[mimuju]

princess treatment w/ choso ! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

choso is a firm believer that pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do anything.

it’s not something he’s ever said out loud, not in those exact words, but you see it in the way he kneels at your feet when your evening slippers are pinching, in the way his hands steady your ankles as he slides them off. 

you see it in the careful, reverent way he unties the laces of your dress at night, his knuckles brushing your spine, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

"cho, i can do that myself," you protest for the hundredth time, reaching for the hairbrush on your vanity. you’ve just returned from a work dinner, your face aching from smiling, your scalp tender from the weight of your responsibilities.

"don't be like that," he says softly, taking the brush from your hand. he’s already behind you, his reflection meeting yours in the mirror. he’s wearing a simple black sweater now, his pigtails undone, but he still looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. "let me help you."

"you’re going to spoil me rotten," you murmur, but you’re already sinking back against him, your eyes drifting shut as he starts working the brush through your hair in slow, even strokes. the bristles scrape gently against your scalp and you make a small, involuntary sound of pleasure.

"that’s the point," he says, his voice low. he sets the brush down and reaches for the cloth and cleansing oil. "you're too beautiful to even lift a finger, baby."

he’s wiping the rouge from your cheeks now, the kohl from your eyes. his touch is so gentle, so methodical, like he’s polishing something precious. you let him tilt your chin up, let him clean away the day’s mask. when he’s done, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"cmon, bed." he commands. not harshly—never harshly—but with the quiet authority of a man who knows exactly what you need.

you stand, your hand in his, and let him lead you to the mattress. he undresses you slowly, layer by layer, the silk pooling at your feet. when you’re down to your thin shift, he pulls back the covers and tucks you in like you’re something fragile.

"sleep," he whispers.

but you catch his wrist. you’re not sleepy. not anymore. the tiredness has shifted into something else, something warm and heavy low in your belly.

"stay," you plead.

he hesitates. "you’re tired."

"i want you," you clarify, your thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. "but i’m... i’m exhausted. but— but i want you— but i don't want to do anything—"

something dark flickers in his eyes. understanding. hunger. devotion.

"then don’t," he says. he climbs onto the bed, fully clothed, and crawls up your body until he’s hovering over you. "don’t do anything. don’t even think. just let me make you feel good."

"choso—" you start, already feeling guilty, already reaching for the hem of his sweater.

he catches your hands and pins them gently above your head. his fingers twine with yours, pressing your palms into the pillow.

"no, sweetheart." he says, his mouth brushing your ear. his voice drops, rough and reverent. "you don’t do the work. you never do the work. you just lay there, princess, and let me take care of you. let me please you. let me—" he grinds his hips down, and you feel how hard he is, straining against the fabric of his trousers, and you gasp. "—let me do everything."

he releases your hands only to finally pull his sweater over his head. you watch the muscles of his back shift in the warm light of your tablelamp, the old scars, the lean strength. when he turns back to you, he’s already unlacing his trousers, pushing them down, kicking them off.

he kneels between your thighs, his dark eyes raking over you. "open up," he murmurs, his hands sliding up your legs, pushing your shift higher. "be good for me, okay?"

you spread your legs, trembling. he’s already so hard, the pink tip flushed and wet, and he wraps his hand around himself, stroking once, twice, his eyes never leaving your face.

"you don’t even have to move," he says, leaning down, caging you in his warmth. "i’ll do all the work. i’ll get you ready. i’ll make you feel so good. all you have to do is look at me. can you do that for me, princess? can you let me love you?"

"yes," you breathe, your voice cracking. "yes, choso, please—"

he kisses you then, deep and filthy, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that makes your toes curl. his hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding you already wet, already aching. he doesn’t make you ask, nor does he make you work for it. he just pushes two fingers inside you, curling them, stretching you open while his thumb circles your clit.

"that’s it," he praises against your lips, feeling you clench around him. "that's my girl. just lay there and take it. let me get you ready for my cock."

you moan, your head falling back against the pillow. he’s relentless, his fingers pumping in and out, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. you try to rock your hips, try to chase the sensation, but he stills you with his free hand on your hip.

"no, angel." he says, his voice firm. "don’t move. let me. i want to feel you squeezing my fingers while you just lay there and let me fuck you open."

you whimper, your hands gripping the sheets because he won’t let you touch him. he’s leaning over you, watching your face, watching the pleasure overwhelm you, and his expression is something almost feral. like this—serving you, controlling your pleasure, doing all the labor—is exactly where he wants to be.

"look at you," he breathes, his fingers moving faster, harder. "so pretty. so perfect. you're doing so well, baby. letting me make you cum. can you do that for me? can you cum on my fingers like a good girl?"

"choso!" you sob, the pressure building, your body tensing.

"there she is," he croons, his thumb pressing down. "cum for me, make a mess of the sheets."

you break, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you cry out. he rides you through it, his hand moving slower now, drawing out every wave until you’re shaking, boneless, your hair fanned out across the pillow.

before you can catch your breath, he’s moving. he hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wide, his hands sliding up to grip your hips. he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your still-pulsing heat.

"now," he says, his voice rough with restraint. "i’m going to fuck you, and i’m going to make you cum again. and again. until you can’t think. until you can’t even remember your name."

"please," you gasp, your hands reaching for him again, wanting to touch, to hold.

he catches your wrists and presses them back into the mattress. "no," he says, his eyes dark. "be good, or i'll stop. understand?"

you nod, dizzy, your body still throbbing.

he pushes in with one long, smooth thrust, filling you completely. the stretch burns so perfectly you cry out, your back arching off the bed, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your hips.

"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "so warm. so tight. and you’re just— letting me use you— shit—"

he starts to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has you seeing stars. he’s doing all the work—his hips rolling, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, his hands holding you exactly where he wants you. you try to move, try to meet his thrusts, but he growls and pins you harder.

"stay still," he orders, his voice strained. "let me do this for you. you had a hard day. you smiled at people who didn't deserve it. now you just get to lay here and take my cock. that’s all. that’s your only job."

"ch-choso!" you sob, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. it’s too much, the pleasure, the devotion, the way he’s using his body to serve you. "i love you— hic!— i love you so much—"

"i know," he breathes, his thrusts speeding up, becoming harder, more desperate. his skin slaps against yours, the bed creaking, but he never lets you move. he holds you open, holds you down, fucks into you with a single-minded focus that’s entirely about your pleasure. "and i love you more. god, i love you so much more."

his hand slides between you again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. you’re so sensitive from your first orgasm, every touch is electric, overwhelming. you can’t move, can’t do anything but lay there and take it, exactly like he wants, and the helplessness of it, the sheer luxury of being cared for so completely, sends you over the edge again.

you cum with a scream, your walls clamping down on him so hard he chokes, his rhythm faltering.

"that’s it," he gasps, fucking you through it, chasing his own release now. "atta girl. just— shit— i-im gonna—"

he thrusts deep one last time and stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes with a broken groan against your neck. you feel the heat of it, the way he spills into you, marking you, claiming you, all while you lay there trembling, his hands still gripping your hips, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

for a long moment, neither of you moves. he’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin. slowly, carefully, he pulls out and collapses beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. he’s still panting, his heart hammering against your ear.

"okay?" he whispers, his hand stroking your hair again, back to the gentle, domestic touches.

you nod, boneless, drifting. "more than okay," you murmur. "felt so good."

"that’s the point," he reminds you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do anything."

you smile against his chest, your eyes already closing. "then i guess i’m just going to have to let you do it again tomorrow."

[nyraeafterdark]

Hey, your story’s are great.😍

Can I request Bi Han x Reader, where Reader is a shy good girl, who fells in love with Bi Han and Bi Han is a bad boy rebel, who is famous and bullies others and the girls are bullying her, because she is shy and they are jealous of her beauty. Everyone wants Bi Han, but Bi Han has only eyes for her, but doesn’t show it first. Later he confess his feelings to her. Smutty please, making love, you know 🥰

Behind Closed Doors

ngl but im a sucker for these types of concepts for the sole fact that they remind me of my wattpad days 😭😭

Pairing(s): Bully!Bi-Han x Shy!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, explicit sexual content, bullying, physical assault, verbal humiliation, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, praise, dirty talk, creampie

A/N: college aus for the win bbyyyyy, i love this trope really ngl, i def went off path with thus one

Masterlist

SLAM!

Mocking laughter echoed around you as your back hit the wall, notebooks tumbling from your arms, the sting blooming across your side.

“My, my. Look what the cat dragged in,” a shrill voice chimed, dripping with fake sweetness.

You winced, hand pressing lightly to your ribs before forcing yourself to look up.

Clear blue eyes stared down at you, sharp and smug. She leaned into one hip, her little entourage gathered behind her, snickering like a pack of hyenas.

“Please leave me alone,” you whispered, reaching for your scattered notebooks.

Linh rolled her eyes at your plea and casually kicked one out of reach.

“Oops,” she said in a syrupy, fake-apologetic voice. “So clumsy.”

You grit your teeth and kept your head down, refusing to look at her.

God, you’re so pathetic.

Apparently just being the quiet, shy girl had made you prime entertainment for Linh and her little pack of minions. This had become a daily ritual since you started college with her singling you out for sport.

You didn’t even know why she hated you so much. You weren’t in her classes, you didn’t share a major, you barely existed in the same circles.

“Please…” you murmured, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

She clicked her tongue and huffed dramatically.

“Listen here, slut,” she said as if the very act of addressing you was beneath her. “You should, like, really do something about…” she waved a hand vaguely at you, “all that. You’re pathetic and it’s honestly ruining the vibe.”

She crouched down to your level, eyes gleaming with something sharp and cruel. Her mouth opened, ready to deliver whatever insult she’d been polishing since breakfast, but one of her minions suddenly leaned in and whispered something urgently.

Linh’s eyes widened.

She shot upright in an instant, her entire face smoothing into something bright and sugar-sweet.

“Bi-Han!” she chirped, that fake-bright smile snapping back onto her face. “Hey, babe! I was just about to go looking for you!”

You froze.

Slowly, you lifted your head just in time to see Bi-Han stalk down the hallway with his brothers beside him. His expression was a deep scowl, cigarette hanging lazy and dangerous from his lips.

Black button-up half undone, dark ripped jeans, leather jacket, black combat boots, silver jewelry glinting—he looked like the very definition of trouble.

Linh practically sprinted to him, pressing a hand to his chest and batting her lashes like she was auditioning for a perfume commercial.

He looked down at her in annoyance and shoved her hand off.

“Don’t touch me,” he said flatly.

Her smile cracked for a second, then she forced it back into place.

“Baby, don’t be mean to me,” she pouted, even stomping her heel. “I told you, you should be nicer.”

Bi-Han rolled his eyes, gaze sliding past her and landing right on you.

You tensed instantly, scrambling to gather your notebooks and push yourself to your feet. You could feel the weight of his stare like a hand pressing between your shoulder blades.

Before you could even dust yourself off, a heavy arm dropped over your shoulders. Familiar cologne flooded your nose.

“Heeey, Y/n,” Tomás grinned, leaning into you like you hadn’t just been bullied into a wall. “Been a while since we’ve seen you.”

You flinched at the sudden contact and glanced up at him slowly.

“Tomás,” you whispered, clutching your notebooks tighter.

“Hey, baby doll,” Kuai chuckled, leaning casually against the wall. “Was wondering when we’d run into you. You’re hard to find lately.”

You gave him a tiny, apologetic smile. “Sorry, guys. I—I have class in a few minutes.” You gently pulled out of Tomás’ arm.

“Aww, come on, baby. Don’t leave so soon,” Tomás pouted.

“Running away so quickly, Little Ghost?” Bi-Han’s voice cut in, low and smooth.

You stiffened at the nickname and turned toward him slowly.

A small smirk tugged at his mouth, eyes locked onto you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Hands in his pockets, head tilted, studying the irritation on your face like it was entertaining.

“Stop calling me that,” you muttered. “And I’m not running away. I’m going to class.”

“Why go to class,” Kuai hummed, waving a hand dismissively, “when you could hang out with us? Haven’t seen you in forever.”

Your cheeks heated instantly. You looked down, shrinking in on yourself, and risked a quick glance at Linh only to find her glaring daggers at you, lip curled in fury.

You swallowed hard. “A-anyway, I’ll be out of your way,” you rushed, squeezing past the boys to escape.

But before you could slip free, fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist.

You frowned and looked up.

Bi-Han held your gaze, unreadable. “You should stop by, Little Ghost. Mother’s been asking about you.”

He only released your wrist when you gave him a tiny nod, letting you go completely.

You honestly should have guessed that having even a decent relationship with the campus’s most infamous bad boys would earn you the hatred and jealousy of people like Linh.

It wasn’t like you could help it.

The three of you had been childhood friends. You grew up together, your mothers inseparable, family gatherings practically mandatory. You’d known each other your entire lives.

Close friends.

If that was even the right term.

It was more like an unfortunate version of the fantastic four forced together by circumstance, crossing paths at family functions and now, conveniently enough, at the same college you’d all somehow ended up attending.

You shook your head and picked up your pace, heading toward class with your eyes fixed forward.

Maybe—just maybe—that would be the end of it for today.

But even you knew better.

It never was.

The next time you crossed paths was during Psych 101.

You had this class with all three boys, and it was never a dull moment.

You were seated next to your friend, chatting casually while you waited for the lecture to start.

“Hey,” he said softly, glancing at you, concern crossing his face. “By the way… are you okay?”

“Huh?” you frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I heard about what happened earlier with Linh,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Are you alright?”

You sighed, covering your face and groaning in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah… sorry you had to hear about that,” you whined. “God, that’s so embarrassing,” you laughed.

Chen shook his head, chuckling quietly along with you. “It’s fine. You know I’ll always hear about these things and worry.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him. “No need. I’m a strong, independent woman,” you giggled.

He raised a brow. “Yeah, right,” he snorted. “So strong you almost got your ass handed to you again.”

“Key word being almost,” you shot back, winking.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh.

Then his gaze flicked upward.

His eyes widened, a small wince tugging at his lips.

“Move,” came a deep, annoyed voice.

You flinched, instantly recognizing the timbre. Slowly, you turned your head and found Bi-Han standing there, irritation etched deep into his scowl as he glared down at your friend.

“Um…” your friend muttered, glancing at you uncertainly.

“Pretending to be deaf?” Bi-Han grunted, stepping closer. “I said move.”

“Bi-Han!” you hissed, a frown settling on your face.

He spared you only a brief glance before returning his attention to Chen, who remained frozen in his seat. Bi-Han grabbed the front of his shirt, lifting him just enough to make the threat clear.

“Seeing as you’re friends with Little Ghost,” he smirked, “I suppose I can show some mercy.”

“S-sorry,” Chen stuttered, hands lifting in surrender. “I didn’t k-know this was y-your seat.”

You shot to your feet and wedged yourself between them, fury flashing across your face.

Bi-Han stared down at you, unimpressed.

“Bi-Han, you’re making a scene,” you whispered sharply, cheeks burning as you avoided his eyes. You lightly smacked his chest with your fist. “What is wrong with you? Put him down!”

From behind you, you heard Tomás and Kuai snicker quietly, offering absolutely no help.

You hesitated before looking up at him, eyes soft and pleading when he still hadn’t let go.

“Bi-Han… please?” you whispered.

You felt him tense beneath your touch, dark eyes locking onto yours. Then he scoffed and released Chen.

Chen didn’t waste a second. He scrambled back, grabbed his things, and quickly moved to another seat.

You shot him an apologetic look, and he responded by shaking his head, offering you a weak but reassuring smile.

Hands suddenly settled on your waist, making you squeak as you jumped in surprise. You quickly pushed away from Bi-Han, ignoring his low chuckle as you settled back into your seat, covering your warm cheeks.

Bi-Han took the seat beside you, his attention firmly fixed on you.

Kuai and Tomás sat behind you, messing around with each other and, occasionally, you. They tugged lightly at your hair or tapped your shoulder just to lean in and whisper jokes.

