Peekaboo

Reblog haven 20s

[noozasarchive]

sideblog for @yailuxe

where i post my more downbad reblogs

[naity-sama]

Some words to use when writing things:

winking

clenching

pulsing

fluttering

contracting

twitching

sucking

quivering

pulsating

throbbing

beating

thumping

thudding

pounding

humming

palpitate

vibrate

grinding

crushing

hammering

lashing

knocking

driving

thrusting

pushing

force

injecting

filling

dilate

stretching

lingering

expanding

bouncing

reaming

elongate

enlarge

unfolding

yielding

sternly

firmly

tightly 

harshly

thoroughly

consistently

precision

accuracy

carefully

demanding

strictly

restriction

meticulously

scrupulously

rigorously

rim

edge

lip

circle

band

encircling

enclosing

surrounding

piercing

curl

lock

twist

coil

spiral

whorl

dip

wet

soak

madly

wildly

noisily

rowdily

rambunctiously

decadent

degenerate

immoral

indulgent

accept

take

invite

nook

indentation

niche

depression

indent

depress

delay

tossing

writhing

flailing

squirming

rolling

wriggling

wiggling

thrashing

struggling

grappling

striving

straining

[littlestsecret]

Appetite -  craving, demand, gluttony, greed, hunger, inclination, insatiable, longing, lust, passion, ravenousness, relish, taste, thirst, urge, voracity, weakness, willingness, yearning, ardor, dedication, desire, devotion, enthusiasm, excitement, fervor, horny, intensity, keenness, wholeheartedness, zeal

Arouse -  agitate, awaken, electrify, enliven, excite, entice, foment, goad, incite, inflame, instigate, kindle, provoke, rally, rouse, spark, stimulate, stir, thrill, waken, warm, whet, attract, charm, coax, fire up, fuel, heat up, lure, produce, stir up, tantalize, tease, tempt, thrum, torment, wind up, work up

Assault -  attack, advancing, aggressive, assailing, charging, incursion, inundated, invasion, offensive, onset, onslaught, overwhelmed, ruinous, tempestuous, strike, violation, ambush, assail, barrage, bombard, bombardment, crackdown, wound Beautiful -  admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, bewitching, charming, dazzling, delicate, delightful, divine, elegant, enticing, exquisite, fascinating, gorgeous, graceful, grand, magnificent, marvelous, pleasing, radiant, ravishing, resplendent, splendid, stunning, sublime, attractive, beguiling, captivating, enchanting, engaging, enthralling, eye-catching, fetching, fine, fine-looking, good-looking, handsome, inviting, lovely, mesmeric, mesmerizing, pretty, rakish, refined, striking, tantalizing, tempting Brutal -  atrocious, barbarous, bloodthirsty, callous, cruel, feral, ferocious, hard, harsh, heartless, inhuman, merciless, murderous, pitiless, remorseless, rough, rude, ruthless, savage, severe, terrible, unmerciful, vicious, bestial, brute, brutish, cold-blooded, fierce, gory, nasty, rancorous, sadistic, uncompromising, unfeeling, unforgiving, unpitying, violent, wild Burly – able-bodied, athletic, beefy, big, brawny, broad-shouldered, bulky, dense, enormous, great, hard, hardy, hearty, heavily built, heavy, hefty, huge, husky, immense, large, massive, muscular, mighty, outsized, oversized, powerful, powerfully built, prodigious, robust, solid, stalwart, stocky, stout, strapping, strong, strongly built, sturdy, thick, thickset, tough, well-built, well-developed Carnal -  animalistic, bodily, impure, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, libidinous, licentious, lustful, physical, prurient, salacious, sensuous, voluptuous, vulgar, wanton, , coarse, crude, dirty, raunchy, rough, unclean Dangerous -  alarming, critical, fatal, formidable, impending, malignant, menacing, mortal, nasty, perilous, precarious, pressing, serious, terrible, threatening, treacherous, urgent, vulnerable, wicked, acute, damaging, deadly, death-defying, deathly, destructive, detrimental, explosive, grave, harmful, hazardous, injurious, lethal, life-threatening, noxious, poisonous, risky, severe, terrifying, toxic, unsafe, unstable, venomous Dark -  atrocious, corrupt, forbidding, foul, infernal, midnight, morbid, ominous, sinful, sinister, somber, threatening, twilight, vile, wicked, abject, alarming, appalling, baleful, bizarre, bleak, bloodcurdling, boding evil, chilling, cold, condemned, creepy, damned, daunting, demented, desolate, dire, dismal, disturbing, doomed, dour, dread, dreary, dusk, eerie, fear, fearsome, frightening, ghastly, ghostly, ghoulish, gloom, gloomy, grave, grim, grisly, gruesome, hair-raising, haunted, hideous, hopeless, horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifying, horror, ill-fated, ill-omened, ill-starred, inauspicious, inhospitable, looming, lost, macabre, malice, malignant, menacing, murky, mysterious, night, panic, pessimistic, petrifying, scary, shadows, shadowy, shade, shady, shocking, soul-destroying, sour, spine-chilling, spine-tingling, strange, terrifying, uncanny, unearthly, unlucky, unnatural, unnerving, weird, wretched Delicious - enticing, exquisite, luscious, lush, rich, savory, sweet, tasty, tempting, appetizing, delectable, flavorsome, full of flavor, juicy, lip-smacking, mouth-watering, piquant, relish, ripe, salty, spicy, scrummy, scrumptious, succulent, tangy, tart, tasty, yummy, zesty Ecstasy -  delectation, delirium, elation, euphoria, fervor, frenzy, joy, rapture, transport, bliss, excitement, happiness, heaven, high, paradise, rhapsody, thrill, blissful, delighted, elated, extremely happy, in raptures (of delight), in seventh heaven, jubilant, on cloud nine, overexcited, overjoyed, rapturous, thrilled Ecstatic -  delirious, enraptured, euphoric, fervent, frenzied, joyous, transported, wild Erotic -  amatory, amorous, aphrodisiac, carnal, earthy, erogenous, fervid, filthy, hot, impassioned, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, raw, romantic, rousing, salacious, seductive, sensual, sexual, spicy, steamy, stimulating, suggestive, titillating, voluptuous, tantalizing Gasp -  catch of breath, choke, gulp, heave, inhale, pant, puff, snort, wheeze, huff, rasp, sharp intake of air, short of breath, struggle for breath, swallow, winded  Heated - ardent, avid, excited, fervent, fervid, fierce, fiery, frenzied, furious, impassioned, intense, passionate, raging, scalding, scorched, stormy, tempestuous, vehement, violent, ablaze, aflame, all-consuming, blazing, blistering, burning, crazed, explosive, febrile, feverish, fired up, flaming, flushed, frantic, hot, hot-blooded, impatient, incensed, maddening, obsessed, possessed, randy, searing, sizzling, smoldering, sweltering, torrid, turbulent, volatile, worked up, zealous Hunger -  appetite, ache, craving, gluttony, greed, longing, lust, mania, mouth-watering, ravenous, voracious, want, yearning, thirst Hungry -  avid, carnivorous, covetous, craving, eager, greedy, hungered, rapacious, ravenous, starved, unsatisfied, voracious, avaricious, desirous, famished, grasping, insatiable, keen, longing, predatory, ravening, starving, thirsty, wanting Intense -  forceful, severe, passionate, acute, agonizing, ardent, anxious, biting, bitter, burning, close, consuming, cutting, deep, eager, earnest, excessive, exquisite, extreme, fervent, fervid, fierce, forcible, great, harsh, impassioned, keen, marked, piercing, powerful, profound, severe, sharp, strong, vehement, violent, vivid, vigorous Liquid -  damp, cream, creamy, dripping, ichorous, juicy, moist, luscious, melted, moist, pulpy, sappy, soaking, solvent, sopping, succulent, viscous, wet / aqueous, broth, elixir, extract, flux, juice, liquor, nectar, sap, sauce, secretion, solution, vitae, awash, moisture, boggy, dewy, drenched, drip, drop, droplet, drowning, flood, flooded, flowing, fountain, jewel, leaky, milky, overflowing, saturated, slick, slippery, soaked, sodden, soggy, stream, swamp, tear, teardrop, torrent, waterlogged, watery, weeping Lithe - agile, lean, pliant, slight, spare, sinewy, slender, supple, deft, fit, flexible, lanky, leggy, limber, lissom, lissome, nimble, sinuous, skinny, sleek, slender, slim, svelte, trim, thin, willowy, wiry Moan - beef, cry, gripe, grouse, grumble, lament, lamentation, plaint, sob, wail, whine, bemoan, bewail, carp, deplore, grieve, gripe, grouse, grumble, keen, lament, sigh, sob, wail, whine, mewl Moving -  (exciting,) affecting, effective  arousing, awakening, breathless, dynamic, eloquent, emotional, emotive, expressive, fecund, far-out, felt in gut, grabbed by, gripping, heartbreaking, heartrending, impelling, impressive, inspirational, meaningful, mind-bending, mind-blowing, motivating, persuasive, poignant, propelling, provoking, quickening, rallying, rousing, significant, stimulating, simulative, stirring, stunning, touching, awe-inspiring, energizing, exhilarating, fascinating, heart pounding, heart stopping, inspiring, riveting, thrilling Need -  compulsion, demand, desperate, devoir, extremity, impatient longing, must, urge, urgency / desire, appetite, avid, burn, craving, eagerness, fascination, greed, hunger, insatiable, longing, lust, taste, thirst, voracious, want, yearning, ache, addiction, aspiration, desire, fever, fixation, hankering, hope, impulse, inclination, infatuation, itch, obsession, passion, pining, wish, yen Pain -  ache, afflict, affliction, agony, agonize, anguish, bite, burn, chafe, distress, fever, grief, hurt, inflame, laceration, misery, pang, punish, sting, suffering, tenderness, throb, throe, torment, torture, smart Painful -  aching, agonizing, arduous, awful, biting, burning, caustic, dire, distressing, dreadful, excruciating, extreme, grievous, inflamed, piercing, raw, sensitive, severe, sharp, tender, terrible, throbbing, tormenting, angry, bleeding, bloody, bruised, cutting, hurting, injured, irritated, prickly, skinned, smarting, sore, stinging, unbearable, uncomfortable, upsetting, wounded Perverted -  aberrant, abnormal, corrupt, debased, debauched, defiling, depraved, deviant, monstrous, tainted, twisted, vicious, warped, wicked, abhorrent, base, decadent, degenerate, degrading, dirty, disgusting, dissipated, dissolute, distasteful, hedonistic, immodest, immoral, indecent, indulgent, licentious, nasty, profligate, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, shameful, shameless, sickening, sinful, smutty, sordid, unscrupulous, vile  Pleasurable -  charming, gratifying, luscious, satisfying, savory, agreeable, delicious, delightful, enjoyable, nice, pleasant, pleasing, soothing, succulent Pleasure -  bliss, delight, gluttony, gratification, relish, satisfaction, thrill, adventure, amusement, buzz, contentment, delight, desire, ecstasy, enjoyment, excitement, fun, happiness, harmony, heaven, joy, kick, liking, paradise, seventh heaven  Rapacious-  avaricious, ferocious, furious, greedy, predatory, ravening, ravenous, savage, voracious, aggressive, gluttonous, grasping, insatiable, marauding, plundering Rapture -  bliss, ecstasy, elation, exaltation, glory, gratification, passion, pleasure, floating, unbridled joy Rigid -  adamant, austere, definite, determined, exact, firm, hard, rigorous, solid, stern, uncompromising, unrelenting, unyielding, concrete, fixed, harsh, immovable, inflexible, obstinate, resolute, resolved, severe, steadfast, steady, stiff, strong, strict, stubborn, taut, tense, tight, tough, unbending, unchangeable, unwavering Sudden -  abrupt, accelerated, acute, fast, flashing, fleeting, hasty, headlong, hurried, immediate, impetuous, impulsive, quick, quickening, rapid, rash, rushing, swift, brash, brisk, brusque, instant, instantaneous, out of the blue, reckless, rushed, sharp, spontaneous, urgent, without warning Thrust -  (forward) advance, drive, forge, impetus, impulsion, lunge, momentum, onslaught, poke, pressure, prod, propulsion, punch, push, shove, power, proceed, progress, propel (push hard) assail, assault, attack, bear down, buck, drive, force, heave, impale, impel, jab, lunge, plunge, press, pound, prod, ram, shove, stab, transfix, urge, bang, burrow, cram, gouge, jam, pierce, punch, slam, spear, spike, stick Thunder-struck - amazed, astonished, aghast, astounded, awestruck, confounded, dazed, dazed, dismayed, overwhelmed, shocked, staggered, startled, stunned, gob-smacked, bewildered, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, horrified, incredulous, surprised, taken aback  Torment - agony, anguish, hurt, misery, pain, punishment, suffering, afflict, angst, conflict, distress, grief, heartache, misfortune, nightmare, persecute, plague, sorrow, strife, tease, test, trial, tribulation, torture, turmoil, vex, woe Touch -  (physical) - blow, brush, caress, collide, come together, contact, converge, crash, cuddle, embrace, feel, feel up, finger, fondle, frisk, glance, glide, graze, grope, handle, hit, hug, impact, join, junction, kiss, lick, line, manipulate, march, massage, meet, nudge, palm, partake, pat, paw, peck, pet, pinch, probe, push, reach, rub, scratch, skim, slide, smooth, strike, stroke, suck, sweep, tag, tap, taste, thumb, tickle, tip, touching, toy, bite, bump, burrow, buss, bury, circle, claw, clean, clutch, cover, creep, crush, cup, curl, delve, dig, drag, draw, ease, edge, fiddle with, flick, flit, fumble, grind, grip, grub, hold, huddle, knead, lap, lave, lay a hand on, maneuver, manhandle, mash, mold, muzzle, neck, nestle, nibble, nip, nuzzle, outline, play, polish, press, pull, rasp, ravish, ream, rim, run, scoop, scrabble, scrape, scrub, shave, shift, shunt, skate, slip, slither, smack, snake, snuggle, soothe, spank, splay, spread, squeeze, stretch, swipe, tangle, tease, thump, tongue, trace, trail, tunnel twiddle, twirl, twist, tug, work, wrap  (mental) - communicate, examine, inspect, perception, scrutinize Wet - bathe, bleed, burst, cascade, course, cover, cream, damp, dampen, deluge, dip, douse, drench, dribble, drip, drizzle, drool, drop, drown, dunk, erupt, flood, flow, gush, immerse, issue, jet, leach, leak, moisten, ooze, overflow, permeate, plunge, pour, rain, rinse, run, salivate, saturate, secrete, seep, shower, shoot, slaver, slobber, slop, slosh, sluice, spill, soak, souse, spew, spit, splash, splatter, spout, spray, sprinkle, spurt, squirt, steep, stream, submerge, surge, swab, swamp, swill, swim, trickle, wash, water Wicked -  abominable, amoral, atrocious, awful, base, barbarous, dangerous, debased, depraved, distressing, dreadful, evil, fearful, fiendish, fierce, foul, heartless, hazardous, heinous, immoral, indecent, intense, mean, nasty, naughty, nefarious, offensive, profane, scandalous, severe, shameful, shameless, sinful, terrible, unholy, vicious, vile, villainous, wayward, bad, criminal, cruel, deplorable, despicable, devious, ill-intentioned, impious, impish, iniquitous, irreverent, loathsome, Machiavellian, mad, malevolent, malicious, merciless, mischievous, monstrous, perverse, ruthless, spiteful, uncaring, unkind, unscrupulous, vindictive, virulent, wretched Writhe -  agonize, bend, jerk, recoil, lurch, plunge, slither, squirm, struggle, suffer, thrash, thresh, twist, wiggle, wriggle, angle, arc, bow, buck, coil, contort, convulse, curl, curve, fidget, fight, flex, go into spasm, grind, heave, jiggle, jolt, kick, rear, reel, ripple, resist, roll, lash, lash out, screw up, shake, shift, slide, spasm, stir, strain, stretch, surge, swell, swivel, thrust, turn violently, tussle, twitch, undulate, warp, worm, wrench, wrestle, yank 

[aghostnotaguardian-archive]

//MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS - HERE IS THE ANSWER TO THE PROBLEM OF FINDING THAT RIGHT WORD!!!!!

[shades-of-orange]

I’ve reblogged it before, and I’ll reblog it again

[drabblily]

again….reblogging to save a writers life 🤒

[pzxce]

darkbound souls doodle

[rezijellyfish]

[chrisssiren]

DIVIDER DUMP — WINTER PALETTE

⟢ i really like the curtain ones

「 ✦ hex codes: #76889C #B6C6D5 #B9A49F #FCDDA2 ✦ 」

⟢ Like/reblog if you use.

⟢ Credit is not necessary (but it’s appreciated).

[liahcharms]

the weird little lady in the woods

Long ago, in faraway lands stretching behind an eerie forest, a tale was told. A story of a young woman living in the deepest corners of the woods, with a black cat as a companion, a trickery house sitting on a single chicken leg, and… two rather handsome lumberjacks who warmed her cold heart during the nights!

Included in Tales, Myths, Romances

Written for my 3k event!

pairings: Lumberjack!Toji x Lumberjack!Sukuna x Witch!Reader

content/warnings: mdni 18+, based on a Slavic Folklore, Baba Yaga, inspired by folk tale, not super accurate, smut smut smut, fluff too, HEAVY breeding kink, creampie, manhandling, pet names, belly bulge, double penetration, Toji and Sukuna are fat and massive, spooky vibes, p in v, cunnilingus, oral sex (both ways), they are actually gentle, sly reader, mentions of pregnancy, the reader wants to use them, actually it's pretty cute, virgin reader, age gap, size kink, size difference

WC: 7.4k

a/n: The Baba Yaga tale comes primarily from Russia. It was, however, adapted by other Slavic nations and became an important part of their folklore, which is rooted in paganism. In my country, Baba Yaga is an old witch in the woods who lives in a house on a chicken leg. She was a bane of my existence when I was a child, and I remember my grandmother always reminding me to behave, or Baba Yaga would come get me. What's interesting, she's sometimes presented as an eerie creature, but more often as an old hag, compared to the forest goddess. That's why in this fanfic, I will try to mix different versions of Baba Yaga's portrait in Slavic folklore!

Long, long ago, in a land far, far away, there was a tale going around the little village.

Where the creek ran through the restless fields of wheat and lush plains spread over the horizon. With crystal waters bending and twisting like a snake, separating the local villagers from a sinister forest towering over their hatched houses.

A story of an old woman living in the deepest corners of the woods, with only a black cat as a companion and a trickery house, sitting on a single chicken leg. A story passed by parents and grandparents, of an eldritch hag with a nose bent like a hook, stretching far towards the ceiling of her wooden hut. With iron teeth piercing fresh flesh and bony legs, she wandered on while looking for prey.

Baba Yaga, that is what the villagers called her. For she was a wicked crone, inflaming a horror in their kind hearts. 

Some people, however, enjoyed believing she was more of a fair birdie.

With eyes rich like wild raspberries and a sweet voice haunting the men’s frolic minds. Of an angel's look and devilish lips, chirping sweetly like a virgin, alluring village husbands to her woods.

Some have whispered she was a heinous hag – an ancient witch the people should beware of.

Others rumoured of her caring heart and prayed silently in the dark rooms of their small houses. To the forest, fertile goddess who blessed the ladies of the village with little munchkins. 

Many different hearsay slipped through the serene air of the village, one scarier than the other, twinning and joining like golden strands of wheat blooming under the sizzling sun. 

You may ask, has anyone ever seen her? 

Some wanderers would swear that while crossing the woods during the deep, quiet nights, they saw it. A tall chicken leg, jumping around the wet moss and crusty leaves. Having a little wooden hut glued on its top, with no doors or windows. Just a grey smoke curling around its curved chimney. Some would swear upon seeing burly trees bending over their trembling bodies, wearing an eerie grimace, as if trying to push weak humans towards the looming hut. Others saw a cat – a black one, with yellow eyes glimmering like two moons. 

Some men would go to the forest late afternoon, solely to come back the next morning, long before the first crowing of the cock. With dreamy eyes veiled by a mist and minds completly blank, as if the night creatures of the woods sucked their memories away.  

They would reckon some bits and snippets of nightly wander, with cold wind brushing their cheeks and hazy visions of a woman's voice pulling them towards the weird-looking hut. But they could never remember the details, and thus the forest witch was nothing but a tale creeping through the creaky windows of the wooden houses.

The villagers stayed away from the woods, and children were forbidden from going near.

And everyone went by this silent rule.

Oh, well… almost everyone.

For two lumberjacks, Toji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryomen, could not care less about the trumped-up fable.

Two massive, burly men – the biggest in the village, truly, and the only ones providing the thick timber logs.

It was not that other husbands didn’t dare to dive into the woods, but rather… well, there was just too much harvest, and every pair of strong hands was needed. At least that was the thought that allowed them to sleep serenely.

Without risking their lives, without the danger of meeting spectral creatures and chicken-legged huts.

But Toji and Sukuna have only believed in things they could see. Touch, experience, remember in detail. That was why the tale of a forest hag sounded to them both rather foolish, almost made up.

Did their mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers warn them about the dangers of the forest?

Surely.

But even as nippers, they couldn’t keep their prying eyes away from the thick greens, with one tree spookier than the other. 

Thus, now, at the age of thirty-five, they still didn’t care about all the rumours going around. And the daily occurrence of villagers tucking tightly inside their houses after the last beams of sun left the earth was quite amusing.

Fools, they have thought, while going back and forth between the forest and a village every single day.

Until, well… until one day they saw a hut.

The dusk has fallen quietly over the golden fields, with a deep purple blanket covering the sky. Nothing but a faint glimmer of stars crept through the dense trees, and both men found themselves rather lost.

