raw and rhythmic, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing through the room like a steady, filthy heartbeat.

​"That's it," you gasped, your back arching as the tension coiled again, tighter and hotter than before. "Give it me, baby. Make me cum."

He kept fucking you, his weight pinning you down as he sought out that glazed, blown-out stare that meant you were seconds away from shattering.

The heat between you was suffocating, a fever pitch of friction and salt. Then Connie saw it—the way your eyes lost focus—and he decided he wasn't done playing with his food just yet.​

As soon as you felt yourself tip—just as you reached the peak, your back arching and your fingers clutching at his biceps, he abruptly stopped.

He didn't pull out; he stayed buried deep inside you, but he went completely still, his heavy weight a taunt against your sensitive walls.​

"Connie—no—" you whimpered, your hips stuttering, trying to find the friction that had just been there. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

​He let out that light chuckle, his eyes dancing with mischief despite the sweat dripping off his chin. "'Don't stop, Connie! Please, Connie!’" he mocked, his voice a perfect, high-pitched mimicry of your desperation. He leaned down, whispering against your lips, his voice thick and ruined. "I thought you were the boss? I thought I was the whiny one? You look pretty whiny right now, begging for it."​

He began to grind his hips in a slow, agonizing circle—not thrusting, just stirring inside you, making the overstimulation unbearable. He kept mocking your broken sounds, repeating every "oh god" and "please" back to you until you were crying out of pure, exquisite frustration.​

"Please, Connie... I'll do anything," you sobbed, your head tossing on the pillow, your body a live wire.​

"Anything?" he rasped, his eyes darkening as he finally lost his own battle for control. "Fine. Then take all of it."​

He grabbed your thighs, hiking them even higher until your knees were practically touching your ears, and he lunged. The pace went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat. It was a brutal, relentless pounding—no more teasing, no more mocking, just the raw, wet sound of him slamming into you with everything he had.​

Your orgasm hit like a freight train. You screamed, your voice finally giving out as your body seized, your pussy clenching around him with a strength that made his head snap back.​

"That's it," he groaned, his voice finally losing its mocking edge and turning into a pure, guttural roar. "Cum for me. There you go, baby. Let it all out."​

He didn't pull out. He shoved his hands under your lower back, lifting you up to meet him as he delivered three more violent, soul-searching thrusts. He let out a long, choked-off cry—that high, needy whine you’d teased him about earlier—as he spilled deep and hot inside you, his whole body shaking with the force of his release.​

He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm against yours. The room was silent except for the sound of your combined, ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.​

After a long minute, Connie lifted his head. He looked at your wrecked, tear-stained face, and that goofy, loving smirk returned to his lips, cutting through the heavy tension of the moments before. He reached up, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your temple.​

"So," he panted, his voice a total wreck. "Scale of one to ten... how loud was that? Should I go check on the neighbors, or do you think you were quiter than Mikasa?"

​You reached up, weakly smacking his chest. "I hate you so much."​

He just laughed, rolling over to pull you into his side, tucking your head under his chin and holding you close as the sweat cooled on your skin. "Yeah, yeah. Love you too, loudmouth."

⋆. ݁໑. ݁˖𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈⋆. ݁໑. ݁˖

Swirl divider by @thecutestgrotto

All works © liliacsdelight 2025–Present. Do not repost, translate, modify, or use my work to train AI models.

[gojosconsort]

okie would u do like mean gojo making reader get used to orgasming more than once cus all her life she’s been like one and done and like gojos tryna break her out of that habit;)

mdni. mean!gojo breaking your one-and-done habit.

gojo’s got you spread on the hotel bed, wrists pinned above your head in one massive hand, blindfold on you because he likes watching your mouth fall open when you can’t see the smug look on his face.

you’re already shaking from the first one. came so hard on his cock you saw white behind your eyelids, thighs locked around his hips, babbling nonsense while he fucked you through it slow and deep. now you’re trying to push him off, oversensitive, clit throbbing, walls fluttering around nothing since he pulled out.

“satoru—wait—i’m done, i can’t—”

he laughs, knees shoving your thighs wider. “done? baby, you’re just getting started.”

you whimper when his fingers slide back down, two of them slipping through your slick folds, circling your swollen clit with barely-there pressure that still makes your whole body jerk.

“see? still so wet. still so greedy.” he presses harder, watching your hips twitch up. “you’ve spent your whole life thinking one’s enough. cute. wrong.”

he’s been at this for weeks—edging you, overstimulating you, making you come again and again until you’re crying and begging and finally admitting you want more. tonight he’s done playing nice.

he pushes three fingers inside without warning, curling them up hard against your g-spot while his thumb stays relentless on your clit. the stretch burns so good your back bows off the mattress.

“satoru—fuck—t-too much—”

“too much?” he mocks. “you came once and thought that was it? nah. you’re gonna come again. and again.”

you’re sobbing now, thighs trembling, trying to close them but he just wedges his shoulders between, holding you open. his fingers pump faster, hitting that spot over and over while his thumb rubs tight, mean circles.

“look at you,” he coos, leaning down so his breath fans your ear. “already dripping again. pussy’s crying for it. you love being forced to take more, don’t you?”

you can’t answer. your second orgasm builds terrifyingly fast, sharper than the first, almost painful. you try to warn him, try to push his hand away, but he just pins your wrist harder.

“don’t you fucking dare stop it,” he growls. “come on my fingers like a good slut. show me how many times this greedy cunt can go.”

it hits you like a slap—almost blinding. and he doesn’t stop. keeps fucking you through it, slow now, dragging it out until you’re whimpering, boneless, tears slipping out from under the blindfold. when you finally go limp he pulls his fingers free and kisses the corner of your mouth, soft for once.

“that’s two,” he whispers, already sliding back down your body. “we’re going for four tonight. maybe five.”

your exhausted laugh turns into a broken moan when his tongue flicks your oversensitive clit.

“satoru—”

“shh,” he says against your pussy, voice vibrating through you. “you’re not done until i say you are.”

[sweethearticism]

˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓡. 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𓂃 ⭒ helps you finger yourself, literally

okay, here's the problem. you ate one of sukuna's fingers.

you didn't mean to. and honestly, what the hell were you supposed to do? you were cornered, desperate, and you just so happened to retrieve one of these accursed limbs so really— you were just being a smart sorcerer.

‘smart’, yes. real smart. now you have the king of curses inside of you— pause.

“what were you thinking?” groaned gojo, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“well I—”

“she wasn't thinking. I don't think she has a single coherent thought, actually.”

piped up a deeper voice from beneath your eye. fucker— you covered it with a quick hand as if you could suffocate him. he did that a lot. pitched in when no one asked for him.

unfortunately for you, this became your livelihood. sharing your body with a powerful, pretentious and honestly? a prick of a sorcerer.

to your credit, you were able to keep him at bay. for the most part. but that didn't stop. the thoughts.

“you call this jujutsu? pitiful.”

“or, we could just leave them to die.”

“you're doing it wrong.”

“what if we ate her? I don't care if her name is shoko, what if we ate her?”

it was hell in earth. he was ruthless, relentless and rude. and right now? he was ruining whatever last shred of your sanity you had left.

ever since sukuna showed up, let's just say you haven't had. . . self care time. there was no way in hell that you were putting a hand between your legs when the king of curses himself could watch you like some. . . perverted cat.

but he'd been quiet today. awfully quiet. maybe he was sleeping? you were desperate.

which is how you found yourself here now, back limped into the pillows, thighs spread wide and two fingers pumping in. messing slick and pussy drool all over the place as you throbbed meekly on your knuckles.

“is this how you touch yourself?”

a deep voice rumbled.

you tried to ignore him. you really did.