Bi-Han kept to himself, watching with quiet amusement as your shy composure slowly unraveled. He noticed the way your eyes rolled and how you tried to hide your mild annoyance at his brothers’ antics.

Leaning forward, he hooked a hand around the leg of your chair and dragged it closer to him, unable to hide his smile at the surprised, confused look on your face.

He grasped one of your legs and draped it over his lap, leaning back as he faced the front of the class. One hand rested on your thigh, tapping rhythmically while he continued to pay attention to the professor as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

You froze in your seat, eyes locked on his hand before slowly looking up at him.

Behind you, Tomás made exaggerated kissing sounds while Kuai quietly oohed, prompting you to turn around and glare at them.

“You’re so childish,” you whispered sharply.

They only wiggled their brows in response, making exaggerated kissing faces and laughing as your cheeks burned red.

“Shut up,” you hissed, turning back around and forcing yourself to take a deep breath, resigning yourself to the situation.

You tried focusing on the lecture as the professor droned on about behavioral theory or whatever, but your attention kept slipping.

You could feel the heat of his hand on your thigh, the weight of it, and the random taps of his fingers. His thumb pressed in once, slow and testing, as if checking how soft your thigh was, before returning to that lazy rhythm.

Warmth crawled up your neck and you shifted slightly in your seat, trying to force your brain to care about anything written on the board. You just needed class to end. Then you could sprint out of here and pretend none of this ever happened.

But then Bi-Han got bored.

He stopped drumming his fingers and flattened his whole palm against your thigh, dragging it slightly higher before stopping just shy of where it would really make you jump. He began tracing soft, idle circles on your inner thigh, following the seam of your jeans like it was a map only he cared about.

Your whole body tensed, muscles flexing beneath his touch before you caught yourself and forced them still. You choked your pencil in your fingers, tightening your grip until your knuckles whitened, and let out a shaky slow breath.

Bi-Han’s eyes flicked toward you, curious, assessing. His fingers pressed in again, deliberate and slow, testing the way your muscles jumped beneath his touch. Then his grip softened, kneading your thigh in a lazy, experimental massage.

He chuckled under his breath when the muscle twitched in his hand, but he kept looking forward, his attention fixed on the lecture even as his hand stroked higher and higher, inch by inch, daring you to react.

Your eyes widened, breath hitching, a hand instinctively flying up to cover your mouth as you tried to swallow the shaky gasp threatening to escape. You nearly jolted out of your seat when his hand slid even higher, squeezing rougher this time, firm enough to make your whole body shiver.

You grabbed his wrist quickly, pinning his hand where it was, fingers trembling as you kept your head down and refused to look at him.

Bi-Han hummed a low, satisfied sound, digging his fingers in one last time before easing his grip and letting the tension melt from his hand.

He leaned in, breath warm against your ear.

“Relax, Little Ghost. I won’t try anything.” A soft, wicked chuckle followed.

The whine that escaped you was small, instinctive, barely audible, yet somehow still too loud. You coughed immediately, trying to cover it up, cheeks flaming.

Bi-Han’s eyes darkened at the sound, lips curving into a slow, amused smirk.

“Unless…” he murmured, voice dropping, fingers creeping up your thigh again, “…you’re asking me to.”

You gasped quietly and tugged his hand back down, dragging it toward your knee with shaky determination.

“Stop,” you hissed under your breath, refusing to look at him. Your blush burned hot across your face. “We’re in class, Bi-Han. Pay attention.”

Mercifully, Bi-Han decided to listen to you, leaning back in his chair and settling his hand around your ankle instead, thumb rubbing slow circles there like nothing had happened.

You exhaled quietly, finally able to focus on your professor again.

By the time class started winding down, students stuffing notebooks into bags and your professor rambling about the upcoming essay, you stretched out your stiff muscles and gently slid your leg off Bi-Han’s lap.

Kuai leaned across his desk with that stupidly charming grin. “Hey, sweetheart. Why not join us for lunch?”

Instant dread hit your stomach.

Your brain immediately conjured the image of Linh spotting you with them, and you cringed.

“Uhh… I’m good.” You smiled, but it felt more like you were baring your teeth.

Tomás hopped up onto your desk like a gremlin, pouting.

“Come on! There’s fresh bao today. And Bi-Han’s paying.” He looked far too smug about that.

Bi-Han rolled his eyes and shot him an annoyed glare but didn’t deny it.

You offered a soft smile, then shook your head again.

“Maybe another time. My friends are waiting for me. I’ll see you guys soon.”

Tomás groaned dramatically, “You suck! Bye, baby! Have fun with your loser friends!”

Kuai snickered, tossing a wink your way. You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning.

Bi-Han gave you a small nod as you turned and slipped out of the classroom.

You barely made it five steps before you collided with someone.

“Oh gods, I’m so so—” you stopped short, breath catching in your throat as you looked up.

Linh.

She stood there glaring daggers at you, hands on her hips.

“Well, look who it is,” she drawled, “Lin Kuei University’s resident charity case.”

You swallowed hard, instinctively stepping back, shoulders tense. You tried to slip past her, but she shoved you sideways, blocking you again.

“Nice try, slut.” She let out a sharp laugh.

“Let me tell you something,” she said, inspecting her nails as if this conversation was beneath her. “Don’t think for a second that spreading your legs is going to make Bi-Han want you anytime soon.”

Your eyes widened, heat crawling up your neck.

“W-what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered.

“Please,” she scoffed. “Everyone saw your face earlier. The way you were practically begging for attention. And a little mouse told me he practically had you in his lap during class.”

Your face burned.

“He didn’t—”

“Don’t start denying it now,” she cooed mockingly, stepping closer. She twirled a strand of your hair around her finger like you were a toy. “We all know what kind of girls he goes for. And trust me—” her voice dipped low, “it’s not some quiet little virgin who can’t even look anyone in the eye.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out, just a strained, breathy sound as humiliation knotted in your chest.

“So do me a favor,” she snarked, suddenly grabbing your cheeks in a cruel squeeze. “Stop acting like a slut and go back to being the pathetic little whore you are. He’s mine, and nothing you do is going to change that.”

Her grip lingered just long enough to sting before she shoved you back, satisfied.

You stumbled, catching yourself against the wall.

Linh straightened her posture like she hadn’t just manhandled you, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she looked you over with thin-lipped disgust.

“Learn your place for once.” She rolled her eyes.

“And that is?”

Bi-Han’s voice cut through the hallway, low and bored.

Linh blinked, then immediately lit up with a sugary smile. She practically skipped over to him, sliding her arms around him and sighing theatrically.

“Sorry you had to hear that, baby,” she cooed. “I was just telling this pathetic thing that spreading her legs wasn’t going to do her any favors.”

Bi-Han’s eyes snapped to hers. “Is that so?” he muttered.

She nodded, basking in her own fake pity. “Someone had to tell her how unclassy she’s been.”

“Funny,” Tomás drawled from behind him, “isn’t that exactly what you did to get into this university?”

Linh froze. Her eyes widened before an offended gasp tore from her throat.

“Excuse me?! Watch yourself, Tomás. I would never sleep my way to the top.”

“I heard otherwise,” Kuai snickered, hands folding behind his head. “Got some videos about it too. Can’t say hearing you moan Principal Hao’s name was a bad thing though.” He shrugged.

Her jaw dropped. Color rushed to her cheeks in a furious red as she whipped toward Bi-Han.

“Control your idiot brothers! How dare they disrespect me!”

Bi-Han stared at her for a beat, completely unbothered. Then he raised a brow and shoved her off him with a short, irritated exhale.

“Not my problem they know you’ve been slutting around,” he said lazily. “Maybe spreading your legs across campus wasn’t the move.”

She made a strangled sound, arm launching up to slap him, but Bi-Han caught her wrist instantly, gripping tight as his glare cut into her like ice.

Bi-Han’s grip tightened around her wrist, fingers digging in just enough to make his warning clear.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, voice low and sharp.

She scoffed and yanked her hand back, crossing her arms as she glared at him. “Please. You should be apologizing to me for letting your brothers speak to me that way.”

“For what?” he taunted, stepping closer. “Telling the truth?”

Her expression flickered, irritation cracking just enough to reveal the nerves underneath.

“For letting the entire campus know how easy you are?” he continued mercilessly. “What was it again? Sleeping with the director to secure a spot here?”

“That’s a lie.” She bared her teeth, taking a shaky step back. “I suggest you stop spreading it.”

“Please,” he snorted. “I could ask any of the guys for your nudes right now and they’d all send the same one.”

Her eyes darted between the three brothers before snapping toward you. She scoffed viciously, lips curling back.

“You’re really choosing to humiliate me over her?” she hissed. “She’s pathetic. She could never please you the way I can.”

Bi-Han tilted his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re right.”

Linh’s posture relaxed instantly. She smiled, relieved, and slipped a hand against his chest. “See? You should listen to me. I know what’s good for you.”

Bi-Han laughed—dark, humorless—and caught her wrist again, ignoring the startled yelp she gave.

“She could never please me like you,” he said, tone deceptively mild.

“You’re loose. Thoroughly used.” His lip curled. “Your body is… unremarkable.”

Linh’s face crumpled.

Bi-Han leaned in closer, voice dropping to a low rumble.

“She’d be tight for me. Wet. She’d sound sweet when she moans my name.”

He let the words settle, cruel and deliberate.

“She’d make me want to keep going all night just to watch her fall apart. She’d be better than you at everything.”

He released her wrist with a shove, sending her stumbling to the floor.

“And I will always choose her, especially over a whore like you.”

Gasps echoed down the hallway as she scrambled to sit up.

Linh’s mascara streaked as tears blurred down her cheeks. Her friends rushed toward her, but she slapped their helping hands away, clutching her wrist protectively as she staggered back up.

“You’ll regret this, Bi-Han,” she spat, eyes full of venom.

She turned sharply on her heel, heels clicking furiously across the tile, and stormed out with her entourage scrambling after her.

The hallway fell silent after Linh disappeared, the sharp echo of her heels fading into nothing.

Slowly, people returned to what they had been doing, pointedly pretending they hadn’t witnessed anything, especially after Bi-Han swept the corridor with a single glare that promised consequences.

Then he turned to you.

The scowl he’d worn moments earlier was gone, replaced by something unreadable. His dark eyes dragged over you, slow and assessing, before settling on your face.

You were tucked into Tomás’ side, his arm resting loosely around your waist as he watched the aftermath with a lazy smirk. Kuai stood nearby, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, amusement and unmistakable pride glinting in his eyes after watching Bi-Han shut her down so mercilessly.

“Think that should be the end of that,” Kuai chuckled, pushing himself off the wall.

Bi-Han exhaled tiredly and stepped closer to you.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “I—yeah. I’m fine,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Kuai clicked his tongue. “She’s a bit shaken,” he said dryly. “Doesn’t look like she suffered much, aside from the fingerprints on her jaw.”

Bi-Han frowned. He gently grasped your chin, tilting your face up to inspect the faint pink marks left behind.

“Did she do anything else?” he asked, voice low.

“N-no. Just… said things,” you replied softly.

Tomás scoffed. “She always does. That’s her whole personality.”

“She will not be speaking to you again,” Bi-Han said firmly, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Ever.”

Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing a soft pink.

Bi-Han paused, thumb brushing lightly along your jaw before he withdrew his hand and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Come on, baby doll,” Kuai smirked, deliberately breaking the moment. “Let’s go eat lunch.”

Tomás hummed in agreement, tugging your waist and starting to pull you along. You blinked, a protest already forming, but he flicked your forehead gently.

“No fighting us today,” he grinned. “You’re eating with us.”

You sighed, letting yourself be dragged down the hallway between them, forced to accept their company.

The rest of the day passed without incident, thankfully. You made it through your remaining classes without a problem, and Linh or any of her minions never showed up again, leaving you blissfully unbothered.

When you stepped outside the building, you froze.

Bi-Han was lounging on his motorcycle, one foot planted on the ground, arms folded, looking like he’d been waiting for someone. He glanced up at the sound of your steps and lifted a hand, motioning you closer. When you approached, he straightened and held out a helmet.

You blinked. “You’re giving me a ride?”

He raised a brow. “Of course. I’m taking you home. Mother wants to see you, remember?”

Recognition flickered across your face, your lips shaping a soft “oh.” You glanced at the bike with quiet dread before giving him a hesitant nod.

Bi-Han chuckled, tugging you closer by the waist as he lowered the helmet over your head.

“I won’t go fast, I promise,” he reassured lightly.

Your heart stuttered at the proximity, at how gently his fingers adjusted the straps under your chin, making sure everything sat just right. Then he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

“It’s cold,” he murmured. “This will keep you warm.”

You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

The ride home was fast but steady, the wind whipping past you as you clung to him, his warmth bleeding through even with the extra layer. When you arrived, his mother was immediately thrilled to see you, insisting you stay for dinner, which you agreed to with a smile.

The boys were out when you arrived, so you found yourself alone in Bi-Han’s room while his mother cooked. You sat on the edge of his bed, watching him from the corner of your eye as he set his things down.

His room was neat. Clean. Sharp. Exactly what you expected of him.

A quiet sigh pulled your gaze back to him just as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Your breath hitched. Heat rushed to your face as more and more of his sculpted torso came into view. You tore your eyes away, pretending you hadn’t stared.

Bi-Han let out a low chuckle.

A moment later, he was standing in front of you, shirt discarded, fingers gently grasping your chin and turning your face toward him.

He studied you in silence—your lashes, your flushed cheeks, the tremble you tried to hide. Something softened in his expression.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice low and certain.

You blinked up at him, “…What?” you barely managed.

He tilted his head, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated.

“I—” you swallowed, eyes darting anywhere but his. “You don’t have to lie, you know?”

Bi-Han frowned, a soft scoff slipping out as his fingers tightened on your chin, thumb gliding across the corner of your mouth.

“You know very well I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out, too stunned to form a single word.

“You know…” he murmured, voice dipping low, “Linh wasn’t wrong about one thing. Everyone wants something from me. They’ll do anything just to get my attention.”

You stared at him, pulled in by the heat simmering behind his eyes.

“But you…” his tone dropped even lower, “…you never have. You never expected anything from me.”

Your breath caught. “Bi-Han…”

His gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering, then dragging back up with an intensity that twisted your stomach.

“I don’t want her,” he said quietly, honesty hitting harder than anything else. “I’ve never wanted her.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets, breath unsteady.

“I meant what I said to her. I’d always choose you.” His voice left no room for doubt.

“I… why are you telling me this?” you whispered, barely audible.

“Because I want you. And I’m done holding back.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours. “Want you to be mine. Only mine. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Bi-Han…” you breathed.

“I want what I said earlier to be true.” His eyes opened, heavy and dark. “I want to feel you around me… dripping… tight. I want to hear you moan my name. I want to make you feel good.”

You gasped softly as he guided you down into the sheets, his body hovering over yours.

“I want to be the only one who makes you feel good beneath me,” he murmured, nose grazing your jaw as his breath washed over your neck. “And later? I’d treat you like a queen. I just want you to be mine.”

Before you could answer—before anything else could happen—a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Dinner is ready!” his mother called gently.

Bi-Han didn’t move at first, lips hovering over your pulse, his body blanketing yours completely.

Then he exhaled, slow and heavy, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before pulling back. He took in the sight of you flushed and breathless on his bed.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice rough. “Before I skip dinner entirely and enjoy dessert instead.”

He stood, offered his hand, and pulled you up with ease. After changing into something comfortable, he led you downstairs toward the dining room.

You all sat down as their mother fluttered around excitedly, making sure every dish was in place.

Kuai raised a brow at you, leaning back with a sly grin.

“Someone’s red,” he sang under his breath.

Tomás snickered. “Yeah, she looks like she just ran a marathon.”

Your face burned. You grabbed your water and tried to hide behind the glass.

Bi-Han shot both his brothers a sharp glare.

“Eat,” he muttered.

They wisely did the smart thing and shut up.