They had never gone that deep into the woods, but the need for logs was higher around that time as the summer solstice was just around the corner. And with the planned celebrations, grand feast and fire jumping, they would need much more timber than usual.

It was not that they couldn’t find their way out, but all the looming trees started to resemble eerie creatures. With branches curling restlessly behind their backs, as if trying to brush two foolish souls passing through the enchanted woods. The lethargic melody of crickets was long gone, leaving the forest in a deathly silence.

Nightly wind brushed their dust-covered shirts, bringing a gentle shiver down their spines.

Was it caused by a cold?

Or maybe by a deep, dread feeling of someone, something, lurking behind the gnarled branches?

They walked farther and farther, thinking that they were getting closer to the familiar fields of the village. Thinking that the little pond they passed every day was right behind the next tree, with slimy frogs humming on the cold stones. That soon they would notice a golden glimpse of not-yet-sickled wheat and wooden houses filled with candled warmth.

Their backs burned from all the gathered logs, and eyes tried to see through the thick darkness filling the forest air. Not even stars could help them, and for the first time in their lives, a bizarre thought had crossed their mind.

That maybe they could have listened to all the cautionary tales about the dangers of the woods. 

That the trees were truly unpredictable and wicked, with their sharp needles poking their skins.

That a faint meow stretching between the softwoods was a bad omen.

"Did you hear it?" Sukuna murmured, stopping in tracks. 

Toji furrowed, finger gripping the saw firmer. "Was that a fucking cat?"

They stood in place, listening carefully for another sign that some normal, living creature was wandering somewhere around.

Another soft meow sent a shiver down their spines.

"Why would a cat be here?" Sukuna murmured, going towards the source.

Whether it was a foolish decision or not, they would need to find out on their own.

As the cat could mean two things – firstly, another village somewhere nearby and a place where they could spend the night. 

Secondly…

"You know why," Toji murmured, with all the warnings his grandmother had stuffed into his head suddenly lighting up.

Sukuna scoffed, looking over his shoulder. "Don’t tell me you’re scared."

"Fuck no."

But why would the cat be here? He wanted to add.

They moved slowly, with the muffled meows growing clearer and higher-pitched, but none of them noticed a feline slipping between the branches. 

They walked for another five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and even glimmering stars looked down at their sweating backs with a silent frown. Wandering that deep into the forest could not finish well.

But then, something appeared.

A hut.

Tall and looming, resembling something straight out of those delirious tales they loved to ignore that much. Spreading an eerie atmosphere, with a cold air biting much harsher than before. 

It stood in the middle of the woods, having a skull–topped fence surrounding it in a neat circle and a black cat sitting lazily on one of the milky heads. Wet earth dipped under the big, thick claws of a long chicken leg, made of nothing but skin and bones.

At its top sat a small house. Made of dark wood, with smooth walls and a crooked roof pinned rather messily. 

Both men furrowed their brows, seeing no doors nor windows, although grey mist loomed over the bended chimney.

A cat meowed, a raven croaked, and the woods came even closer, as if inviting them in and slowly covering all the paths with their thick branches.

"Yeah, I’m not doing it," Toji murmured.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes gazed at the wicked hut before a sight slipped away. "Fuck no."

They needed a single glance to turn around on their feet and walk away. As far as they could, till the endless plains of woods would let them out.

Because, at some point, they would find the right path. Probably.

Thus they walked, and walked, and walked till their legs were burning and faint meowing was left far behind. The trees never changed, bending and curling above their heads like spider’s webs, with leaves and needles dropping onto their shoulders.

The air was biting frost, although summer had almost come, and carried a lingering taste of rottenness.

At some point, they finally saw a faint glow. Pale glimmer, drawing from between the dense trees. A rise of hope bubbled in their chests, with fingers gripping the saws and legs suddenly moving much faster. 

They finally found it – an exit from this wicked forest.

With crows following their every step and darkness sharpening its teeth to swallow them whole. 

Little stones rolled beneath their feet, cheeks bled from the curled branches slashing through their skin, backs dipped under the weight of carried logs, but then they took the one last step and–

And found themselves back in the hut.

The faint glow they had chased was just a moonlight bouncing off the skull fence. The cat was still there, with yellow eyes glancing at them rather cheekily – as if the feline knew that both men were already done for.

Grey smoke still curled around the chimney, but this time it was much denser. Thicker, and it seemed that someone must’ve been inside this little, wooden house. 

"Dear God," Toji murmured, taking a deep breath. "How is it possible?"

Sukuna’s brows furrowed, crimson eyes slashing with the cat’s amused gaze. "I don’t know, but we need to keep moving."

"Where? We walked for twenty minutes and did a fucking circle."

They didn’t dare to walk past the skull-topped fence and thus stood still at the edge of the forest. Trees behind them chanted wickedly, tickling the backs of their sweating necks.

"You’re right, okay, let’s try that way," Sukuna pointed out at another path. "Maybe we will find a neighbouring village."

So they did just that.

And when their eyes caught a sinister hut again, towering over the looming trees, they both cursed under their breaths.  

Each path they took always led them straight towards the skull-topped fence, and after the fourth time, they finally crossed its border. They walked past the creamy heads and purring feline before standing by the bony chicken leg.

Everything looked like a nightmare – the hut, the fence, the moonlight shining on their wet foreheads and a cat, slowly sitting up. 

Like a fever dream they couldn’t wake up from, and every little detail of the tales whispered by the villagers suddenly flooded their minds.

They didn’t want to end up as the blasphemous hag’s sweet little treats. With their bones licked clean and dumped down the endless pit of her basement. 

If they wanted to get out of the forest before sunrise, they needed to act quickly.

"Let’s cut this down," Toji suddenly rolled, leaving Sukuna speechless.

"You mean, the leg?"

The man nodded, with scarred lips curving up. "If we’re going to die anyway, why not get her first? If she’s as old as everyone says, killing her would surely be a piece of cake."

A silence stretched between them, as if both Sukuna and a black cat and a big crow, that had sat quietly on the fence, were trying to process what he just said. 

"You want to murder an old lady?"

Toji scoffed. "Don’t look at me like that. She’s a witch!"

"But she’s also a…" Sukuna wanted to say a human, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

Was she a human?

Or maybe a spawn of the devil, a satab itself?

Toji gripped an axe tighter, poking the bony leg with the wooden end. It was rather thin, and he wondered how such a fragile thing could hold a whole hut. 

A spell?

"Why won’t we just cut it down first and see whether she’s there?" Sukuna murmured, lifting his axe.

"And if she’ll be there, we will…"

Sukuna tsked. "Let’s see first. Maybe, if we ask nicely, a hag will let us go. Maybe she’s not even that bad as people say."

None of them believed it, and creamy skulls sitting quietly on long bones should be evidence enough.

They both raised axes – with muscular forearms bulging under the muscles and eyes glued to the thin ankle of the chicken’s leg. It was steady, with long claws gripping the earth and yellow skin pulsing under the spilling moonlight.

And the moment their arms had swung, something hit them.

No, something has burst at their faces, and only then have they noticed a row of puffballs. With white caps breaking under their heavy shoes and powdery clouds erupting right into their noses.

But it seemed they weren’t just normal mushrooms, as the world in front of the men’s eyes started to swirl. Gaze slipped into fogginess, and lungs filled with a bitter powder. It burned their throats, chests, pushing sharp needles into their hearts, till both fell to their knees. 

They cat meowed softly in the back, the crow hummed, and the moonlight could only glance down pitifully at two lumberjacks slowly sacking out.

𖤐 𖤐 𖤐

When Sukuna slowly opened his eyes, something heavy lay sprawled on his chest. Warm and purring, with black fur floating around his lips and soft paws brushing his nose. 

The cat, the same one they saw just a while ago, sat down right above his heart, with yellow eyes glued to his slowly waking up face.

His mind was still a bit dizzy, and the bitter aftertaste of mushrooms swirled on his tongue, sticking to each and every corner of his throat. There was something soft under his body, although, surprisingly, he noticed that he lay shirtless.

And as it turned out, Toji was undressed too.

Spread right next to him, with hands lifted high up and wrists tied to a… bed frame?

Fuck, slipped silently, as he realised that his wrists were tied too. Strong enough not to rip the smooth fabric, but soft enough not to hurt his skin. 

"What is this place?" Toji murmured, only now waking up from a deep slumber.

Sukuna couldn’t see anything because of the fluffy beast purring on his chest, but Toji…

"Fucking hell," he whispered, feeling his heart flutter.

Sukun turned head his way, seeing the emerald eyes of his friend glued to something in front of them.

Someone, maybe. 

You.

A witch.

Your back was covered by a velvet, purple robe, brushing the wooden floor. Wide sleeves hung from your wrists, moving like clouds with every gentle swoosh of your hand. Toji couldn’t see much of your face, but only its profile – soft and kind, with plump lips murmuring something under your breath and hair hugging your cheeks. 

The inside of the hut was much larger than they had thought, and surely you must’ve used a kind of special spell. Rows and rows of books lay messily on shelves, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. A massive, brass cauldron stood right next to you on the low wooden table, with eerie greenish mist floating above the bubbling water. 

It looked warm, rather cosy, filled with the gentle crackling of candles and their yellow glow lighting up your furrowed brows.

When Sukuna sneezed, feeling the fur tickling his nose, you turned their way.

"Oh my," slipped in melody, and Toji held his breath. Your face was even more beautiful than he had thought, with beaming eyes curving in a gentle smile. "Apologies, mister. Lucifer, go away, let him breathe," you shooed the cat, before sitting at the end of the bed.

And then Sukuna could finally see you – an angel.

Or rather, a witch, as the legends said.

But your countenance looked nothing like the tales forsweared, as Sukuna’s breath hitched upon seeing a glimmer dancing behind your eyes. So soft and kind. Plush lips twisted in a smile, and when his gaze slipped down, something in his lower body moved.

Toji couldn’t see it before, but the purple robe flowing down your figure was much more flimsy than he had thought. With your soft collarbones gleaming under the candle’s light, and barely covered chest. They could clearly see the swell of your breasts, with their heavy fat barely hidden behind the material. 

Fucking hell.

Maybe they wished you looked more like legends swore – a hundred-year-old hag with a crooked nose.

"Miss," Toji choked out, with a mouth dry as wheat. "I think there has been a misunderstanding."

Your head tilted, and eyes flashed with amusement. "A misunderstanding? Aren’t you the ones who mere minutes ago wanted to cut down my hut?"

Their lips fell flat. 

"And aren’t you the ones who wished to, hm, how was it…" slipped in a giggle, while a fat cat purred on your lap. "Kill an old lady?"

Both of them looked rather stupefied, and a sight of two burly men tied to your bed frame was quite pleasant. 

What’s more, you didn’t even try to hide your deep eyes wandering around their half-naked bodies. With heavy muscles beaming under the light coating of sweat, and palms big enough to crush your whole head. 

Their tall, massive bodies could barely fit on your bed, and a few spells needed to be used to make it a bit wider. Shocked, but oh so handsome, faces looked at you in disbelief, and you felt their eyes slipping between the swell of your breasts and plush lips curving mischievously.

"Have you heard it?" Sukuna asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not me," you looked down at the black cat, petting its soft fur gently. "But Lucifer is my eyes and ears. You got lost, from what he said. No one ever told you not to wander around the woods in the night?"

Your giggle tasted like an aphrodisiac, and both men shifted uncomfortably on the bed. 

"Listen, miss, how about we apologise and you’ll let us go, hm? Let’s forget about–"

"Well," you interrupted, slowly standing up. The cat jumped off your lap and strolled towards the fireplace, sitting his fat ass on the soft carpet. "I usually have two ways of dealing with men of your sort," your fingers lifted a little glass phial with pinkish fluid. "I either clear their memories and simply let them go–"

"Wonderful, let’s get to it," Toji murmured, but you sent him a quick, cheeky look.

Oh, so that was not a way destined for them.

"Or," quiet footsteps filled the hut, as you walked towards a big carpet spread on the floor. With a single move, you rolled aside to present small doors, leading to the… "I throw them here. But no woman has complained about you two and wished for a curse, so fear not, dear sirs. Or, Toji and Sukuna."

You covered the basement, leaving them both scared and breathless.

"What have you heard about me?" suddenly rolled, as you walked back to the cauldron. The green mist still floated over it, and you turned at the long shelf filled with colourful little phials. 

"You’re a witch," Toji muttered, trying to keep his eyes on the back of your head and not the way velvety robes hugged your hips.

You hummed with a smile. "Go on."

"That you kidnap children," Sukuna added, seeing your back tremble in laughter. "And eat their flesh with iron teeth."

"Oh, truly?" came with a melodic laugh they both felt right in their cocks. Some purple liquid was added to the mixture boiling in a cauldron, and the mist changed from green to red. "That’s my favourite one so far. Anything else?"

You glanced over your shoulder to see their creased foreheads. One covered with raven hair and the other with soft, pinkish strands. 

"The women seem to like you," Toji murmured, noticing a little smile beaming on your cheeks.

"Haven’t you noticed a sudden surge in child births?" When they nodded slowly, you continued. "Well, no need to thank me. I’m glad I could help. And it leads me to why I decided to tie you up."

You looked more closely into the boiling cauldron, a gentle crease appearing between your brows. 

"Are you going to kill us?" Sukuna finally choked out, and your eyes quickly came back to them. 

Silence stretched mercilessly as they watched you come closer. And closer, and closer, till the bed dipped under your plush body, slowly climbing up theirs. Your knees scratched their thighs, palms dipped into the small spaces between their heavy chests, and soon a sugary fragrance hit their minds.

Curling around them sweetly, almost suffocating with the tender hints of berries and flowers, beaming on your soft neck.

Your hips straddled each of their thigh and the purple robe curled around your hips, hugging the spilling fat. Looking at the flowing material, they were rather sure you didn’t wear any panties.

Something bulged under your thighs, and a little smirk crawled up your lips.

"I won’t," slipped cheekily. "But first, sirs, say ah."

They furrowed, but opened their lips up, and before either of them could react, your fingers landed inside their mouths. With a gentle touch swirling between their gums and milky fangs, as if examining every curve of them.

You hummed softly before pulling the fingers back and allowing them to cough.

"Miss, are you crazy?" Toji barked, but you ignored him.

"Healthy gums, straight teeth, that’s good, good," slipped in a murmur, before your fingers landed in their hair. A silent tsk followed, as you pulled out two single strands.

"Hey, missy, what the hell are you doing?" Sukuna growled, wriggling under your hips. 

It did him nor Toji no good, because their already hard cocks dugged into the fat of your thighs deeper, pushing out a low, strangled hum of their throats. And a soft giggle from yours.

With two soft curls, you slowly slipped off their hips, leaving both men with a quiet disappointment. 

"You see, lots of women come to my hut with a wish to bear a child," their hair landed inside the cauldron, and a red mist changed into purple. "For many, I’m just a scary witch, but women cherish me as… a forest goddess, you may say," you mixed the boiling mixture with a wooden spoon, and a soft that’s good, perfect slipped through. "Fulfilling their desires is rather easy, you see. A simple mixture is enough to bloom their fertility."

Both men tried to listen closely, but could only focus on how quickly your warmth had left their bodies. 

Quite unpleasant, slightly unfortunate.

Toji furrowed. "Miss, what does that have to do with us?"

"I also want a child. No, I need to have a child to keep the lineage of witches," rolled softly, with your voice slipping into something warmer. "That’s what my mother did. And her mother, sisters, aunts, and every woman in my family. All of them chose a man healthy like a horse, the most potent one in the entire village."

Oh.

Something bubbled in their chest. A sudden warmth, a wave of electricity washed over their bodies, as both Sukuna and Toji looked at your blessed face with round eyes.

For a while, nothing but the cat’s soft purring and the soft crackling of the fireplace filled the hut. A deep silence, marked by unbearable tension. Your lips fell in line, forehead wrinkled with a coiling thought.

Toji coughed. "So we–"

"Yes," you quickly added. "You are the most perfect for this role."

And the rest played out faster than they expected.

The misty, purple robes suddenly fell off your shoulders, fully unveiling your divine body. With perked nipples licked warmly by a candle’s flame and a plush belly, their teeth already itched to dip into. You started to move – slowly, with thighs jiggling gently and lips curving in a mischievous smile.

"You can refuse, of course," slipped in a bewitching sweetness, curling around their lips and minds and already leaking cocks.

Refuse? They would be fools to refuse a woman like you.

"If you wish, I shall clear your minds and simply let you go. I'm sure, at some point, my path would cross with yet another potent men," the mattress dipped under your weight as you, once again, started crawling up their bodies.

Your words creased their foreheads.

Another men?

"But if you decide to stay–"

Their breaths hitched, feeling the sweetness of your breath hit their cheeks.

Something wicked coiled behind your pupils – arousing, suffocating them with the lustfulness of your gaze. You looked into Sukuna’s crimson eyes before your lips touched the corner of his. Shortly, softly, slowly moving to the next man and gently licking the pale scar slashing his maw. 

"If you stay, you’ll need to be my obedient husbands. And give me lots and lots of witches," you whispered, waiting quietly for an answer. With your cunt dripping down their clothed thighs and their cocks shifting under your body. 

They stared at you – with crimson and emerald eyes sparkling in feary madness.

Oh, so you truly were a witch, for their minds suddenly filled with a flaming need to obey your wicked request. The sweet fragrance of your naked skin wrapped around their senses like a poison. A spell, maybe, and they wondered whether you truly cast a sort of devilish charm.

To mould them as you wished, bending and pushing their minds over the edge with nothing but sweet little whispers. And trickery eyes, cherry lips, heavy breasts just waiting to be fondled and, dear god, your cunt brushing against their thighs.

"What do you say?" You whispered, before placing palms on their cheeks. "Do you wish to go back to your village? Or maybe fill me up like good boys, hm? Today is my most fertile night, so it should go quite easily."

"Untie us," Sukuna whispered, with eyes not leaving your face even for a second. 

Toji kissed the inside of your palm softly, with emerald eyes looking at your warming face. "Come on, baby, untie us. If you want to have a baby, let’s make one, hm?"

With a single snap of your fingers, their wrists fell. 

And then, oh well… you truly were a wicked and powerful witch.

But still a rather foolish, stupid young girl, who knew nothing about men.

About lustful, foxy, much older and stronger men, who you accidentally aroused in a most maddened way.

Your belly hit the mattress before you even knew it, and big palms lifted your drenched hips.

"Wait–" you choked and tried to lift your chest, but a heavy palm landed between your shoulders. 

"Don’t worry, little witch," Sukuna rolled, leaning towards you. Warm lips curled around your earlobe before moving to the back of your neck, and shoulders and liquid spine. "Let your husbands take good care of you."

Drenched folds of your cunt met with Toji’s calloused fingers, before he spread them open. A sudden warmth hit your core, and he took a long and nasty sniff of your dripping wet.

"Baby, you smell so fucking sweet," rolled in a groan, before Sukuna joined him. 

His finger brushed your hole, scooping up a few sticky strings of juices. He licked it clean, with a low hum filling the hut. "Fuck, the best meal I’ve ever had. Arch a bit more, sugar, and spread yourself open."

His hand pushed you into the mattress even harsher, till breath knocked out of your chest. 

"Just like that, baby," Toji hummed with a sly smile, bending his lips upon hearing your teary gasp. "You’re doing so well already, hm? So fucking wet."

There was no need to ask, for both of them knew that you were a virgin. It was quite obvious, with your hole fluttering shyly, drenching their digits in gluey saps of cum. Juices trickled down your thighs, dripped onto the mattress, and Toji bent over to lick your skin clean. 

His tongue warmed the inside of your thighs, the mound of ass, before he finally spread your cheeks wider, and you felt the plush muscle on your warmth.

"A-Ah–" fell in a pitched moan, as you wriggled under Sukuna’s hand.

He leaned closer, brushing away single strands of hair from your cheeks. One of his palms still lay heavily between your shoulders, pushing you against the mattress, while the other started to fiddle with his trousers.

"Have you ever sucked a dick, sugar?" He cooed warmly, but mischievous flames danced behind his crimson eyes. When your head shook, he chuckled. "Of course not, such a sweet little witch. Though you really know how to fire up a man."

Another moan slipped between your lips when Toji’s tongue landed on your clit. Curling, pushing, and abusing the plump spot, making your toes curl in pleasure. Another wave of honeyed cum flowed from your cunt, and he drank it hungrily, growling in delight over the sticky cum dripping down his throat. 

"Fuck, baby, if that’s how you pussy tastes, you can use me all you want," he groaned, brushing his clothed cock against your foot. His finger slipped in, and before you could scream, Sukuna’s lips quickly crashed against yours. "Another men, you must be fucking joking. Although you really set the bar high, thinking you can take two cocks at once," he pushed it further, feeling your walls clasp his digit. "So fucking tight."

"Don’t worry, little witch," Sukuna mumbled, fisting his cock with one hand. "We’ll try not to tear you open. I’m sure Toji will stretch your sweet cunt enough to fit us both, hm?"

But seeing the veiny, massive thing sitting in his hand – you weren’t quite sure.

And only then have you realised that maybe you underestimated both of them. Thinking that using them to get pregnant would be smooth and easy, and after a mere few minutes, you would simply send them back to the village.

The whole husbands thing was just a foolish play, but, as it turned out, your silly plan has missed a few rather important details that.

Firstly, both Toji and Sukuna were massive. Muscular wasn’t the right word to describe their ripped bodies, with backs broad like mountains and heavy forearms manhandling you in the most toe-curling way. Two beasts, with necks thick as logs and rolling shoulders that could easily lift you without a sweat.

They cast a shadow over your trembling body, and Sukuna needed just a single hand to overpower you fully. 

You didn’t feel the unbearable air they’ve spread around each other until you foolishly untied them. 

It wrapped around your neck, weighted on your chest, with their hands and lips and brutal force slowly opening you up in the most pleasurable way.