“shut up.” you gasped, crooking your fingers and angling your hips. “sh-shut up, just shut up, I'm so—”

“close?” he crooned. “no you're not. hardly. you do know I can feel how your body works?”

your fingers stuttered. you're whining. “you're desperate, sure. but far from close.” the mocking lilt spurs your hand and tears to your eyes. you hiccuped a shout.

“I said shut up!”

“let me help.”

you faltered altogether, chewing on your lip with big, glossy and confused eyes staring at the ceiling. “help. . .?”

“I am an ancient being,” he started and your tummy looped. “don't you think I know better than anyone how to touch a body?”

your nerves trembled, muscles tensed and slipped as your control did. vanishing into the palms of his hands that took over yours and withdrew your fingers. you whined, trying to push back against his will and take control of your body back—

but you crumbled into a boneless puddle as he flicked your thumb back onto your clit. slow, precise circles that had you keening.

“oh god.”

he plunged your fingers back in. curled them just right and massaged that sticky spot. you could only buck your hips and whimper.

“god?” his laugh rumbled through your mind. hot, consuming. your head hung back. “sure. make me your god.”

and then he made your body his sacrifice. fingers pistoning, coiling, fucking you just right on your own hand and forcing your hips into perfect grinding angle.

you were breathless. dizzy. your mouth parted in stream of moans and cries as your body became his. as he made you clench on your own fingers and shoot towards a blistering orgasm.

“close,” you sobbed.

“of course you are,” his voice lowered to a husked taunt. “the things I would do to you if I were in my true form. . . fuck, you wouldn't be able to take even two fingers.”

the sinful implication looped the knot tighter. you pulsed and melted into the heat rushing up your thighs and cunt, looking at the pit of your stomach. fuck.

the world spun as you creamed your fingers. he relinquished control on your hips so that you could mindlessly buck and grind into the bubbling pleasure.

“fuck, oh fuck, sukuna.” you rasped.

at last, he groaned. “there you go petal. . .” and you swore, you felt his hot kiss on your ear. “let's see what else this little body of yours can take, hm?”

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/uzmacchiato

[nanaminslut]

i’m horny so i’m gonna write

[unendinglimerance]

[reignpage]

Sneaky Sex with Shiu

Synopsis: in which you decide to cut things off with your best friend's father and things don't go exactly to plan... Warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, p in v, cunnilingus, hidden sex, age gap (reader is in college, Shiu is at least like 35), brief DADDY kink (one mention of it sorry I know I know), thigh job, brief mention of bondage, some exhibitionism, dirty talk — praise, big díck Shiu propaganda, dilf!shiu who's too smooth for his own good, lots of swearing, not proofread Word Count: 2.9k

It’d be no surprise to anyone to find you lounging on the Kongs’ sofa, cooking in the kitchen or sleeping in the guestroom. In fact, you’re so often at their house that the mailman’s begun handing you your mail there.

So, when you come by again, your friend dragging you by the arm as she speaks animatedly about how the season to rewatch Twilight has begun, you already know there’s no malice or resentment in her father’s words, only an underlying amusement, when he muses: 

“Mmm, one more visit from you and I might have to start charging rent, doll.” He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, suit jacket thrown over a chair and sleeves rolled up his beefy forearms.

His daughter groans. “Ugh, dad, go away. We’re gonna watch Twilight.”

Raising his limbs in surrender, he says, “Oh, how you keep me young, sweetheart.”

And then you part ways. 

You don’t tell your friend he sent you a wink over her head and you certainly don’t tell her you bit your lip afterwards. 

Truthfully, there’s a lot of things you haven’t told her: you did see her pick out her wedgie that humid Wednesday afternoon last summer; it was you who broke the zip of her new bodycon dress last month, not her; and, you can’t forget, you’ve been fucking her dad for months now. 

Every time she excuses herself to the bathroom, whether to shower or pluck her unibrow, you seek out Shiu, manicured nails running down his shirt and the taste of his cigarette melting on your tongue. You’ve fucked in pretty much every room in the house — his bedroom, the guest room, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, the garage, even in the basement, and maybe, just maybe, also in her room, on her bed, after a sip too much of his whiskey. 

Naturally, it isn’t just about all the different rooms (because you’ve also got it on in places beyond the house e.g. the backseat of his car, and the front seat; a park, in the slides, on the swing, on a bench; the toilet stalls of a bar, mall, restaurant, among others; and in other people’s houses, yours included), you’ve experimented with many different positions.

To list them all would take you hours. And in any case, you hardly think she’d want the nasty little details.

Understandably, you’re also hesitant to share that he’s touched you under the dinner table right in front of her, his calloused fingers working their way in your pussy and rubbing you to an orgasm, or two, before dessert. And if you did confess that particular story, you’d definitely have to leave out the fact that when he licked his fingers, it wasn’t the gravy he’d spilled he was complimenting the flavours of. 

Though, to be frank, you are pretty ready to reveal that you don’t have stomach problems, at least, not that frequently; you, more often than not, simply hide out in the bathroom so he can fuck you against the cold tiles, his belt fastened around your wrists and his tie gagging you into silence. 

And how does one even begin the conversation about how huge their friend’s dad’s cock is? 

Seriously, it’s massive.

Long, easy to get hard despite his age, with two pretty veins running up his cock, neatly trimmed all the time, and adorable balls that swing and smack your clit when he takes you from behind. Honestly, you could suck on it like a lollipop all night long — which you’ve done before. 

But today, today, you swear, you’re breaking it off.

No more hiding, no more skulking around, sneaking in gropes and kisses when she’s turned around and obviously no more slapping your ass and pretending there was a fly.

You hate keeping this secret from your friend. She deserves better. You deserve better too; sneaky sex often means no time for cuddling or dates. Not that Shiu pumps and dumbs, so to speak, but you both have to be careful, never lingering nor pushing it too far, lest you permanently scar his unsuspecting daughter.

With that newfound resolve, you steel your spine and wander into the kitchen while she showers. 

“Hey there, sweets,” he drawls as he dries some plates, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

You stay on the other side of the island; distance is good. If he can get his hands on you then he can fuck the idea out of you. And, well, that doesn’t sound so bad — he’s got an amazing dick, a whole lot of experience to pair with it, and a love of giving oral sex, which most guys your age would rather die than do— No, no, it is bad.

It’s worse than bad.

It’s downright immoral.

You need change, you need to be a good person, to be having guiltfree sex, one that doesn’t hurt your friend in the long run, to be with a man who doesn’t ask if it’s a safe day and throw caution to the wind with raw sex, and unquestioningly, you should be with someone who doesn’t then pull up your panties, give a kiss on the bow at the front and tell you to be a good girl by keeping his cum nice and warm for later.

“Shiu, I think we need to stop.”

He cocks a brow, drying his hands on a teatowel before he throws it over his shoulder. “Stop what, gorgeous?”

With just that one word, like you’ve been Pavloved, you feel your thong dampening. And the bastard must notice you squirming because he shakes his head with a chuckle. Stammering and embarrassed, you reply, “T-this. Us. We can’t have sex anymore.”

Nodding, he leans against the counter, “Ah, I see. Well, that’s fine by me, sweets. I can live off eating you out. That’s still on the table, right?”

“No!” You stomp your feet. “Nothing is on the table.”

“You were last night, and the morning before that, if I recall correctly.”

In a hurry, you round the island, smacking your palm over his mouth and hissing, “Stop talking. Are you even listening to me?” 

He’s enjoying this. Even if you can’t see his smile, you sure can feel it. His stubble tickles your skin and the reminder of how it felt grazing the curve of your neck, rubbing against your inner thighs, has your fight dwindling. Especially when his arms creep around your body, firm hands landing on your hips and tugging you harshly towards him.

Something heavy and hot pokes your stomach.

You gasp.

“Found something, doll?”

The rasp of his voice is velvet on your skin. The heat of his body, the security, his firmness, his cologne, everything about him is intoxicating. You slump your head on his chest, sighing deeply.