For about five minutes.

Then Tomás leaned forward, voice low and nosy. “So… what were you two doing before dinner?”

You immediately choked.

Kuai snorted so hard he almost face-planted in his rice.

Bi-Han kicked Tomás under the table with enough force to slide his chair a few inches.

Tomás cursed, gripping his shin while Bi-Han smirked smugly.

“Bi-Han, dear,” their mother admonished gently, giving him a pointed look. “Please don’t hurt your brother.”

“Yes, Mother,” he muttered, leaning back, already satisfied with the damage done.

His mother turned to you next, smiling warmly. “I’m so glad you’re visiting again, dear. It feels like forever. How’s your mother?”

You brightened, falling easily into conversation with her. You started catching up, trading jokes, laughing softly. Kuai and Tomás eventually joined in too, firing questions about your parents and insisting you drag your family over next time.

Dinner ended with full bellies and fuller hearts.

His mother happily waved everyone away, shooing them from the table before rolling up her sleeves to clean.

Kuai and Tomás shuffled off toward the living room, arguing loudly about some video game.

Bi-Han watched them for a moment, before placing his hands on your waist and leaned in, teeth grazing your neck in a soft nip.

“Come,” he murmured, turning away and heading toward the stairs.

You felt your breath catch as you followed him.

His door clicked shut behind you, the lock sliding into place. He leaned back against the door for a moment, eyes dragging over you with a slow, simmering heat like someone dying of thirst finally seeing water.

He pushed off the door and walked toward you, stopping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His hands lifted, cupping your face with a gentleness that made your breath catch.

“You’re nervous,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “I-I’m not.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “You are.”

He lowered his face, brushing his nose against yours. “It’s okay.”

“Bi-Han…” you whispered, hands hovering uselessly, unsure where to put them as your heart pounded.

“You have no idea,” he said softly, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “how long I’ve wanted you.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt on instinct, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then your cheek. His lips followed the line of your jaw until he reached the corner of your mouth.

Your breath hitched, lips parting in anticipation.

He paused there, letting the moment stretch, then leaned in to place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Please…” you whispered, barely audible.

He exhaled at the sound and finally claimed your lips, pulling you flush against him as he learned the shape and softness of your mouth.

You melted into him, your lips yielding under his, warm and plush. His tongue traced lightly against them, tasting you, and a low groan rumbled out of him at the sweetness of it.

The kiss deepened, his hunger showing in the way he pulled you closer, savoring every second. You wrapped your arms around his neck, shivering at the intensity as he nipped at your bottom lip, making you gasp just enough for him to slide his tongue against yours again, taking your mouth with a quiet, possessive need.

You let out a soft, helpless sound, your body instinctively leaning into him.

“Easy,” he murmured against your lips, stealing another slow kiss that made your pulse stumble. He walked backward until the back of his legs hit the bed, sitting and pulling you into his lap like he’d been waiting years to do it.

His hands slid along your thighs, warm and deliberate, before gliding up to your waist and drawing you even closer.

He kissed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to the spot just beneath your ear.

“You don’t know how insane you’re driving me,” he rasped, voice low and tight with restraint.

“Bi-han…” you whispered, shivering.

“Hm?” he hummed, his lips brushing your neck, the smallest nip pulling another tiny gasp from you.

You squirmed involuntarily, heat curling through your stomach.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, pulling back just enough to see your face. His eyes were heavy, fixed on every detail of you.

“I… want you…” you breathed, gaze dropping in embarrassment.

“Look at me,” he said softly but with command.

You forced your eyes up, meeting his stare.

“Say it again. Don’t look away.”

You swallowed. “I want you… please.”

His lips curved, slow and satisfied. “Good girl.”

He gripped your hips and pulled you down against the hardness beneath you, guiding your body along his. You gasped at the pressure, moving without thinking, and he groaned softly, hands tightening to help you repeat the motion.

You buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured, thumb brushing your side. “Let me see you.”

You whined quietly, shaking your head, but pressed a shy kiss to his throat.

He inhaled sharply at the touch.

Then he shifted, gripping your waist and flipping you beneath him in one smooth motion. The mattress dipped under his weight as he hovered over you, eyes roaming your flushed face like he was memorizing every detail.

“Mine,” he murmured, the word low and certain.

He leaned down, capturing your lips again—slower, deeper, savoring you like he planned to take his time.

“If we start, I intend to treat you the way you deserve,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling gently into yours. His nose skimmed your cheek, voice low and steady. “I’m going to take my time with you. I’ll go slow, make you feel good. Is that okay?”

You nodded quickly, breath catching, eyes hazy as you looked up at him.

“I need words, baby,” he murmured, thumb brushing your jaw. “Tell me you want this.”

“Bi-Han… I want you. Please… m-make love to me.”

His breath stilled for a moment before he exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders melting into something warm and aching. He undressed you both with deliberate care, kissing along your skin as each layer fell away. Every inch of you received a quiet praise, a whispered devotion, his lips lingering wherever your breath hitched.

He pressed soft nips into your thighs, leaving faint pink marks, slowly guiding them apart as he settled between them. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders before leaning in, placing a gentle kiss to your clit, then drawing it into his mouth, tongue moving tender and slow.

Your hips jolted, thighs clamping around his head as pleasure surged through you.

A hand flew up to your mouth to stifle the moan spilling out of you, the other tangling instinctively in his hair.

Bi-Han groaned softly as he tasted you, licking you with a deliberate, almost reverent rhythm, savoring each shiver rolling through your body. His hands squeezed and stroked your thighs as they trembled around him, keeping you open for the slow, loving attention he gave you.

Your hips twitched against his mouth, grinding helplessly as he ate you like he meant to devour every drop you gave him.

His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, sliding up and down your slick heat before circling your clit with a tenderness that made your breath stutter. His hands tightened around your hips, guiding the motion, groaning softly each time more of your arousal coated his tongue.

“Bi-Han… Ahh…” you moaned, voice thin and trembling, biting your lip to keep the sound from spilling too loudly. “Please… need you…”

His eyes flicked up at you, dark and intent, never pulling his mouth from your core. He drew your clit into his mouth again as he slid a finger to your entrance, pushing it in gently, slow enough to match the softness in his gaze. He stroked inside you at a careful pace, letting you open around him.

You clenched down instantly, mewling as his finger curled up and found your sweetest spot. You tugged his locks softly as your head tipped back into the sheets, breath coming out in shaky, uneven pants.

He eased in another finger, watching your face twist in pleasure as you opened around him. Hunger flashed in his eyes when he pushed deeper, his thumb circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes.

He drew his hand back just enough to see your arousal glisten across his fingers, licking his lips clean while his gaze dropped to where his hand was working you open.

He gently caught your wrist and pulled it away from your mouth. “Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me. I want to hear you.”

You shook your head, hips jerking when his fingers brushed your sweet spot again. “T-too loud…” you gasped, another moan slipping free despite your efforts.

“So what? You’re mine. Let them hear.” His voice dropped into something warm and possessive.

“Bi-Han…!” you breathed, swatting weakly at his arm. “Don’t— your mother is still here.”

His eyes flicked toward the clock, then back to you with a slow, confident smirk. “She’s out right now. So go on… be loud for me.”

He pushed a third finger in, curling them right into the place that made your vision spark white. A loud moan tore out of your throat before you could stop it.

“Good girl,” he breathed, biting his lip as he watched you unravel. “Just like that. Don’t stop. Let me hear all of it.”

Your walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers, each pulse pulling more sounds from your lips no matter how hard you tried to swallow them down.

“Bi-Han— please… I’m so close,” you whined.

“That’s it. Fall apart for me, sweet girl,” he murmured, leaning down to claim your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss as you came, nails scraping lightly at his shoulders while his fingers kept moving just enough to guide you through it. When it became too much, you squeezed your thighs around his wrist, stopping him with a shaky breath before pulling him back down for another kiss.

“Take me… please,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to feel you. All of you. Make me yours.”

Bi-Han inhaled sharply, your words hitting him like a physical blow. “Woman…” he muttered, resting his forehead against your collarbone for a moment as he steadied himself. “You’re playing a dangerous game talking to me like that.”

He straightened, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a soft, hungry hum. His other hand slid beneath your thigh, guiding your legs open for him.

“You taste sweet, Little Ghost,” he murmured, licking the last traces from his knuckles. Then his expression softened, stilling as his eyes locked with yours. “Do you still want this?”

“Yes,” you whispered, trembling as you cupped his jaw. “I want you. Only you.”

He kissed your palm, nodding once.

“Then let me make you mine properly.”

He leaned over you, lifting your thighs to wrap around his waist. His tip pressed against your entrance, sliding slowly through your slick before he began to ease inside. His breath hitched, a low sound catching in his throat as your warmth welcomed him in.

“Fuck…” he breathed, sinking into you until he was fully sheathed.

Your lips parted on a soft, breathless sound as your nails dug into his back. The stretch burned in the sweetest way, stealing the air from your lungs.

“You feel so good…” you whispered, arms winding around him, face buried in the warm curve of his neck. He grunted in response, holding perfectly still to let you adjust.

“You okay?” he murmured, hand stroking your side in slow circles.

“Yes… more than okay,” you breathed, giving your hips a tentative roll. The two of you moaned at the same time, the pleasure hitting both of you like a jolt.

He began to move, deep and slow, each thrust sinking into you fully, deliberately, savoring every inch of you.

“Damn…” he huffed, voice rough. “You’re perfect. So, so perfect.”

You clenched around him, whining softly as his words rippled through you.

He chuckled under his breath, “Yeah? You like when I tell you that? When I tell you how perfect you are for me?”

You squeezed your legs around him, whining shyly as you hid your face from him. “Bi-Han… stop.”

His grin was audible. He shifted onto his knees, tilting your hips up. The new angle had you gasping, back arching as he slid even deeper.

His hands caressed up your sides with a reverence that made your chest tighten. “No,” he murmured, soft moans spilling from him as he watched you take him. “I think you want me to keep going.”

His palm cupped your breast, thumb rolling your nipple gently. “It turns you on, doesn’t it? Hearing what you do to me,” he panted. “You love that I’m giving you all my attention.”

His hips snapped deeper, dragging another arch from your spine.

“You love how desperate you make me,” he groaned, head tipping back as his control slipped. “How I can’t stop shaking because of how good you feel.”

His pace deepened, erratic with need. Soft, breathy sounds escaped him—half-moans, half-grunts—as his hands roamed your body like he was committing every line of you to memory.

Your face burned, his words unraveling you as quickly as his thrusts did. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, dragging him closer.

“Bi-Han—! Please—”

Your voice broke, your body tightening as your high rushed up fast, unstoppable.

“Good…” he groaned, leaning down and covering your body with his. “Fuck, I can’t stop touching you. You were made for me. Only me.”

Your breath hitched as he thrust harder, the bed creaking beneath you.

“You’ve ruined me,” he rasped against your ear. “I can’t even think about pulling out of this pussy.”

A sharp thrust punched a cry from you, your legs hiking higher around his waist, ankles locking behind him.

His laugh was breathless, wrecked. “See? Even you want to keep me in you—keep me deep so everyone knows you’re mine.”

He pulled your leg tighter around his hip and kissed you fiercely, swallowing your moans.

Your nails dragged down his back as your body seized, pleasure snapping through you so intensely your vision blurred.

“Don’t— don’t stop!” you cried, tugging his hair, voice cracking. “I’m yours—only yours—please— Bi-Han—!”

Your words dragged a broken moan from him.

“You’re perfect,” he panted, losing himself completely. “So perfect. You’re mine.”

He thrust deep and stayed there, hips locking as he spilled inside you, each pulse heavy, each breath caught on a groan.

“I love you, woman,” he moaned, grinding his hips into you, making sure you took every last drop of his release.

You whimpered, tugging him down and kissing him sweetly through the fading sparks of pleasure. “I love you too,” you panted.

You stayed like that—bodies pressed together, sharing slow, lingering kisses—until the high gently ebbed from your limbs.

Then came a knock.

“As hot as hearing you two was, Mom’s about to get home from yoga, so you better start cleaning up,” Tomás called through the door, laughter trailing behind the words.

Bi-Han closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “Fuck off.”

More laughter drifted away with receding footsteps.

He sighed again, softer this time, his hand smoothing over your hips before he leaned down and kissed you once more—slow, unhurried, savoring you.

You melted into it, arms wrapping around his neck as your fingers slid into his hair. Your lips curled into a small smile, and you deliberately clenched around him just to hear the sound it dragged from his throat.

He groaned, low and helpless, eyes narrowing at you before he rolled his hips once more, his half-hard length stirring back to life. He pushed in just a little deeper, savoring your soft moan, before forcing himself to still.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” he murmured, voice warm and wrecked. “Before I take you again…”

Your cheeks warmed instantly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “…Round two in the shower?”

Bi-Han’s smirk was downright sinful. “Good thinking, Little Ghost. Come here.”

Your giggles echoed down the hallway as he scooped you up and carried you toward the bathroom

[kenkonshun]

thinking about bi-han on his knees, his hands restrained behind his back while he eats you out. his brows pull together as he scowls up at you from between your legs, because he despises the fact he can’t touch you, can’t grab your hips and pull you closer to his mouth to the point that you’re smothering him with your plush thighs, enveloping him in your scent. he can only take what he is given, and listen to the cute sounds that fall from your lips, his cock twitching helplessly at every sigh of his name.

when you start to feel yourself getting close, you draw your hips back and he lets out a strangled groan, eyes darting up to yours at the absence of your taste on his tongue. you stare down at him from the edge of your shared bed with a pitiful smile, breathing heavy. strands of dark hair fall from his now untidy bun, framing his flushed face, his eyes dark with lust and desperation. his lips, glistening and wet with your juices, slightly part as he mutters your name — both a plea and a warning.

you tilt your head to the side with a soft hum, hand coming down to rub slow circles on your clit. his eyes come up to meet yours, almost offended, and you breathe out a laugh, picking up the pace. your back arches, legs spreading further apart, giving bi-han the perfect view of your pretty hole clenching around nothing. a low moan escapes from his throat, precum leaking from his aching tip, powerless as he watches you grind against your fingers.

bi-han almost cums on the spot when you let two fingers slip past your folds, stretching yourself open with a soft whine. he groans as he watches your other hand trail up your torso to play with your breast, gently squeezing the soft mound of flesh, pinching and rolling the nipple between your fingers. his eyes flick down, catching the way you tighten around your fingers at the feeling, and he feels his cock twitch against his abdomen. the desire to touch and taste you clouds his mind, the lewd squelches of your cunt and your needy whimpers filling the room, invading his senses.

and when you whine out his name, all breathy and desperate, the way you always do when you’re about to cum, he feels the last of his resolve slip.

he freezes the restraints around his wrists, and pulls his hands apart. the sound of ice shattering pierces the air, and before you can even register what’s happening, your fingers are yanked out of your entrance, quickly replaced by bi-han’s tongue.

he presses wet, opened-mouthed kisses against your hole, growling between each one about how he has “entertained your antics for far too long,” and needs to “remind you of your place.” he lifts the hood of your clit up, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud before pulling it between his lips, sucking harshly. you let out a high-pitched moan, hands shooting down to tangle in his hair as you arch against him. strong arms wrap around each of your thighs, pulling you against his face until you are suffocating him, keeping you in place as your writhe and squirm in his hold.

your grip in his hair is almost painful as your head falls back. you’re moaning and panting into the air, desperately attempting to shut your legs, but he keeps them spread, making you completely vulnerable to him. he gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes, trying not to finish there and then at the sight of you, completely wrecked because of him. he adjusts so he can shove his cold tongue into your quivering hole, nose bumping roughly against your hardened clit. you’ve fallen back on the bed at this point, legs shaking, back arching as you cry out his name.

he doesn’t let up when you cum, relentless tongue lapping up all your juices, because what kind of man would he be if didn’t clean you up properly? he smirks into your folds when you start to twitch around him, helplessly pawing at his head, begging him to stop. his lips leave you with a lewd pop! and he stands up, leaning over you.

he brings a gentle hand up to your face, calloused thumb wiping at the tears running down your cheeks from the overstimulation. you look completely ruined, a mess, all because of him, and he can’t help the mean chuckle that slips past his lips. his other hand comes down to position his cock at your messy hole, running it up and down your slit, relishing in the way you whine at the feeling, and he leans down, lips brushing against your ear,

“did you truly believe we would stop there?”