With Sukuna’s fat cock pushing through your wet lips and Toji’s fingers keeping your hips in place.

"Come on, little witch, open up. Give me a good lick," Sukuna’s hand travelled from your back up, resting on head. Fingers gripped your hair gently, but not forcefully. No, after all, he wanted you to take him willingly – to swirl this wicked tongue around his leaking cock and get drunk on precum. "That’s a good girl, mhm, don’t bite it, you’re doing so well."

His words somehow tickled your mind, and you choked on his cock even further. Salty precum glued to your throat and veins scratched the roof of your mouth. His musky, manly smell pushed out yet another wave of honeyed juices of your cunt, and Toji drank them with a low hum. 

When the second finger joined in, you jolted, trying to move hips away.

"Ah ah, baby, there’s no running," Toji chuckled, feeling your fluttering walls hardly swallowing his fingers. "Fucking hell, at this rate you won’t take even a single cock."

His lips curled around your clit, sucking the plump bud with delighted growls and sending low tremors straight to your cunt. His heavy tongue feasted on your sweetness as if starved, with fingers slowly working you open and abusing a single, plush spot relentlessly.

"How do you feel, sugar? What does it feel like to have your pussy eaten out for the first time–fuck," Sukuna cursed, feeling your throat clench around his pulsing cock. "You look so fucking ethereal, hell, the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t worry, I won’t cum inside your throat. I’m keeping it warm and safe for your sweet cunt."

You couldn’t stand it.

Their dirty words, warm fingers caressing your body with gentle strokes, all the buttons they somehow knew how to push to turn you into a miserable, whimpering mess. With crystal droplets swirling in the corners of your eyes and a pleasure washing over your spine each time Toji sucked on your clit.

When his fingers bent again, you cried. Pitifully, like an angel, sending a tremble straight to Sukuna’s cock. 

He moved, sitting right in front of you, letting your lips drop down even further, till the feverish head of his cock hit the back of your throat. Your fingers dug into his massive thighs, and saliva dripped down his balls. 

"Fuck, so good sugar, you’re doing so well," he warmly cheered you on, taking a hefty fist of your hair. "Suck on the head. Yeah, just like that, try to hollow your cheeks, take me deeper," when his head hit your back wall again, you started coughing. He quickly lifted you, brushing away a few dropping tears. Heavy hand squeezed your cheeks, pushing out swollen lips. "My little witch, where’s all the courage from before, hm? You really have no idea what you asked for."

You didn’t say anything, as his lips soon crashed against yours. In a sloppy kiss, with tongue swirling inside your mouth and a long stripe of spit dripping down your chin.

Oh, he was starving to feel that sweet cunt of yours tear around his cock. To feel your warm walls clasp around his shaft and soft moans fill the sizzling inside of the hut.

The heat coming off the fireplace mixed with your heavy breaths, sweating bodies and gluey fluids sticking to your skin. From the outside, they couldn’t see the windows, but now a soft gleam of moonlight crept through the foggy glass, smooching your wet cheeks with a cold light.

Toji’s heavy hand smacked your hips, and he finally pulled off. A sweet string connected his lips to your stretched cunt, and he gave it one last, long and filthy lick, leaving your thighs trembling.

"Let’s try, baby," he mumbled, still oogling the way your drenched hole flapped around nothing. As if desperately needed to swallow something into its desperate clutches. "Sukuna, turn her over. It’s time to stuff our little witch."

They treated you like a rag doll, and you felt no different. Soon, your back hit Sukuna’s chest, and Toji’s hands landed under your thighs, folding you easily like a leaf – with cunt spread open and more of fertile juices coating your folds.

Sukuna’s hands reached to your perked buds, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers. Maybe it was to send another wave of pleasure down your spine.

But, maybe, he wanted you to focus on something other than Toji taking out his massive cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sukuna’s fat shaft came right from below, smooching your drenched hole in warm, gentle kisses.

"It’s okay, sugar," he murmured into your ear, turning your head away. Fingers pinched your nipple, and another soft moan rolled through, making their hearts swell in ecstasy. "Don’t look there, just focus on me."

Your brows furrowed, and pleasure-blinded eyes tried to trace back, but his heavy hand kept your chin in place. "W-What is it?"

Toji chuckled, seeing your cunt already trying to swallow up their leaking heads. But would you be able to take them both?

Fucking hell, he didn’t know.

"Deep breath, baby," he muttered, covering your trembling clit with his thumb. He rolled it softly, helping your walls loosen up. 

And then slowly, slowly, two massive cocks pushed through the tight ring of your muscles. 

The pain mixed with pleasure, and before a scream rolled from your throat, Toji quickly leaned over. His lips swallowed a sharp cry, and cock pushed even further. 

Sukuna’s fingers kneaded your tits, with fat spilling from between his fingers, while Toji’s thumb worked slowly on your clit. In slow, deep rolls, pinching and pushing the sweet little button that helped their cocks slide deeper. Meaner, smooching and brushing your clasping walls, with their muscles trying to push fat shafts out.

"Sugar, fucking hell, try to relax," Sukuna muttered, feeling his girth get crushed between Toji’s dick and your trembling walls. "You’re doing good, so fucking good, our little witch. Come on, you asked for it."

You did, and maybe that made the matter worse. Because you, in fact, didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.

Not entirely.

Well, not at all, truly.

As you didn’t expect your cunt to burn in such fever, with walls getting brutally stretched by two massive cocks. Their sweet coos made your brain all fuzzy, with sweet little nothings whispered in gentle voices. Hands brushed away strands of hair sticking to your wet cheeks, and fingers kneaded your body with a rough softness, solely to let them get drunk on your melodic moans.

"T-To much–mhmm–that’s too–"

"Shhh," Toji whispered, licking away your tears. "You’ll take it like a good girl. Remember, that’s what you asked for."

Your head shook, and another whimper slipped away when Sukuna’s fingers pinched your nipple. "It’s okay, sugar, just focus on the pleasure. Yeah, that’s good," his hand squeezed your tit, while Toji rolled your clit with his thumb. "Relax, just like that. Fuck, you’re still squeezing us so hard."

"Let us fill you up, baby," Toji cooed with a nasty thrust. Their cocks moved in harmony, with two leaking heads sinking deeper and deeper, till they finally brushed your plump spot and let another moan fill the foggy air. "Can’t wait to see you fat and heavy, just like you wanted," he kissed the corner of your lip, wet cheeks, creased forehead. "And we’ll take such good care of you and little brats. Don’t worry, baby, we’re not going to leave."

At first, you just planned to use them and send them away, but hearing their loving murmurs and hands pulling you closer between their bodies – it seemed that it was impossible.

For neither Sukuna nor Toji planned to leave this sweet little witch, with the most melodic giggle and pussy they were ready to die for.

And if they needed to tie you up not to clear their memories – fucking hell, they were more than eager to do it.

To pump you full during the day and keep you soft and warm at nights.

The pinching pain soon evolved into something sharper – more heavenly, heated, with nerves of your cunt finally sending ripples of ecstasy up to your curling feet.

And they saw it too – a gentle crease appearing on your forehead and eyes crossing in unbearable pleasure. Their lips curved in a sly smile, feeling your hips slowly moving with theirs. With cunt swallowing them deeper and short breaths evolving into pinched moans.

"How do you feel, sugar? How does it feel to have us right in your womb?" Sukuna licked a long stripe of your neck before digging his teeth into your skin. His hand slipped down, pushing a little pouch of your belly. 

You whimpered, feeling his fingers circle their cocks through the plump skin. "S-so good–nghhh–feels sooo good–ahhh."

Their thrusts became faster, harsher, with two plump heads slipping smoothly through your drenched cunt. Soft crackling of a fireplace was soon muffled by filthy squelches coming from your sweating bodies, and crying moans rolling through your lips.

You felt sticky, feverish, bruised, with their cocks kissing your swelling womb and Toji’s body pressing you to Sukuna. He was heavy, with big palms digging into the back of your thighs and chest glued to yours.

"Fuck, baby, look at me," he whispered, and Sukuna squeezed your cheeks, lifting wet cheeks towards another man. "Oh, our sweet little witch, you look so fucked. Already drunk on our cocks, hm? Come on, baby, let’s make you cum."

Your clit burned under his thumb, swelling in overwhelming pleasure. Something warm started to coil in your belly. Although it might as well be their fat shafts sliding through your clenching cunt and bubbling precum at your womb. You could almost feel them in your lungs, heart, throat, and when both men suddenly sped up, something inside you burst. 

You could barely breathe, feeling Sukuna’s chest glued to your back and Toji’s arms curling around your bodies. His face nuzzled into the one side of your neck, while Sukuna dipped into the other, caging your senses with their musky, heavy scent. The one that made your body limp and dissolve into their touch.

Their cocks thrusted faster, meaner, sliding in and out in a messy pace and completly losing the harmony. Sukuna’s head caught on your entrance the moment Toji kissed your womb, and soon you became a crying mess, with lips swelling from their kisses and mind slowly driving away.

"I–I’m so close–mhmmm–gonna cum, I’m g-going to cum–ahhhh," one of your hands slipped into Toji’s hair, the other wandered back to grip Sukuna’s. "P-Please come inside, p-please please please, pump me full."

Something within them snapped, and soon their touch lost any sense of gentleness. No, it evolved into something much more lustful, maddened.

The need to see your body tremble beneath their fingers and feel the spasmatic clamps of your cunt. With honeyed sweet gushing out of your stuffed, reddened hole and walls still stretching under the swelling fatness of their cocks.

"Our pretty girl, milking us fucking dry, clamping on our cocks like a bitch in heat–ngh." Sukuna groaned into your neck, rolling your swollen nipples between his fingers. "Go on, sugar, cum for us, let us make you a mommy."

Emerald eyes caught your gaze, and soon a pair of warm lips crashed, for the hundredth time during this evening, in a messy kiss. "If I knew you ain’t old hag I would–ahh–knock you up sooner," his fingers pressed your clit for the last time, before both of their cocks nuzzled into your womb. 

The long-held warmth finally spilt all over your belly, sending heavy waves of pleasure through your body. Your cunt gushed out in sweet cum, drenching all three of you in liquid honey.

And when they came – you could feel it on your tongue. Fat ropes of cum, stuffing your cunt full till a few droplets spilt out from your swollen hole. Your lower belly rose, with their cocks still smooching your womb softly, coating it in thick, white spurts.

A moment had passed before Toji’s body fully lay down, and you almost fainted. Silence stretched pleasantly, with Sukuna’s fingers brushing away lost strands of your hair and Toji’s cheek lowering down to your chest.

Something pleasant, rather domestic, linked your hearts like a thread, and a long night has passed before you actually slipped away from between their sleeping bodies. 

And somewhere, during those long hours of their touches changing between the gentle caresses and harsh slaps, you decided that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t clean their memories.

That maybe keeping them close didn’t sound that bad.

Especially as they promised to give you a whole coven of little witches – oh!

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

I had so so much fun writing it! I really hope you enjoyed this little snippet of my local folklore, although the og story was a bit different...

I got a few requests for Hades!Sukuna so... I'll start working on Hades!Sukuna x Persephone!Reader fic <3

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[rambld]

sukuna accidentally had the wrong "movie" opened | 18+

salacious gasps and breathy sighs emanate through the speakers right as you open the browser, pulling a surprised noise from you as you're greeted with the lewd sight of a woman's spread thighs.

light from the laptop screen flickers against your face, washing the room in a dull blue glow that centered entirely on the midsection of the woman. the soft curve of her stomach dipped and rose with each shallow breath. a cute set was adorning her supple skin, the fabric of her top pressed into her waist, creating a gentle swell that felt almost tangible through the glass. to him, the slight fold of skin above her navel was tantalizing, so human and plush.

“am i wet?” her lascivious voice asks as her slender fingers pull her boyshorts to the side and stroke the puffy petals of her glossy pussy, smearing her glistening slick all over herself, her clit aching for a touch all swollen and twitchy. “am i wet for you—”

“oh!” you jump when the laptop is slammed shut by a very embarrassed sukuna who's so red, you think he may burst.

“i'm so fucking sorry! t-that's not the movie—i mean, it is a movie but not the one i wanted to play.”

just his fucking luck to screw things up after months of trying to get you to hang out with him. sure, you've spent time with him before but in group settings, it's quite difficult to get your attention over gojo's loud cackles and toji's dirty jokes.

he's finally got you right next to him, the ac on blast since he runs hot quickly, especially in the presence of his crush who's snuggled up against his bulging bicep because you're cold. and maybe, hopefully, you like him too.

the pink-haired man is the epitome of chivalry, eyes never straying down to the plump swells of your tits pushed up by your bra, sitting pretty in the henley you're wearing. your hair is down, neat and scented with something citrusy that melts on his tongue like an ice lolly and meshes with your mouthwatering perfume in a dizzying cocktail.

“relax,” you chuckle, unaffected by what you just stumbled upon, eyes bright. “i shouldn't have clicked on the browser without asking first. that was rude of me,” you tell him honestly.

besides, you're young adults, there's nothing to be ashamed of. you're a sexual creature yourself so you're not going to run for the hills just because he's got some porn on his computer.

“are you sure?” he asks, cringing at his own wobbly voice. it does not match the tattoos crawling up his bulky body. “the last thing i want is to make you uncomfortable or think i invited you over to make out under the pretext of watching a movie.”

that has your eyes bowing, bottom lip pushing out slightly in what looks to be disappointment that has his heart lodging in his throat. shit, did you want to make out with him? is he fucking this up? end him now.

“am i not your type or something?” you question, peering up at him with those big, beautiful eyes that tease him in his sleep.

eyes widening, his arms flail, nearly smacking you—but you fortunately dodge—as he shakes them frantically, trying to salvage this not-so-date. “n-no, i just—i didn't want to come on strong—”

laughter cracks through his panic, your giggles fluttering in the air as you cover your mouth, gaze sparkling with mirth. god, you're so pretty like this, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight peeking through his curtains.

“i'm messing with you, ryomen,” you chuckle, his name pouring from your mouth like the sweetest honey, so fond and syrupy. “you're so cute when you ramble.”

“oh,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears as pink as his unruly tufts of hair.

“we don't have to kiss,” you reassure him, nudging him with your elbow playfully.

scratching the back of his neck, he gives a weak chuckle, lips tingling in anticipation at the thought of his mouth on yours, smooth and sticky with your cherry lip gloss.

is it flavoured or just scented? would it stain his lips after, letting anyone who sees him know that you kissed him?

“okay,” he says with a nod though there's a sliver of disappointment in his tone.

humming, you press against his arm, leaning most of your weight on him, your stomach flipping like a pancake when he barely budges.

“if you want to kiss my other pair of lips though~”

sukuna almost gets whiplash with how fast his head snaps to the side, scarlet eyes bulging once more as he gapes like a fish, jaw falling through the floorboards, his stomach dropping to the ground floor of his apartment complex.

“w-what?”

“kidding!”

“haha, yeah…”

“fuck, you're adorable,” you giggle again, the tinkling sound tapering off into a moan as your eyes flicker to his lips that he's nibbling on, so soft and inviting. his breath is sweet and fruity from the spritzer he drank just now.

you close the distance and slot yours lips over his.

a shocked gasp kicks out of his chest, his hands hovering at your waist and his lips as hard as stone against your mouth. worried you read the room wrong, you go to pull back.

with a gravelly groan, his eyes slide shut, a large hand cupping the back of your head, carding through your strands and drawing you back to him in a hot open-mouthed kiss.

lazy, wet and messy, your lips move over his, hands roaming over his arms, squeezing at his flexing muscles, grinning into his mouth, teeth clicking against his when his belly shudders against yours.

sukuna's head is spinning, he can't believe this is happening, that you're on his lap, soft and pliant and making out with him and it's not a dream he'll be forced to wake up from.

greedily, his tongue slithers into your mouth, sucking on yours sloppily and licking every spot he can reach, moaning at your buttery taste as you gasp cutely against his lips.

tingles tickle his groin, his cock stirring as arousal coils tight in his belly. horny and desperate, his big palms rest on your hips, fingers hooking into the loops of your shorts as he ruts up against you, a hitch pitched squeak coming from you as you feel something thick and warm rubbing between your thighs.

“m’ sorry, baby. i'm so sorry, i can't help it. you're just so soft n’ so fuckin’ pretty,” he whimpers into your mouth, lips pulling your bottom one into his mouth and suckling on it clumsily, teeth sinking into it until you're whining and rocking down on his fattening bulge.

“gosh, i could just eat you up,” you grumble, fingers curling into his coral strands and tugging, making his skin crawl pleasantly.

the feeling is very much mutual. sukuna thinks he might die if he doesn't get your tits in his mouth right this instant.

fumbling with the hem of your top, he crumples it and lifts, blood whooshing in his ears, heartbeat in his cock as your plush bare skin is revealed—

but he pauses, gaze dropping down, hazy and blurry as his eyes narrow in confusion, choppy breaths slowing.

there, low on your hip and disappearing into the waistband of your shorts, is a tattoo.

a very familiar tattoo.

“is that—” his fingers dart out to trace the ink etched into your flesh but you abruptly pull your top down, the desirous heat in your eyes clearing.

“ah, yeah. kind of embarrassing,” your laugh is forced and awkward as you hook a manicured finger into the neckline of your top. “here, i'll unbutton this, it'll be easier—”

thick brows lower in suspicion as he tentatively picks up your top again, fisting the fabric tightly so you can't yank it down.

“sukuna,” you call out helplessly, wanting him to stop looking at the incriminating ink on your midriff. “kiss me—”

“it's you, isn't it?” he muses more to himself than you as realisation dawns him, crimson eyes lighting up in piercing recognition as they drag back up to your guilty ones.

swallowing hard, you say nothing. you can't deny it now.

huffing out a disbelieving breath, he slumps against the backrest of the couch with a faint smile, brows high as he shakes his head, wetting his lips. his fluffy, touseled hair bounces.

“no wonder you weren't upset about the video. you're the girl that's in it. i'd recognize that tattoo anywhere—”

“so you watch those often?” you cock a knowing brow because how else would he instantly know it's you from some ink?

face heating, he frowns. “don't change the subject.”

shoulders slouching in defeat, you run a hand through your hair, pushing it back into a luscious, voluminous slick back.

“yeah, it's me.”

here it comes, the inevitable disgust that men develop when they find out that you make adult content. as if they don't fuck their fists to it every night, pupils blown and reflecting your videos playing on their screens.

making it easier for him, you go to climb off his lap only for his hands to grip you firmly, keeping you in place.

confused, you glance up, breath hitching at the sight of him. pinched brows, clenched jaw and his inky pupils eating up his carmine irises until they're just thin rings of red.

“will you let me fuck you in the next one?”

neat little knots twist in your stomach, forming a net to capture the butterflies that start to swarm there, fluttering around frantically.

“uh, if you want to, yeah,” you agree with a wavering smile, blinking as you're still dumbfounded by the unexpected yet welcomed response.

his severe expression breaks then, scowl shattering like a broken plate, a grin slicing across his cheeks, canines glinting. “god, you're fucking perfect.”

all this time, sukuna had been drawn to that page because the anonymous woman had a similar body and voice to yours. he'd watch her videos and imagine you so finding out that you're her is fucking amazing.

massive arms engulf you in a bone-crushing bear hug that punches the air out of your lungs, a little “oof!” puffing out of you followed by an incredulous laugh.

“would it be weird if i asked to be your boyfriend now?”

“no.”

“yes!” he fist pumps the air.

tags: @yailuxe @liahcharms @getopilleds @cttelina @mrswhitethornbelikov @shazzer29 @dadonprimma @vigumii @petalsmoons @sunabff @luoodle @wwasabiiiii @bruleecream @princesspeach0-0 @vm4879bb-blog @zenaskull @icebearcucumber @beaniesayshi @iluvgetosuguru @yoonsucks @sukubusss @6x-x9 @booboobear-12

the inspo:

[noozasarchive]

Watching like…

[rambld]

bull hybrid sukuna's only interested in bullfighting until he isn't | 18+

cw: mdni, mentions of breeding, virgin!sukuna, cow hybrid!reader, he's a DICK at first, fluff, handjob, male lactation, tit sucking, thigh humping, 2k words of plot + 1k words of porn (tried to make him look like a bull don't hurt me)

farmer geto and farmhand toji have agreed that it's time to expand sukuna's desirable bloodline. he's against the idea, having no time to help some random woman tend to his babies when he's got matches to win to keep his streak up.

that is, until he sees you at one of his fights, all pretty and utterly bored, gaze sweeping over the arena and him without pause as you chew gum, ears flicking and tail swishing behind you. it throws him off as he's so used to women here pawing at him and rubbing up on him like cat hybrids in heat.

he bristles when your nose scrunches in disgust at the violent sparring before you as if you're some princess forced to be here out of duty. it's your fault that his opponent gets in more blows that usual, ones he fails to block when your eyes meet and you roll yours.

with an earthquaking growl, he body slams the other bull hybrid, the crowd roaring with cheers that quickly descend into a frenzy of screams as everyone scatters when the opponent sails through the air and crashes into the stands.

everyone flees, scared for the lives as the security and handlers try to calm the raging pink-haired man who's huffing and puffing which earns a snort from you. that's when he makes you his target, crimson eyes blacking out like a shark's that just scented blood.

narrowing his eyes into slits, nose wrinkled he bows his head, horns lowered as he charges at you. that finally gets you moving but you don't get far as he crashes into you, caging you with his hulking form, crowding you against the brick wall that encloses the arena.

heart pounding in your throat, you keep your breathing steady, eyes on his and refusing to look away. gravelly grunts and grumbles rumble through his heaving chest, his gaze boring into yours.

if it wasn't for the stone wall, he would have impaled you with his horns which are now pierced into the crumbling surface like an ornament.