You.

Are.

Weak.

And a terrible friend. 

Pinching your chin, he coos, “I know, I know. It’s hard having such a needy pussy, isn’t it? Want me to talk to her, hmm? I’ll straighten her out for you.”

“Ugh, that’s terrible,” you whisper. “Stupid dad jokes. God, it’s so hot.”

Lips descending, they skim yours, not pushing or forcing, just waiting for you to bridge the gap. He mutters, “Good girl,” when you reach up, standing on your tiptoes.

He tastes like wine and nicotine, like a dangerous thrill no one else has ever given you. It’s no wonder you’re wantonly moaning into his mouth, friend long forgotten, and grinding against the leg he slots between your thighs. Shiu kneads your ass, fingers digging under your skirt and aiding your slide up and down his clothed leg. “Mmm, love this perfect ass. Can feel how wet and warm you already are, sweets. How scandalous.” 

SMACK! 

“Shiu!”

“Shh, baby. It’s alright. I’ve got you.” He traces the line of your thong and huffs. “You’re wearing a skirt for easy access and a sexy little thong to break up with me? Cruel thing.” The backs of your thighs meet the chill of the marble counter. Shiu wastes no second falling to his knees and burying his head under your skirt. “Gorgeous. So gorgeous.”

Checking behind you, you try to push him away. “Shiu, no, w-what if she walks in?”

“You know she takes hour-long showers. That’s more than enough time for me to win my girl back. Just –mmm you’re drenched already, naughty girl— sit back and relax, beautiful.”

Expertly, he pushes your panties to the side, tongue parting your pussy lips so he can dip to where you’re gushing, spreading the wetness to your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive bud. “Oh, god, S-shiu. So good. So fucking good.”

“You taste just as sweet as I remember,” he groans. “Spread your legs wider for me, baby. Therrrree you go. Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Thighs hiked up and thrown over his shoulders, he can reach deeper inside with his tongue, nose bumping against your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, daddy, suck my clit harder. Oh yeah! Fuckkk.” You’re grinding your cunt on his face, searching for your high without care for the mess you’re making. His approving squeezes urges you on. 

“Hey, babes,” a voice behind breaches the thickening air. 

You jolt. 

Nervously, you turn your head around, neck creaking.

Just as you expected, your friend is standing by the door, playing with her phone, too busy with whatever’s on her screen to look up. You smack Shiu as silently and subtly as you can. “Oh, heyyyy. How was your shower?”

She shrugs. “Good. There’s nothing like being clean. Where’s my dad?”

“No idea,” you reply. “I’m sure he’s busy doing dad -ngh!- s-stuff.”

Frowning, she steps closer. “You alright?”

You can’t tell her you’re not. You can’t share the fact that her dad just gave you a particular hard suck at your clit, like you asked, or the fact that he’s inching two fingers inside you right now, feeling the pleats of your pussy and curling the thick digits against that gummy spot of your walls. Instead, you settle for, “Y-yeah. Just cramps. You know how it is.”

“Oh, yeah. Don’t gotta say any more, babes. Alright, I’m just gonna pop by the store and get some popcorn, then we can get started on Breaking Moon.”

Vibrations tickle your puffy lips; he’s groaning into your drenched pussy, drunk on the taste of you, the thrill of being caught, and the sharp pain that’s spreading on his scalp from where you’re yanking on his hair. She can’t see his face pressed tightly between your legs or the fact that you’re dripping all over the counter, and thank god. 

With a tense smile, you wave her away. “Yeah, yeah. Do your thang.”

She cocks her head to the side the same time Shiu snorts. “‘Thang?’ Since when do you say ‘thang?’”

Fuck.

“It’s the -hah- cramps. C-changes a person, y’know?”

“No kidding.” Her laugh reaches your ears. “Alrighty. Be back soon.”

As soon as the front door clicks shut, you find yourself spun around, bent over the counter, ass hanging out and thong ripped off with a SNAP!

“W-wait, Shiu! We don’t have time.”

The burning length of his cock slots between your legs, in and out, in and out, getting all slicked up with your pussy juice. Catching on your pulsing clit, his cockhead kisses it over and over again. Your hips stutter back, incapable of resisting the pleasure bursting wherever he touches. He mouths kisses all over the length of your neck, stubble scraping and tickling. “Tighten your legs for me, doll. Mmm, good girl. Stay just like that for me.”

Shiu’s thrusting like he really is fucking your pussy and the squelches he’s pulling out make it seem like so. His fingers threaten to bruise your hips with how hard he’s gripping you but you don’t care, the soreness you’ll find later will be a sweet memory you’ll no doubt touch yourself to at night, after all.

“Fuck, ngh! We have to hurry. Fuck me already.”

He laughs right into your ear, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with a low groan. “Whatever the princess wants. Put it on me, baby.”

Shaky fingers rip open the condom wrapper he throws in the air. With expert skill, you slide the condom down his throbbing length. A wet, messy kiss on your lips is the only warning you get before he stretches your pussy out with his cock, unable to hold out any longer.

You whine at the sting, but you can’t bring yourself to run away from it.

Inch by inch he fills you up, robbing you of breath and driving you downright crazy. “S-slow down, Shiu. It hurts.”

“I’m sorry, doll. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. How does two orgasms before she comes back sound to you?” Shiu gropes your tits through your shirt, massaging the fat like a stressball, half in apology and half for his own dastardly pleasure. You shiver when he flicks your hardened nipples through the material.

Gasping for air, dizzy with bliss as he forces his cock deeper and deeper until he bottoms out, you sass, “T-try three.”

Shiu’s chuckle is breathy. “My funny girl.” 

The air turns humid, filling up with the grunts and moans and squeals that you two release. Hips slapping and smacking, clothes rustling and cum splattering from where you’re joined together so closely it’s hard to tell where he begins and you end, everything overwhelms and overstimulates you, too spoiled to bother looking at the door.

How could you when his fingers are rubbing your clit again and again, seemingly magnetised? When he’s twisting your face back toward him with his spare hand so he can swallow the garbled moan of his name straight from your lips?

“Your dirty pussy’s so fucking wet, so -shit baby- so tight. My favourite -fuck!- f-favourite place in the world. Jesus,” he exhales. “And you were going to take this away from me? Oh, dollface, I ought to bend you over my -hngh- lap and spank you till you’re -loosen up, fuck!- till you’re c-crying out for f-forgiveness.”

And you’d let him. God knows you’d fucking let him.

“I’m back,” someone sings. 

You both still. 

The kitchen is right in the eyeline of the front door. She’s walking over now with a plastic bag and a smile. There’s no place to hide, no time to even try. You’re fucked. “What are you guys up to?”

Her knowing eyes meet yours, scanning your body from your wrinkled top, the hand that’s under it, cupping your breast, to the bunched up skirt leaving nothing to the imagination, and definitely to the puddle of wetness you left on the kitchen island.

Shiu mutters a curse under his breath. “Sweetheart,” he begins, unable to find the right words, “I -uh- fuck, we were just–”

Cringing, you try to salvage this. “Um, we were just hugging?”

“Ohhhh,” she says, dropping the bag off on the table to clap her hands together, “so my dad’s not fucking you right now. I see. And here I thought my two favourite people are actually shameless whores.”

The world tilts on its axis. 

Static rings in your head, deafening and blinding you at the same time somehow. This is it. She’s going to fight you. She’s going to beat you black and blue, render you stupid for the rest of your life. She’ll tell everyone you really did piss your pants from laughing too hard in the bar during Freshers and didn’t actually spill your drink, admit on socials that she’s the one who worked your first tampon in, and or burn all your clothes whilst she laughs manically. And you wouldn’t blame her; you’ve done something unforgivable. Something so so so good, but definitely so so so wrong. This is the end of your friendship forever. And all because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, or rather, couldn’t keep it in her father’s pants. 