— ( ✉️ ) not proofread, sorry this is so long jesus. one hundred percent based off of that one scene in khaos reigns when hes handcuffed and on his knees in front of mileena while she decides to kill him or not UGH LOVE HIM

[iliketangerines]

Imagine imagine imagine Bi-Han and Reader as enemies for as long as they can remember, but recently Reader feels attracted to Bi-Han and one night decides to touch herself at the image of him. Add some degrading kink here and some size kink there sprinkle sprinkle ykyk :3

calling my name

a/n: 4200 words...y'all better eat this up, please, i'm begging you

pairing: bi han x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI) light bondage, degradation kink, size kink, overstimulation, pussy eating

you absolutely hate Bi Han, he always had to one up you, always had to be better, always had to make sure to rub it in your face whenever he beat you in a spar

it was absolutely infuriating, and you seeth at him from across the room as he lectures the trainees and mentors for something idiotic that one person had messed up

he was so serious about every single little thing, and you wanted to slap him, to beat him into the dirt because of course he would take such a stupid mistake so seriously

someone had left out a weapon on the training grounds rather than putting it back on the rack, and for some reason, this was the hill Bi Han was going to die on

you barely hold in your scoff and your eye-roll as Bi Han walks by you, and you sit until your ass is numb and he’s finally done lecturing you all

finally, you walk off back to your room, the day already dark and moon high from how long the grandmaster had lectured you all

why did the mentors have to be there? it’s not like any of you would make a mistake so trivial, and now your night was wasted

you were going to sit down with a good book and a hot cup of red tea and sip on it until the candle burned down, but now you couldn’t even do that

closing the door, you strip off your clothes and angrily throw them into your laundry basket and put on your loose pajamas

maybe you would just go to sleep then

flicking off the lights to your room and closing the blinds, you bury yourself underneath the sheets and stare at the wall of your room

except sleep won’t come to you, no matter what position you flip yourself into or how long you close your eyes, and now you’re angry for a different reason

finally, you lay on your back, the blanket rumpled around you, and all you can do is stare at the ceiling as you lay wide awake

the meeting from earlier flashes through your mind and how Bi Han had strut around the room, dressed in only a casual uniform for training

it was sleeveless and tight, one size too small for him, and you could see every time his arm flexed and how his chest nearly spilled out from the front

you hated Bi Han so much that it turned into lust, and it frustrated you to no end how much you craved him despite how much you also wanted to beat him into the dirt

huffing out into the air, you dip one hand below your shorts and press them against your clit, biting your lip at the feeling

you start with slow circles, sighing at the feeling, and you can feel your pussy clench around nothing and getting wet as you continue

your fingers are nimble, nowhere near soft, but not quite calloused just because you engage in more hand to hand combat rather than with weapons, and you wonder how Bi Han’s fingers would feel against your clit

you’ve fought with him many times, felt his calloused and scarred fingers dig into your skin and cause bruises to bloom across you

they would be rough, focused, determined, rubbing quick and hard circles into your clit, and you let out a soft moan as you quicken your pace

parting your legs slightly and taking a pause to throw off your pants, you rub your clit with practiced fingers, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling

pleasure buzzes through you, hums in every fiber of your being as you get yourself closer and closer to the edge

you imagine Bi Han is here with you, fingers rough against you and pushing you further and further to the edge

his voice would be saying something, always something because the grandmaster always had something to say or do to prove his point

you can imagine the deep rumble of his voice, the growl he would let out, his neat and pristine hair being mussed by your hands

you’ve never wanted to pull out his bun so much and mess up his hair and tug tangles into the strands, and you know he would be irritated with the action

he would pin you down to the ground, thick fingers moving to fuck your drooling pussy while his thumb grinds against your clit

it would be delicious and angry and hot, and you let out a moan of his name as you cum on your fingers, letting your orgasm wash over you and light every sense in your body

you slow down your fingers on your clit and let out a little breath, feeling more tired than earlier, and you remove your fingers and adjust your position to turn onto your side

where you see an open door and someone standing there in casual training uniform

a chill runs down your spine and your heart thumps in your chest as your eyes trail up, up toned legs, a plush chest with crossed arms, and a scowling Bi Han

oh fuck

immediately, you throw your blanket over your bare legs, mouth open in surprise, and you sit up, fingers clutching the blanket so hard that you might as well tear a new hole through it

he doesn’t do anything, and you don’t say anything, stuck in a staring contest that you desperately didn’t want to be in

and then he steps in closer to you, making you flinch, and he closes the door behind him, his silhouette nothing but a dark shadow in the black of your room

it’s hard to tell if he’s moving, smiling, going to kill you, and you shift on the bed to turn on your lamp

but then there’s a hand on your legs through the blankets, yanking you further down the bed and making you gasp in surprise

you go to yell, scream, yelp, but a hand clamps itself over your mouth and his other pins your wrists above you, ice cold and freezing

he chuckles lowly, the only other sound in the room besides your pounding heart, and he says that he didn’t know that his most annoying soldier was so into him

you glare at him, almost hoping that it makes him drop dead, but unfortunately, it doesn’t, his hands still pressed against you

his breath gets close enough to fan out across your face, and it makes you flinch, not knowing that he was so close to you in the darkness of your room

your eyes had yet to adjust to the black night, and you kick your legs in an attempt to hit his stomach and fling him off of you

but he just slots his hips right in between your plush thighs, and you’ve run out of possible defenses to kick him off of you

unluckily for you, the rough cloth of his pants rubs on your sensitive clit when he had pushed his way between your legs, and you let out a small whimper at the feeling

you can feel his smirk before he opens his mouth, and you don’t move in fear of grinding against him and further embarrassing yourself

but from the way you can feel his hardness pressing right against your cunt, you’re guessing he liked you just as much you liked him

or at least, the way you liked his body because you hated his personality

Bi Han grinds his hips into yours, and your eyes finally adjust enough to see his stupid stupid smirk on his face, looking at you like you’re prey

his hand is still clasped over your mouth, but he lets go of your wrists, encasing them in ice so you couldn’t throw them at him

the ice almost burns, and it mixes with the pleasure you feel as he grinds against you, making your head spin and your nerves twist in every which direction

it doesn’t know whether to deal with the pain or deal with the pleasure, and it fills your head with a haze as you let out a muffled curse behind Bi Han’s rough hand

he lets go of your mouth, and you curse him out with as many expletives you can think of

Bi Han rolls his eyes, muttering something in Chinese under his breath, and you switch to the language and start cursing him out like that

he looks around your room, finding your discarded panties on the sheets above you, and he shoves them into your open mouth, effectively silencing you for the most part

you can’t even spit it out because it’s too large, and so you just glare at him, arms stuck to your fucking bedsheets and legs spread around his hips and staring at his insufferable face

he hates you, you know he does because he fights you like he does no other, and it’s clear in his words as he calls you a whore, a needy little slut

you continue to glare at him as he says that if you wanted him that badly, you should’ve just asked, he can’t but help a whore in need

his hands travel up shirt, cupping your breasts and squeezing them harshly, making you let out a choked whimper at the roughness

he just squeezes and squeezes your chest, doing nothing more than that for a second, before his thumbs find your hardened nipples and roll against them

the feeling makes you whine, and he grins at you, pinching your nipples repeatedly and listening to the muffled whines and whimper that flow out of you

you can’t stop the noises that come out of you, and neither can you control how your pussy grows more and more wet by the second

he murmurs, saying that you look so pretty when you’re quiet, so helpless beneath him, and that maybe he should keep you like this, all pliant for him

you try to growl underneath your gag, but then he lowers his head to your neck and sinks his teeth into your skin

a small yelp leaves your throat, and he runs his tongue over the mark, kissing a little lower before he sucks a hickey into you as well

it’s high up, too high to hide with your uniform, and you squirm in his grip to complain

but all it accomplishes is making you rub against him, and you just let out a pathetic mewl at the feeling and go still

he chuckles against your skin, kissing lower and repeating the process over and over again until he finally reaches your chest

he nips and bites at the skin before latching his mouth over your nipple, running his tongue over the nub, while his hand pinched your other nipple

his tongue and teeth are relentless against the sensitive nub, and you can’t help but squirm against him, growing needier and needier by the second

you garble out commands behind your gag, telling him to hurry up, to stop being such a coward and fuck you senseless already, but if he understands, he ignores you

he’s slow with his actions, just grinding himself into your sensitive clit, and the grandmaster continues to tease your chest, teeth lightly nipping at your nipple

it makes you whine and arch your back and your chest right into his awaiting mouth, and he smirks against your skin and detaches from your nipple with a slight pop

but he quickly moves to your other nipple, giving it the same overbearing treatment, tongue rubbing over the nub and teeth lightly biting into it

you really couldn’t take any more teasing, and you try to convey that as much with the way your hips buck into him, but he just growls and presses his body weight further into you

with his size compared to yours, you’re helpless to get him off of you and can only take the pleasure that he gives you

he seems to spend forever on your other nipple, and your head is starting to grow foggy with how much you need him as much as you hate to admit it

you wanted to flip him, take what you want and leave him needing, but for now, all you can do is let the pleasure cloud your mind and control your body

finally, after what feels like an eon, he detaches his mouth from your chest, giving it a playful bite before he looks at your heaving chest

he hums at the sight, pinching your nipples one more time for good measure, and you suppress your whimper at the feeling

Bi Han just laughs and calls you pathetic, but he looks just as debauched, lips shiny with his spit and eyes frenzied, his hair a mess with strands falling out of his bun

you want to spit an insult at him, tell him that he’s no better, but he hasn’t removed the gag just yet, and so you just glare and hope they burn holes through him

he just lightly pats your chest, and then shuffles downward, using his hand to spread your legs open and then up to press them into your stomach

you try to struggle and move your legs again, but his arms are thick and strong and keep them pinned tightly to your body

he just mutters pathetic under his breath before lapping his tongue over your clit, making your hips buck and a small whine to escape from you

Bi Han wastes no time in tasting all of you, his tongue flicking your clit back and forth roughly before sucking on it and drawing a wail out of you

his tongue is ruthless, cold against your clit, and all you can do is buck and grind your hips further and further into his tongue

you’re getting closer and closer to the edge, his tongue still pressing firm flat strokes against your oversensitive clit, and you can’t think at all

you hurtle over the edge, pleasure shattering like shards of glass throughout your body, and you tremble as he keeps his lips firmly wrapped around your clit

it feels like your high lasts forever, and you know that you’re whining out his name from behind the gag but you can’t even stop yourself

but his tongue is still pressing against you, tongue still stubbornly lapping at your clit, and his fingers slide through your folds

they’re cold, and the temperature makes you gasp and flinch at the coldness, but Bi Han just hums into your clit and all thought flies away again

he slips his fingers into you, thicker and rougher than your own, and your pussy squeezes around them, trying to bring them further, desperate for pleasure

pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, you can feel your mind and your body separating, how the pleasure seems to hold onto your body and bring you far away from yourself

it’s like floating in the space between Earth and Outworld, and you can’t control the whimpers that leave your throat as Bi Han curls them into your sweet spot

it makes your pussy squeeze around his fingers and grow wetter as he rubs against the spot, and you let out small mewls as he continues to suck on your sensitive clit

it’s so overwhelming, and you want to kick him off but also bring him closer and make you cum, you want it, you need it

Bi Han hums into your clit, the vibrations shooting straight through you and making you see white as you cum on his fingers

he keeps pumping in and out of you, letting you ride your high out on his fingers, and you’re panting heavily, head dizzy from the lack of oxygen from the gag

his tongue gives your pussy one final lick, tongue broad and firm, before he detaches himself from you with a wet pop and stands up, letting your legs finally fall down

you can’t even kick him away because of how they feel more jello than bone right now

you’re face to face with just how large Bi Han is, sure you’ve sparred against him, had him pressed against you so many times before

but that was in a different context…now he’s standing before you, undressing himself, his biceps flexing in the little moonlight that shines through the cracks of the blinds

his chest is so much broader and defined than yours, years and years of training you supposed, and he catches you staring as he shucks off his pants

no surprise, of course the cocky motherfucker was large, and he brings his hand to wrap around it and pump it a few times, his thumb collecting the pre-cum and spreading it along the shaft

he lets out a low groan at the feeling, and you nudge your thighs against his, wanting him to hurry up and fuck you

raising an eyebrow at you, Bi Han leans forward and takes out your gag, and immediately you call him an asshole

he retorts, saying that you didn’t seem to have the same attitude when he was making you cum on his fingers earlier

you frown at him, trying to keep your face still even as he slaps your pussy with his cock, letting the head bump against the clit

it sends little shocks of pleasure running through your body, but the only giveaway is how your hips slightly twitch at the feeling

he doesn’t do anything for a moment, just sliding his cock between your folds and getting himself nice and wet for you, and then he hikes your legs up into his large hands

staring straight at you, he tells you to beg, beg for his cock like the desperate whore he knows you are, and you open your mouth in indignation and glare at him

and then you spit an insult out at him, telling him he’s some pompous stupid asshole whose too cocky for no reason, a terrible grandmaster, a horrible lay

if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it and just looks at you with a bored expression until you’re out of breath and panting

his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, going deep enough that you know that there will be bruises tomorrow

he asks if you’re done, his voice annoyed and bordering a growl as he stares down at you

you tug at your arms, pursing your lips at the fact that they were still stuck to your bedsheets, and your thighs are held firmly in place by his hands

he grinds into you, pulling his hips back and teasing you with his cock, slightly pushing in but then pulling back out

you can’t help it as a small whimper leaves your throat, and you glare at him and tell him he isn’t playing fair

Bi Han doesn’t react, just repeats his order from before, to beg for him to fuck you, and you frown and slightly squirm to try and move your hips down onto him

he just pulls his hips backward away from you, preventing you from spearing yourself any further on his cock

the both of you are at a standstill for a moment, but you can feel your resolve breaking every time the tip pushes in just slightly and then pulls back out

it’s driving you insane, but you can see the cracks in his patience as he pushes in deeper and deeper and how he starts to let out a curt grunt every time he teases you

but of course Bi Han wouldn’t play fair because he leans down, his face so close to yours, and he hooks your legs over his shoulders

one of his hands snakes down to rub at your clit, and you want to actually kill him as he smirks at you and tells you to beg

he’s so absolutely infuriating, so irritating, and he was breaking down your resolve like he was an ocean wave and you were a crumbling sand castle

his thumb is slow and torturous, rubbing light circles into your clit but never going fast enough to make you cum, just enough to have pleasure creep in the edges of your frayed nerves

you try to buck and grind your hips into him to get him to apply more pressure, but it’s fruitless, and you’re left with no more options

closing your eyes, you murmur out a please

he tells you to do it again, to do it better, he knows you can do better

opening your eyes and glaring up at him, you bare your teeth and snarl at him, and he just looks down at you, awaiting your response

you grit your teeth and beg for him in a low and irritated voice, begging for him to fuck you on his fat cock, to make you cum until you only know his name, to fuck you until you worship him…please

Bi Han grins and with one single thrust, he pushes his cock into you and bottoms out, pelvis snug against yours

it steals your breath, and a strangled sound leaves your throat as he starts to fuck into you at a brutal pace, the sound of your wet pussy filling the air

he’s big, stretching you out to lengths you’ve never been, and he’s hitting every spot inside of you perfectly and turning your mind into mush as his thumb presses firmly into your clit

you refuse to beg anymore though and bite your lip to stifle your moans and whimpers, and you close your eyes and turn your head to the side to hide in your shoulder