“you'd think a man in your sport would have better control of his temper,” you drawl, completely disregarding his frustration that's bubbling and boiling over.

snarling, his lips curl back, ready to cut you down with his creative vocabulary only to be startled when you flick his nose. hard. manicured nails clinking against his septum piercing. it stings as he gives an involuntary whine, eyes watering from the pain.

“kindly remove yourself from my proximity and go clean up,” you tell him and while your voice is polite, it's more of a command than a suggestion. “you reek.”

right, sukuna thinks, he's caked in dirt and sweat. he's meek for some reason. perhaps it's your scent that's a heady cocktail of milk, apples and warmth, it makes him feel a bit drowsy with how soothing it is.

clearing your throat, you arch a brow. embarrassed, he withdraws to find the tip of one of his horns broken off. karma, you think smugly, watching the referees back away now that he's left all on his own, marching off without so much as glance back.

but the tips of his ears are pink as they flutter, tail stiff and you can't decide if that's from embarrassment or anger. maybe a bit of both.

“that's the bull hybrid you want to pass down his genes?” you ask geto later over a glass of wine at a nearby bar. “fat fucking chance.”

“he brings in the money and lots of it. we'd make a fortune if there were more hybrids like him in the ring! please,” toji cuts in from behind you, both men flanking you at the bar counter.

you're close friends with geto's fellow farmer, shoko, having helped her start up her milk business since you're a veterinarian and make sure her livestock is in tip top shape at all times. so when the handsome man with dark, long hair asked if you could carry the babies of his prized bull hybrid friend, you'd said you think about it.

it's why you came to this degenerate fight ring in the first place though after that unsavory first encounter, you're not so sure you want to have anything to do with him.

the flashing sign of the bar flickers, casting a sickly green glow over the scarred wooden table. you swirl the red liquor in your glass, it reminds you of his eyes. you scoff, feeling the phantom pressure of a heavy weight against your chest. your shoulders still ache from being slammed into the arena wall three days ago.

"look, he’s just... high-strung," the farmer says, leaning in, his desperation is palpable.

beside him, his farmhand—a man whose eyes see dollar signs instead of souls—nods eagerly. "he’s a virgin, girl. he doesn't know what to do with all that testosterone. if he could just get a successful knot, he’d settle down."

"he’s a beast," you say flatly. you’ve been bred by the best and the worst. you’ve handled bulls that weighed twice as much as this one, bulls who thought they were biggest and meanest around until you broke them in. but this one? he didn’t want a mate. he wanted a victim for his rage. "he’s too big, too mean, and frankly, i don’t get paid enough to be his punching bag."

you refuse the breeding contract. but, out of loyalty to your mutual friend and a soft spot for the heavy-bellied cows in the barn, you agree to stay for a week as a midwife.

the first two days on the farm are a test of silence. sukuna is everywhere, a flash of pink here and a tatted hand there, helping you when you certainly didn't ask.

you’re kneeling in the hay, checking a heifer’s dilation, and you feel that heavy, oppressive shadow fall over you.

"i didn't mean to hit the wall so hard," a deep, gravelly voice rumbles behind you.

you don't look up. you don't even flinch. "go away."

he doesn't. instead, he starts leaving things.

a basket of sun-warmed peaches, their skins bursting with sweetness. a lattice-topped cherry pie, still warm, smells like cinnamon and apology. a fresh glass of orange juice and all the tangerines you could eat after hearing you gush about how much you liked the fruit.

nervously, he lingers around, brushing the horses manes that were groomed just that morning in an attempt to hover near and watch you enjoy the treats, his tail flicking whenever you let out an accidental hum in delight.

against your better judgement, the peace offerings had shaved down your dislike but not as much as watching him chase after the little lamb that fled from you when you tried to do its check up. watching it nuzzle against his neck while he chuckled was annoyingly endearing.

in the glittering lake on geto's property, you often catch glimpses of the now timid hybrid swimming with fuzzy, yellow ducklings that follow him as if he's their mother.

other times it's when he's running around with the resident buffalo, splashing in the water and laying on its back as they both bask in the afternoon sun.

you even catch him taking naps with the fluffy, highland cows beneath the shade of a tree, dappled in sunlight with his hat tipped over his face, breathing steadily as a calf sleeps on his chest.

it's all very wholesome and cute but there was one time that left you hot and bothered more than you'd ever admit. you'd gone into the bathhouse without knocking, wanting to soak in one of the big, wooden tubs after a long day.

only you weren't alone, you came to find out, when you walked in on him, brawny, tanned body rising from the glossy tub, droplets trickling down his tattoos and plopping into the water.

the surface rippled, steam curling and making it hard to breathe as he stood to his full height, towering over with rippling, sculpted muscles. slicking back his blush locks with his hand, his half-hard cock bobbed when rolled his shoulders and sighed.

god, he put most men to shame and he wasn't even at full mast.

blinking out of your stupor, you sputtered, “uh, sorry! i thought it was empty.”

that's when he realises you're there, ears twitching in his hair as his low-lidded eyes flit up to yours just as his hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it lazily.

“no worries, sweetheart. i was just leaving,” he rumbled, unfazed as he stepped out of the tub, hand falling from his leaking cock as he draped a towel around his hips and walked out, shaking the water out of his wet hair as you gaped.

on the third night, you find a necklace on your pillow. it’s a leather cord strung with a polished white tip, the base plated with a gold cap. you recognize the texture—it’s the piece of his horn that snapped off when he charged you in the arena. to a bull hybrid, giving away a piece of his horn is like giving away a piece of his pride.

curiosity finally gets the better of you. on the fourth night, you head toward the secluded bachelor pad at the edge of the property. you intend to tell him to stop the gifts, to tell him that a piece of bone doesn't make up for a bruised rib.

the door is ajar. inside, the air is thick—cloying and sweet, like overripe clover and heavy musk. you hear a pained, wet groan.

"go... away," he wheezes.

you push the door open. he’s slumped on a reinforced bench, stripped to his waist. he looks massive, his muscles twitching with a feverish heat. but something is wrong. his chest is heaving, his pecs swollen and tight, looking almost engorged.

as your eyes adjust, you gasp. his dark, pebbled nipples are slick and glossy. a white droplet teases the edge of one, hanging heavy before falling to splash against his thigh.

"you're...lactating?" you whisper in disbelief, stepping closer.

he covers his chest with a massive, trembling hand, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson.

"it only happens during the rut," he grunts, his voice breaking. "because i've never... i'm backed up. it hurts. it's disgusting."

you’ve seen a lot in the breeding circuits, but the sight of this terrifying, "mean" bull reduced to a shivering, leaking mess stirs something different in you.

after all, you're a doctor. you're bound to want to help someone in agony.

no other reason...

"it's not disgusting," you say softly, reaching out to pull his hand away. your fingers brush his skin; he’s burning up. "you’re just full. all that pressure has nowhere to go."

he looks up at you, eyes blown wide and glassy with desperation. he’s so much bigger than you, but at this moment, he’s helpless.

"i can help you," you murmur, leaning in until you can smell the creaminess of him. "can i drink from them? it’ll help."

a low, vibrating rumble starts in his chest—not a growl this time, but a plea. he nods frantically, his hands falling to his sides as he arches his chest toward you, offering himself up.

"please," he chokes out. "please, just do it."

the silence of the barn is replaced by the wet, sloppy sound of your thirst. you lean in, your hands framing his bulging, burning chest. up close, the scent is intoxicating—heavy, floral, and concentrated like condensed cream.

you take one glossed, turgid nipple into your mouth, and the moment your tongue swirls around the tip, he lets out a shattered, high-pitched gasp.

the milk surges forward, filling your mouth instantly. a thick, sweet stream hits the back of your throat, and you have to swallow hard to keep up with the flow.

it’s richer than any bovine milk you’ve ever tasted, warm and laced with the musk of his rut. you moan against his skin, your throat working in deep, greedy gulps. he’s shaking violently now, his large hands hovering over your head, wanting to grab you but terrified of his own strength.

"god," he rasps, his head lolling back against the wall. "y-you’re actually—ah!"

as you drain one side, your hand wanders down. you find the heavy, straining heat of his denim, palming the massive bulge that has kept him in such a foul, frustrated temper. he’s huge—frighteningly so—but as you squeeze, he doesn't growl. he whimpers.

moving your hand away, you shift your focus to the other side, your mouth latching onto the second engorged pec. you massage the firm muscle with your palms, coaxing the milk out, feeling the internal pressure finally begin to subside. every time your thumb brushes the base of his cock through the fabric, his hips buck uncontrollably.

he’s pinning you between his knees now, his thick thighs trembling as he tries to get closer to the relief you’re providing. you welcome it with an approving hum, legs spread around one of his thick limbs, grinding your aching clit down on the muscle.

"more," he pants, his voice losing its edge, melting into something soft and needy. "please, drink it all. i’m so full... i’m so—fuck—"

you don’t stop until the tightness in his chest softens, his skin cooling as you drain the fever from him. you pull back, a thin trail of white escaping the corner of your mouth, looking up at the "mean" bull who is now nothing more than putty in your hands.

he looks down at you, dazed and completely undone, his dignity traded for the sheer, blissful relief of being handled by someone who isn't afraid of his size.

taking your free hand, he gulps nervously, hesitantly dragging it under the waistband of his pants, right over his pulsing shaft. hips quivering under your warm, soft palm, he presses them into your touch and your fingers curl around his length, the tips of them not meeting owing to how thick he is.

groaning into his pec, a drop of milk trickles down from the corner of your mouth as you suckle harder, thumbing the slit of his cock and smearing his weeping precum along the veiny, ridged shaft.

hot breaths pant out of him heavily as you peer up at him, pussy pounding at the lewd expression on his face, lips parted, brows creased and eyes drooping.

“is this okay?” you ask, lips popping off his tit to lick up the dribbling milk. you don't want to waste a single drop.

a groan clogs in his throat when you begin to stroke his cock, his hips twitching for more as his stomach shudders, thrusting into your hold whenever you rub the tip. needing it wetter, you suck in your cheeks then let a thick glob of warm spit spat onto his jerking tip.

you look so drunk like this, drunk on him, he can't help toying with your ears that flutter like the wings of a butterfly, nudging your nose with his so you lift you chin and he can lick a flat, wide stripe up from your neck to your lips, cleaning the streak of sweet milk from there.

it tastes like a melted vanilla ice cream and a hint of your fresh apple scent.

“fucking perfect, baby. please,” he whines, cupping the back of your head and guiding your eager mouth to latch onto his nipple again, a bead of milk bubbling there again as your tongue swirls around it.

you straddled his lap, both hands wrapped around his cock now, slick, squelching clicking between his thighs as you pump him in snug, long strokes that have him giving deep huffs as his tail curls around your ankle, tickling your foot while you drink from him.

something snaps in him when you pinch his mushroom cockhead and you yelp when he flips you onto your back, crowding you. his hands brace themselves on the bench as he thrusts his cock fast and hard into the ring of your hands, harsh grunts and feral groans spilling into the air.

“ah, ryo, i can't—” you fuss, wanting to suck on his jiggling tits some more, still hungry for that sweet, condensed milk of his that's coating your tongue and throat.

though you're not complaining about the hypnotic sight of them bouncing in your vision, so plump and bruised with pretty indents of your teeth.

realising what he'd done, his thrusts stutter to a stop as a sheepishly pushes his cock into your hands again. “sorry.”

“it's okay,” you assure him, pushing him onto his back again so you can suck his nipple into your mouth, humping his thigh as you jerk him off at the pace he'd been fucking into your hands until his a squirming mess, his tail playing with yours.

you had to hand it to shoko and geto, they were right about you being able to handle this rough and tough bull hybrid.

little did you know, you two had a one-man audience. a peeping tom. the scar at the corner of his lip stretched when he grinned sleazily as he fucked his fist just outside the home, one green eye cast in a warm strip of light from the ajar door.

note: inspired by the talented @bluukive's bull hybrid!toji and @vals-lente's gladiator!minotaur <333 *posts and logs off*

tags: @yailuxe @liahcharms @getopilleds @cttelina @mrswhitethornbelikov @shazzer29 @dadonprimma @vigumii @petalsmoons @sunabff @luoodle @wwasabiiiii @bruleecream @princesspeach0-0 @vm4879bb-blog @zenaskull @icebearcucumber @beaniesayshi @iluvgetosuguru @yoonsucks @sukubusss @booboobear-12 @skylaryippee @oksukuna @tinkspen @bbgyouaresodere @ssetsuka

[heaven4lostgirls]

Hi! I have a request for a Tony Stark fic where Tony receives a notification from FRIDAY saying that the reader is having a panic attack in their room. Worried, he makes his way over and finds the reader curled up in the corner, hyperventilating. He knows firsthand what it's like to deal with panic attacks, so he helps the reader through it while they tell him they think they're a bad person and shouldn't be on the team. Thank you!!

remember i'll always love you

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: request above!

word count: 1.5k

content warnings: whump/fluff, techinically sickfic, comfort, tony is a sweetheart if not a little stressed, cute comfort moments, reader and tony are very alike, yearning, mutual pining, panic attack, reader crying etc etc. not proofread

author's note: hi my angel! i hope you like this, thank you for requesting, i really enjoyed writing this <3 on a different note, my graduation is tmrw and i literally was so anxious and stressed that i thought...why not write out my feelings? lol!

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

“Sir?,” FRIDAY’s voice cuts through the sound of blasting metal music throughout the lab.

Tony flinches at the disruption, yelping as the end of a soldering iron nips him on the finger.

“Pardon my interruption, but I believe you should be notified that Y/N’s vitals have exceeded their normal range.”

Tony frowns, What? With little fanfare, he pulls up your vitals in front of him, finding that your heartrate is exceedingly high.

“Where’s she at FRI?” he asks his AI, frown still in place.

“She is currently in her room,” FRIDAY replies. Tony hums, gnawing on his bottom lip in contemplation.

“If I might add Sir, I believe she’s experiencing a panic attack,” FRIDAY tacks on.

Tony’s jaw slackens, he didn’t know you had those. Granted, nobody on the team knew that he had them, but you? That was a whole different ball game.

“Let her know I’m coming up FRI, lower the temperature in her room.” He orders, feeling his own anxiety climb as he rides the elevator up to your floor.

He’s not really sure what he’s trying to do, only that he wants—needs to help you. He fixes things, it’s what he’s known for.

You just happen to have been someone that’s never needed help, or rather, someone who never asked for it. A woman after his own heart.

He reaches your door, hesitating as he turns the knob to enter the pitch black room. He can hear your whimpers from the corner of the room, and the small sight of you huddled into a corner as you rock back and forth.

“Hey,” he mumbles softly, trying not to stress you out further. “FRI, can we get the lights to 25% for now?” he asks softly.

The lights illuminate your slumped over figure, tear tracks run down your face as you sob into your knees.

“You—why, why are you here?” you gasp as you try to stifle your cries. Tony doesn’t have the heart to tell you that you look unbearably beautiful even in the midst of a breakdown,

“I uh—” he flounders for a response. “FRI let me know you weren’t doing so hot, thought I’d come check up on you.”

You shake your head vehemently, “’M fine.” You insist.

Tony frowns, this must be what Pepper and Rhodey feel like when they try to help him. Huh.

“Yeah, well you don’t look too great sweetheart.” He coos softly, trying to remember his therapists’ tactful tips on empathy.

You clench your hands into your pants as you heave deeply, “You—you need to leave,” you say thickly. “You can’t be here—I can’t, I can’t do this with you here, you need to go pleaseplease—”

Tony shushes you softly, crawling over to your corner with his arms outstretched as if consoling a wild animal. “Hey, hey you’re okay—no harm done, I’m not gonna leave you like this, we’re gonna get through this together—”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish. You don’t want him here for this, you don’t want him to see you break down like this.

Maybe its stupid, call it pride, ego, hubris—whatever you want. You just don’t think you can handle having Tony treat you differently after this.

Which, arguably he would. He’d worry, and hover and do whatever it is he does when he wants to be there for someone and knows he can’t, because that’s who he is.

You don’t want him to think you’re weak, that you can’t handle a stupid panic attack.

“Leave,” you rasp, pleading with Tony to listen to you.

“Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll go.” He offers, though you can see the panic flaring inside of him. You hate that you’ve put him in this position.

That’s just what you do, you’re an acid on the team. Burning, carving and destroying them all because of your inability to be an adult.

‘Too needy’, ‘too emotional’, ‘too immature’. It bubbles through your head like an unskippable cut scene, your worst moments and memories on display whilst you lay victim to your own mind.

“—ey, can you hear me? Shit! Okay—uh uhm—Focus on my voice okay? C’mon, come back to me honey, you’re okay, it’s gonna be alright—I’m grabbing your hand okay, you feel my hand? Squeeze it for me—c’mon I know you can do better than that, good girl. Harder, come back to me—"

Tony’s voice is like a guiding light through the muddled mess of your thoughts, strings unwinding and pulling you towards him despite all odds.

You feel his calloused hand in yours, loose in your tight grip but tracing circles on your arm in comfort.

“You with me honey—I know, I know. Just breathe with me okay? Whatever it is, it’s gonna pass alright? Breathe with me.” Tony says soft, but firmly.

He doesn’t let you pull away, keeping your focus on locked on his eyes as you try to match his breathing.

Your attempts to tug your hand out of his hold has him tsking in admonishment and gripping you tighter, “Speak to me, what’s going on?” he demands.

You scoff, your chest still rising in shaky rhythms as you exhale, trembling. “Wh—What isn’t going on, is—is more like the question,” You mutter, tears pricking your eyes.

Tony softens, “I know I’m probably not the best person to be telling you this right now but speaking about it, tends to help.”

You snort, “Who told you that? Your therapist?” you laugh humourlessly

Tony’s face hardens, “Yeah. Actually.” He states simply.

Your eyes widen minimally in shock. You both sit in silence for a while, the only sound in the room is that of the aircon blowing cool air across your sweat slicked skin and your own laboured breathing.

You clench your hand around Tony’s in comfort, leading him to meet your gaze with a commiserating smile.

“I—I don’t think I can do this job…” you mutter into the silence, embarrassed to admit that you choke up in the middle of your sentence.

Tony handles his shock well, barely even flinching. “Why do you think that?” he probes softly.

You sniff, smiling pityingly, “I’m a liability on the field.” You admit.

Tony’s brows scrunch in confusion, “What?”

“I fuck up. All the time. Forget plans, make mistakes, Tony I—I almost got Steve killed today,” You whisper horrified, your hand lifting to your mouth as you try to hold back your sobs once again.

“Honey—” Tony consoles.

You shake your head, “No, No, you don’t get it—you don’t—Tony it was bad and I should have been there, I was supposed to be covering him and he—he fell, oh my god and I couldn’t—I tried but I couldn’t—” you choke out through your new wave of tears.

Tony intercepts your though process before you can throw yourself headfirst into another panic attack, “Hey,” he states firmly. You flinch at the sound of his voice, clenching your eyes shut in pain.

Tony sighs, “Baby, Steve is fine okay? He’s alright. He didn’t even need more than a check-up; look, I know that was probably scary—but you’re not the only one who makes mistakes. You’re basically looking at the King of them.” Tony divulges, shuffling closer to you so that you’re both sat knee to knee with one another.

Tony bites back a groan at the twinge his back lets out in complaint of his position and focuses all of his attention on you.

“You remember two months ago? The HYDRA recon mission I got sent on?” He waits for your short nod before he continues on.

“I was supposed to wait for Wilson to finish scanning the bunker, Cap had just told me off for being too impulsive,” He laughs self-deprecatingly, unaware of your curious yet concerned gaze on his.

“I thought I saw something—movement, must’ve been a bug or something but I just—I just thought, what if it’s another Barnes? What if there’s another Winter Soldier out there and I couldn’t, I just couldn’t wait you know?” You hum softly, making Tony turn to look at you fondly.

“Anyways, I was dumb,” he concedes. “I ran in without backup, got my ass kicked by some HYDRA goons and had to be hauled back to the Quinjet by Barnes and Cap, really embarrassing.” He admits shyly.

“Point of the matter is, you’re not a fuck up, you’re not a liability to the team. You made a mistake? Great, so have all of us. You don’t fault anyone for their own mistakes, stop holding yourself to standards you won’t even hold other’s to.” He states firmly.

You frown, your expression simultaneously abashed yet thankful. “I just—”

“You are not a soldier; it is not your job to be perfect all the time.” He replies unflinchingly.

You huff, “You really don’t think I’m bad?” you whisper insecurely into the silence of the room.

“I think you’re probably one of the best things about this team.” He replies steadily, a warm expression in replace of his cocky persona.

“So are you,” you murmur, the both of you staring at one another in companionable silence.

[noozasarchive]

literally shut up, he’s so protective

[noozasarchive]

thank you sm for 12 followers it’s like we have a little group chat lol😭❤️

[yailuxe]

౨ৎ — masseuse suguru geto takes his job of helping you relax very seriously || MDNI, smut

cw: oral (f! receiving), squirting, size difference, semi public, unprotected sex.

The booth is saturated with a heady mixture of incense, scented candles, and body oil—woodsy, warm, and deeply soothing. Sunlight spills in through linen curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden glow while the overhead lamp stays dark. The massage bed beneath you is soft. The length of it is lined with crisp sheets that urge you to sink further into calmness and forget about the stresses of the day.

Everything about the spa was tailor-made to help you relax, and yet, your muscles grow more tense than they’ve ever been when the masseuse steps back into the room.

You’re lying on your front, naked apart from your underwear and the thin towel draped over you. Your face rests in the opening of the bed, and all you can make out is the linoleum flooring as the man moves further into the room. 

Not seeing where he is is why you barely stifle the shiver that shoots up your spine when a hand lands on your shoulder.

“Comfortable?” The masseuse asks. Voice so mellowed it almost makes you swoon. 