You shove Shiu away, who was standing in shock, to rearrange your clothes back in place and stuttering, “I’m super sorry. Oh my god, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Wiping your wetness from his face unashamedly with a tea towel, tucking himself back in and blinking furiously as he takes in the sudden turn of events, he sighs. “Honey, it’s my fault. Fuck. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please, give us a chance to explain.”

She laughs again. 

“Guys, stop. Like, seriously. I do not want to have this talk. I’m messing with you. We’re all adults here, aren’t we? Honestly, I’m just glad my dad’s getting some. Like, t b h, I thought he was some loser and I’d inherit his loser, pulling-no-bitches genes. Could you imagine?” When he scoffs and opens his mouth to refute the accusations, probably ready to list all the women he’s bed since the divorce, his daughter simply raises her hand. “Spare me, dad. I don’t want to know more. Just remember how kind and forgiving I am, alright? Remember that you owe me one. And that neither of you can get mad at me now.”

You blink. “Why would we get mad at you?”

Like her dad, she shoots you a wink. “‘Cause I’m fucking your dad. Duh.”

Behind you, you sense, rather than feel per se, Shiu’s dick deflate.

“Have been for about a year now. Just did actually when I said ‘I’d go to the shop.’ He’s still outside, in his car, so maybe I can catch him. Y’know, since you guys are busy.” Giggling, she grabs her keys and skips away in haste, leaving you and her father to process the information. “Wrap it before you tap it! I don’t want a sibling.”

When you finally do absorb all that had just happened, eons later, the world tilts on its axis again. No, it completely collapses from under you.

Shiu and you look at each other.

“M-my dad?!”

“Fucking Fushiguro?”

[nanaminslut]

sorry i’m so busy but maybe ill put out some tiny blurbs abt my current faves, no kinktober though sadly, no time for it, school comes first :)

[fayesarchive-deactivated2025101]

can you do headcannnons on how older boyfriend ony is as a boyfriend to collegestudent!reader/their relationship 🤭🤭 hes my favvvv

cw: olderboyf!ony x collegestudent!reader, x fem!black reader, age gap (obvi), smutty headcannons included (mdni), one includes reader having stretch marks, mention of toys, oral sex, daddy kink, allat

series: ‹𝟹 ‹𝟹 ‹𝟹

Olderboyf!Ony isn’t the type to have a loud, chaotic Sunday. He likes his peace—sports on the TV low, maybe Frank Ocean you put him onto playing while he folds laundry. He doesn’t mind if you’re in his bed till noon if its your resting day, but what he does need is your presence. Even if you’re not talking, he likes you there in the room, legs tucked under you, pretending to study but really just watching him. That quiet routine means more to him than you realize—it’s how he resets for the week.

But the mornings he really cherishes? The ones where he wakes and bakes with you, laughing under the covers before you pull out your phone and order way too much cheap fast food for breakfast on DoorDash (with his card, mind you), leaving him to eat what you can’t because you never know how to order the right amount.

Olderboyf!Ony encourages you to go to the gym with him whenever you can. He knows mornings aren’t your thing, and he knows you’d happily stay in bed all day if left to your own devices even if you have things to do on or off campus, but he also knows how much better you feel after moving your body. He’ll bust into your apartment without warning and drag you out of bed with calm persistence, teasing and tugging at you until you finally cave.

“Why you actin’ like my damn daddy?” you groan, still half under the covers.

“‘Cause I am,” he says, smirking, tapping your ass over the covers to stop you from falling asleep again, “You’d probably sit in bed all day if I let you.”

Even when you protest about feeling tired or not wanting to sweat your hair out, he just hums, tugging your wrist to steady you. “Move, mama,” he says, and somehow, no matter how much you complain, you end up following him, secretly glad he’s the one pushing you—because he knows exactly how good it’ll feel afterward.

Olderboyf!Ony taught you how to ask for what you want and how to communicate confidently. Before him, you didn’t know how to speak up or set boundaries without guilt, but his patience and guidance showed you that your needs mattered—no matter if it was with him, your friends, peers, or anyone else. Being with him taught you to express yourself openly, trust your feelings, and stand your ground, helping you navigate every relationship in your life with more confidence.

Olderboyf!Ony isn’t the type to hover or micromanage, but he notices when your focus slips. This wasn’t just a one time thing, if he knows you’ve got a paper due or a project hanging over your head, he would not let it go. He’ll casually slide into your space, sit on the edge of your desk or curl up on the couch nearby, just being there. He doesn’t nag—he doesn’t need to. One sharp look or a low “You still tryna finish that?” is enough to snap you out of scrolling your phone for the third time.

He’ll check in with reminders that feel natural, not bossy. “Two more pages, then you can take a break.” Or, “Set the timer, mama—you know you get lost if you don’t.” And if you start slacking, he’s there to nudge you with quiet encouragement: “Don’t waste the work you already put in.” He trusts you to do it, but he also trusts himself to make sure you don’t lose sight of your goals.

Olderboyf!Ony definitely thinks your stretch marks are the sexiest thing ever. Always grabbing at your thighs, your ass, sides of your hips. You’ve had them since your body started growing into a woman—used to make you self-conscious, still do a little—but with him? Doesn’t matter.

Sometimes he even makes you ride him in reverse cowgirl, just so he can get the full view—hands gripping and reaching, thumbs dragging along the curves of your ass and hips. He leans back, eyes dark, taking in every line and stretch, mumbling low praises that make your slick drip down to his balls.

Olderboyf!Ony is for sure the type that knows when you need to cum just from your demeanor—how you answered a question a little snappier than usual, how tense your body looks, the expression on your face. He doesn’t need you to admit it; that little tension radiating off you tells him everything. It doesn’t matter where you are—after not even a few minutes you crumble instantly into messy moans and shaking thighs. He can make your body melt around him, relief spilling out without you even realizing how desperate you were.

Olderboyf!Ony didn’t know he liked to be called daddy/papa until you. It wasn’t something his past relationships ever really did, never even crossed his mind, but one time—early in your relationship—he had you face down ass up, eating your pussy from the back, lapping his tounge around your syrupy mound, slurping like he hadn’t eaten in days, you moaned it out, voice trembling and breathless, “Daddy—please…” The way it rolled off your tongue, raw and needy, had him freeze for a second. He felt something tighten low in his stomach, almost enough to make him nut right there in his boxers before he started to rock his hips into the mattress underneath him.

Olderboyf!Ony sees toys more like friends than enemies. When he wants to overstimulate you, he’s quick to pull out that rose toy (third setting, ofc), pressing it hard against your clit while slowly pumping his dick in and out of you. It’s gotten to the point where you don’t know when you started or stopped creaming, you’ve came so many times you barely know anything. Your hips lifting high off the bed, thrashing, sobbing, screaming—your body literally losing control—and he just keeps that calm, nonchalant look on his face, blinking at you like he’s not aware he’s driving you to the edge of blacking out.

Olderboyf!Ony was different from anyone you’d ever been with. He was grown, more experienced—he knew exactly how to read your body before you even had to teach him. You’d been tired of faking orgasms, pretending just to get through sex with boys who didn’t know what they were doing, then finishing yourself off when they were gone, and with him… it was like a blessing. The first time he made you cum, it wasn’t soft or polite—it was messy, loud, everything you’d been holding in spilling out uncontrollably. He murmured your name in your ear like it was the only word in the world, talking you through the entire orgasm. After that night, you knew you weren’t ever coming up off him.