Bi Han doesn’t seem to mind, simply leaning down further and making your hamstrings burn as he sucks and kisses hickeys into your neck

he nips at your sensitive skin, leaving his marks on you as his hips thrust in and out of you, and you let out a choked moan as you cream on his cock

his hips never stop, continuing their ruthless pace through your orgasm, but he lets out a low groan at the feeling of your pussy clenching and squeezing his cock

it’s the sound of your half-hidden whimpers and whines, his grunts and low moans, and the sound of his hips slapping into yours filling the room

every shock of pleasure is sharp and loud, cracking through your body as the overstimulation starts to sit in, but Bi Han doesn’t seem to care as he pants into your skin

he spares a look down and groans at the sight, and you look down as well, barely making out in the low light how every time he thrusts in, a slight bulge appears on your stomach

somehow, his pace quickens, and he growls into your ear that he’s going to cum in you, needs to cum in you and mark you all the way

you just whine in response, lips parting, and he takes the opportunity to attach his lips to yours and kiss you deeply, tongue finding its way into your mouth

your taste still lingers on his tongue, and you moan at the realization, pleasure coursing through you

he swallows the sound of your drawn-out keen as your pussy clamps down on his dick, nearly strangling it as you cum again, and he moans into your mouth as he does the same

you can feel his cum inside of you, warming you from the inside, and your thighs tremble as the both of your ride out your highs, his hips becoming sloppy and slow as he finishes

he just lays on top of you, letting his cock soften inside of you, and the both of you just lay there panting, chests heaving as you close your eyes and savor the last remnants of pleasure

and then you open your eyes and mutter for him to get off of you, and you tug at your arms, finally finding the ice fragile enough to break with your strength

he just grunts and obliges, his cock slipping out of you, and as much as you hate to admit it, you miss the feeling already

his cum seeps out of your pussy, spilling onto your clean bedsheets, and you glare at him, telling him that this was his fault

he rolls his eyes at you, saying that it was not, you were the one who had moaned his name in the first place

you retort saying that he had come over to your room first, and that you know for a fact that he lives in the opposite direction because that’s where all the higher-ups lived

he scowls at you but doesn’t say anything as he dresses in his slacks and picks up his robes from the floor

you stand up, fixing your shirt that had been pushed above your chest and you hold onto the door frame for balance on your shaky legs

he leaves, standing in the middle of the hallway and then turns back to you, and you just stand in the doorway and stare back at him

finally, he mutters out that he wants to see you again, next week, same time

you snort and say now who’s the one begging, and he rolls his eyes and starts walking away, letting you admire the way his back flexes as he walks

he’ll be back next week, you already know it

[janeisoffline]

Silence (18+)

Parings: Gojo x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Higuruma x Reader, Toji x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader

Summary: JJK men reacting to you being silent during sex.

Content Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, cream pie, dirty talk, praise, degradation, hair pulling, choking, slight overstimulation, spanking, edging, punishment, rough sex, finger sucking, dacryphilia, biting, blood, squirting, breeding kink, begging, slapping/clit slapping

Satoru Gojo

Gojo is always so cocky during sex, and for good reason too. He knows what he does to you, knows how to make you feel good, how to get you writhing and cumming from his cock in record time. Which is why you thought it would be a perfect idea to mess with him.

Your back is on the bed, legs lifted on either side of his body, his cock shoved deep inside your pussy maintaining a relentless pace. Not a single sound slips from you, and it is proving to be difficult to keep it that way.

Breathing coming in short puffs from the force of his hips, you try your best to act unaffected. Your fingers don’t tangle in the sheets no matter how much you want to; your head doesn’t press into the pillow even though your body is begging to arch into his touch. You gaze up at the ceiling, your eyes not even shutting from the pleasure, and that is exactly what gets him.

“There’s no way,” he huffs, laughing out softly from the absurdity of this situation.

Your eyes fall on his, held tilting in question, doing your best to feign your innocence but you know if you open your mouth for a second you will moan loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“There’s just no way I got this bad in the span of 12 hours. I just had you moaning like a crazy woman on my dick this morning,” he says, his pace slowing down, perfect for you to keep up the act.

“Guess you did,” you reply, bringing your gaze back up to the ceiling.

He scoffs, truly appalled, doubting his abilities for a split second before considering the possibility that you just might be trying to play with him. Gojo’s hands find your waist, fingers gripping your skin punishingly tight, angling your hips up just right and you know you are done for.

“F-fuckk, Toru!”

The second his hips snap to yours, your eyes shoot open, toes curling, fingers gripping onto the sheets for dear life while an obscene moan rips from your throat. His cock twitches against your sweet spot, tip rubbing hard on your cervix, and the most satisfying grin pulls at his lips.

“Could’ve just said you wanted to play pretend,” he says, voice low and rough, words rumbling out from deep within his chest from the feeling of your walls fluttering tight around his length.

He holds your hips up, maintaining the perfect position, and pounds into you as if he is a starved man who is insatiable when it comes to your sounds of pleasure. Grunts and groans leave his lips, your legs wrap around his waist, your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper inside you, not wanting to waste another second with your antics.

“It’s s-so good,” you whimper, burying your face in his neck as your cheeks heat up, moaning right into his ear just how he likes.

“Yeah? Take it all, won’t you pretty baby?”

He slams into you harder, faster, his strokes growing relentless and punishing as he does his best to fuck out every last sound you could make. The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up and leaving no space inside you empty.

The only thing you could feel is him. The rough skin of his chest dragging against your nipples, the softer skin of his abdomen catching on your clit with each thrust, your nails dragging down his back from the pleasure coursing through you, all of it pushing you closer and closer to your sweet release.

“Y-yes Toru. So c-close, please,” you plead, begging him for anything and everything he could give you.

“Really thought you could be quiet when you’re this close,” he asks, not expecting an answer, continuing to fuck into you, unable to resist the sweet sounds of your begging.

“Go ahead then. Cum on my dick.”

His words sound like music to your ears, rough around the edges from his own pleasure, rumbling out from him like they always did when he was deep inside your pussy.

Your body goes rigid, muscles drawing taut, nails dragging down his back while your toes curl against his hips. Cum gushes from your entrance, obscene moans pouring from you as it leaks out around his length. It drips from his skin, making a mess below, staining the sheets with something undeniable.

“That’s i-it. Such a g-good girl,” he grunts, throwing his head back in pleasure, feeling the way your walls tighten and rhythmically pulse around him, bringing him right to the edge of his climax without having to do much work.

He buries himself to the hilt after a few more thrusts, a guttural groan slipping out from how slick your walls are, from the pleasurable pain of your nails digging into his back, and he gives himself the same release.

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, coating your walls, leaking out when there is no more room left. It pools on the sheets below, sticky and mixed with your own, proof of the pleasure he thought he just couldn’t give you anymore.

His body slumps against you, his forehead rests on yours, heavy breathing filling the air, his heartbeat whooshing in his ears from the blood rushing through his body. Your breath mingles with his in the small space between your lips, your body on fire from his touch, weak from his undoing, and starved for more.

“For a second there... I actually believed you,” he says breathlessly, laughing softly, eyes boring into yours.

“Toru, you really think you could do anything other than make me feel good in every single part of life,” you question, moving your hands to cup his face.

“Of course not.”

You giggle, pulling his face towards yours, placing a soft kiss to his lips in agreement with his cocky ass reply. The kiss turns sloppy, his cock stirring back awake still stuffed inside you, your clit swollen and pulsing once more.

“Then give me more. Make me feel good all night if you think you can,” you say, shrugging your shoulders in indifference, biting back a smirk from your teasing words.

The grin that spreads across his face while he rolls over onto his back, taking you with him until you’re seated with his cock shoved against your cervix, makes you know that you are in for it.

Suguru Geto

Your back is pressed against Geto’s chest, his cock deep inside your pussy, pressed against your cervix while your walls flutter around him undeniably tight. No sounds fall from you while he thrusts, not a moan, not a whimper, absolutely nothing. You don’t even touch him like you usually do.

It is cruel really, but you are still buzzing with annoyance from the argument the two of you had last night, still wanting to get back at him for eating the last ice cream cone after you asked him to save it for you since he ate all the rest.

He notices quickly, hips stuttering for just a second before continuing to roll deeper into you, quicker, angling upwards to hit your sweet spot, anything to draw out your pretty noises. One hand planted on your hip, the other cupping your jaw, he fucks you slowly, sensually. He makes it hard to stay quiet.

You face away from him, biting your bottom lip, breathing hard through your nose while your eyes shut tight and fingers grip onto the sheets where he can’t see. He groans softly when your walls clench around him, cursing under his breath from how tight and wet you are around his length, wishing you would say something, anything that will let him know you enjoy it as much as he does.

“Are you not feeling good, sweet girl? We can do something different, or we can stop. Whatever you want baby,” he whispers, kissing the soft skin of your ear, pulling your face towards him so his eyes can graze over your flushed face.

His low, rough morning voice mixed with the reassurance and doubt makes your stomach turn with guilt. You push against his abdomen, signaling for him to pull out, and when he does you flip onto your other side to face him.

“I was trying to stay mad about the ice cream Sugu. Why do you have to be so sweet sometimes,” you pout, looking up at him through your lashes with the biggest doe eyes you could muster.

He laughs softly, cupping your cheek and pulling your lips against his.

“Sorry for ruining your sulking, but don’t you think it can wait,” he says, tilting his head to the side in question, a smirk pulling on his lips as he gazes down at you.

Without saying anything more, you press closer to him, chest to chest, lifting one leg up over his before nudging his cock at your entrance once more. He slides in slowly, filling your pussy again, stretching your walls to accommodate his length. Groans rumble out from his chest, vibrating against your skin, and you let yourself moan out from the pleasure of him.

“There you are,” he whispers, placing a feather light kiss to your ear, his hand moving to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

His other hand splays on your lower belly, his thumb finding your clit with ease and moving to rub slow, tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Whimpers and whines pour from you now, not bothering to hold back any longer, letting your hips grind against his thumb and your nails dig into his arm.

“So g-good Sugu,” you whimper, moving your hips with his, meeting him at a new angle.

His cock brushes past your sweet spot, and you cry out in pleasure. Heat builds in your lower belly quickly. The feeling of your nipples dragging against his skin, peaking from the stimulation, mixing with his thumb rubbing your clit and cock thrusting against your sweet spot is enough to bring you so close to the edge.

“Gonna cum baby?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, pulling him closer, moving your hips with a frantic need, begging for it without having to say anything.

“Cum on my dick sweet girl. Let me feel you,” he says, voice low and thick with desire, his own orgasm sitting low, ready to snap like a spring coiled tight.

Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out around his cock as your walls pulse and flutter around him. You melt into his touch, giving yourself to him completely, letting him hear the moans and whimpers as a result of what he does to you.

“That i-it. Such a good girl,” he praises, watching your eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open ever so slightly, body twitching from the remnants of your orgasm.

His thumb slows on your clit when your body begins to jerk, trying to ride out your high as long as possible before letting himself reach his release. Thrusting continuously, groans and grunts fall from him, unashamedly as he savors the feeling of cum and slick coating his length.

Geto buries his face in your neck, hand moving to your hip, fucking into you at the same slow pace he has been maintaining this entire time. His hips begin to stutter, pace faltering, cock twitching deep inside of your pussy the closer he reaches his climax. With a few more thrusts, he’s burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan ripping through his chest.

“O-oh yes, feels so g-good.”

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, leaking out when there is no room left for more, creating a mess in between your thighs with shared cum as proof of pleasure. He thrusts in slower now, pushing his cum deeper, riding out his high, feeling your walls continue to pulse around him.

His body slumps against the mattress, wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling your body flush with his before covering you with the sheets. He places tiny kisses to your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and finally your soft lips.

“Do you still want to sulk?”

You roll your eyes, giggling softly, too tired now to do anything other than lay here with him.

“You already know the answer to that,” you reply, pretending to be annoyed.

“Of course I do.”

Kento Nanami

Nanami came home limping and bandaged, his eyes low from exhaustion, hair messy and suit dirty from work. His hands were on you the second he found you undressing for a shower. You sat on the sink counter, pulling off every last bandage, cursing him under your breath, irritation rising like bile in your throat.

It eventually ended up with his cock buried in your pussy, your chest pressed to the shower wall, Nanami’s hands low on your hips as he drills into you with the occasional hiss of aching muscles and open cuts.

Not a single sound comes from your lips, in fact, your mouth is closed in a tight thin line despite your want to moan. You are livid that your husband came home in this state, that he was even in a situation to warrant this in the first place. It isn’t his fault, you know that you shouldn’t be taking it out on him, but your mind is too clouded to be rational.

He notices, of course he does, he notices everything.

“Sorry if it’s not that good, baby. I’m just so tired...,” he says, barely above a whisper, his voice low and rough making it hard to hear over the water.

Your look over your shoulder, your gaze being met with an apologetic look on the handsome face of Nanami. Bringing one hand up, you cup his jaw, pulling his lips to yours. The kiss turns messy quickly, spit dripping from your mouth, groans falling from his, and his thrusts turn relentless.

You don’t bother with trying to be quiet.

“F-fuck, Ken. Feels so g-good,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him, his forehead resting against yours where your breath mingles in the shared space between.

One hand gripping the fat of your hip, his other slides down your body, lingering just below your belly button before finding your swollen, aching clit. He rubs tight, quick circles onto the sensitive bundle of nerves, groaning when he feels your walls tighten around him from the stimulation, pounding into you harder with each moan, whimper, and whine.

“You sound so good when I make love to you,” he says, burying his face in your neck, kissing, licking, biting the soft, wet skin and leaving purple bruises behind in his wake.

Your pussy flutters around his length from his reverent praise, his words only making you moan more as they rumble out from his chest. His cock slides in, brushing past your sweet spot, nudging against your cervix and your walls clamp down tight. He pulls out, leaving only the tip in, and your walls do their best to suck him back in as if you never want him to leave.

“So wet and tight. You feel so g-good,” he groans, his grip growing tighter with each thrust, his hips rolling into yours at a frantic speed.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling up every last inch of your pussy, stretching you to accommodate his size as he leaves no space empty. Your hips grind against his finger, the angle changing with each glide, his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again while your moans tear from your throat and bounce off the wet walls of the shower.

“So c-close, Kenny,” you whimper, pushing your ass back against him, looking to meet him with every thrust.

Your hands plant themselves on the tile while you look over your shoulder, taking in the sight of your husband pounding into you from behind. The muscles of his abdomen tense with every movement, his hand twitching with the need to touch your entire body, his face screwed into one of pleasure as he watches your pussy swallow his cock with ease.

It is enough to push you over the edge you walk the line of.

“Gonna c-cum, fuck,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight, mouth hanging open while obscene moans flood out with each and every slap of his skin against yours.

Your body becomes rigid, muscles growing taut as your hips drag across his fingers and his cock brushes past your sweet spot once more. Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out around his cock, dripping onto the tile of the shower before being washed away.

“That’s i-it. So beautiful when you c-cum on me,” he stutters, drawing out your high for as long as possible before giving himself the same release.

His finger eases up on your clit when your body begins to twitch, his hips rolling in and out of you slower now while your pussy clamps down and pulses around his familiar length.

“I-inside Ken... want it inside,” you beg, eyes locking onto his, hand falling from the wall to grip onto his wrist instead.

“Yeah?”

You don’t even have to say anything else. With a few more thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt, his seed spilling out deep inside your pussy with a guttural groan ripping from his chest.

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood you, leaking out around his cock when there’s no room for more, sliding down the back of your thighs before the water has a chance to reach it. He pumps slowly through his orgasm, pushing him cum deeper, whimpering when your raw walls clench around his sensitive tip.

His body melts against yours, his heavy breathing and pounding heart being felt through your back, his skin scorching against yours. Hands sliding against your body, he worships you for everything you are, not missing a single each of your skin before sliding out of you.

No words are exchanged after, just silence as you clean the clotted wounds, and proof of pleasure from his skin, worshipping him in your own way even if you did curse him for the way he comes home majority of the time.