With everything else he had going for him, the fact that he sounded like that was just unfair.

You believe the man’s name is Suguru…you aren’t completely sure because you were too busy gawking to pay attention to anything he was saying when he introduced himself. 

Admittedly, when the woman at the front desk asked if you would be okay with a male masseuse, you were not expecting this. Him.

He was—god. He was hot.

Tall. Long black hair pulled into a bun at the base of his skull. Sharp jawed with even sharper eyes; seemingly purple when the sun hit them just right. His peculiar eyes matched the colour of his uniform, and although it was loose-fitting, you could still make out the shape of lean muscle underneath.

A murmur of your name brings you back to the present, and remembering he asked you a question, you nod.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” He hums, and you swear you feel it between your legs.

God, maybe you were ovulating or something.

The towel is pulled down to the small of your back, and you shift as cool air feathers over your skin.

“Are there any areas you want me to avoid?”

You merely shake your head, not trusting what would come out of your mouth if you tried to answer him.

“Anything you want me to focus on?” 

Your thoughts immediately veer into whorish territory that has you shaking your head as if to physically expel them. 

Suguru moves around the room and a match strikes as he presumably lights another candle.

It takes a while to find your voice again, “My back and shoulders, if you don’t mind.”

A chuckle filters through the room. Deep and amused and sexy as all get out, “Of course not. It’s my job after all.”

You flush at the reminder and hear him move closer. The tips of his shoes come into view as he stops beside the bed.

“Let me know when you want to stop.”

That’s the only warning you get before his hands are on you. Work-worn and skilful, he lathers fragrant oil over your skin and works it deep into your pores. 

For a few minutes, his hands are tentative. Slow and studious as he notes your reactions to each touch and stows them away for later use.

He listens to the sigh that leaves your lips when he massages your shoulders. The groan when he works down the length of your back and the stifled giggle when he traces his fingertips along your ribs. Then once he has enough marked down, he grows more sure of himself. He maps out every curve and contour of your skin with kneads and rubs that have your eyes threatening to roll back. Knowing exactly when to ease up, when to be firmer and apply pressure and where to press and hold until you grunt in relief.

Whatever tension that tightened your body loosens under his touch. And you’re sure you’d leave as nothing more than a satisfied puddle by the time he was done.

The massage is steadily lulling you to sleep. But just when your eyes start to flutter shut, he moves to massage your legs. You blink when he pulls them apart, fingers pressing past soft flesh to smooth out all the knots underneath. Suguru skates up the soles of your feet, past your calves and the backs of your knees, then higher, higher until he gets to your thighs.

Your body stiffens again, and he must feel it because he stills for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

You try to give him an affirmative hum, but you’re shaking, and a particularly hard quake wracks through you when his hands move to your inner thighs.

He pauses when you don’t answer, and you have to clear your throat to get rid of the lump that attempts to form.

“I’m fine,” you say. While your voice comes out a little thin, you think you sounded convincing enough. 

You really hope you did.

“Good,” he answers and you allow a small sigh to leave you, “I’m going to move to your glutes now.”

Wait what? 

The sheet is pulled up over your ass, and you have no time to react or dwell on the cold because his warm palms immediately land on your skin. Both chasing and leaving more goosebumps in their wake. 

Something sparks low in your belly with each squeeze that’s delivered to the plush flesh. A small ember at first, then the longer he goes on, the more the ache builds. Slowly, it seeps between your legs in a fiery hot rush that has your panties clinging to you.

You feel Suguru's fingers catch along the lace, and your breath hitches.

“Is this pressure okay?”

Your nod is all he needs to work with newfound vigour. Moving between massaging your thighs, your ass and your hips until you can't even stop yourself from squirming anymore.

Heat blooms across your cheeks when he pauses, and you want the ground to swallow you whole because you know he sees it.

The desperation. The want. Possibly even the slick dampness of your ruined panties.

Embarrassment has you whispering an apology even as nerves bubble deep in your stomach, each pop so loud, you're sure he can hear it. But when you try to press your legs together, he stops you.

“Physiological responses are natural, you don’t need to apologise,” he says so gently, it makes you feel even worse. 

Whatever he was getting paid definitely wasn't enough to be dealing with clients like you.

Your chest expands with a deep breath as you try to make yourself calm down through sheer force of will.  You’re slowly coming back into yourself when his murmured question sets you off balance again.

“Would you like me to keep going?”

Something about the way he asks that is odd.

It lacks the professional lilt that all his earlier questions had as he assessed your discomfort. 

This time, it was low. Sensual. And hedged between a purr that would’ve made your thighs squeeze if he wasn't still holding them apart.

You take a moment to gather yourself, then you lift your head towards him, just barely. And yes, the moment you see the look on his face, you know for sure he isn't just talking about the massage.

Suguru’s eyes are dark as they drag over your face. Slow, patiently appraising and hungry as he takes in the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your plump lips. His pupils are blown so wide that only a small circle of violet remains.  

His head tilts in silent question, and you swallow as more heat spurs. Your chin dips in a small nod, and he shakes his head.  

“I need to hear you say it,” He demands in that sexy, soft-spoken rumble. “Out loud.”

You force out a breath and with it, throw your pride aside like it was weighing on you.

“Keep going,” you say. He merely arches a dark brow at you– as if waiting for more. It takes you a hot minute to figure out what it is, but once you do, you whisper the word bulldozes the last flimsy pillar of professionalism branched between the two of you: “Please?”

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles. Monolid eyes shape into small crescents that are a little too sharp at the edges.  Tipping with something dark. Like he's held back long enough, and your go-ahead is all he needed for the mask to crack.

It makes the hairs on your arms stand.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into?  

​

​

You still weren't sure, but you were in too deep to stop now.

You're sat on the edge of the bed, towel and panties long discarded, and your legs spread wide. 

The man between them holds you open, eyes crudely assessing as he stares down the apex of your thighs.

“What do you need?” he asks as his fingers stroke over trembling flesh. You don't answer right away, and eyes flicker up to yours. “I’m here for your pleasure, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

The words make your heart kicks little harder, and you feel yourself get wetter. Thighs slick with arousal and dripping down to the sheets below. He watches it all happen of course, but doesn’t rush you to answer.

“Your fingers.” You voiced quietly, and he hums low in the back of his throat. Gripping your skin a little harder.

“Want them inside this pretty pussy?” If he took too long, you were sure you’d cum from his voice alone. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait. Middle and ring fingers brush over your clit. Featherlight, but enough to make it twitch in need anyway. 

Your hips buck and before you can do something crazy like beg him, he promptly slides both digits into your cunt. The sound that comes out of your mouth makes you slap a hand over it, and he chuckles like he finds the reaction cute.

“You don't have to worry about staying quiet. The walls here are so thick they're practically soundproof.” You don't move fast enough, so he drives his fingers deeper into you as if trying to force the sounds out. You whine against your palm, and he brings his thumb down to work on your clit, “Let me hear you.”

Your hand falls. 

A moan cracks into the air, mingling with the sharp hiss that escapes him.

“Ah, there you go,” he kneels, and you think a part of you dies.

His head sinks between your thighs, tongue peeking out to drag a lavish lick up your slit that makes you shudder. Suguru groans against your pussy. Feral, desperate and deep enough that it vibrates through you in dizzying shockwaves. Then his mouth is everywhere, eating you out like it had no purpose before this. And free hand cupping your ass to bring you in impossibly closer.

His lithe fingers swirl despite your walls clenching tight around them. Moving as if they were looking for something.

You realise too late what it is. 

Only he curls them just right, and they find purchase against a spot that has your hand gripping his hair, trying to push him off.

You know what you felt like when you were about to cum, and this wasn’t that. This was too sleek, too intense to be a normal orgasm, but even when you try to warn the man, he doesn't let up.

“Can feel it,” He rasps after releasing your clit with a wet pop, “Give it to me.”

“I—fuck, wait,” Your trembling thighs close around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and you see him lift his mouth long enough to watch the burst of clear liquid that gushes from you. 

Your lips gape at the sight but he merely goes back and licks up every drop, mouth relentless– almost punishing–while incoherent sobs that vaguely sound like his name leave your mouth.

Your eyes are teary by the time he pulls back with his chin and lips glistening.

“That’s one,” he whispers, and you freeze, because why did he say that like there were a lot more to come? 

While trepidation makes your skin prickle, your pussy, ever the traitorous whore, twitches needily. Already rearing to go again. 

Suguru cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, messy enough to make blood rush up your neck. He rolls his tongue around yours, flicking it as he did with your clit, making you taste yourself on him.

You hear the rasp of fabric as he moves between your legs, sliding his pants off but when you try to glance down, his hold on your neck tightens.

“Don't,” a few strands of his hair came loose and they brush over his forehead when he shakes his head, “You’ll panic if you look.”

The implication behind that statement, makes you pause. He thought you’d panic if you looked at his cock?

Just how big was he? 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.” he waits until you nod before he covers your body with his, lining the flared tip of his length against your entrance and slowly pushing in. 

You have less than an inch seated inside when the girth makes you claw at his shirt.

“Oh,” you huff. Surprise colouring your tone. “I see why you told me not to look.”

His hips pause with your pained hiss. “Too much?”

“Yes,” your legs wrap around his waist. “Don't stop.”

He groans like you wounded him and sinks deeper, cock stretching you wide enough to make you stop breathing altogether.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers, but you can’t. Every time you try it's like trying to inhale underwater. It’s too heavy and so suffocating all that comes out is a choked moan. 

Suguru’s fingers apply pressure to the sides of your throat, gently massaging. 

“Breathe,” he says again, broad chest rising then falling, silently encouraging you to match the pattern. His eyes go dark when you comply, sweet sighs fanning over his mouth, copying his. “Good girl.”

He rears back to take his shirt off and you’re graced with tanned skin and sculpted muscle that distracts you long enough to let him deeper. 

Your nails rake down his back once he’s on you again. Cuttingly sharp whereas his touches are soft as he smooths his hands over your skin, coaxing out all the tension that has you wound up. 

Each caress is torturous and deliberate. Shaping over your hips and squeezing your breasts until a mewl echoes. 

“Feels so good,” he breathes, then kisses you again.

It's devastatingly disarming, and he knows it, because when your body relaxes under him, he wastes no time in driving forward and burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, and he catches the curve of it with his hand, pulling you against him.

“I know,  baby,” his jaw is clenched tight. Hips rutting so his pelvic bone rolls onto your clit. You wind your legs around him tighter and the massage table whines under your combined weight. “Fuck, stretching so tight around me.”

You know you're being loud when he starts moving. At first, you didn't trust him when he said the walls were thick but right now you don't seem to care.

“So full,” you mumble against his mouth, and he grunts, delivering a brutal thrust that jostles you both.

“Yeah? Where do you feel it, hm?” his palm reaches for your stomach, flattening over the small bulge his cock leaves every time he pumps into you. “Right here?”

All you manage are frantic nods, and he slides his hand down to grind the heel into your clit. Your body tries to buck, but he's so close you can't do more than shiver. 

You're wringing his cock dry. Swallowing every inch and squeezing until his balls draw up. They slap against your ass, messy and loud with your slick, only to get drowned out by your panicked gasp.

“I’m close,” you warn, and he nods in response, pace turning desperate as he chases his own high.

The once comforting blend of scents filtering through the air makes your head swirl.

“Cum with me,” he demands, and there's not a lot you can do to hold off any longer. Pleasure hooks into your spine, and Suguru holds you against his body. The tremors shaking you pass into him and back again.

His grip on your hip is bruising as he spills rope after rope of his cum as deep as he can go, shuddering with his release and letting out breathless moans and gasps that almost send you off the edge again.

Cum spills down your thighs when he pulls out, and he's pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“I’ve got you. Relax,” he says, and hell, he doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body feels heavy against the bed when he walks away. Water trickles then he’s back again. You can’t lift your head to make sure but you feel the heat of him. And the heat of the cloth that's dragged between your legs as he cleans you with practised ease. When you flinch, still tender and sensitive he only coos and kisses your knee.

Suguru lifts you and readjusts your position on the massage bed, making sure you’re comfortable before draping the towel over your torso again.

“I don't have an appointment for another hour,” he informs you and your lashes flutter, eyes bleary and drawing low with sleep. “You should some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple minutes.”

You manage a small nod while he shuffles through the room.

It takes a little longer for him to return, but when he does his uniform is back on. Unwrinkled and neat. Hair without as much as a strand out of place.

He touches you again, massaging your shoulders in slow circles that have you drifting closer to dreamland and continues the treatment as if nothing had happened, lazily working his hands over your limp body.

“Finally relaxed.” He hums his approval when you soften under his touch, tracing his fingers over your sternum.

Yeah, definitely coming back next month. You think.

Though next week was probably closer to the truth. 

art by @/aransmind

🏷️: @rambld, @liahcharms, @sugusplaything, @indom-tus, @ehcilhc, @magicalpeenpoo, @mieleism, @maxxthefan, @kingraspberry12-blog, @21-princess, @shannonigans1029, @pjselee, @trilxogyyy, @megumour, @tojisgdgirl, @aweslurp, @whatthehellybronjames, @bokenessa, @moonlight-jasmine7, @fruitypatootie, @voxxsstuff, @b-bitter, @ryomensukunasoneandonlywife

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note: the comments you guys leave on the google form are so sweet. thanks for reading <3

[hunterrami]

oh no I can't stop thinking about fem caleb

[yailuxe]

౨ৎ — masseuse suguru geto takes his job of helping you relax very seriously || MDNI, smut

cw: oral (f! receiving), squirting, size difference, semi public, unprotected sex.

The booth is saturated with a heady mixture of incense, scented candles, and body oil—woodsy, warm, and deeply soothing. Sunlight spills in through linen curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden glow while the overhead lamp stays dark. The massage bed beneath you is soft. The length of it is lined with crisp sheets that urge you to sink further into calmness and forget about the stresses of the day.

Everything about the spa was tailor-made to help you relax, and yet, your muscles grow more tense than they’ve ever been when the masseuse steps back into the room.

You’re lying on your front, naked apart from your underwear and the thin towel draped over you. Your face rests in the opening of the bed, and all you can make out is the linoleum flooring as the man moves further into the room. 

Not seeing where he is is why you barely stifle the shiver that shoots up your spine when a hand lands on your shoulder.

“Comfortable?” The masseuse asks. Voice so mellowed it almost makes you swoon. 

With everything else he had going for him, the fact that he sounded like that was just unfair.

You believe the man’s name is Suguru…you aren’t completely sure because you were too busy gawking to pay attention to anything he was saying when he introduced himself. 

Admittedly, when the woman at the front desk asked if you would be okay with a male masseuse, you were not expecting this. Him.

He was—god. He was hot.

Tall. Long black hair pulled into a bun at the base of his skull. Sharp jawed with even sharper eyes; seemingly purple when the sun hit them just right. His peculiar eyes matched the colour of his uniform, and although it was loose-fitting, you could still make out the shape of lean muscle underneath.

A murmur of your name brings you back to the present, and remembering he asked you a question, you nod.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” He hums, and you swear you feel it between your legs.

God, maybe you were ovulating or something.

The towel is pulled down to the small of your back, and you shift as cool air feathers over your skin.

“Are there any areas you want me to avoid?”

You merely shake your head, not trusting what would come out of your mouth if you tried to answer him.

“Anything you want me to focus on?” 

Your thoughts immediately veer into whorish territory that has you shaking your head as if to physically expel them. 

Suguru moves around the room and a match strikes as he presumably lights another candle.

It takes a while to find your voice again, “My back and shoulders, if you don’t mind.”

A chuckle filters through the room. Deep and amused and sexy as all get out, “Of course not. It’s my job after all.”

You flush at the reminder and hear him move closer. The tips of his shoes come into view as he stops beside the bed.

“Let me know when you want to stop.”

That’s the only warning you get before his hands are on you. Work-worn and skilful, he lathers fragrant oil over your skin and works it deep into your pores. 

For a few minutes, his hands are tentative. Slow and studious as he notes your reactions to each touch and stows them away for later use.

He listens to the sigh that leaves your lips when he massages your shoulders. The groan when he works down the length of your back and the stifled giggle when he traces his fingertips along your ribs. Then once he has enough marked down, he grows more sure of himself. He maps out every curve and contour of your skin with kneads and rubs that have your eyes threatening to roll back. Knowing exactly when to ease up, when to be firmer and apply pressure and where to press and hold until you grunt in relief.

Whatever tension that tightened your body loosens under his touch. And you’re sure you’d leave as nothing more than a satisfied puddle by the time he was done.

The massage is steadily lulling you to sleep. But just when your eyes start to flutter shut, he moves to massage your legs. You blink when he pulls them apart, fingers pressing past soft flesh to smooth out all the knots underneath. Suguru skates up the soles of your feet, past your calves and the backs of your knees, then higher, higher until he gets to your thighs.

Your body stiffens again, and he must feel it because he stills for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

You try to give him an affirmative hum, but you’re shaking, and a particularly hard quake wracks through you when his hands move to your inner thighs.

He pauses when you don’t answer, and you have to clear your throat to get rid of the lump that attempts to form.

“I’m fine,” you say. While your voice comes out a little thin, you think you sounded convincing enough. 

You really hope you did.

“Good,” he answers and you allow a small sigh to leave you, “I’m going to move to your glutes now.”

Wait what? 

The sheet is pulled up over your ass, and you have no time to react or dwell on the cold because his warm palms immediately land on your skin. Both chasing and leaving more goosebumps in their wake. 

Something sparks low in your belly with each squeeze that’s delivered to the plush flesh. A small ember at first, then the longer he goes on, the more the ache builds. Slowly, it seeps between your legs in a fiery hot rush that has your panties clinging to you.

You feel Suguru's fingers catch along the lace, and your breath hitches.

“Is this pressure okay?”

Your nod is all he needs to work with newfound vigour. Moving between massaging your thighs, your ass and your hips until you can't even stop yourself from squirming anymore.

Heat blooms across your cheeks when he pauses, and you want the ground to swallow you whole because you know he sees it.

The desperation. The want. Possibly even the slick dampness of your ruined panties.

Embarrassment has you whispering an apology even as nerves bubble deep in your stomach, each pop so loud, you're sure he can hear it. But when you try to press your legs together, he stops you.

“Physiological responses are natural, you don’t need to apologise,” he says so gently, it makes you feel even worse. 

Whatever he was getting paid definitely wasn't enough to be dealing with clients like you.

Your chest expands with a deep breath as you try to make yourself calm down through sheer force of will.  You’re slowly coming back into yourself when his murmured question sets you off balance again.

“Would you like me to keep going?”

Something about the way he asks that is odd.

It lacks the professional lilt that all his earlier questions had as he assessed your discomfort. 

This time, it was low. Sensual. And hedged between a purr that would’ve made your thighs squeeze if he wasn't still holding them apart.

You take a moment to gather yourself, then you lift your head towards him, just barely. And yes, the moment you see the look on his face, you know for sure he isn't just talking about the massage.

Suguru’s eyes are dark as they drag over your face. Slow, patiently appraising and hungry as he takes in the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your plump lips. His pupils are blown so wide that only a small circle of violet remains.  

His head tilts in silent question, and you swallow as more heat spurs. Your chin dips in a small nod, and he shakes his head.  

“I need to hear you say it,” He demands in that sexy, soft-spoken rumble. “Out loud.”

You force out a breath and with it, throw your pride aside like it was weighing on you.

“Keep going,” you say. He merely arches a dark brow at you– as if waiting for more. It takes you a hot minute to figure out what it is, but once you do, you whisper the word bulldozes the last flimsy pillar of professionalism branched between the two of you: “Please?”

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles. Monolid eyes shape into small crescents that are a little too sharp at the edges.  Tipping with something dark. Like he's held back long enough, and your go-ahead is all he needed for the mask to crack.

It makes the hairs on your arms stand.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into?  

​

​

You still weren't sure, but you were in too deep to stop now.

You're sat on the edge of the bed, towel and panties long discarded, and your legs spread wide. 

The man between them holds you open, eyes crudely assessing as he stares down the apex of your thighs.

“What do you need?” he asks as his fingers stroke over trembling flesh. You don't answer right away, and eyes flicker up to yours. “I’m here for your pleasure, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

The words make your heart kicks little harder, and you feel yourself get wetter. Thighs slick with arousal and dripping down to the sheets below. He watches it all happen of course, but doesn’t rush you to answer.

“Your fingers.” You voiced quietly, and he hums low in the back of his throat. Gripping your skin a little harder.

“Want them inside this pretty pussy?” If he took too long, you were sure you’d cum from his voice alone. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait. Middle and ring fingers brush over your clit. Featherlight, but enough to make it twitch in need anyway. 

Your hips buck and before you can do something crazy like beg him, he promptly slides both digits into your cunt. The sound that comes out of your mouth makes you slap a hand over it, and he chuckles like he finds the reaction cute.

“You don't have to worry about staying quiet. The walls here are so thick they're practically soundproof.” You don't move fast enough, so he drives his fingers deeper into you as if trying to force the sounds out. You whine against your palm, and he brings his thumb down to work on your clit, “Let me hear you.”

Your hand falls. 

A moan cracks into the air, mingling with the sharp hiss that escapes him.

“Ah, there you go,” he kneels, and you think a part of you dies.

His head sinks between your thighs, tongue peeking out to drag a lavish lick up your slit that makes you shudder. Suguru groans against your pussy. Feral, desperate and deep enough that it vibrates through you in dizzying shockwaves. Then his mouth is everywhere, eating you out like it had no purpose before this. And free hand cupping your ass to bring you in impossibly closer.

His lithe fingers swirl despite your walls clenching tight around them. Moving as if they were looking for something.

You realise too late what it is. 

Only he curls them just right, and they find purchase against a spot that has your hand gripping his hair, trying to push him off.