© fayesarchive — do not repost, reupload, or copy my work. reblogs are appreciated :)

[nanaminslut]

gonna TRY to do kinktober, i’m a busy college student and i work part time so 🥲 maybe i’ll do a piece a week

[tabloidangel]

NIGHTS LIKE THIS, connie springer.

content: dominican!connie, college au, smut with no lick of plot honestly, explicit language, lewd descriptions, teasing, dirty talk, nipple play, tip warming? inspired by this ask & visual.

connie loved nights like this. and you did too.

no work due, no parties clouding your mind, and most importantly no friends to hide your yearning looks and touches from.

the two of you were hidden in your own little cocoon, lo’s misleading your friends into thinking y’all were in two separate places. not quite ready to spill the tea.

all cozy in connie’s off campus apartment his warm body laid atop of yours, resting easily between your plush thighs. the slow deep breathes he took tickled your skin as his head rested just above you navel. connie touched you absentmindedly, fingers massaging into your hip, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles and hooking them with his. your brown skin smooth against that butter yellow nightie set you wore. fingers twirling and splitting his buzzed cut curls, while the two of you melt into the plush bed.

rain pelted on the nearby window as the john wick movies the two of you swore you’d binge casually played on the screen. strong hands pulling you closer as if the two of you couldn’t be any closer.

the fatal crashes of cars and gunshots blurred into background noise as connie took a deep whiff of your skin, that vanilla bourbon perfume oil clouding his senses. placing one lingering peck along your stomach as his strong hands grip at your thighs. hands roughly massaging into your flesh before draping them over his arms and hooking them higher, nearly folding your body in half as that familiar pressure sat along your pelvis.

you knew exactly where this was headed, lips curled into a smile, a teasing hum in your voice once you finally spoke. “conn—”

connie’s voice vibrates against your skin, “hmm?” leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder, where the straps of your tank had slipped.

a giggle slips past as his lips continue to wander. “thought we were having movie night..” breathing out a low, wanting sigh.

“we are princesa..” a low hum bounced off his chest, murmuring softly against your skin. lifting his head just enough for his low golden brown eyes to meet yours. “i know exactly what i wanna watch.”

open faced grill on display beside his pretty white teeth, as he bit down into his bottom lip. the two of you watching how hard he grew from just resting against you. leading to the familiar buzz in your clit and a heat that creeps up your spine, nipples perking up beneath the smooth fabric of your cami tank.

that buzz growing stronger once the two of you locked eyes, his shirtless body towering over yours with his sharp v-line on display just above his sweats.

then his lips meets yours for a soft kiss, the slightest press of his lips against yours. then another, against your jaw. lingering against your warm skin. trailing down to your neck, sucking softly at that sweet spot behind you ear while his fingers grazed at the hem of your tank. hooking a finger around the frill and tugging it down, the cool air grazing your skin in waves.

holding your heavy breast in his hand while his thumb circles your peaked nipple. “so fuckin’ pretty”

connie’s pink lips wrapping around your hardened brow nipple, sucking slow and deep as it tightened in his mouth. thighs clamping around his waist as a soft whine fell from your lips. groaning against your skin, sending shocks of pleasure from your breast straight down to your slicked clit.

nipping gently at the sensitive bud before sucking hard, soothing that pleasurable sting that made you chest cave while his other hand stayed busy, working at your breast. squeezing and flicking at the squishy bud, switching between the two like a man starved. finally gathering both of your heavy titties in his big hands, before he stops to give them both a soft kiss. doing it again and again until he’s messily suckling your aching nipples. soothing them wet with spit when he finally released them with one last pop.

connie reeled back, spreading your thighs wide. revealing your pulsing clit peeking through your damp thong, slit flooded with slick from every suck and tug of you nipples.

his wet lips spread into a grin, “there she go.. this my favorite part.”

lips sealing around yours once more, tilting his head to fit perfectly with yours. noses brushing against eachothers as the two of you try to swallow each other whole. tracing his tongue along your lips before letting him slip in with ease. sliding against your tongue smoothly before sucking it into his own mouth.

your fingers tangling into his messy curls, sending shocks of pleasure down his spine. grinding down against you slowly. groaning at the feeling of your plush lips against his dick.

then connie breaks the kiss, his eyes still low and red from the woods he faced earlier tonight. looking down at where your hips connected. his own briefs growing damp from gliding over your covered pussy. eyes flickering back to your pretty face, lips all red and swollen with your lip combo smeared all over his face. pinned beneath his muscular body as your nails clutched at his curls. he rolled his hips just right, tip kissing your pulsing clit.

lips hovering above yours as he rubs against you so agonizingly slow, fingers curled so tight around his base as his dick jumps above your clit.

“s-shit con—” swallowing the soft gasp that escaped you.

watching how your plush pussy practically ate your thong. disappearing between those brown two toned lips.

his mind spirales, snipping at that shrivel of restraint left in him. but tonight he wanted to take his time with you, make you feel every piece of him that he wanted to give.

dipping into that sticky mess and hooking his fingers around the slicked fabric of your thong, those pink gummy walls peeking through as he dragging them to the side. elastic snapping as it stretched out against your plush ass.

the quiet pops of the fabric were the last thing you heard before the ringing in your ear began.

thighs spread so far they burned.

his fat mushroomed tip slowly sunk into your pussy. nails grazing at his scalp, with a pout as your pussy stretched around his fat tip.

and my god was your pussy so fucking hot and gushy.

“wet ass pussy..”

slick dribbling down his dick as he began to fill that emptiness inside you. never sinking deeper more a few inches into that clamping hole of yours, moaning in unison at the pressure of him slowly filling you up. “feels s’good papí .”

but connie doesn’t respond, he just hungrily claims your lips. swallowing every moan as he messily sucks at your tongue, before releasing your lips with a pop. the wet schlick of your pussy growing louder with every shallow roll of his hips, your grip on his curls stinging deliciously against you his scalp. earning a deep moan.

“mhm, keep opening that pussy f’me, doing such a good job mamí.”

golden irises locked on that pretty pussy trying to suck him in with every shallow stroke he gives. each one pulling out more of that gushy slick.

“you such a good girl..”

fingers gripping at the fat of your hips as he holds you steady. finally sinking deep, rolling his hip until that fat tip kissed your cervix then slowly pulling out to watch those pink gushy walls grip at his dick so tight.

and the two of you were so fucking loud, moaning and whining against each others mouth, your thighs trembling in his big hands as he kept you spread wide.

it was all to much.. the way his cool chain grazed against your hot skin, the deep moans pooling from his throat, and the disgusting sounds of your creamy pussy making a mess between your thighs.

moans trembling from your lips in long pathetic cries “mmmphshitt, i love you so fuckin’ much papí..”

and how could you not with what he was doing to you. how couldn’t he tell with how tight you were gripping onto his dick with every sloppy thrust. heavy dick dragging slow and deep along your creamy walls, clinging to every vein, curve and pulse of his dick. pussy relaying every message your dick hazed mind couldn’t. “i know you do..”

“look what i’m doing to you.”

“i love you too princesa,” fingers cupping your jaw to get a good look at your face. all fucked out and pretty, tears clinging to your wet lashes. squeezing at your jaw whenever your starts pussy spurting out quick splashes while that thick dick keeps digging you out.

“fuck.. can’t you tell..?”

[forriku-deactivated20260315]

suna fingering you in front of a mirror . . . !

cw. explicit smut, brat taming, mirror play, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, pussy slapping, power play. 18+ only.

you’re sitting on suna’s lap, back pressed against his chest, bare, trembling, legs spread open obscenely in front of the mirror while his long fingers curl inside you with calculated cruelty. the squelch of your pussy fills the room, embarrassingly loud as his ring finger drags against that soft spot that makes your back jerk. his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, pinning you against him, making sure you feel how deep he is.

“look at yourself,” he murmurs, voice gravelly, lazy but sharp. his lips brush your ear, hot and taunting. “you were runnin’ your mouth earlier, remember? what happened to all that attitude? hm?” you whimper, nails clawing at his forearm, but he tuts, catching your chin with his free hand and forcing your teary eyes back to the mirror.