Hiromi Higuruma

Higuruma has been staying for overtime at the law firm every night for the past week, and it really irritated you that he let the other associates walk all over him. He comes home well into the night, eye bags a new staple to his look, tie loose around his neck while the rest of him looks disheveled.

Something about it got you going, but not enough to erase the irritation you felt this particular night.

You’re up on the kitchen counter, his hands on the back of either thigh while pushing your legs up, spreading them open to make room for him as his cock slams in and out of your pussy. Slick gushes from your entrance, getting the hem of his suit wet, and yet, no sounds fall from your lips.

Not a single one.

You do your best to feign indifference. Mouth drawn into a thin, tight line, eyes blank as they stare off just past him to distract yourself from the need to moan. Maybe it is cruel, but for a needy, irritated wife, you think it’s perfect.

He gazes up at you, tilting his head in question. Unfortunately for you, he knows all your tells. He can see you holding back, he can see the way you try to pretend like nothing he is doing is affecting you yet the second his eyes fall upon your face, your pussy is spasming around his length.

“So quiet... for what exactly,” he coos, not really asking a question, but simply letting you know he’s observing you like he always is.

His hand comes up to your face, fingers running along the length of your jaw, being oh-so-sweet before slapping you. It wasn’t too hard, hard enough to be a punishment, soft enough to be just the way you like it during sex, and you gasp as the sting of his hand burns through your skin.

Moans pour out from you after, whimper after whine after desperate moan. He rubs away the sting, his thrusts filling your body with pleasure, the pain meshing together until it turns into something sick and twisted that settles inside of you.

Your fingers grab onto his tie, pulling him closer, your legs pushing against your chest as he fucks you deeper, harder, faster just to pull the angelic sounds out of you.

“What do you need, baby? To cum? To cuss me out? Want me on my knees begging to fuck your pretty pussy?”

His words flow through you, rumbling out rough and low from his chest, vibrating against your skin and landing deep in the pool of heat bubbling in your lower belly. The skin of your knees rubs against your nipples, the fabric of his clothes brushing against your clit, his balls slapping against your ass as his pace turns punishing and relentless.

When you don’t answer, his hand slides down to your lower belly, teasing your sensitive skin before a sharp slap lands against your clit. You yelp out, tugging him closer, eyes landing on his as tears well up in your eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Didn’t hear you.”

“Anything Romi, I n-need anything you’ll g-give me,” you plead, stuttering over your words, trying to rectify your mistake of not answering.

For a split second, guilt flashes in his eyes, anger churning in his stomach from the thought of his wife having to utter those words. He moves your legs to his shoulders, your hands gripping the edge of the counter now, and he places that same hand onto your clit forgivingly.

“I’m sorry baby... so s-sorry,” he groans, fucking you deeper, harder, apologizing for his absence in the rawest way possible.

He whispers his sorry’s over and over again, rolling his hips against you, sliding his cock in and out of you as if need consumes him. He kisses you passionately, swallowing your sounds of pleasure you previously withheld, humming when his greed is satisfied.

“So c-close, I’m s-so close,” you whine, hips squirming against the counter, rubbing against his fingers on your clit as your body begs to be giving its release.

“Cum on me. Let me make you feel good baby,” he pleads, denying himself of his pleasure until you have felt yours to the fullest.

His thrusts speed up, knocking against your cervix, brushing against your sweet spot when he angles his hips perfectly. His finger rubs your clit faster, matching the pace of his cock, taking a second to gather more slick to glide over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His words sound like music to your ears, his whispered apologies and praises going straight to the throb in between your legs, encouraging you to let go. Your body becomes rigid, muscles drawing taut as your release tightens in your lower belly, ready to snap at any moment like a spring coiled tight.

“Fuck, f-fuck, cumming R-Romi,” you whimper, mouthing falling out with various sounds of pleasure, eyes shutting tight as black dots cloud your vision, ankles locking tight around his neck.

Squirt shoots out of you, wetting everything nearby. His expensive dry-cleaned suit, the floor, the counter, his skin. Every thrust of his cock pushes more and more out of you. It leaks down your folds, dripping onto his length, allowing him to dig deeper with little resistance.

“That’s it. Give it all t-to me,” he stutters, his hips stuttering along with him, pace faltering ever so slightly.

He fingers slow on your clit when your body begins to twitch with overstimulation. Speeding up, he chases his own high, eager to spill his release deep inside of you. Head falling back, grip turning punishing on our skin, sure to leave bruises in the morning, a guttural groan rumbles out from his chest as his climax peaks.

“Shit, gonna fill y-you up so m-much.”

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, coating your walls in everything he has to give, leaking back out when there’s no room for anything else. His cock twitches deep inside of you, tip leaking spurt after spurt of his seed. He pumps into you slower, pushing his cum deeper, wanting to keep as much inside of you as he could.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he slows to a stop, pulling him into you as he drops your legs from his shoulders. His body melts against yours, breath coming in ragged gasps, heart pounding against his chest. Burying his face in your neck, he kisses the soft skin, letting the both of you calm down and catch your breath.

“No more overtime Hiromi,” you say, voice serious again, irritation clearly displayed in your tone.

“No more overtime baby.”

Toji Fushiguro

Toji has been irritating you all day. He loves to push your buttons, get on your nerves, see how much you can take before he fucks the attitude out of you like nothing happened.

But today, you have had enough, and right when he slides his cock deep inside your pussy, you make no noise, not a single sound falls from your lips. You bite back a moan, but smirk into the pillow at the same time in satisfaction when his hips stutter for a split second from the absence of your sweet sounds of pleasure.

His hand pushes against your spine, arching your back to give him the perfect angle, his other hand gripping the fat of your hip to bring you back on his cock with each thrust. It’s hard not to moan when he’s impossibly large and much deeper than you think is possible, but you don’t, and you refuse to writhe in pleasure, or make any movements that would suggest you are enjoying it.

“Huh,” he scoffs, laughing quietly before slamming your hips against his, trying to pull out any little sound he could.

Your breath comes in short gasps, muffled against the pillow as you bite your bottom lip. His pace grows relentless and punishing, fucking into you harder, faster.

“Why’re you so quiet, huh,” he asks, bending over you, his chest to your back while he places rough kisses to the skin of your shoulder.

You lift your head from the pillow, trying not to make a single sound from his cock digging against your cervix at this angle, and turn to look over your shoulder.

“Just a little bored, that’s all,” you answer, knowing it would rile him up, but that’s exactly what you wanted.

He doesn’t reply. Grabbing a pillow from his side of the bed, he slides it under your hips, pushing your ass down to get you into prone bone with his cock still shoved deep inside of you. Sliding his hands down your side, his rough calloused fingers glide over your skin, sending shivers down your spine from how soft the touch is.

Toji pounds into you once, the angle hitting your sweet spot perfectly, the pressure on your cervix enough to make you cum on the spot. Your clit brushes against the smooth fabric of the pillowcase, your nipples dragging across the sheets, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough for the taste of metallic to flood your mouth.

“This is sooo boring,” he coos, and you can hear the smirk on his face through his words.

He plants his hands on either side of your head, fingers gripping onto the sheets, and soft groans rumbling out from his chest when your walls flutter around his length. You gaze up, finding him looking at your first, his eyes narrowing on your face where a single tear slides down your cheek.

He slams into you again, this time watching your face very closely. Your eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open, breathing ragged and rough around the edges from a suppressed moan and he hums in satisfaction.

“Cause my dick is just so boring, isn’t that right,” he says, voice low and rough, head tilting to the side in question.

When you don’t reply, his picks up his pace, drilling into you from behind. The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up to the brim before pulling out again, but leaving no space inside of you empty for long. Tears stain your cheeks, drool dripping from your chin where it’s managed to leak out past your swollen lip.

“Let me hear you,” he growls, punctuating each word with a punishing thrust, one hand coming up to grip your hair so you can’t bury your face into the pillow.

His hold on your hair is painfully tight, and the second his cock brushes past your sweet spot all your pent-up sounds come flooding out.

“It’s too m-much Ji,” you whine, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other pushing against his lower abdomen in a silent beg for him to let up on your poor pussy.

“I thought it was boring,” he says, groaning softly when you push your ass back against him, meeting his every thrust.

“Too c-close,” you whimper, your clit dragging across the pillow, his cock stuffing you overwhelmingly full, your nipples pointed and so sensitive against the bed.

He smirks, pushing himself up and wrapping one hand around your neck. Hair tangled in his fingers, airway cut off just enough to make it pleasurable, he pounds into you over and over again. The force of his thrusts knocks the breath out of your lungs, your whimpers and whines coming out as gasps with his name laced into them.

“Go ahead then, cum on my boring dick.”

Your hips rock against the pillow, desperately trying to find the friction your swollen, aching clit needs so badly while pushing your ass back to let Toji sink himself deeper in your pussy. He groans out, the sound vibrating through your body, his fingers feel electric on your skin.

“Cum, or I’ll stop,” he says through grit teeth, his fingers on your neck tightening from each thrust he gives.

His rough voice sounds like music to your ears, landing deep in the pool of heat in your lower belly, pushing you over the edge.

Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out on his length, your walls pulsing and fluttering with each slam of his hips against yours while he draws out your high for as long as possible. Your clit throbs with overstimulation, your body weak and tired, incoherent words mixing with the moans pouring from your mouth repeatedly.

“That’s i-it,” he stutters, pace faltering the closer he reaches his own climax.

“In me, p-please Ji,” you beg, nails digging into the skin of his abdomen, the fat of your ass bouncing against his skin with each aggressive thrust.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up, make you all mine, let everyone see you big and round because of me,” he asks, groaning from the thought, only fucking you deeper to make sure his seed takes.

“Y-yes, please,” you whine, squirming your hips in overstimulation and need all at the same time.

With a few more thrusts he buries himself to the hilt, a guttural groan ripping through his chest, echoing off the walls of the bedroom. The bed creaks and shakes, the headboard slamming against the wall again and again, his grip punishing against your skin and lights sparks on your every nerve.

“F-fuck, gonna c-cum so deep in y-you,” he grunts out.

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, his cock twitching deep inside of you while spurt after spurt fills you. It leaks out when there’s no more room left, dripping onto the sheets below, mixing with your own cum. He pumps into you slower now, grip not letting up, trying to stuff his release as deep as he can.

“Take it a-all," he growls, his pace only picking up speed, the sound of his cum squelching in and out of your pussy enough to keep him hard for many more rounds.

Ryomen Sukuna

In your drunken state, you decided that Sukuna was crazy for wanting to leave when you were clearly having such a good time at the bar. He asked you nicely multiple times, trying to convince you that it was past time to leave, but when you turned bratty and argumentative, he had enough.

He grabs your wrist and drags you out of the bar without looking back once. You spew nonsense at him while walking to his car, spewing even more when he unlocks it and opens the back door to push you inside, and you don’t stop even when he hikes your skirt up and pulls your panties to the side.

“Sukuna, why won’t you listen to me,” you pout, hands pressed against the leather seats, ass up in the air while your head is turned over your shoulder to watch him.

He says nothing, unbuckling his belt, sliding his pants and boxers down, and stroking his cock a few times before lining himself up at your entrance.

If he doesn’t want to hear it from you, then you refuse to make a single sound when he shoves his cock into your pussy.

He bottoms out, nudging against your cervix, rubbing against your sweet spot with a low groan. His hand slides down your back, right against your spine and he pushes down hard to arch you just the way he likes. Moving one hand to the back of your head, he keeps you still while his other hand grips at the fat of your ass. He pulls your cheeks apart, looking at the way your slick pours out around him, at the way your pussy swallows him whole with no complaints.

You bite back a moan when your nipples peak against the fabric of your shirt dragging along the warm seats, his balls pressed tight against your clit, his cock buried so deep inside you it feels as if he could split you in two. No matter how much you want to cry out for him, you don’t, and you don’t show any signs of enjoyment whatsoever out of spite.

The fact that you didn’t moan with him doesn’t register yet, in fact, he doesn’t realize you’re not making any sound until he begins to thrust, and the familiar sounds of pleasure don’t ring out. He tilts his head to the side in question but says nothing, deciding that you must want him to fuck you harder.

His hips snap against yours, quick and sharp, relentless and punishing all at once while rough groans rumble out from his chest. Balls slapping against your swollen, aching clit, bottom lip sucked into your mouth to prevent a slip in whimpers, your eyes shut tight, trying to focus on this fun punishment.

Your silence eggs him on, encouraging him to do whatever it takes for you to crack. He lifts one leg up, tilting your hips to give him the perfect angle, moving both hands to your hips to get in position.

With a single thrust your entire composure slips. A choked moan rips from your throat as he hits your sweet spot and cervix in one go, slamming himself inside of you hard enough to shake the entire car. You cry out, tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasurable pain running through you while he immediately thrusts out to soothe the ache.

“K-Kuna! Too m-much... i-it’s too much,” you whine, trying to run from him, but he pulls you back on his cock before you can go too far.

“There’s my bratty girl. Took you long enough,” he coos, the smirk on his face present in his tone.

He drills into you, over and over again, not letting up for a single second. His hand comes down fast, striking against your ass, the soft skin rippling and burning from the touch. Watching a handprint form, he rubs his fingers over the sensitive area, turning the pain into pleasure before slapping your ass again.

“Fucking dirty slut, thought you could get away with this and being bratty,” he asks, fucking into you deeper, harder, relishing the way your breathing comes in short gasps, and you whimper every time his balls hit your clit.

Your mouth hangs open slightly, drool dripping from your chin, eyes shut tight while incoherent words mix with your sounds of pleasure. Your head is too dazed to find the right words to answer his question.

“S-so close K-Kuna, please,” you beg, pushing your ass back onto him, meeting him for every thrust the closer you get to your climax.

His thrusts slow immediately, your orgasm fading away as quickly as it crept up, and you cry out, tears staining your cheeks in frustration.

“Kunaaa,” you whine, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, but his hands grip your hips incredibly tight to keep you still.

“You didn’t answer my question, so why should I let you cum?”

“I’m s-sorry, please let me c-cum,” you plead, your words coming out as a choked sob.

He groans, low and rough around the edges, thrusting unintentionally hard into you. Listening to your begs, his cock leaks precum while nestled against your cervix, and he pulls his cock all the way out before sliding it back into your warm and wet walls.

“Crying for my dick, how disgusting,” he says, barely above a whisper, his cock twitching inside of you from the sound alone.

He leans down, burying his cock impossibly deep, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. Watching the tears run down your face, he thrusts against, the pace picking up exactly where he left off.

The second your mouth opens he slots two fingers in, and you waste no time before sucking on them. You gaze up at him, eyes red with tears, cheeks stained, drool leaking out around him, and he’s so close to spilling inside of you that he’s begging you to cum.

“Cum on my dick then. Be a good girl, yeah?”

You nod your head frantically, pushing yourself back on his dick, fucking yourself over and over again. His balls slap against your clit, goosebumps lining your skin, your nipples dragging across the seat, all of it stimulates you more than enough to have you cumming instantly.

You hum around his fingers as cum gushes from your entrance, your movements turning sloppy, your sucking ceasing the more you get lost in your orgasm. He groans from the sight: his girl so drunk on his cock after fucking herself until she's shaking with pleasure.

The thought alone has him cumming alongside you with a guttural groan ripping out from his chest.

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, mixing with your own release as your pulsing, clenching walls milk him dry. His hips slow, fucking into you almost as if it’s an apology, drawing out the shared high for as long as possible until your body is trembling and twitching underneath him.

You slump against the seats, heavy breathing, heart pounding out of your chest, mumbling words that make no sense.

“When we get home can we fuck again, Kuna?”

He laughs softly, running one hand down the length of your back, caressing your skin with calloused fingers in contrast to that way he just fucked you.

“Of course, baby.”

Choso Kamo

You thought it would be funny to joke around with Choso, to pretend like the sex wasn’t good enough to have you moaning, but you immediately regretted it.