You know what you felt like when you were about to cum, and this wasn’t that. This was too sleek, too intense to be a normal orgasm, but even when you try to warn the man, he doesn't let up.

“Can feel it,” He rasps after releasing your clit with a wet pop, “Give it to me.”

“I—fuck, wait,” Your trembling thighs close around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and you see him lift his mouth long enough to watch the burst of clear liquid that gushes from you. 

Your lips gape at the sight but he merely goes back and licks up every drop, mouth relentless– almost punishing–while incoherent sobs that vaguely sound like his name leave your mouth.

Your eyes are teary by the time he pulls back with his chin and lips glistening.

“That’s one,” he whispers, and you freeze, because why did he say that like there were a lot more to come? 

While trepidation makes your skin prickle, your pussy, ever the traitorous whore, twitches needily. Already rearing to go again. 

Suguru cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, messy enough to make blood rush up your neck. He rolls his tongue around yours, flicking it as he did with your clit, making you taste yourself on him.

You hear the rasp of fabric as he moves between your legs, sliding his pants off but when you try to glance down, his hold on your neck tightens.

“Don't,” a few strands of his hair came loose and they brush over his forehead when he shakes his head, “You’ll panic if you look.”

The implication behind that statement, makes you pause. He thought you’d panic if you looked at his cock?

Just how big was he? 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.” he waits until you nod before he covers your body with his, lining the flared tip of his length against your entrance and slowly pushing in. 

You have less than an inch seated inside when the girth makes you claw at his shirt.

“Oh,” you huff. Surprise colouring your tone. “I see why you told me not to look.”

His hips pause with your pained hiss. “Too much?”

“Yes,” your legs wrap around his waist. “Don't stop.”

He groans like you wounded him and sinks deeper, cock stretching you wide enough to make you stop breathing altogether.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers, but you can’t. Every time you try it's like trying to inhale underwater. It’s too heavy and so suffocating all that comes out is a choked moan. 

Suguru’s fingers apply pressure to the sides of your throat, gently massaging. 

“Breathe,” he says again, broad chest rising then falling, silently encouraging you to match the pattern. His eyes go dark when you comply, sweet sighs fanning over his mouth, copying his. “Good girl.”

He rears back to take his shirt off and you’re graced with tanned skin and sculpted muscle that distracts you long enough to let him deeper. 

Your nails rake down his back once he’s on you again. Cuttingly sharp whereas his touches are soft as he smooths his hands over your skin, coaxing out all the tension that has you wound up. 

Each caress is torturous and deliberate. Shaping over your hips and squeezing your breasts until a mewl echoes. 

“Feels so good,” he breathes, then kisses you again.

It's devastatingly disarming, and he knows it, because when your body relaxes under him, he wastes no time in driving forward and burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, and he catches the curve of it with his hand, pulling you against him.

“I know,  baby,” his jaw is clenched tight. Hips rutting so his pelvic bone rolls onto your clit. You wind your legs around him tighter and the massage table whines under your combined weight. “Fuck, stretching so tight around me.”

You know you're being loud when he starts moving. At first, you didn't trust him when he said the walls were thick but right now you don't seem to care.

“So full,” you mumble against his mouth, and he grunts, delivering a brutal thrust that jostles you both.

“Yeah? Where do you feel it, hm?” his palm reaches for your stomach, flattening over the small bulge his cock leaves every time he pumps into you. “Right here?”

All you manage are frantic nods, and he slides his hand down to grind the heel into your clit. Your body tries to buck, but he's so close you can't do more than shiver. 

You're wringing his cock dry. Swallowing every inch and squeezing until his balls draw up. They slap against your ass, messy and loud with your slick, only to get drowned out by your panicked gasp.

“I’m close,” you warn, and he nods in response, pace turning desperate as he chases his own high.

The once comforting blend of scents filtering through the air makes your head swirl.

“Cum with me,” he demands, and there's not a lot you can do to hold off any longer. Pleasure hooks into your spine, and Suguru holds you against his body. The tremors shaking you pass into him and back again.

His grip on your hip is bruising as he spills rope after rope of his cum as deep as he can go, shuddering with his release and letting out breathless moans and gasps that almost send you off the edge again.

Cum spills down your thighs when he pulls out, and he's pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“I’ve got you. Relax,” he says, and hell, he doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body feels heavy against the bed when he walks away. Water trickles then he’s back again. You can’t lift your head to make sure but you feel the heat of him. And the heat of the cloth that's dragged between your legs as he cleans you with practised ease. When you flinch, still tender and sensitive he only coos and kisses your knee.

Suguru lifts you and readjusts your position on the massage bed, making sure you’re comfortable before draping the towel over your torso again.

“I don't have an appointment for another hour,” he informs you and your lashes flutter, eyes bleary and drawing low with sleep. “You should some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple minutes.”

You manage a small nod while he shuffles through the room.

It takes a little longer for him to return, but when he does his uniform is back on. Unwrinkled and neat. Hair without as much as a strand out of place.

He touches you again, massaging your shoulders in slow circles that have you drifting closer to dreamland and continues the treatment as if nothing had happened, lazily working his hands over your limp body.

“Finally relaxed.” He hums his approval when you soften under his touch, tracing his fingers over your sternum.

Yeah, definitely coming back next month. You think.

Though next week was probably closer to the truth. 

art by @/aransmind

🏷️: @rambld, @liahcharms, @sugusplaything, @indom-tus, @ehcilhc, @magicalpeenpoo, @mieleism, @maxxthefan, @kingraspberry12-blog, @21-princess, @shannonigans1029, @pjselee, @trilxogyyy, @megumour, @tojisgdgirl, @aweslurp, @whatthehellybronjames, @bokenessa, @moonlight-jasmine7, @fruitypatootie, @voxxsstuff, @b-bitter, @ryomensukunasoneandonlywife

suguru tags: @pixiebaby1, @sconesandtea, @sistersofthemoon15, @paniniani, @nanalalovely, @raendarkfaerie, @seraphemerally, @blueglitterwalet, @akkiveslvt, @marisblog6733, @sluttyangel04, @mysticweepings, @sindulgent666, @shinobu-sama012, @lover4art, @sonotkiki

join the taglist here!

note: the comments you guys leave on the google form are so sweet. thanks for reading <3

[yailuxe]

౨ৎ — masseuse suguru geto takes his job of helping you relax very seriously || MDNI, smut

cw: oral (f! receiving), squirting, size difference, semi public, unprotected sex, 3.1K words

The booth is saturated with a heady mixture of incense, scented candles, and body oil—woodsy, warm, and deeply soothing. Sunlight spills in through linen curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden glow while the overhead lamp stays dark. The massage bed beneath you is soft. The length of it is lined with crisp sheets that urge you to sink further into calmness and forget about the stresses of the day.

Everything about the spa was tailor-made to help you relax, and yet, your muscles grow more tense than they’ve ever been when the masseuse steps back into the room.

You’re lying on your front, naked apart from your underwear and the thin towel draped over you. Your face rests in the opening of the bed, and all you can make out is the linoleum flooring as the man moves further into the room. 

Not seeing where he is is why you barely stifle the shiver that shoots up your spine when a hand lands on your shoulder.

“Comfortable?” The masseuse asks. Voice so mellowed it almost makes you swoon. 

With everything else he had going for him, the fact that he sounded like that was just unfair.

You believe the man’s name is Suguru…you aren’t completely sure because you were too busy gawking to pay attention to anything he was saying when he introduced himself. 

Admittedly, when the woman at the front desk asked if you would be okay with a male masseuse, you were not expecting this. Him.

He was—god. He was hot.

Tall. Long black hair pulled into a bun at the base of his skull. Sharp jawed with even sharper eyes; seemingly purple when the sun hit them just right. His peculiar eyes matched the colour of his uniform, and although it was loose-fitting, you could still make out the shape of lean muscle underneath.

A murmur of your name brings you back to the present, and remembering he asked you a question, you nod.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” He hums, and you swear you feel it between your legs.

God, maybe you were ovulating or something.

The towel is pulled down to the small of your back, and you shift as cool air feathers over your skin.

“Are there any areas you want me to avoid?”

You merely shake your head, not trusting what would come out of your mouth if you tried to answer him.

“Anything you want me to focus on?” 

Your thoughts immediately veer into whorish territory that has you shaking your head as if to physically expel them. 

Suguru moves around the room and a match strikes as he presumably lights another candle.

It takes a while to find your voice again, “My back and shoulders, if you don’t mind.”

A chuckle filters through the room. Deep and amused and sexy as all get out, “Of course not. It’s my job after all.”

You flush at the reminder and hear him move closer. The tips of his shoes come into view as he stops beside the bed.

“Let me know when you want to stop.”

That’s the only warning you get before his hands are on you. Work-worn and skilful, he lathers fragrant oil over your skin and works it deep into your pores. 

For a few minutes, his hands are tentative. Slow and studious as he notes your reactions to each touch and stows them away for later use.

He listens to the sigh that leaves your lips when he massages your shoulders. The groan when he works down the length of your back and the stifled giggle when he traces his fingertips along your ribs. Then once he has enough marked down, he grows more sure of himself. He maps out every curve and contour of your skin with kneads and rubs that have your eyes threatening to roll back. Knowing exactly when to ease up, when to be firmer and apply pressure and where to press and hold until you grunt in relief.

Whatever tension that tightened your body loosens under his touch. And you’re sure you’d leave as nothing more than a satisfied puddle by the time he was done.

The massage is steadily lulling you to sleep. But just when your eyes start to flutter shut, he moves to massage your legs. You blink when he pulls them apart, fingers pressing past soft flesh to smooth out all the knots underneath. Suguru skates up the soles of your feet, past your calves and the backs of your knees, then higher, higher until he gets to your thighs.

Your body stiffens again, and he must feel it because he stills for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

You try to give him an affirmative hum, but you’re shaking, and a particularly hard quake wracks through you when his hands move to your inner thighs.

He pauses when you don’t answer, and you have to clear your throat to get rid of the lump that attempts to form.

“I’m fine,” you say. While your voice comes out a little thin, you think you sounded convincing enough. 

You really hope you did.

“Good,” he answers and you allow a small sigh to leave you, “I’m going to move to your glutes now.”

Wait what? 

The sheet is pulled up over your ass, and you have no time to react or dwell on the cold because his warm palms immediately land on your skin. Both chasing and leaving more goosebumps in their wake. 

Something sparks low in your belly with each squeeze that’s delivered to the plush flesh. A small ember at first, then the longer he goes on, the more the ache builds. Slowly, it seeps between your legs in a fiery hot rush that has your panties clinging to you.

You feel Suguru's fingers catch along the lace, and your breath hitches.

“Is this pressure okay?”

Your nod is all he needs to work with newfound vigour. Moving between massaging your thighs, your ass and your hips until you can't even stop yourself from squirming anymore.

Heat blooms across your cheeks when he pauses, and you want the ground to swallow you whole because you know he sees it.

The desperation. The want. Possibly even the slick dampness of your ruined panties.

Embarrassment has you whispering an apology even as nerves bubble deep in your stomach, each pop so loud, you're sure he can hear it. But when you try to press your legs together, he stops you.

“Physiological responses are natural, you don’t need to apologise,” he says so gently, it makes you feel even worse. 

Whatever he was getting paid definitely wasn't enough to be dealing with clients like you.

Your chest expands with a deep breath as you try to make yourself calm down through sheer force of will.  You’re slowly coming back into yourself when his murmured question sets you off balance again.

“Would you like me to keep going?”

Something about the way he asks that is odd.

It lacks the professional lilt that all his earlier questions had as he assessed your discomfort. 

This time, it was low. Sensual. And hedged between a purr that would’ve made your thighs squeeze if he wasn't still holding them apart.

You take a moment to gather yourself, then you lift your head towards him, just barely. And yes, the moment you see the look on his face, you know for sure he isn't just talking about the massage.

Suguru’s eyes are dark as they drag over your face. Slow, patiently appraising and hungry as he takes in the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your plump lips. His pupils are blown so wide that only a small circle of violet remains.  

His head tilts in silent question, and you swallow as more heat spurs. Your chin dips in a small nod, and he shakes his head.  

“I need to hear you say it,” He demands in that sexy, soft-spoken rumble. “Out loud.”

You force out a breath and with it, throw your pride aside like it was weighing on you.

“Keep going,” you say. He merely arches a dark brow at you– as if waiting for more. It takes you a hot minute to figure out what it is, but once you do, you whisper the word bulldozes the last flimsy pillar of professionalism branched between the two of you: “Please?”

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles. Monolid eyes shape into small crescents that are a little too sharp at the edges.  Tipping with something dark. Like he's held back long enough, and your go-ahead is all he needed for the mask to crack.

It makes the hairs on your arms stand.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into?  

​

​

You still weren't sure, but you were in too deep to stop now.

You're sat on the edge of the bed, towel and panties long discarded, and your legs spread wide. 

The man between them holds you open, eyes crudely assessing as he stares down the apex of your thighs.

“What do you need?” he asks as his fingers stroke over trembling flesh. You don't answer right away, and eyes flicker up to yours. “I’m here for your pleasure, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

The words make your heart kicks little harder, and you feel yourself get wetter. Thighs slick with arousal and dripping down to the sheets below. He watches it all happen of course, but doesn’t rush you to answer.

“Your fingers.” You voiced quietly, and he hums low in the back of his throat. Gripping your skin a little harder.

“Want them inside this pretty pussy?” If he took too long, you were sure you’d cum from his voice alone. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait. Middle and ring fingers brush over your clit. Featherlight, but enough to make it twitch in need anyway. 

Your hips buck and before you can do something crazy like beg him, he promptly slides both digits into your cunt. The sound that comes out of your mouth makes you slap a hand over it, and he chuckles like he finds the reaction cute.

“You don't have to worry about staying quiet. The walls here are so thick they're practically soundproof.” You don't move fast enough, so he drives his fingers deeper into you as if trying to force the sounds out. You whine against your palm, and he brings his thumb down to work on your clit, “Let me hear you.”

Your hand falls. 

A moan cracks into the air, mingling with the sharp hiss that escapes him.

“Ah, there you go,” he kneels, and you think a part of you dies.

His head sinks between your thighs, tongue peeking out to drag a lavish lick up your slit that makes you shudder. Suguru groans against your pussy. Feral, desperate and deep enough that it vibrates through you in dizzying shockwaves. Then his mouth is everywhere, eating you out like it had no purpose before this. And free hand cupping your ass to bring you in impossibly closer.

His lithe fingers swirl despite your walls clenching tight around them. Moving as if they were looking for something.

You realise too late what it is. 

Only he curls them just right, and they find purchase against a spot that has your hand gripping his hair, trying to push him off.

You know what you felt like when you were about to cum, and this wasn’t that. This was too sleek, too intense to be a normal orgasm, but even when you try to warn the man, he doesn't let up.

“Can feel it,” He rasps after releasing your clit with a wet pop, “Give it to me.”

“I—fuck, wait,” Your trembling thighs close around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and you see him lift his mouth long enough to watch the burst of clear liquid that gushes from you. 

Your lips gape at the sight but he merely goes back and licks up every drop, mouth relentless– almost punishing–while incoherent sobs that vaguely sound like his name leave your mouth.

Your eyes are teary by the time he pulls back with his chin and lips glistening.

“That’s one,” he whispers, and you freeze, because why did he say that like there were a lot more to come? 

While trepidation makes your skin prickle, your pussy, ever the traitorous whore, twitches needily. Already rearing to go again. 

Suguru cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, messy enough to make blood rush up your neck. He rolls his tongue around yours, flicking it as he did with your clit, making you taste yourself on him.

You hear the rasp of fabric as he moves between your legs, sliding his pants off but when you try to glance down, his hold on your neck tightens.

“Don't,” a few strands of his hair came loose and they brush over his forehead when he shakes his head, “You’ll panic if you look.”

The implication behind that statement, makes you pause. He thought you’d panic if you looked at his cock?

Just how big was he? 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.” he waits until you nod before he covers your body with his, lining the flared tip of his length against your entrance and slowly pushing in. 

You have less than an inch seated inside when the girth makes you claw at his shirt.

“Oh,” you huff. Surprise colouring your tone. “I see why you told me not to look.”

His hips pause with your pained hiss. “Too much?”

“Yes,” your legs wrap around his waist. “Don't stop.”

He groans like you wounded him and sinks deeper, cock stretching you wide enough to make you stop breathing altogether.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers, but you can’t. Every time you try it's like trying to inhale underwater. It’s too heavy and so suffocating all that comes out is a choked moan. 

Suguru’s fingers apply pressure to the sides of your throat, gently massaging. 

“Breathe,” he says again, broad chest rising then falling, silently encouraging you to match the pattern. His eyes go dark when you comply, sweet sighs fanning over his mouth, copying his. “Good girl.”

He rears back to take his shirt off and you’re graced with tanned skin and sculpted muscle that distracts you long enough to let him deeper. 

Your nails rake down his back once he’s on you again. Cuttingly sharp whereas his touches are soft as he smooths his hands over your skin, coaxing out all the tension that has you wound up. 

Each caress is torturous and deliberate. Shaping over your hips and squeezing your breasts until a mewl echoes. 

“Feels so good,” he breathes, then kisses you again.

It's devastatingly disarming, and he knows it, because when your body relaxes under him, he wastes no time in driving forward and burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, and he catches the curve of it with his hand, pulling you against him.

“I know,  baby,” his jaw is clenched tight. Hips rutting so his pelvic bone rolls onto your clit. You wind your legs around him tighter and the massage table whines under your combined weight. “Fuck, stretching so tight around me.”

You know you're being loud when he starts moving. At first, you didn't trust him when he said the walls were thick but right now you don't seem to care.

“So full,” you mumble against his mouth, and he grunts, delivering a brutal thrust that jostles you both.

“Yeah? Where do you feel it, hm?” his palm reaches for your stomach, flattening over the small bulge his cock leaves every time he pumps into you. “Right here?”

All you manage are frantic nods, and he slides his hand down to grind the heel into your clit. Your body tries to buck, but he's so close you can't do more than shiver. 

You're wringing his cock dry. Swallowing every inch and squeezing until his balls draw up. They slap against your ass, messy and loud with your slick, only to get drowned out by your panicked gasp.

“I’m close,” you warn, and he nods in response, pace turning desperate as he chases his own high.

The once comforting blend of scents filtering through the air makes your head swirl.

“Cum with me,” he demands, and there's not a lot you can do to hold off any longer. Pleasure hooks into your spine, and Suguru holds you against his body. The tremors shaking you pass into him and back again.

His grip on your hip is bruising as he spills rope after rope of his cum as deep as he can go, shuddering with his release and letting out breathless moans and gasps that almost send you off the edge again.

Cum spills down your thighs when he pulls out, and he's pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“I’ve got you. Relax,” he says, and hell, he doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body feels heavy against the bed when he walks away. Water trickles then he’s back again. You can’t lift your head to make sure but you feel the heat of him. And the heat of the cloth that's dragged between your legs as he cleans you with practised ease. When you flinch, still tender and sensitive he only coos and kisses your knee.

Suguru lifts you and readjusts your position on the massage bed, making sure you’re comfortable before draping the towel over your torso again.

“I don't have an appointment for another hour,” he informs you and your lashes flutter, eyes bleary and drawing low with sleep. “You should some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple minutes.”

You manage a small nod while he shuffles through the room.

It takes a little longer for him to return, but when he does his uniform is back on. Unwrinkled and neat. Hair without as much as a strand out of place.

He touches you again, massaging your shoulders in slow circles that have you drifting closer to dreamland and continues the treatment as if nothing had happened, lazily working his hands over your limp body.

“Finally relaxed.” He hums his approval when you soften under his touch, tracing his fingers over your sternum.

Yeah, definitely coming back next month. You think.

Though next week was probably closer to the truth. 

art by @/aransmind

🏷️: @rambld, @liahcharms, @sugusplaything, @indom-tus, @ehcilhc, @magicalpeenpoo, @mieleism, @maxxthefan, @kingraspberry12-blog, @21-princess, @shannonigans1029, @pjselee, @trilxogyyy, @megumour, @tojisgdgirl, @aweslurp, @whatthehellybronjames, @bokenessa, @moonlight-jasmine7, @fruitypatootie, @voxxsstuff, @b-bitter, @ryomensukunasoneandonlywife

suguru tags: @pixiebaby1, @sconesandtea, @sistersofthemoon15, @paniniani, @nanalalovely, @raendarkfaerie, @seraphemerally, @blueglitterwalet, @akkiveslvt, @marisblog6733, @sluttyangel04, @mysticweepings, @sindulgent666, @shinobu-sama012, @lover4art, @sonotkiki

join the taglist here!

note: the comments you guys leave on the google form are so sweet. thanks for reading <3

[rambld]

18+ mdni

A new upload from Ryotic—the anonymous artist whose ink bleeds between exquisite anatomy and monstrous, tentacled fantasies.

But it isn't just his art that makes your breath hitch, it's the audios that play over them. His voice is a dark, velvet sandpaper—a rich, deep baritone that thrums in the back of your throat. It's smoky, authoritative, and devastatingly masculine.

“Come here, give me your hand,” he murmurs, and even though he’s miles away in a soundproof booth probably, you find your fingers twitching. “Let me show you how I touch myself when I think of you.”

Cast in the blue glow of your screen, your hand is already drifting down to the damp silk of your underwear. It's pathetic, really. You're obsessed with a faceless illustrator with a sexy voice.

The wet, sticky click of skin on skin as he pumps himself in slow strokes comes next. You can hear the weight of him, the heavy, deliberate slide of his fist gripping his cock. It’s unhurried and filthy. He lets out a low, gruff grunt, a sound so primal it feels like it’s scarring your very psyche.

“You like being called names, don't you?” He chuckles, a devastatingly earnest rumble that feels like a caress. “Yeah, you little fuck toy? Wanna be pushed around and folded into whatever position I want, huh? Be a good girl and let me hear you, fuck yourself like you want me to.”