“what did i say?” he drawls, tone low but firm. “don’t look away. you do, i pull out and leave you like this. that what you want, baby?”

“nooo... p-please, rin, i n-need—” you stammer, but it cuts off in a sob when he curls his fingers just right, thumb grinding circles against your swollen clit.

“need what? say it.” his eyes in the mirror are half-lidded, smug, watching you unravel.

“need your cock! please... ahhhnn—fuck—need you inside me, rin, pleaseplease—”

he chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against your neck. “yeah? then earn it. look at how messy you are.” he angles his wrist, fucking his fingers into you faster, rougher, until wetness gushes out of you, splattering down his hand and thighs.

“fuck,” he groans, almost to himself, watching the spray hit the mirror. “so fuckin’ dirty. you just squirted all over me, baby. do it again.”

“c-can’t—aauugghh—i-i—” your body convulses, thighs shaking, but he doesn’t let you close them, holding you open by the waist like you’re nothing.

“yeah you can,” he whispers nastily, tongue dragging up your jaw. “you’re gonna gush all over my hand again like the desperate little slut you are. c’mon, make a mess for me.”

he continued to abuse your tight heat, tears streaming down your face as his fingers piston in and out mercilessly, his thumb flicking your clit like he’s punishing you. the wave hits again—hot, humiliating—your pussy squirting violently, soaking his hand and dripping onto the floor.

“fuck... that’s it,” he groans, pulling his drenched fingers out just to slap your pussy, making you yelp. “that’s my girl. fuck, look at that mess.”

you’re sobbing now, body trembling uncontrollably, broken pleas spilling from your mouth. “rin, rin, please, m’good, i’ll be good—need your cock, please, i’ll do anything—”

suna hums, satisfied, licking your slick from his fingers like it’s nothing. “you’re so fucking lucky you look pretty like this.” before you can blink, he’s hauling you off his lap and tossing you onto the bed. you land on your back, legs still twitching, cunt glistening and slick leaking down your thighs.

he strips his sweats off in one motion, his cock slapping against his stomach—long, thick, veins running along the shaft, flushed red at the tip. precum glistens as he strokes himself once, slow and taunting, letting you watch.

“spread your legs,” he orders, climbing over you, his cock heavy against your inner thigh. you did, exposing your sopping wet pussy to him, already swollen from his fingers.

he lines himself up with your gaping hole, teasing your entrance with the blunt head, smearing precum against your folds. you’re trembling, wide-eyed, lips parted in shaky whines.

“say sorry,” he demands, pressing just the tip in, making you gasp. “keep acting up and i'm not gonna fuck you at all.”

“m’sorry, rin! i’ll be good, i’ll take it all—fuck, just please, i need it—”

his smirk is slow, devastatingly hot. “that’s what i like to hear.”

and with one brutal snap of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt, your pussy stretching wide to take his cock, and your scream echoes off the walls.

based on this request

© seidoll | dont copy, repost, or translate any of my work

[nanaminslut]

i 💗 pussy slapping

[to00fu]

i feel like celebrating halloween early

[froggunn-deactivated20260108]

toji f. like father like son

Toji places the plate of steaming, crispy nuggets on the table with a smug grin on his face. “Boom. Circles. You’re welcome.”

Megumi stares down at the plate, expression dark. “I said,” he announces gravely, “I. don’t. want. the. circles. I want the dinosaurs.”

Toji plants one hand on the table and squints down at his son like the kid owes him money (which in his mind he does. He will never forget the amount he had to spend on diapers). “and I said you’re gettin’ the circles, because I already cooked the circles.”

Megumi’s lips pinch. “Then cook the dinosaurs.”

Toji leans in, “Oh, you want me to cook the dinosaurs, huh? Well, I want financial stability. Guess we both can’t have what we want. Now eat the circles before I start charging you rent.”

Megumi stares at him, unfazed. “You always say that but you never do it.”

“Oh, trust me, kid, one day-” “One day,” Megumi mimics, rolling his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

Toji’s eye twitches. He turns away, muttering, “You know, when I was your age, I didn’t even have dinosaur nuggets. I only ate rice every other night. And air.”

Megumi blinks, having heard this a million times. “Then you should be grateful.”

Toji whirls around to his son, teeth gritted. “Listen here you little-”

“Toji Fushiguro.” You round the corner just in time to catch his shoulders do the guilt-jump.

“What,” he barks, too fast. “What?!”

“How many times,” you sigh, “have I told you to stop acting his age?”

“ME!?” He looks personally victimized. “But he’s the one who started-!”

“You’re proving my point!”

Toji’s jaw drops. Megumi, sensing the tide turn in his favour, instantly morphs into the picture of innocent suffering. He glances up at you with wide, watery eyes.

“Aww baby, what did daddy do this time?” You ignore Toji’s indignant scoff of 'why am I always the bad guy' behind you and smooth over Megumi’s hair soothingly.

“Daddy gave me… the circles,” he says, mournful, like he’s recounting a tragic backstory. “But i wanted the dinosaurs.”

“Toji,” you turn to smile at him. “Can you please go get the dinosaur nuggets.”

“The food. Is food.” He snaps, gesturing at the circles as if introducing damning evidence. “It’s gonna taste the same.”

“And yet,” you say, still smiling, “you throw a fit when I get the wrong brand of ramen because you swear ‘the yellow packets hit different.’”

Toji opens his mouth, closes it. “Now wait a minute-”

“Also,” you continue, counting on your fingers, “you cut your sandwiches diagonally because triangles taste better, and last week you told Sukuna beer from the tall cans ‘is crispier.’ And there was that one time when-”

“Okay that’s enough!” He drags a hand down his face, muttering, “All right. Fine. Whatever.” He snatches the house keys. “I’m not coming back, just letting you know.”

You grin, rolling your eyes. “Stay safe baby.”

Toji shouts back, “I hope the store’s out and he has to eat– letters!” The door slams behind him, but you catch Megumi’s triumphant little smirk as he leans back in his chair, basking in the power of victory.

[ibuprofein]

𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝! 𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐜𝐰: 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭! 𝐝𝐨𝐦/𝐬𝐮𝐛 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭! 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! 🤭

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

onyankopon sat in his car at the red light, phone in hand. he pressed call again. “mama,” he muttered under his breath. the ring went on and on before finally dropping to voicemail. he frowned, jaw tight. “she better not be outside,” he thought, picturing you laughing somewhere you not supposed to be while ignoring him on purpose. he pressed call again. straight to voicemail again.

he ran a hand down his face. “she know to pickup when i call.” he said low, his voice rough with frustration. he still had a few errands to run and a couple more stops to make but each one made him want to get home faster. the thought of you out without him, leaving him waiting, kept knotting his chest tighter and tighter.

back at the apartment, you were sprawled across the living room floor in your soft pink silk pajamas, the fabric sliding softly over your skin. the little charms on your pink junk nails caught the sunlight as you worked the yarn, looping it into perfect scallops. summer walker’s airy voice floated around you. each stitch matched the rhythm of the music, and you hummed along, eyes half lidded in focus. a loose piece of hair fell across your cheek and you tucked it behind your ear, completely absorbed.

you leaned back against the couch, legs stretched out, a soft smile on your face as the yarn pooled around you. the little charms on your nails jingled faintly whenever you moved your hands. the candle on the coffee table sent out a faint lavender scent that was warm against your skin. the music carried you along and you let yourself drift, twirling a piece of hair around your finger and tapping your foot to the beat. the world outside could wait.

onyankopon finished his errands, moving from place to place. the calls had gone unanswered and the thought of you ignoring him while out with your friends made the air feel heavier. he shook it off, trying to focus on the last stop, but he was counting down until he got back home. “girl,” he said under his breath, “what the fuck?”

onyankopon pulled into the driveway, grip still tight on the wheel. he cut the engine off and sat there for a second, jaw locked. phone screen lit up with all the calls he made, none answered.

his eyes flicked up and landed on your car. still parked where it always was. headlights from his own car hit the front of the house and he noticed the living room lights glowing through the curtains.

he let out a short breath through his nose, shaking his head. “so you at home the whole time?” he muttered, low, teeth clenched.

part of him wanted to cool down, tell himself maybe you just didn’t hear it. maybe the music was too loud. but the other part of him was still hot—thinking about all that time he sat out running errands, calling over and over, mind running wild like you was out somewhere ignoring him.

ony opened the door and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. keys jingled heavy in his hand as he walked up the steps, the sound of his shoes hitting the porch sharp and steady. his chest stayed tight as he unlocked the door, pushing it open hard.