You’re fully seated on his lap, cock buried to the hilt, in reverse cowgirl while he is laying back against the plush pillows. Slowly, you slide up his length, and drop back down, biting your bottom lip to muffle the moans begging to fall free while your fingers grip onto the sheets in between his legs. His hands grip onto your hips, not guiding, but following you wherever you go.

“Feels so g-good,” he whines out, throwing his head back in pleasure, unable to contain himself when it comes to you.

Whimpers fall from him, from the way your walls grip his length, the way they flutter with every sound falling from him, the way he can see your pussy sucking him in every single time you pull up. He doesn’t miss the fact that you’re not moaning, actually, when you sit back down, he keeps you there, holding you steady in his lap.

“Baby...?”

“Yeah Cho,” you answer, looking over your shoulder just to find his face etched in worry.

“Am I... doing something wrong? Does it not feel good enough for you? Do you want to stop?”

The sight breaks your heart, and you feel so guilty for even thinking about pulling this joke on him. You know his mind is running a mile a minute. You slide his cock out of you, a soft whimper falling from him when your warm walls graze over his sensitive tip, and you straddle his lap, facing him instead.

“Like this instead,” he asks, already bending his knees to plant both feet on the bed, giving him a better advantage to thrust into you while placing both hands on your hips again.

“No Cho, I was just-”

You’re cut off by an obscene moan falling from your lips when his hips roll into yours, his cock bottoming out against your cervix, twitching against your sweet spot relentlessly from the sounds of your honey sweet pleasure.

“Is this better?”

He slides one hand down from your waist to your ass, his other sliding up the length of your back, splaying over the back of your head before pushing your body against his. Your nipples peak against his skin, your arms wrap around his neck, burying your face in the crook between his shoulder where your breath ghosts over his skin.

“So g-good,” you whine, pressing kiss after kiss to his neck, wet and open mouthed, your tongue tasting the sweet and salty mix of him.

He thrusts a little harder, determined to make you feel good, to redeem himself after thinking he was failing to. His fingers dig into the plush skin of your ass, the others tangling into your hair as his cock slides in and out of your sopping wet pussy.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up to the brim and pulling back out over and over again. He never leaves you empty for too long, and it leaves you whining and moaning against his skin.

“You feel so good around me. So tight and warm,” he praises, thrusting into you at a steady pace, making sure to hit your sweet spot each and every time.

His body burns against yours and your chest rests against his, nipples dragging across his rough skin, lips lingering on every inch of space you could find. Along his jaw, down his neck, his shoulder where your teeth graze and goosebumps are left in your wake.

The hand on your head moves to reach in between the two of you, wasting no time in finding your clit and drawing tight, slow circles onto the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body trembles against his, legs weak with pleasure, hips grinding against him to meet his every thrust.

“Cho, b-baby, I’m so c-close,” you stutter, movements becoming more frantic, need coursing through your body faster than you can manage.

“I know, I know s-sweet girl. I’ll make you feel g-good,” he assures, thrusting faster, harder, deeper inside of your pussy.

Precum leaks out of his tip, slick drips down his length, the slick sounds of sex mixing with skin slapping together fill the expanse of the room.

Your eyes roll back the closer you get to your climax, his pace steadily increasing, your mouth hanging open while moans pour out of you. Drool drips from your chin, your breath comes in short gasps, your body becomes rigid, your muscles drawing taut the more his cock digs into you.

“F-fuck, I’m c-cumming,” you manage to get out before you vision goes hazy with pleasure.

Your teeth sink into his skin, overwhelmed by the feelings rushing through you, and he groans from the pleasurable pain. Cum gushes from your entrance, dripping down his skin and pooling onto the sheets while your pussy pulses and clenches around his cock.

He guides you through it, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, softening his thrusts and circles on your clit to draw out your high as long as possible before letting himself feel the same release.

“Always so g-good to me,” he whispers, his hips stuttering, pace faltering the closer he gets to his sweet climax.

With a few more thrusts he buries himself to the hilt, whimpering ‘thank you’s’ and your name over and over again as if you are his mantra. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your entrance, coating your walls, leaking out when there’s no more room for him left inside of you, and only then does his thrusts cease.

His hands slide down your spine, caressing your skin as he places kiss after kiss to your body, worshipping you for all that you are. You lick over the deep bite mark, silently apologizing, but you don’t miss the marks already there that have been fading for the last few nights.

“It was only a joke Cho,” you say breathlessly, resting your head on his chest, catching your breath from your intense orgasm.

“A joke?”

“I was purposefully not making any sound to see how you would react. I’m sorry baby,” you whisper, placing a feather light kiss to his lips, pulling back to gaze at him.

“I didn’t like that joke,” he pouts, kissing you again, deeper this time but soft, nonetheless.

“Promise I won’t do it again.”

│Masterlist│

Taglist: @1cckedheart, @blacgyal, @itskekeelise, @x2yuno, @cateleya-21, @gojosarmpithair, @mrskamikazekaito, @bl-nk-bla-k, @tojisgothiccbaby

[paperellina]

18+ your older boyfriend tojis first time eating you out from the back...♡ (toji x chubby!reader)

you didnt expect it to feel like this.

your legs felt unsteady as you rose from the floor, the carpet rough against your knees before you were upright. toji didnt give you a moment to find your balance. his hands, rough and scarred, gripped your waist, spinning you around with a force that made your head spin, and suddenly you were facing the worn leather couch.

"bend over," he grunted, the command low against your back.

your heart hammered against your ribs, the rythm matching the throbbing between your thighs. you hesitated, clutching the hem of your t shirt, but toji didnt have patience for tou to hesitate.

he pressed a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you forward until your stomach hit the leather armrest. the couch dipped a little under your weight, the smell of old smoke and musk filling your nose.

"ass up," he ordered, kicking your feet apart with his boot.

you gasped, stumbling slightly but catching yourself on the cushion. the position left you completely exposed, the cool air in the hotel room brushing against your wet heat.

you felt vulnerable, your chubby thighs trembling as you tried to hold the pose. you shift nervously because you knew what you looked like from this angle, soft and overflowing, nothing like the hardened man standing behind you.

"look at that," toji muttered, his voice thick with appreciation. "all this soft ass."

his large palms cupped your cheeks, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. he handled you like he owned you, his fingers digging into the generous flesh. you felt the rough callouses on his skin catching against your sensitive thighs, sending shivers racing up your spine.

"..please." you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

toji just hushed you, kneeling behind you.

"gonna take care of this."

the first touch of his tongue against you was already too much. he flattened his tongue against your clit and licked a broad, wet stripe up to your dripping entrance. your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, a broken moan tearing from your throat.

you moaned, burying your face in the leather cushion to muffle the sound.

toji didnt like that, he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your head back sharply.

he dove back in, his face burying itself between your legs. this was a man starving, toji ate you out, his mouth hot and demanding. he sucked your folds into his mouth, his tongue probing inside you, tasting every inch of your arousal.

the noises were obscene, all wet, squelching sounds filled the room, echoing off the cheap wallpaper. toji was groaning into your flesh, low vibrations that traveled straight through your clit. he sounded like he was enjoying a meal, grunting and humming as he devoured you.

"tastes so fuckin' good," he mumbled, his words muffled against your mound. "sweet little pussy."

your mind was almost blank. his nose rubbed against your cheek as he tilted his head to suck on your clit, a sensation that made you gasp and clench around nothing. he didnt seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to love it, pressing his face deeper, smothering himself in your softness.

toji panted, coming up for air for a split second before diving back in. "drippin all over me, huh."

his hands held you open, his thumbs spreading your labia wide so he could fuck you with his tongue. hed not shaved in a bit, so you could feel the faint stubbme on his chin scratching your skin, a delicious friction that only heightened the intensity. he was relentless, lashing at your clit with rapid flicks of his tongue before sucking it hard into his mouth.

you were trembling uncontrollably now, your fingers gripping the chair until your knuckles turned white. the pressure was building, a tight coil in your stomach that just grew tighter with every pass of his tongue.

"too much...," you cried out, your voice breaking.

"aint too much," he rasped, his breath hot against your wet flesh.

he doubled down, his movements becoming more aggressive.

he was slurping loudly, unconcerned with how messy he was making it. spit and arousal dripped down your thighs, coating his face, and you could feel it running, sticky and warm.

"gonna make a mess of this pussy," he grunted, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh.

you cried out, your hips bucking back against his face instinctively. toji chuckled, the sound vibrating through you. he liked your neediness, he liked how desperate you were for his mouth.

"grind on it," he says. "use my face."

you were embarrassed, your face burning hot, but you couldnt deny him.

you moved your hips, rocking back against his tongue. the friction was incredible, his chin rough against your sensitive skin while his tongue fucked into you. you were riding his face, lost in the sheer filthiness of the act.

toji groaned loudly, encouraging you. "yeah. just like that. fuckin' suffocate me with it."

he reached up, one hand sliding around to grip your belly, pulling you back harder against his mouth. the possessiveness of the gesture made your head spin. the contrast between his hard, muscular body and your soft, plush figure was there, and it seemed to drive him wild.

your breath hitched, your toes curling in the carpet.

"...close," you managed to gasp out.

toji didnt slow down. If anything, he got nastier. he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue fluttering rapidly against the bundle of nerves. at the same time, he slipped his thumb inside you, curling it upward to find that spot that made you see stars.

"come on," he growled, the vibrations against your clit pushing you to the brink. "give it to me. soak my face."

your body seized up, your back arching as the orgasm ripped through you. you moaned his name, your vision whitening out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. you could hear yourself making sounds you didnt know you were capable of, high and completely unfiltered.

toji didnt stop.

he drank you down, his tongue lapping up your release as it flooded out of you. he grunted in satisfaction, his grip on your hips bruising as he held you in place while you rode out the aftershocks.

finally, when you slumped forward against the couch, unable to hold yourself up any longer, he pulled back. you felt cold instantly, missing the heat of his mouth.

he pressed one last kiss to your clit, settling back with a low huff of laughter, your body still slumped against the couch.

"shoulda' done that earlier."

taglist: @@jjakeysheart @rkivesvs7 @c6choso @shea354 @kiwicherry04 @choco-chipp @tojibunnyy @tojisgdgirl @xoxocherrybabyy @dearwyn @pigtaileddolliee @tojiful @heartcandyslxt @lisabelhyhn @chaeisrichnow @chewiebee @tojisfiancee @retiredpanda @bbvvvy @princesplatano @jaehyunsleftnut @lightandfuryauthor @fysalia @alinacoke @ssrist @bl1ndv3lvet @lisa200976 @vheartsfushi @amarislovesmcdonalds @1ana22 @cherrieslovess @arcanehellokittyforlife69 @lov-3-x @str4wb3rrylife @whoiskaykay @sugurusbun @tojioppshotta @yumyumyu @yvesapple4 @733164 @peonysecret @pr1ncessthug @magicalpeenpoo @unknownowlbokutoswifeyy @eepynataly @bowiesprettieststar2 @bagleaf @lacedwithsarcasm @wholemeltt @ipoopedmypants47

© 2026 paperellina - all rights reserved. do not plagiarise, translate, or feed into any form of ai.

[paxyfica]

the day Sukuna realized he needs to marry you.

Ryomen Sukuna was having the kind of day that made him want to commit a felony.

Work had been an absolute, unmitigated disaster. His clients were being brain-dead idiots, his emails had been piling up since 6:00 AM, and his boss had the audacity to drop a massive, last-minute project on his desk right as he was packing up to leave. By the time he finally unlocked the front door to your shared apartment, his jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached. He was exhausted, he was pissed off, and he was fully prepared to pour himself a massive glass of whiskey and not speak to a single soul for the rest of the night.

He pushed the door open, dropping his keys into the bowl by the entrance with a loud, aggressive clatter. He shrugged off his suit jacket, loosening his tie with a harsh yank.

“I’m home,” he called out, his voice a low, gravelly grumble.

He expected you to be in the kitchen, or maybe curled up on the couch watching some trashy reality TV show. He expected you to ask him how his day was, which would inevitably lead to him ranting for twenty minutes straight.

Instead, there was silence.

Sukuna frowned, his bad mood spiking just a fraction. He walked down the hallway and stepped into the living room.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, hunched over the coffee table. The entire surface was completely covered in hundreds of microscopic, brightly colored plastic bricks. You were wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, your hair tied up in a messy bun that was slowly falling apart.

But the best part? The absolute most ridiculous, endearing part?

You were squinting so hard your nose was scrunched up, and the very tip of your tongue was poking out of the corner of your mouth in pure, unadulterated concentration. Your fingers, which were currently trying to snap a tiny, translucent green piece onto a microscopic brown cylinder, were trembling slightly from the effort.

You hadn’t even heard him come in. You were entirely, completely consumed by your task.

Sukuna stood there in the doorway, his suit jacket dangling from his fingers. He didn’t say a word. He just watched you.

You were a serial hobbyist. Every month, it was something new. Knitting, painting by numbers, making weird little clay frogs that currently haunted his nightstand. He usually just rolled his eyes, funded your little hyper-fixations, and let you do your thing.

But this? This tiny, intricate Lego flower shop you had apparently bought today? It had you in a chokehold.

Snap.

The tiny green piece finally clicked into place.

You let out a massive, dramatic gasp of victory, throwing your hands up in the air like you had just won the Super Bowl. “Yes! Take that, you stupid little plastic bitch!”

Sukuna let out a sudden, loud snort.

You jumped, spinning around so fast you nearly knocked over a pile of pink bricks. When you saw him standing there, your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. The sheer, radiant joy on your face was blinding.

“Babe!” you squealed, scrambling up onto your knees. You carefully scooped up the tiny, completed structure in your hands and held it out toward him like it was the Holy Grail. “Baby, look! Look what I did!”

Sukuna slowly walked over, dropping his jacket onto the sofa. He looked down at your hands.

It was a tiny, incredibly detailed Lego flower shop. And sitting right in front of it was a single, slightly lopsided plastic rose that you had clearly customized.

“I made you this one,” you beamed, your chest puffing out with pride. You were practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s for your desk at work! Because you said your office is depressing! Do you like it?!”

Sukuna stared at the tiny plastic flower. Then, he looked at you.

You had a faint smudge of left over dinner on your cheek. Your oversized shirt was slipping off one shoulder. You were looking up at him with such pure, unfiltered adoration and excitement over a piece of plastic that it actually knocked the breath out of his lungs.

And just like that, it happened.

The stress of the last fourteen hours? Gone. The anger at his clients? Evaporated. The tension in his shoulders, the pounding headache behind his eyes, the overwhelming urge to burn his office building to the ground? It all just melted away, completely washed out by the sheer force of your ridiculous, beaming smile.

He didn’t just love you. That wasn’t a strong enough word anymore.

He looked at you, sitting on the floor surrounded by plastic bricks, offering him a fake flower to make his bad day better, and a single, crystal-clear thought rang through his head like a bell.

I need to marry this girl.

Not ‘I want to.’ Not ‘someday.’ Need. He needed to marry your crazy ass. He needed to lock this down permanently, because if he had to go through the rest of his miserable, stressful life without coming home to you poking your tongue out over a Lego set, he was going to lose his fucking mind.

“Sukuna?” you blinked, your smile faltering just a little when he didn’t immediately respond. You lowered your hands slightly. “Do you… not like it? I know it’s kind of dumb, but—”

“Shut up,” he breathed, his voice thick.

Before you could even process the command, he dropped to his knees right in front of you, completely ignoring the fact that he was crushing at least ten Lego pieces under his expensive suit pants.

He reached out, his large hands gently cupping your face. He didn’t even look at the flower shop. His red eyes were locked entirely on yours, burning with an intensity that made your heart stutter in your chest.

“Babe?” you whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. “Are you okay? Was work bad?”

“Work was a fucking nightmare,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “But I don’t care anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. He let out a long, shaky exhale, the last of his stress leaving his body. “I love it, baby. It’s perfect. I’m putting it right in the middle of my desk.”