The pace of his strokes quickens with your own fingers as the pads rub firm circles onto your pulsing bud. The audio is crisp—you can hear his breath hitching, the desperate, needy way he’s inhaling.

“Ah, fuck, baby," he slurs, the endearmeant dripping off his tongue like honey. “That's it. Fuck that wet little pussy for me. Are you actually flustered while you're riding your fingers?”

Your dirty little secret is lost in the throes of pleasure. The sounds are raw—the kind of unhinged, guttural groans that would haunt your bloodline if they ever leaked into the open air. He sounds animalistic, his breath catching into strained, choked-off whines as he nears the edge.

“Uh-uh, don't run. You're not gonna piss yourself, this is the best part,” your mouth falls agape when his voice cuts in right as you're shying away from your hand when your bladder feels heavy, “Relax, you can handle it. Thaaat's my girl. Cum for me.”

You do, white hot pleasure bursting behind your squeezed eyelids as a spray of hot liquid drenches your pajama shorts, thighs trembling and pussy milking your fingers.

His orgasm is a wreck of sound—a series of rough grunts and a sharp, pained inhale. You hear the sopping, quiet splat of him coming all over himself, followed by the heavy, post-orgasmic thud of him leaning back against his chair.

The ragged, heaving gasps of a man completely spent spills into your ears. Then comes the ruinous part: a soft, breathless chuckle. It’s warm, genuine, and domestic. “Shit,” he huffs in amusement, his voice even deeper now, thick with a haze. “Look at the mess you made me make.”

Panting, your hand slips out of the waistband of your shorts, webbed with your slick, your eyes fluttering shut as you slump back on the headboard. In your mind, you aren't alone. You're crushed beneath him.

The only problem—the absolute tragedy of your life—is that the only voice you'd ever heard with that specific, chest-rattling resonance belongs to Sukuna.

He's a friend of Yorozu, who you've known since high school. The asshole is a towering, terrifying man whose presence is a threat in and off itself. Tattoos swirl like dark smoke up his body, across his jaw, and disappear under the sleeves of his shirts, wrapping around his wrists. He treats you like a persistent gnat, and you return the favor with sharp-tongued vitriol.

Even with his blush pink hair, he looked like he belonged in a back-alley brawl, usually grunting a greeting before disappearing the moment you appeared. But his voice... it was a dead ringer for Ryotic. Every time Sukuna told you to “move” or “pass the salt,” a traitorous spark ignited between your thighs.

Spurred by a mix of horniness and defiance, you started your own anonymous account: Comfy&Cumming. You post faceless, inconspicuous videos of yourself in high-cut lace, humping a plush body pillow. In every video, you're actually listening to Ryotic's dirty talk, pretending the pillow was his thick thigh or fat cock.

“I want to see you come on that pillow,” the voice in your ear purrs. “Wring yourself out for me. Imagine it's my cock stretching you open.”

Within two weeks, you're a sensation with merely five videos and ten thousand followers. Then, the notification came: @Ryotic followed you. Next, a tag: a sketch of a woman in your exact lingerie, arched over a pillow, with the caption: “My new muse.”

He shamelessly likes your videos, especially the ones filmed from the back where your plush ass and the sliver of your pussy is winking at the camera through your soaked, translucent panties as you bounce on the pillow, rubbing your aching clit against it and sighing lascivious moans. The curve of your ass might as well be a part of the Golden Ratio as you fist the pillow and fuck it hard.

It has to be a coincidence that his latest animations are all of women humping pillows, their rolling hips stuttering as they give soft cries when they come.

The air in the cramped bar is thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of gin as your group of friends gather for drinks and to catch up after two weeks of being busy with work.

“What's hotter than sex?” your friend Yorozu asks, leaning in, breath sweet from her fruity margarita as a mischievous smile pulls at her lips. “A specific kink, a moment, whatever.”

You, three drinks deep and feeling reckless, let your mind drift to Ryotic's video from the previous night. “Watching a man come in his pants,” you blurt. “The loss of control, the mess... just seeing him unable to hold back.”

Across the table, Sukuna, who had been silently nursing a whiskey, goes dead still. He cuts a look at you—sharp, predatory, and suddenly focused. It's the first time he hadn't looked at you with bored annoyance.

Flustered, you hide your face behind the rim of glass, your heart hammering against your ribs. With horrifying clarity, you're doused with the chilling realisation that you'd just bled in front of a shark.

“Gross! That's so messy,” Yorozu laughs. “Ryomen, what about you?”

Sukuna takes a slow, deliberate sip of his drink. His eyes never leave yours. “Watching a woman hump a pillow,” he drawls, his voice dropping into that familiar, floor-vibrating register. “Seeing her so desperate for a fix that she has to use an object ‘cause she's starving for the real thing and too scared to ask.”

Blood drains from your face swiftly like someone unplugged a bathtub. Your grip on the glass tightens until your knuckles turn white. It couldn't be. You just drank too much.

The conversation shifts, the alcohol flowing faster. “Something you’ve never tried but want to?”

“A headlock,” you sigh dreamily, the secret shame of your latest fantasy spilling out as your manicured fingers curl around your neck. “Being held from behind in a bear hug, beefy arms around my head, totally trapped while he fucks me.”

Sukuna sprawls out on his side of the booth, a smirk ghosting his lips, tattoos inching higher when you give your throat a squeeze, earning giggles from your friends.

“Funny,” he muses with a hum. “I’ve always wanted to put a woman in a headlock, smothering her moans while I take what I want. See how loud she can scream when she’s got nowhere to run.”

A dizzying glance is shared as the visual both your words paint flashes in behind your fluttering eyelids. His hands already dwarf yours and would make a pretty necklace around your throat.

He can see it now, his hulking body crowding you from behind, so strong and all-consuming as his shadow swallows yours. Arms band around your neck in a meaty cuddle, muscles flexing as he pounds into you, listening to you get choked up, dewy face tear-streaked, mascara running down your cheeks as your eyes glaze over with that spaced-out gleam. Crying out his name in that breathy, salacious gasp of yours as you claw at his forearms and buck against him for more, more, more.

Rubbing your thighs together, his crimson eyes flicker to yours, pupils spilling into his irises at the sight of your pinched brows and far away look. He almost wonders if you saw what he saw. You look distressed, lips glossy and pouty as you're made painfully aware of how slippery you are along your slit and squirming just has your clit rolling side to side as your stomach somersaults.

“You good?” he asks as if truly concerned but there's a hint of mirth in his eyes.

Snapping out of your stupor, you come to to find yourself ogling the broad expanse of his torso in that paper-thin, flimsy tee that does nothing to hide the outline of the tattoos framing his chest and abdomen, crawling beneath the waistband of his jeans like spilled ink dripping down, down, down. The fabric is holding on for dear life as it stretches across his plump pecs.

“Peachy,” you bite out, going back to listening to Gojo talk about his latest conquest and ignoring the heated stares cast your way every now and then.

The next night, you sit in your room, trembling as you refresh Ryotic's feed. A new post appears: a high-quality animation of a tattooed man holding a woman in a crushing headlock from behind, biceps bulging and veins rippling, his cock driving inside of her over and over again with each mean snap of his hips.

Shakily, you press play.

The audio starts, but it isn't just his voice. Beneath the deep growl of him saying, “Fuckin’ space out, huh? Seeing stars, baby?” there's a woman’s voice.

Jealousy doesn't get the chance to coil in your gut, not when you realise it's your voice.

He had taken a voice note you'd posted on your anonymous account—a private, experimental clip of you whimpering—and layered it over the animation. The sound of your own wet, desperate moans echoing back at you, perfectly synced to the rhythm of the animation.

The caption read: “Found you, my muse. Collab? Or should I just come over and do it for real?”

Dumbfounded, you stare at the screen, your phone vibrating with a DM from a private account.

R.S: Had a feeling that was you before you outed yourself last night.

R.S: I'd recognize that ass anywhere.

Honestly, this was the perfect outcome for the pink-haired man as he'd been using you as inspiration for his female protagonists for years now. Same attitude, similar body shape, same expressions, same habits and so on. Think of it as his outlet of his frustrations where he could draw a man resembling him fucking the brattiness out of you.

Finding out that you were also his latest muse and a big fan of his work was a dream come fucking true. His cock swells and kicks, leaking excitedly at the thought of getting to finally have you.

And with how your subscribers are flooding your inbox and bank account with thousands of dollars, begging you to take him up on the offer, you simply cannot refuse.

For the fans, of course.

tags: @yailuxe @liahcharms @getopilleds @cttelina @mrswhitethornbelikov @shazzer29 @dadonprimma @vigumii @petalsmoons @sunabff @luoodle @wwasabiiiii @bruleecream @princesspeach0-0 @vm4879bb-blog @zenaskull @icebearcucumber @beaniesayshi @iluvgetosuguru @yoonsucks @sukubusss

[yailuxe]

୨୧ — BUSINESS OR PLEASURE?

overview: as the head of the sales department at your company, you can’t help but feel like you should be getting some kind of reward for contributing to revenue doubling since your arrival. a promotion, a raise, even a day off would be better than what you got instead. a week long business trip with a man you have to refrain from strangling every time you’re in the same room. and just as you’re beginning to take being stuck with nanami kento for that long in stride, the receptionist at the hotel tells you there’s only one room left. just fucking great.

cw: mdni, nanami x reader, sales exec/marketing exec, hr nightmare, rivals to lovers, forced proximity, crackish, fluff if you take your glasses off, foot massage, smut, power struggle, fingering, p slapping, edging/denial, unprotected sex, 5.5k words

art by @/thatsallitchief

Kento isn’t nearly as stoic as he makes himself out to be.

He sits in a chair that looks far too small for him. His body a bulky mass of tense energy as he glances at everyone moving about the break room, jaw clenched so tightly you’re surprised he hasn’t chipped a tooth yet. His reaction to the party thrown for your department’s performance would be childish if it weren’t so delightfully amusing.

So much so, your heels carry you over to him, and you sit in the chair beside him.

Dressed in one of his eccentric suits, he almost looks handsome, with his rimless glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose and blonde wisps of hair, usually styled back, coming loose to fall over hollow hazel eyes.

Yes, hollow. Like a shallow grave.

“Nanami.”

Your surname comes as a reluctant greeting, and you have to fight back a smile. You probably don’t do a very good job, because he gives you a blistering glare.

“That was a cute speech,” his dark eyes narrow on you for a moment longer before he looks away. “Apart from your dig at my team, that is. It was a bit unnecessary, don’t you think?” Your lips part, but he barrels on. “We all work for the same company after all. There’s no need to make everything about winning.”

In your impromptu thank you speech, you expressed mild surprise at how well sales were doing, even though the company's marketing numbers were falling behind, dipping into dangerously low territory. You suggested that departments could collaborate and learn from each other, but it was clear which one you believed needed more attention.

“Of course,” you say, placing your hand on his arm. You see his eyes flick down to it, then back up again. “I apologise if it came across that way. It wasn’t my intention at all.”

He lifts an ashy brow, looking unimpressed, but he expected a snarky reply or barking laughter. The apology seems to catch him off guard.

“Uh-huh,” he responds, a hint of doubt in his voice.

Then, the remorse in your eyes hardens into something a lot more brittle, and it makes his hackles rise. Still touching his arm, you feign sympathy.

“I mean, you need real competition to win something, so pitting my team against yours just wouldn’t be fair.”

Nanami’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and when he opens his mouth, you take it as your cue to stand.

“I have to go, but please have some more cake? Who knows how long we’ll have to wait until we have something like this for marketing?”

A whispered curse follows you as you leave the room and you nearly cackle out loud. You weren’t usually that snippy, but the blonde-haired man always brought out the worst in you. 

You had only joined Kaito Corp—the global conglomerate dealing with all things retail, from food, clothing, and cosmetics—two years ago.

The extensive healthcare benefits, paired with the pay, had you barely skipping a beat when you handed in your resignation at your previous job. And it didn’t hurt that everyone was so welcoming when you arrived either—well, everyone except the six-foot shadow that was propped in the dark corner of the room, watching you with something bordering on indifference.

It took Nanami all of five seconds to decide he didn’t like you. His curt responses to you, contrasted with his quiet, gentlemanly politeness towards everyone else, and it made you dislike him too. So, for the last 24 months, the two of you snarled and clawed at each other like a pair of housecats. Passive aggression hung like a thick halo of smog whenever you interacted, and seeing how uncomfortable it made the rest of the office, you tried to steer clear of him.

But of course, it never worked.

It’s hard to believe there isn’t some higher—or lower—power out to get you. One who forces the two of you together like a pair of helpless magnets and watches the heated exchanges with rapt attention for their own enjoyment. And as you step into your office and get back to work, the email that pops up after a few minutes has you convinced that the sadist fuck of a deity is having a good laugh.

Good day,  I hope this email finds you well.  I have noticed that one of our London branches requires some attention. Fortunately, there is a networking conference scheduled for next week, and I would like to extend an invitation for you to attend. The conference will expose you to more companies that may be interested in partnering up with us and equip you with the necessary areas of interest for improvement in localisation.   I apologise for writing to you on such short notice, but I am afraid your attendance is mandatory. Kindly adjust your availability as flights are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Please find more details on accommodation and travel with my assistant, Miss C Hani. I look forward to your cooperation.  Best,  Jun Kaito.

The founder of the company emailing you directly is one thing, but the only other recipient that’s addressed is what makes the blood in your veins run cold: 

[email protected]

Why was he copied? Surely you weren’t expected to attend the conference with him, right? 

Wrong. 

If you thought you disliked him before, the man was properly situated in hate territory now.

On your way to the airport, there was a car accident that made you late for your flight, and he tore you a new one for the entire hour he sat prettily at departures, stressing you out further. You were forced to board a later flight, and that was the only moment of respite you got from his constant grumbling, but being stuck in the rental car together fires him up all over again.

“You know we probably lost our reservation at the hotel, right?”

“Would you give it a rest?” Your voice is a lot higher than it should be, and you don’t like that it makes him go quiet. As if he wanted a reaction out of you, and he finally got one. “I couldn’t exactly flip the totalled cars over to get through.”

The soft jazz filtering through the radio is at odds with the tension buzzing around the rest of the car, so potent it makes the windows rattle a little.

“You could have left earlier.”

“I left my house two hours early!”

“Everyone knows you're supposed to arrive at the airport two hours early.” 

Your fall quiet at that and at his sidelong look, you bristle. “That’s not a thing.”

“Definitely a thing.” He quips coolly, right in the middle of your sentence.

“If it bothered you so much then why didn’t you go ahead without me?”

The question falls on deaf ears as Nanami pretends he didn’t hear you, and today, you hate that you work together a little more than others. As a myriad of profanities would have slipped out a while ago if you weren’t convinced he’d report you to HR faster than you could blink.

You drive in silence to the hotel. The trip lasts only 20 minutes, but it feels like hours as you seethe in the passenger seat.

Upon arrival, he gives the valet the car keys, grabs his bag from the trunk, and heads to reception.

You scoff, and the valet comes to open your door, a younger man wearing a beanie and an all too wide smile when you thank him. Perspiration beads over your hairline from the effort it takes to heave your suitcase out of the trunk. 

You definitely overpacked.

You’re half rolling, half lobbing the bag through the lobby, when you see Nanami’s back as he stands near the front desk, so you head over.

The receptionist behind it is an older woman with salt and pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun and round glasses that frame the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Hello.” It doesn’t feel right to have an elder to call you ma’am as she greets you back, but you smile, nonetheless.

The woman, Marianne her name tag says, darts her eyes between you and the waste of energy at your side and from your peripheral, you see him tip his head heavenward and pinch the bridge of his nose. “Hotel’s fully booked for the rest of the week.”

Your eyes widen, and you look back at Marianne for confirmation. Sadly, it seems like he’s telling the truth.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am. It’s wedding season, so it’s a little packed.”

You pinch your eyes shut, and a furrow forms between your brows when Nanami’s annoying baritone tries to rub salt into the wound.

“If we got here on time—”

“Well, we didn’t.”

A throat clears, and you didn’t even realise the two of you were glowering at each other until you both turned back to the older woman. She types away on her laptop, then a megawatt smile pulls at her lips, beautifully aged wrinkles rippling.

“Ah, the presidential suite should be available in an hour or so. If you and your husband don’t mind waiting—”

“I’m not her husband.”

“Ugh.”

Nanami pauses, head slowly swivelling toward you. While his reply was monotonous, you sound damn near disgusted at the prospect, and your face pulls like you just swallowed a lemon whole.

Just as well. He thinks. He can’t stand being your coworker, so husband is out of the question. 

Marianne blanches as she realises her mistake, “Oh, my apologies. Just the way you argue, I would have thought—” she shakes her head. “Never mind that. Will the suite work?”

“Please tell me there isn’t only one bed.”

“You wish.” Nanami can’t help but whisper under his breath. He isn’t your biggest fan either, but did you have to sound that repulsed?

You yank your suitcase to your side, and its wheel rolls over his foot. No doubt crushing his toe under the heavy weight, if the pain-filled grunt that follows is anything to go by. It’s by far the best sound you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.

“No, there are two rooms,” Marianne continues, far too wisened to pay attention to your childish antics longer than necessary. “But they’re adjoining.”

“The doors have locks, right?”

“You’re hilarious,” Nanami supplies dryly and fishes the business credit card out his pocket. “We’ll take it.”

The speedpoint chimes as he pays, and you can’t help but sigh. This was going to be one hell of a week. 

And hell, it was. 

Between the tedious meetings and constant networking, you’d be weary and practically dragging your feet when you make it back to the hotel room.  

On the third day, you fell onto the couch with a groan that would have made people think you were being murdered if they weren’t looking. So tired that you didn’t even blink when Nanami slumped down beside you, and for the first time in the years you’ve known him, also seeming put out as he threw an arm over his face to shield his eyes. 

You sit so close that your knees touch, but your body is too heavy to kick him away or snap at him to keep his distance, so you let your eyes fall shut. 

It pains you to remember that the two of you fell asleep on the couch that night.

Together.

Somehow going from sitting side by side to him being sprawled along the length of it, and you using him as a makeshift mattress as you lie atop him. A thick arm was loosely looped around your waist when you woke up, and even though it was the best sleep you’ve ever gotten, the embarrassment of it all didn’t stop you from sliding out of his hold as if you were lathered in gallons of butter. 

You’re 90% sure he was awake as you all but army crawled to your room, but neither of you brought it up in the following days. You thought that would be the end of it, but you only started tiptoeing around each other more as a new kind of tension settled between you. Not replacing what used to be there entirely, but just making it more charged.

You’d never admit it, but you died a little every time Nanami came out of the shower with the thin white towel wrapped around his hips and trickles of water dripping down plains of muscle his suits never showed. Your ogling lasts until you go to shower right after, only to curse him for finishing all the hot water. 

He’s the most inconsiderate person you've ever known, and no amount of sex appeal could change that. 

You wonder why he doesn’t change in the bathroom as you did. It's as if he relishes those twenty seconds of strutting from one room to the next like something out of a fitness magazine. When you tell him as much and accuse him of being unprofessional, he merely raises an eyebrow

“You don't hear me complaining about the short nightgowns you insist on wearing.” 

What? 

“There’s no way you’re trying to compare my pyjamas to you walking around half-naked.”

You scoff with your arms crossing over your chest, and it’s like the action draws his attention there. Clad in one of those gowns as you speak, Nanami leans down until he’s so close the scent of his body wash and shampoo wraps you in an intoxicating whirlwind.

“I caught a flash of your panties when you bent over earlier. I’d say it’s just as bad if not worse.”

You gasp, hand meeting his face, but it’s not a slap, not really. Your palm just smashes over its entirety, and you hear his sharp inhale before you push his head away with all your might (he barely moves).

“You’re a fucking pervert!”

With your cheeks burning, you don’t even give him time to reply, and you could be wrong, but instead of being angry like you intended, you almost think you hear a soft chuckle.

You’d kill him by the end of the trip. You were sure of it.

The next day at the conference, all you can focus on is how incredibly slow the week is going, and thinking it shows on your face, you force a smile when a group of execs walk over.

Judging by the gold bands on their ring fingers, all of them are married, but they definitely don’t act like it. Lecherous eyes look you over as if sizing up prey, and you shuffle from one foot to the other. One of the men keeps your hand in his a little too long after a handshake, and his dry lips pull into a sleazy grin, skin cracking a little from the effort, so he darts his tongue out. 

Your many years of experience are the only reason you don’t outwardly grimace when he says your name in a coaxing purr. 

“You’re absolutely ravishing. It's no wonder you were chosen to join us this week.” 

Right, because it had to be beauty and not all the hard work you put in that could land you in a room like this.

“Thank you?” Your eyes widen when he raises your hand to his lips as if he were about to kiss the back of it, until warmth feathers over the curve of your back, and you feel Nanami long before you hear him.

“Mr Samson.” The man comes up short when his name is called, and the sight of his shiny bald head and the wispy pieces of hair he laid in a forced comb-over disappears as he straightens. You take the opportunity to pull your hand out of his, and his eyes look over your head, then up, up, until he meets those of your blonde tormentor standing behind you.

“Mr Nanami.” Samson greets with that overly friendly expression on his face, nowhere in sight. 

“Gentlemen.” A hand lands on the small of your back, and he steps to your side, nodding at the rest of the pack. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal her away for a moment?”

He phrases that as a question, but doesn’t really give them time to answer when he steers you away from them. You can’t help but feel a rush of relief when he walks you to the door, and while it takes everything in you to swallow your pride, you whisper your thanks under your breath. 

It may have been too soft for him to hear because he doesn’t even spare you a glance as he closes the car door behind you. 

Once again, the drive back to the hotel was quiet, and unlike the awkwardly stiff silence that filled the car every other day, this time it wasn’t that bad.