“ma,” his voice carried low through the house, warning tucked into every syllable.

you looked up from the couch, yarn spilling across your thighs. pink silk pajamas hugged your body, nails shining as you set the hook down. music floated from the speaker, soft jhene vocals filling the space.

your eyes lit when you saw him. “hey baby,” you said gentle, hair sliding over your shoulder.

ony just stood there for a second, staring. the anger in his chest twisted into something heavier. you was really just here. soft. cozy. looking up at him like you hadn’t had his phone calling you all damn day.

his jaw flexed and he shut the door slow behind him.

“so you mean to tell me,” he started, voice deep and rough, “i been calling you non stop. thinking you out. thinking you playing in my face. and you sittin here lookin like this?”

you shifted under his gaze, fingers tugging at the hem of your shorts. “i didn’t hear it,” you whispered, voice small, “i swear i wasn’t ignoring you.”

ony chuckled once but there wasn’t nothing soft in it. he walked over and leaned down over you, hand gripping the back of the couch as he caged you in. his other hand slid under your chin while tilting your face up so your eyes couldn’t run from his.

“nah, don’t start wit that.” his thumb brushed slow across your bottom lip. “you had me tight as hell behind that wheel, mama. heart beatin, head spinnin, thinkin my girl out somewhere actin brand new. that don’t sit right wit me.”

you swallowed, lashes fluttering as your breath caught. ony’s hand dropped from your chin to your throat, not squeezing but firm enough that you felt the weight of his control. his thumb pressed into the soft spot under your jaw as he leaned down, lips brushing close to yours but not giving you the kiss you wanted.

“get up,” he ordered, voice deep, no room for backtalk.

you rose quick, silk shorts riding up your thighs. he spun you around by your wrist, pressing your stomach against the back of the couch. his chest pressed heavy to your back, one palm sliding down over your hip.

“been sittin here too damn pretty,” he murmured into your ear, his tone sharp, “while i’m out there thinkin my girl don’t know how to answer the phone.” his hand came down across your ass in a quick slap, making you jump.

you gasped, nails gripping the couch cushions.

“nah, don’t move now,” he said, voice deep and steady. “when i tell you to stay, you stay.”

his other hand tugged at the bow on your shorts, untying it loose but not slipping them off. he let the fabric hang low on your hips, thumb brushing your skin slow, making your body heat up.

“look at you,” he muttered, lips ghosting your neck. “all soft. sittin here playin house while i’m out thinkin you wildin. had me fucked up.”

you whispered quick, “i didn’t mean to.”

ony chuckled dark, teeth grazing your neck. “don’t matter. you gon make it up to me.”

his hand slid under your pajama top, tracing your stomach before pushing higher till his thumb brushed the underside of your bra. his touch was slow, teasing, making you arch into him without thinking.

“see, i could give you what you want right now,” he said, voice dropping low, “but i think i’d rather take my time. let you feel how mad you had me.”

you whined, shifting against the couch. “please…”

his free hand dragged down between your thighs, palm pressing over the thin silk, slow grind that made your knees weak.

“yeah,” he muttered against your ear, voice husky, “you gon beg for it. loud. clear. till i believe you.”

his hand stayed heavy on your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder. you felt the press of his chest, solid and unrelenting, his breath dragging hot across your ear.

“you hear me?” he muttered, grip flexing just enough to make you swallow hard. “i said beg.”

your lips parted, shaky. “please, ony… i want it.”

a low chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating through you. his palm slid lower, cupping you through the damp silk until you couldn’t help the small whimper that left your throat.

“nah,” he rasped, dragging his hand away just when you pushed against it. “that sound weak. you don’t sound sorry. you don’t sound like a girl who had me losin my head behind that wheel.”

he shoved the shorts down rough, fabric pooling around your ankles. the air hit your bare skin, and his fingers traced slow circles on your clit.

“say it again,” he demanded, pressing harder, “make me believe it.”

your nails clawed the couch, hips jerking against his hand. “please, daddy—fuck—i’m sorry,” you cried, voice breaking. “i’ll answer every time, i swear. just—just finger me, please.”

that earned you another sharp slap across your ass, his hand lingering to squeeze the sting into your skin. his breath hitched, voice dark with satisfaction. “there she go. that’s what i wanted to hear.”

two thick fingers slid inside you without warning, the stretch making you moan loud enough to echo in the room. his other hand kept your throat pinned, forcing you to stay arched against him as he pumped slow, curling just right to have your knees shaking.

“you feel that?” he muttered against your ear, tongue flicking at your earlobe. “that’s me bein generous, mama. makin sure this pretty little pussy remember who it belongs to.”

your voice broke again, words slurring through your moans. “y-you, ony… it’s yours—”

“damn right.” his pace quickened, rough now, wet sounds filling the air while your body rocked forward against the couch. his thumb found your clit, drawing circles that had your thighs trembling, your chest pressing hard into the cushions.

he bent you down further, palm flat against your back to hold you in place while his fingers worked you mercilessly. your cries turned desperate, breath catching with every drag of his thumb.

“don’t run from it,” he warned, grinding his chest harder into you. “stay right there and take every bit of it. you gon come for me just like i told you.”

your whole body jolted, thighs clenching around his hand as the heat coiled too tight to hold. you choked on a sob, head thrown back as you came around his fingers, pussy clenching down hard while slick coated his hand.

ony didn’t slow down. his grip stayed firm, fucking you through it, making sure every spasm pulled another broken sound from your throat.

“yeah,” he growled low, biting at your neck. “that’s my girl. that’s the way you beg. keep rememberin how it feels when you make me wait.”

ony’s fingers dragged out of you slow, wet and glistening when he held them up to your lips. “open,” he ordered, pressing them against your mouth till you wrapped your lips around them.

“mhmm,” he hummed deep, watching your tongue swirl, eyes dark and locked on yours. “good girl. now you ready.”

he pushed your body further over the couch, one big hand on the back of your neck to keep you bowed while the other unbuckled his belt. the sound of leather sliding through the loops made your stomach flip, thighs rubbing together instinctively.

“spread ‘em wider,” he said, voice thick, unzipping slow. “let me see how bad you need it.”

you obeyed quick, knees shaking as you parted your legs, still dripping. ony lined himself up, the heavy weight of him sliding against your folds before he pushed in deep on the first stroke.

you cried out, nails clawing the couch cushion, body arching at the stretch.

“fuuuuck,” he groaned, chest pressed tight to your back. “so damn tight. like you don’t ever learn.”

he pulled back slow just to slam into you again, the impact making your whole body jolt against the couch. his pace started steady, deep strokes that had you gasping for air, each thrust pressing harder against that spot that made your eyes roll back.

“this what you wanted, huh?” he rasped, hips snapping into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the living room. “sit pretty at home, waitin for daddy to come put you back in your place.”

“y-yes—” you whimpered, voice breaking. “please don’t stop.”

ony’s hand slid from your neck to your mouth, palm covering it rough. “nah, mama. you gon keep that voice down till i say so. you want the neighbors hearin how dumb this dick make you?”

you moaned into his palm, muffled and desperate, your body jerking with every deep thrust. ony bent lower, chest pressing you harder into the couch, grinding into you slow before pulling back to fuck you rough again.