You know you shouldn’t be this happy to have left early, and some people may mistake that for arrogance on the company’s part, but it is nice to have an early night for once.

You’d do damage control tomorrow. 

It would be the last day of mingling before the two of you went back home, and you won’t need to engage with him more than you were already forced to. You think it’s a good thing, but your spurring belly doesn’t seem to agree with you. 

When the car stops at the hotel’s entrance, you step out, and you only make it one step before you hear a loud “thwack!”. Your ankle rolls a little, and you stumble forward.

Looking down at your heel, you nearly weep at the sight of the broken stem, dangling precariously even when you lift your foot. You'd never feel comfortable telling anyone how much you spent on them, and now they were broken. Why do these things always happen to you?

“What’s wrong?” Kento asks as he comes to your side of the car. He follows your gaze as you look at your stiletto, and you place a hand against the hood, bending to take it off. “You can't walk around barefoot. You don't know what's on these floors.”

He says almost accusingly. As if you broke your shoe on purpose. 

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” 

You snipe at him and before your foot can touch the ground, a squeal pipes out when you’re lifted up.

A strong arm circles your back, and the other hooks around the underside of your knees. It happens so quickly, you almost feel like you’ve been sent flying. Trapped in a princess carry within a matter of seconds as has you spluttering in shock. “Have you lost your mind?!”

An arm momentarily leaves you, and you wind yours around his neck so you don’t fall on your ass. There’s a jingle as he hands the car keys over to the valet, and realising that someone else witnessed you being dragged like a sack of potatoes makes you squirm in his hold.

“Put me down.” You force through gritted teeth, and he walks into the lobby.

“In a minute.” He murmurs, not fazed in the slightest as his leather shoes clack over mosaic tiles.

“Now!”

“No.”

The sheer audacity of this man was almost impressive sometimes.

You find a little comfort in the fact that it’s so late no one other than the staff is in the lobby. But you catch sight of Marianne’s silvery hair and her simper as she watches the two of you. Her smile, paired with the feeling of Nanami’s hulking chest heating the side of your body, is enough to make you grip his shoulders, nails digging in warning.  

“You’re making a scene.”

“You’re the one yelling.” 

Because he was making a scene!

“I swear to god, Kento, if you don’t let me down right now I’m gonna bite you.”

And the idiot has the nerve to smirk in response to the threat. For someone who didn’t want you walking around barefoot, he didn’t seem to care that a human bite could pack so much bacteria the infection would take him out in days. 

“Don’t smile at that. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just surprised we’re on a first-name basis now.”

Your arms tighten around him again when his grip snags to press the elevator’s button. The doors open immediately, and he secures you against him once more and steps inside.

The elevator goes up a level, and your eyes impatiently flicker over his face when he still doesn’t let you down. You take in the sharp slope of his nose and his usually frowning mouth that has an imperceptible smile on it now. His glasses glint under the harsh lighting in the lift, the golden glare trying and failing to match his glossy hair.

“You’re staring.”

You stiffen in his arms, when brown eyes track over to you, you look away.

“As if.”

His chest rumbles against you as he laughs, and you hate yourself for melting a little at the sound.

The elevator dings open, and you give up on wiggling free when he swipes the key card at the door and steps inside the suite. The door is kicked closed behind him and he ambles to the couch. Your arms slide off Nanami’s shoulders when he sets you down with surprising gentleness, and just as you start to gather your bearings, he kneels in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You’re tempted to kick him.

But the man only takes hold of your leg with one hand and slips your shoe off with the other.

“You’re hurt.”

You look down at your foot. You numbed yourself to the ache in your feet around the fourth hour of being in heels, so the little pinch of pain that followed when one of the shoes broke didn’t even register.

Redness blooms near your ankle, so light that you need to squint to see it. 

“I’m fine,” you bare your teeth against the brush of his thumb over your instep. Nanami stands up, and a forceful exhalation passes through your lips. 

Finally.

He takes a seat next to you.

Nope, spoke too soon. 

“Let me see.”

“Huh?” Your head rears, and not wanting to repeat himself, he leans down, and a yodel sounds from you when he snatches your foot into the air.

Your hand pushes your pencil skirt further between your thighs when your legs open a little too wide for comfort, and not having a choice, you rotate your body and lean against the arm of the couch. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” A thumb presses the bruise on your foot. “Ow!”

“Shush.” The other stiletto is taken off too, and he adjusts your feet so they’re on his lap. “Tomorrow’s the last day of the conference, I can’t have you sabotage it by hobbling all over the place.”

And there it was. He wasn’t doing this to be nice. He was just worried about how you would look next to him. Vanity, you could handle. Your lips gape to tell him off, but his fingers work into a soft curve that has you faltering.

“Just sit still for a moment.”

That shouldn’t be much of a problem, seeing you’re frozen in place.

Calloused hands feel feather-light as they knead and stroke over your irritated skin. Languid but completely focused as he massages you so skilfully, the numbness fades in seconds. His knuckle skims along your sole, and your foot wiggles, a small giggle bubbling from the unintended tickle. Kento’s eyes lift to yours, a glint of amusement in them as he tickles you again, and your laughter turns into an annoyed grunt.

“Stop that.”

He listens. Partly. Because while he does let go of your foot, his fingers go up to trace over your ankle, and you’re still restless. The little quiver that rocks through you doesn’t go unnoticed.

Hazelnut eyes harden behind square glasses as he takes stock of you from head to toe, and when they find yours again, their shell cracks open to reveal a buttery chocolate centre that almost has you licking your lips.

Nanami’s hand pauses over your skin, and your disappointment must be written all over your face because he tilts his head at you. 

“You still want me to stop?”

You don’t. He knows that, but he still doesn’t move. And he won’t until you say it. 

“No.” You whisper under your breath, and you get a cocked eyebrow, wordlessly urging you to continue.

“No, what?”

Ugh, why was he being so difficult? He knew exactly what you meant. 

Every morsel of arousal you feel gets gobbled up by an unknown force, and you pull your legs away from him.

Fuck this. You’d sooner somersault off the rooftop than beg a man.

“Forget it.”

You stand up and only get half a step in before you’re yanked into his lap. He takes his glasses off, and the wavering breath you take is stolen when he slants his lips over yours. The kiss is demanding, almost punishing, that you weren’t bold enough to voice what you wanted.

He’ll have to remedy that.

“Don’t stop.”

Nanami grins up at you. The man was nothing if not tenacious. 

“Oh my god,” you hiccup, legs on either side of his hips as you straddle him on the couch. Your skirt is bunched up to your hips, panties pulled over to the side as lithe fingers thrust in and out of you.

Nanami leans forward and presses a kiss to your chin, a gentle peck that’s nothing like the mean plunge of his fingers into your cunt that has you fluttering pathetically around them. You were getting close again. The third time in a row as he brought you to the brink, and instead of letting you free-fall into unimaginable pleasure, he does something worse. He wrenches you back with all his might.

“Don’t.” You warn when you feel his fingers slow.

“You know the words I want to hear, sweetheart.” He says the petname like it’s an insult and damn you for squeezing around veiny digits harder. “Tell me you like it.”

Your eyes roll back when he hooks his fingers and pushes deeper.

“Tell me you like my fingers stretching you open for me.”

Your head shakes, and you aren’t even shocked when his fingers slide out of you. But the stinging pain of his palm smacking over your twitching clit? That knocks the air out of you and forces it out in nothing more than a soundless gasp.

“Fuck you,” you simmer once you’ve caught your breath, chest heaving painfully.

He only laughs in that rich whiskey quality that implores you to overindulge and drink him whole.

“Keep being a brat, and you won’t get to.” 

The heel of his hand covers your clit, nastily rubbing down and smearing glittering sticky wetness everywhere. 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” 

Teeth nip at your lips, just shy from drawing blood before he stops himself.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You’re shaking when he wraps an arm around you, vision flashing to white when he hikes you against him, drawing you to grind over his belt buckle as he carries you to the room. The soft bed resembles a fluffy cloud when he sets you on it and your body wars between feathery weightlessness and sluggishness as you sink into it. A pleasurable buzz looms over you when you draw yourself up to your elbows and find him taking his clothes off. His eyes zero in on the centre of your thighs, and he loosens his tie. 

There’s a little tremor in the action, hands momentarily faltering when you pull yourself to sit on your knees and help him. You feel the heat of his stare, then he’s undressing you too and there’s a quiet rasp of fabric ripping as his hands grow hurried. Then with a blink of the eye, all clothes are discarded in a messy bundle on the floor, and you’re both bare.

Nanami tries to lay you back onto the mattress, but unfortunately for him, you hold grudges like a drowning person to a lifeline. You would let yourself sink under the surface, and even as water garbled in your lungs and weighed you down a fraction of what it did to him, you refused to let him leave unscathed.

So when you twist your bodies and his back hits the mattress first, the wide-eyed look he gives you makes delighted goosebumps prick over your skin. You crawl up his body to straddle him, and his hands find your waist when you roll your slit along his cock. 

Nanami’s hips twitch up, only to groan when you lift yourself out of reach, withholding the friction he so desperately needs. He blinks up at you, eyes bleary and wild as the cogs turn in his head. Then the gears click into place.

“Ah, this is payback, is it?” His laugh has you grinding harder over his girth, and it turns into a hiss. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your reply, with your voice sickeningly sweet and hunger, makes his eyes glaze over. 

You finally allow yourself to look down at his cock, taking in the reddened flush of the length and the creamy drops of precum welling at his tip. As if drawn in by an irresistible force, you circle a hand around it, and the touch elicits something between a moan and a gasp from him. 

The sound is so soft, so ruined, it doesn’t even sound like him anymore. 

Your hand bops up and down over the heavy girth, and only after drawing out a moan do you line him up with your hole. But you don’t slide him inside just yet.

All the muscles in Nanami’s body bulge, then ripple as he struggles to stay still under you, and you casually glide the mushroom tip up and down your slit. 

“Feel good?”

Only a noncommittal hum escapes, and he folds his lip between his teeth, captivated as he watches you slide the crown of his head between puffy folds then pull it out again. 

Holy fuck. 

“Say it.”

Sandy brows furrow. He’s just as stubborn as you were, if not more. That’s why the two of you clashed like two bulls in an all too small enclosure. But with how sadistic you were at times, he fears you may actually leave him like this. Nanami stammers, and when you let an inch of his cock glide into you, he blurts the words out in a barely coherent blabber.

“Feels good, baby. Too good. You know it does—” and that’s all you needed. 

You bear down on him, and his words break off. Twin moans fill the lavish room as you sink further, and his cock bullies itself into you like it’s trying to make more room. Slippery walls flutter around it when you take him to the hilt, clit rolling into the fine dusting of hair at his base. Your head tips back when he meets you halfway with a shaky thrust of his hips upwards. 

The denied orgasms have you a little delirious as you bounce on him like your life depends on it, pausing when he nudges a spot that has you seeing white, only to slam down harder. 

The last spindles of Nanami’s patience unravel like a thread's frayed edge, and his hands seal around you, crushing you to his chest as his hips snap up to meet your thighs in loud slaps. 

“Ken,” His name is a fervent curse on your lips. A beseeching prayer that echoes through the room and seeks atonement as his balls draw up. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

It’s like his words bodily thrust you over first and leave you crying out with your release. Nanami buries his face in your hair when your cunt pulses hard around him, greedily trying to milk him of every drop he has. And you know you’ve won when heat spurs low in your belly as he empties himself into you with praises whispered into the soft tresses of your hair. 

You fall limp on top of him, and he holds you until both your bodies stop shaking. 

You pull back first, stomach churning, and while you’re not sure what emotions you were expecting to see on his face, the dopey-eyed look as he sports certainly isn’t one of them. 

A warm hand settles over your cheek as his eyes search yours.

“You good?”

Heart thumping hard in your chest, you only manage to give him a small nod. So, he cards a hand into your hair and settles you back against his broad chest. Eyes fluttering as they welcome the sort of deep sleep that only seems to blanket you when you’re with him. 

And soon enough, the lascivious haze of sex dissipates to leave a sliver of anxiety in its place. 

The two of you were an HR nightmare just waiting to happen. And the manager of that department, being the hell-bent bloodhound he was, would sniff out the scent of sex and deceit on your skin in a matter of seconds when you returned.

You’ll definitely have to steer clear of him until you improve your poker face by a couple thousand notches. 

But the office building was relatively big, so surely, Hiromi couldn’t be that difficult to avoid.

…right?

join the taglist here!

🏷️: @stberrypuss @cheriefrosting @indom-itus @rambld

a/n: now that’s done let me get back to studying so i can bag this second degree (i say bouncing off the walls and pulling my hair out in panic) let me know if you saw errors.

[rambld]

boyfriend choso's surprise for his girlfriend doesn't go as planned

contents: cringe fest, suggestive, crack, me, grumpy choso, starring @yailuxe as the birthday girl happy birthday babyyyyyy 

Choso looks like he belongs on the cover of a dark metal album, not standing in the center of the living room he shares with his girlfriend wearing pleated lace and a frilly white apron, his dark, fringe casting shadows over his smoky eyes.

Six foot something of brooding muscle and tattoos, he feels a draft in places he never intended to feel one. He checks his reflection, flushing at how the black silk ribbons strained against his biceps. It is Yai's birthday, and if she wanted “domestic subversion,” he’d give it to her.

The door clicks. Choso strikes a pose, hands laced in front of him and head bowed in a meek gesture, a dark smolder on his face. “Welcome home, Mistress. Happy birthday—”

“Mistress?” A confused voice says, definitely not his girlfriend's but it's agitatingly familiar as his head shoots up, eyes as wide as Rin's.

He rears back. “WHAT IN THE FUCK—”

“OH MY GOSH, I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU'RE SOME KIND OF PORNSTAR, SHIT—”

Choso doesn't finish the sentence. Neither does Rin, Yai's best friend. She stands in the doorway, a bag of streamers in one hand and a half-eaten taco in the other, jaw down to the floorboards.

It's like watching a car crash, she wants to tear her eyes away from her friend's boyfriend's risqué appearance but it's so shocking that she has to look as if there's an invisible hand gripping her jaw and paralysing her.

This is the same guy that was shy and awkward to meet her—for good reason because Rin does not play about Yai. The same one who was convinced at first that the two women were in some homoerotic friendship and he was his girlfriend's side piece. The same guy who got so used to having her around that he gets her snacks and drinks too when he's out because he just has a gut feeling—call it anxiety or an evil prominition—that she'll be over when he gets home.

And yet Rin never thought she'd have to witness this visual assault.

“Choso?!” she shrieks, dropping her taco as she stumbles back with a little yelp, ever the clumsy fool.

“Go away! Get out!” Choso roars, face hot, his voice deep and panicked. 

He lunges for a throw pillow to cover his chest, tripping over a vase of lilies. 

Rin scrambles backward, slipping on her own dropped taco and crashing into a stack of "Happy Birthday" balloons, some popping like gunshots. You’d think they were gunshots with how these two are taking cover. 

Pink confetti explodes into the air like a glittery grenade.

“My eyes! I need bleach! Tell Yai I love her,” Rin wails, shielding her face. Then she thinks of something and spreads her fingers to peek at him pointedly. “More than you do. Do mention that.” 

“I told you I was doing a surprise!” Choso hisses, desperately trying to untangle his lace hem from a fallen floor lamp that's somehow spawned sleazy fingers to paw at him with. All that's missing are the, “Come to daddy, sugar,” grimy comments.

“And I told you I was coming at five to set up the photo booth!” Rin shoots back, pointing accusingly at him as he gasps and covers his chest like they're tits. “But clearly you were too busy playing dress and horny to get bent over and fuc—why am I putting this image in my head? Oh my gosh.” 

Rin runs a hand through the curls she finally got set perfectly for once. She was gonna make a joke to Yai that her hair is only tame for her or whatever. But clearly someone else was already being a good little sub for master. 

“When did you tell me? Maybe in that mind of yours but not in reality,” Choso snaps.

Rin wants to chuck her shoe at him as her tongue pokes in her cheek and her eyes narrow into slits. “Oh yeah? Check your texts, Mr. Maid Service! I’m the one with the ring light!”

Choso pauses, checks his phone, and curses.

Twenty minutes later, the “maid” is gone—technically. Choso had hauled on a pair of baggy cargo jeans and an oversized black hoodie, though the lace trim of the lingerie still poked out from his waistband. 

He and Rin work in a tense, silent rhythm, re-inflating balloons and restacking boxes. He helps her drape the iridescent purple tinsel and set up the “Pink Princess” corner for Yai's annual birthday photoshoot.

When Yai finally walks in—it is her this time, whew—the apartment is a pastel dream reminiscent of a sky of swirling pink, purples, blues and yellows at sunset. 

“Surprise!” her boyfriend and best friend yell in unison.

Yai squeals, immediately diving into a hug with Rin then Choso. After a quick outfit change into a cozy pink lounge set, Rin commandeers her for an hour-long selfie marathon, chattering and giggles coming from their corner.

Choso stands by the kitchen island, arms crossed, looking like a gargoyle in a candy shop. He watches Rin direct Yai's poses, praising her for each one like he should be doing, feeling the slow burn of annoyance.

Every once in a while Rin would turn to him while Yai was distracted and shudder in disgust, shaking her head like a disappointed mother who found her son's Playboy magazines and crusty socks or a nun who saw a girl showing her midriff. 

“I’m the one wearing a thong under these jeans,” he mutters under his breath bitterly, pulling at the front of his pastel purple shirt Rin forced him to wear.

“Choso, get in here!” Yai pulls him into the pink corner. He stands stiffly, towering over them, his jaw set in a permanent scowl as he's tugged to sit down.

“Smile, sour puss,”  Rin mocks, snapping a photo of his brooding face framed by pink heart balloons.

“You look like you're at a funeral for a unicorn,” Yai giggles, poking his cheek and cupping his jaw as she pouts her plump, glossy lips for the camera. 

A kiss would probably make him feel better. 

Finally, Rin leaves, clutching a bag of leftovers after singing Happy Birthday, cutting cake and drinking shimmery pink cocktails. 

The door shuts, and the apartment goes quiet. 

Choso lets out a long, heavy breath, chest loosening now that he's alone with the woman of the hour.

“That was the best. But I thought you had a specific surprise for me?” Yai asks, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Oh, I do,” he hums, a sly smile curling on his lips.

He reached for the hem of his shirt, a slow, wicked smirk finally breaking through the gloom. “Rin almost ruined it but I think I remember where I left off before she got here.”

Yai's eyes brighten with intrigue as he pulls his shirt over his head to reveal the lace ruffles against his tattooed chest. As he kicks off his jeans, the contrast was stark—heavy, muscular thighs cinched by delicate silk garters, and a tiny white apron tied around his waist.

The tough guy who had been scowling at Rin just minutes ago is gone. Choso's gaze drops to the floor, his dark fringe veiling his eyes as a genuine flush creeps up his neck. He kneels on the plush pink rug at Yai's feet, his large hands resting on his knees.

His girlfriend's entire aura shifts. The bubbly, birthday-girl energy sharpens into something cooler, more intentional. She doesn't laugh. Instead, she takes a slow, predatory circle around him, her slippers padding softly on the hardwood. 

Stopping behind him, her manicured fingers trail lightly over the expanse of his broad, trembling shoulders.

“You looked so miserable in those photos, Cho,” she croons, her voice dropping an octave. Reaching down, she hooks a finger under the lace collar at his throat and forces him to tilt his head back to look at her.

His cock kicks beneath his skirt at the sight of her looking down at him, chin raised and eyes hooded. “Was it because you were keeping such a slutty outfit under those baggy clothes?”

Choso swallows hard, his throat bobbing against her touch. “I just... I wanted to serve you properly today,” he rasps, his eyes dark and dilated.

A slow smirk quirks at the corner of Yai's mouth as she leans down to whisper against his ear. “Good boy. Since you spent all afternoon helping Rin, I think you owe your Mistress a full night of service. Starting with making up for all your sulky selfies.”

Sitting back on the sofa, knees spreading wide for him to bury his face between her thighs. Choso crawls forward, the little lace hem fluttering, perfectly content to be exactly where he is: subservient, seen, and hers.

i apologise for wasting y'all's time lmfaoooo

[yailuxe]

Yall wish you had a best friend like mine. Not sharing btw! Now Pardon me while I have a very normal reaction to this.

It is Yai's birthday, and if she wanted “domestic subversion,” he’d give it to her.

she knows me so well /sobs/

“Welcome home, Mistress. Happy birthday—”

It’s freaking midnight and the screech I just let out? I can’t breathe bro😭😭😭😭

This is the same guy that was shy and awkward to meet her—for good reason because Rin does not play about Yai.

I know that’s right! Because same x100!

The same one who was convinced at first that the two women were in some homoerotic friendship and he was his girlfriend's side piece.

Boyfriend vs wife we all know who wins

Oh yeah? Check your texts, Mr. Maid Service! I’m the one with the ring light!”

HE CAN COME CLEAN ME UP LMAOOO

Yai squeals, immediately diving into a hug with Rin then Choso.

😭😭😭😭Hugging you first lmaoooo because I really would

“I’m the one wearing a thong under these jeans,” he mutters under his breath bitterly, pulling at the front of his pastel purple shirt Rin forced him to wear.

We’ll get back to that, TRUST

Finally, Rin leaves, clutching a bag of leftovers after singing Happy Birthday, cutting cake and drinking shimmery pink cocktails.

No stay and watch🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

“That was the best. But I thought you had a specific surprise for me?” Yai asks, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Captured me being a pervert so well. I could cry.

Choso swallows hard, his throat bobbing against her touch. “I just... I wanted to serve you properly today,” he rasps, his eyes dark and dilated.

Emo boy is getting laid OUT idc.

I love you girl. I could say it a trillion times and it still wouldn’t be enough.