“look at you,” he gritted out, sweat sliding down his temple, “clenching around me like you was made for it. makin me forget how mad i was.”

his rhythm grew harsher, strokes long and punishing, pulling out till the tip barely stayed inside before driving back in with full force. every thrust sent sparks up your spine, the coil in your stomach winding tight again.

he felt it in the way you squeezed him, grip turning bruising on your hip. “don’t you dare,” he growled low in your ear. “not till i tell you. you hold that shit, you hear me?”

tears blurred your vision, body trembling as you nodded frantically under his hand. ony’s thrusts turned relentless, the sound of your slick filling the room, his deep grunts hitting your ear with every stroke.

“yeah, that’s my girl,” he muttered, voice rough, “you take it. you take all of it.”

he pulled his hand from your mouth, grabbing your hair instead, yanking your head back so he could growl against your throat. “now,” he said, hips snapping harder, “cum for me. give it to me mama.”

your scream broke out raw, body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you, pussy clenching down around him so tight it pulled a curse straight from his chest.

“shit—” ony’s thrusts faltered, hips grinding deep as he spilled into you, groaning low against your neck, body pressed heavy into yours till there was nothing left but his breath dragging hard and your whimpers filling the room.

ony stayed pressed to you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling hard against your back, the air thick with the sound of your ragged breaths. his grip finally loosened in your hair, big palm smoothing it down gentle like he hadn’t just been yanking you by it minutes ago.

“fuck…” he muttered, voice low, almost like he was talking to himself. “had me losin it.”

you whimpered soft, legs trembling under the weight of him. ony eased out slow, the empty stretch making you shiver. he caught you before you slumped forward, strong arms scooping you up from the couch like nothing.

“c’mon, mama,” he murmured, pressing his lips against your temple. “you did good for me.”

he carried you to the bedroom, laying you down on the sheets. his hands were surprisingly careful as he peeled off the damp silk, tossing it aside before pulling the blanket over your body.

when you tried to speak—voice hoarse, still shaky—he hushed you with a kiss to your forehead. “nah, don’t talk. i know.”

he sat at the edge of the bed, wiping you clean with a warm cloth he grabbed quick from the bathroom, pausing every now and then to press his lips against your skin. your thigh. your knee. the slope of your shoulder. each kiss softer than the last, nothing like the rough pace from earlier.

when he finally slid under the blanket beside you, he pulled you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. his hand rubbed circles into your back, steady and soothing.

“you scared the hell outta me, girl,” he admitted after a stretch of silence, voice quiet but heavy. “had me thinkin all kinds of shit when you ain’t answer. i don’t ever wanna feel that again.”

your fingers curled into his shirt, the guilt heavy in your chest. “i didn’t mean to…”

“i know,” he cut in, kissing the crown of your head. “i know you ain’t. just—answer next time. even if you busy. just a quick word, so i don’t sit there spinnin.”

you nodded against him, and ony let out a long sigh, his hand slipping lower to lace his fingers with yours.

“my baby,” he murmured, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “always so damn pretty… and mine. don’t forget that.”

he kissed you one more time—slow, deep, unhurried—before settling back into the pillows, holding you close like he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

[fayesarchive-deactivated2025101]

family-friend!toji?? 👀👀👀👀 (could be a drabble or fic i love your writing either way)

cw: family-friend!toji x fem!black reader drabble, smut (mdni), heavy age gap implied, prone bone, use of daddy, established sexual relationship, p in v sex

I think family-friend!Toji would be so ridiculously hard to stay away from. You weren’t supposed to be here anymore. not like this. The man was old enough to be your dad—probably older, he’s your family friend, was at almost every family function laughing with your uncles, birthdays, holidays, graduation after-parties, he was just background noise and a familiar face to you for a while. You’d never expect to be the girl he’d fuck repeatedly on almost every surface in his cheap apartment—and yet here you were.

You don’t remember how it started, it’s routine in the worst way—the late-night calls, the waking up at his place in the morning, the way he mutters, “This is the last time, swear it,” even as he’s using his index and middle finger to spread your folds apart, exposing the teasing pink shade in the middle to suck on your already-abused clit. And you let him say it, let yourself nod, knowing neither of you mean it.

Every time you told yourself it was the last time—last time you’d touch him, last time you’d cave—it ended the same way. The thrill of him pounding into you knowing your family would kill both of you if they found out only made it feel better and better. Every. Single. Time.

It should’ve been shame that settled in your chest after, but it never was. not with him. It was always the opposite — a twisted kind of pride, knowing he wanted you enough to risk it all, knowing he couldn’t keep his hands off you no matter how many times you both had promised.

You both told each other you’d stop picking up when his name lit your phone. You told each other you wouldn’t answer the door next time he came knocking. You even told him to deny you if you caved. but when it’s two in the morning and he’s standing there, broad shoulders filling the frame, green eyes dark with something that isn’t care or friendship—you always cave.

And the worst part? Neither of you can deny each other.

“…T-Toji, you—you said—” your voice cracked, muffled into the sheets, a broken gasp cutting you off when his hips slammed back into yours. He didnt even take the time to take your moomoo off, it was just bunched up mid-waist, you were flat on your stomach, legs spread, painted toes curling against the mattress. Your hips were lifted just enough by a thick pillow jammed beneath you, its corner rubbing right against your clit every time he drove forward. the mattress squeaked with every brutal shift, your body caged under his weight, breath knocked out of you again and again.

He only laughed low, dark, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You worried about what I said while I’m breakin’ this pussy open?” he muttered, palms digging into your waist hard enough to leave bruises. “I must not be fuckin’ you right.”

“…Y-yeah, you—we said we w—” your protest fell apart in a high whine, thighs shaking, words swallowed whole by the way he drove into you harder, deeper. The pillow’s corner dragged mercilessly against your clit with every push, making your hips jerk against it helplessly.

“That so?” he said while slamming you into the mattress like he was determined to fuck the memory out of you. Your arms were pinned under you, face turned to the side against the sheets, mouth open, breathless. The friction of the pillow and the way his hips snapped into yours had you trembling, voice raw.

He chuckled again, low and cruel, his breath hot against your ear as he bent closer, his dark hair sticking to your sweat-slick back. “Yeah, guess I did say that,” he muttered, tone sarcastic. “Funny how you still end up here, takin’ every inch like you can’t live without it. Because you can’t.”

Your answer came out as nothing but a whimper, throat working, nails digging into the sheets. Your body jolted with every snap of his hips, breath caught in your throat, words slipping before you could stop them.

“Why—are you—fuckin’—me like thiss—” you gasped, voice high and breaking, each syllable punched out of you with the force of his thrusts.

He caught your chin, forcing your head back until his mouth was against your ear. “You tellin’ me to stop?” he drawled, voice rough and amused. “Or you just talkin’?”

You only managed a whimper, thighs trembling, toes digging into the bed. “Say it, sweet girl.” he growled, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me to stop. One word, and I’ll pull out.”

Your nails clawed the sheets, a whine tearing from your chest. the words cracked out of you, desperate, raw “Nooo—please—don’t stop—” your voice broke into a moan, the pillow’s corner still bumping your bundle of nerves with every slam. “You makin’—this pussy feel shoo good, daddy—”

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, grip tightening on your waist. your chest heaved, voice breaking into incoherent whines, every nerve overstimulated. the sounds you made—the moans, the desperate “nooo, don’t stop”—drove him crazy, and he pounded into you like he was claiming every last bit of your surrender.

“Goddamn,” he groaned at the sounds of your squelching walls, tip hitting that spongey spot that took the breath out of you. “You don’t even know how much this pussy belongs to me.”

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