Your smile instantly returned, brighter than before. “Really?!”

“Really,” he chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against your skin. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, desperate kiss. It wasn’t heated or rough; it was incredibly soft, filled with a kind of overwhelming reverence that made your toes curl.

When he finally pulled back, he kept his face inches from yours. He looked down at your lips, then back up to your eyes.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he said.

It wasn’t a proposal. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of absolute, undeniable fact. He said it casually, like he was commenting on the weather, but the weight behind his words was heavy enough to anchor a ship.

Your brain short-circuited. You sat there, frozen, the tiny Lego flower shop still clutched in your hands. “What?”

“You heard me,” he smirked, his usual arrogant confidence bleeding back into his tone. He leaned in and pressed a loud, wet kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I’m gonna marry your crazy ass. Put a ring on your finger so big you won’t be able to lift your hand to build these stupid little toys.”

“They’re not stupid!” you squawked, your face flushing bright red as his words finally registered. “And you can’t just drop that on me while I’m holding a Lego!”

“I just did,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest, completely ruining your posture. He buried his face in your neck.

You let out a breathless, watery laugh, carefully setting the flower shop down on the table before wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You ran your fingers through his pink hair, feeling the last of the tension bleed out of his muscles.

“Okay,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay, Ryomen.”

“Good,” he mumbled against your skin. He shifted slightly, his knee crunching against a pile of plastic. He winced. “Now, help me up. I think a fucking Lego is embedded in my kneecap.”

“I told you to take your work pants off first!”

“Just kiss me again and shut up.”

[neuriscent]

your boyfriend, gojo satoru, gets hit by a sex curse. +18

the curse hit faster than either of you could react.

one moment gojo was toying with the grade 1 curse like it was nothing, infinity shimmering around him. the next, the curse unfurled a sickly-sweet domain expansion that slipped past his defenses for a split second—just long enough for a wave of raw, molten lust to slam into him.

he staggered, blindfold still on, but you saw the way his shoulders tensed and his breathing hitched. by the time the curse was exorcised, gojo’s cheeks were flushed, his lips parted, and the front of his uniform pants was visibly strained.

“shit,” he muttered, voice already husky. “that one was… different.”

you barely got him back to the safe house before his control started slipping.

the door had barely clicked shut when he shoved you against it, tall body pressing flush against yours. his skin was fever-hot.

“sex curse,” he growled against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. “it’s not lethal, but it’s burning me alive. i need— fuck, i need to fuck. hard. repeatedly. you gonna help me out, sweetheart, or do i have to beg?”

his usual playful arrogance was fraying at the edges, replaced by something darker and starving.

you answered by pulling him down into a kiss.

gojo groaned into your mouth like a man dying of thirst. his tongue pushed past your lips instantly, deep and filthy, while his hands roamed greedily—squeezing your ass, sliding under your shirt to palm your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened.

he ripped your shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor. his own jacket and shirt followed in a frantic heap. the sight of him—pale skin glistening with sweat, abs tight, that perfect v-line disappearing into his dangerously low pants—made your mouth water.

gojo didn’t waste time. he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carried you to the bedroom while grinding his massive, aching cock against your core through your clothes.

the second your back hit the mattress he was on you.

he yanked your pants and underwear down in one rough tug, then shoved two long fingers inside you without warning. you gasped at the sudden stretch.

“already so wet for me,” he rasped, scissoring his fingers while his thumb circled your clit. “good girl. this pussy’s gonna take everything i give it tonight.”

you moaned as he curled his fingers against that spongy spot inside you, pumping them fast until your thighs trembled. he watched your face the entire time, blue eyes glowing brighter than usual behind the blindfold he finally tore off.

when you came on his fingers he didn’t even let you recover. he freed his cock—thick, veined, and flushed an angry red from the curse’s effects—and pushed inside you in one brutal thrust.

“fuuuck—” gojo’s head fell back, silver hair sticking to his forehead. “so fucking tight. squeezing me like you were made for this.”

he set a punishing pace immediately, hips snapping forward hard enough to make the bed slam against the wall. every thrust was deep, bottoming out and grinding against your cervix before pulling back and driving in again. the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping skin filled the room.

“harder, satoru—” you begged, nails raking down his back.

he laughed, low and broken. “yeah? you want it harder?” he hooked your legs over his shoulders and folded you in half, pounding you so deep you saw stars. “like this? gonna ruin this pretty little cunt for anyone else.”

you came again, clenching around him so tightly he cursed and followed right after, flooding you with the first thick load of the night. but he didn’t soften. the curse kept him rock hard.

he pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up.

“again,” he demanded, slamming back in from behind. this angle made him feel even bigger. one hand fisted your hair, the other reached around to rub your swollen clit. “don’t tap out on me now, baby. i’m nowhere near done.”

he fucked you through your third orgasm, then fourth, switching positions like he couldn’t decide how he wanted to take you next. missionary so he could watch your face, then you on top so he could watch your tits bounce while he thrust up into you, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks.

at one point he pulled you to the edge of the bed, dropped to his knees, and buried his face between your thighs. his tongue was relentless—lapping at your mixed cum, sucking on your clit, fucking into you with long strokes while two fingers curled inside you.

“you taste so fucking good with my cum dripping out of you,” he groaned against your pussy. “keep making those pretty sounds for me.”

you came on his tongue twice before he stood up, spun you around, and bent you over the bed again. this time he pressed a thumb against your other hole while he fucked you, teasing but not pushing in.

hours blurred together.

by the fourth round you were a trembling, overstimulated mess—covered in bite marks, hickeys, and his cum. gojo’s thrusts had grown sloppy but no less deep. sweat dripped from his body onto yours as he chased yet another release.

“gonna fill you up one more time,” he panted against your ear, voice wrecked. “gonna pump you so full it leaks out for days. tell me you want it.”

“i want it— satoru, please— cum inside me again—”

he buried himself to the hilt and came with a long, guttural moan, hips jerking as he emptied everything he had left. only then did the unnatural heat in his body finally begin to fade.

he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his chest. his arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand gently stroking your hair while the other rubbed soothing circles on your lower back.

for a long moment the only sound was both of you trying to catch your breath.

“…you okay?” he asked softly, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your sweaty temple. the cocky smirk was creeping back, but his voice was gentle. “didn’t break you, did i?”

you let out a breathless laugh and weakly smacked his chest. “i’m gonna feel you for a week, you animal.”

gojo chuckled, low and warm, nuzzling into your neck. “good. means you’ll remember exactly who fucked you senseless.” he kissed the bite mark he’d left on your shoulder. “though… i might need a few more rounds tomorrow just to make sure the curse is really gone. doctor’s orders.”

you rolled your eyes, but you were already curling closer into his warmth.

“shut up and hold me, six eyes.”

he did exactly that—holding you like you were something precious while his fingers traced lazy patterns over your skin. the curse was gone, but the night was far from over.

a/n: another one i didn't bother proofreading 🤦‍♀️ i'll do better when i have time!

[sadisticslut666]

Zuko knows how to eat pussy

cw: explicit, squirting, riding Zuko’s face.

“Zuko—fuck—” you gasp, grabbing the headboard for balance as his tongue immediately drags a thick, wet stripe through your folds. He’s so fucking pussy drunk, eyes fluttering shut as his nose presses right against your clit while his tongue pushes inside you, fucking in and out in messy strokes.

You look down between your legs and the sight nearly ruins you—Zuko’s face shiny with your slick, cheeks flushed dark, hair a complete wreck from how hard you’re gripping it. His golden eyes crack open just enough to lock onto yours and he moans louder when he catches you staring.

“Ride my face,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to speak before diving right back in, tongue flattening to lap broad strokes through your folds. “C’mon, princess—use me. Ride me.”

Your hips start rolling on their own, grinding down against his tongue as he sucks and licks. “Zuko—right there—fuck—” You whine as you start riding him harder, smothering him with your soaked pussy.

His hands slide up to grip your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you down even tighter against his mouth. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he mumbles right against your clit, the words vibrating through you. He sucks the swollen bud between his lips, flicking his tongue fast and sloppy while you rock against his face. “Taste so fucking good… keep going, just like that.”

You’re practically bouncing on his tongue now, hips rolling in sloppy circles while he laps at you. You’re riding his face with zero shame now, “Zuko—I’m—fuck, I’m close—” you whimper, one hand fisting tighter in his hair while the other braces against the headboard.

Your juices are everywhere, coating his cheeks, his tongue, while his hands spread your ass wider, one thick finger teasing your tight little hole. Your thighs clamp around his head as you grind down one last time, gushing all over his tongue and chin.

“Fuck, princess,” he rasps when you finally slump forward, giving your slit one last soft kiss. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand but it doesn’t do much. “C’mere I wanna watch you ride my cock.”

You stare down at him, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. Your fingers are still tangled in his messy hair before lowering yourself onto his hard thick girth and begin to bounce.

There was one thing you did want to know though…and that was, “So Zuko, where’d you learn how to eat pussy like that?”

Yeah, there was no way he was gonna be able to talk himself outta this one.

a/n: I don’t have any explanation for my ferality

[eclipsiee]

choso being clingy..like really clingy .ᐟ.ᐟ

You’ve had a huuuge problem from the moment you woke up, it was choso your clingy boyfriend. His strong build rests atop of you as he snores into your neck. His warm breath behind your ear, about twenty minutes ago he mumbled a bunch of nonsense as you tried to get up from bed.

The only thing you caught was ‘stay here with me, five more minutes’ and though choso is a man of his word, it’s past twenty minutes.

“Cho,” you say attempting to lift his sleeping body from on top of you, “choooo” you drag out. “hmm, baby I want to stay here.” he murmurs. “on top of you.” he presses lots of kisses to your neck. “can you move your girls day to another date?”

You huff, “I canceled on them ONCE and now you want it to become a frequent thing—no, choo I’ve gotta get ready” he lifts his head from your neck, sleepy eyes locked onto your pleading ones. “you’re so perfect..” he murmurs.

“Can I atleast help you get ready? please?”

“I have to shower first.”

“Can I shower with you, baby?” he leans down and kisses your lips. You snort, “fine..but only shower that’s it.”

“What kind of a guy do you take me for hm?”

“A perv.”

You two make it into the shower, and fuck, Choso was just not listening today. He held you by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he relentlessly pounds into your soaked pussy. “f-fuck baby you feel so good.” You whine, your hot breath on his neck. “Ch-choso you’re such an asshole.”

“I told you we should only sho-“ and before you could finish your train of thought his pace picks up, leaving no mercy for you. “y/n, can I see your face?” The hot water trickles down your back as you sit up making immense eye contact with him. “what?” he smiles.

“There’s my pretty girl, we’re almost done I’ll wash you up after.”

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯

You tried on many different outfits but you just couldn’t find anything. “Choooo” you drag out, he immediately comes running you can hear him trip on his way. “Yes?” You snort, “I can’t find anything to wear.” You pout.

“And that’s what I’m here for.” He takes a seat on the chair by your vanity. “Cmon baby give me a fashion show.” He grabs some chips that were disregarded on a night stand. “My game could wait.”

The first few outfits already had him foaming at the mouth, “Fuck, baby I don’t want you to leave.” His fists are clenched, trying to restrain himself. You smile to yourself, “no can do.”

The moment you walked out in the fourth outfit, he moved immediately. Standing over you and gripping you by the waist. “Can I suck your pussy? I want to—“ he goes on his knees, unbuttoning the low rise shorts as you yelp. “Cho we just showered.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care, I want to taste you, your sweetness baby.”

You let out a sigh, as he pulls your panties aside. “Wanna sit on my face?” You knew you weren’t gonna be able to leave the house at all today. “fuck you cho,” you murmur as you lower your body onto his tongue.

jeez choso let your girl go out !! anyways what do you guys wanna see? Leave requests!! Luv you - Dea

[yourfavtangerine]

Your ring

Pairing: chaebol!soobin x chaebol!reader

Arranged marriage, friends to lovers, fluff, smut

As a chaebol, you always knew you wouldn't choose your husband. It would always be your parents' choice, not yours. A buisness marriage. Since your 6th birthday, you've been promised to Soobin, the heir of the Choi family. Over the years you became friends. But can't there be more than just friendship ?

Wc: ~12.3k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, Chaebol family dynamics and high society pressure, parental pressure and family conflict, emotional vulnerability, possessiveness, protectiveness, mild sexism/objectification (not from Soobin), power imbalance themes (family + societal, not between Soobin and reader), smut, making out, p in v, protected sex, oral f receiving, fingering, handjob.

You’ve known Choi Soobin your whole life. That’s not an exaggeration. Not in the "we went to the same school" way or the "our parents were friends so we saw each other sometimes" way. No, you’ve literally grown up with him, stitched into his days like a second shadow. The first birthday you actually remember, the one with the giant cake shaped like a castle, he was right there, wearing a crooked paper crown and making you laugh so hard you spat juice all over your expensive dress. When you went to Jeju for summer vacation as kids, you spent hours together on the beach, digging useless holes in the sand while your parents sat under parasols and talked business.

You can’t think of a single version of your childhood that doesn’t have him in it. That’s what it means to be born into families like yours: chaebol families. Dynasties. Empires disguised as people. Your life is never really your own; it’s an asset, a piece on a chessboard. Everyone knows it, but nobody ever says it out loud. Not at the long dinner tables, not in the marble hallways, not in the black cars with tinted windows.

But you always knew. Because when you were still young enough to think ten years was forever away, your grandmother leaned down and said it so casually, so naturally, like it was the most obvious thing in the world: "One day, you’ll marry Soobin."

Promised. That’s the word she used.

At first it didn’t mean anything. You were six years old and more concerned with whether Soobin would let you win at board games. (He didn’t. But he always slipped you the extra piece of candy when no one was looking, so you forgave him.)

But as you grew older, the promise became less of a whisper and more of a fact. Your families said it at parties with knowing smiles, with champagne flutes raised high. Your teachers at school looked at the two of you and shook their heads fondly. Even your classmates teased you about it, though not cruelly. It was just… obvious. It was the story everyone had already written for you.

And maybe it should’ve felt suffocating. Maybe it should’ve made you want to run away. But it didn’t, because it was Soobin. Tall, gentle, awkward Soobin. The boy who lent you his notes in high school because he knew you hated math. The boy who carried your bag without being asked when you sprained your ankle in PE. The boy who, even when the world expected him to be perfect, would trip over his own feet and laugh at himself before anyone else could.

So when the engagement was finally announced, you weren’t shocked. You didn’t cry in your room, or curse your family, or dream of some secret romance that would sweep you away from all this. You just nodded. Because this wasn’t some stranger. This wasn’t a hostile takeover. This was the same boy who used to sneak you strawberry milk from the corner store, the same boy who let you copy his answers during boring summer tutoring, the same boy who knew you better than anyone else ever could.

You're now 23 and two months ago, you married him.

The wedding was exactly what you’d expect when two conglomerates decide to tie themselves together with silk ribbon. Endless flowers flown in from Europe, tables so tall with champagne glasses they looked like crystal towers, a guest list packed with politicians and CEOs. Your dress was heavy, glittering, the kind of thing little girls dream about until they realize how exhausting it is to actually walk in.

And beside you, through all of it, was Soobin. His hand steady in yours. His eyes darting to yours every time the cameras flashed, a silent check-in: you okay? And every time, you nodded back.

The tabloids loved it. They called it the alliance of the year, the perfect pairing, the future of chaebol dynasties. Your parents smiled wider than you’d ever seen. The stock prices went up.

But under all the noise, all the spectacle, the truth was quiet: you and Soobin were married now.

And surprisingly…it wasn’t bad.

It’s been two months, and the mansion is still absurdly large for two people. The kind of place with three kitchens and a hallway long enough to echo when you walk down it. You used to feel small in it, like the house itself was swallowing you whole. But now there are slippers by the door that aren’t yours. There are mugs in the cabinet that aren't yours.

Sometimes, when you’re walking through the garden, you’ll hear his laugh drift through the open window of his study. And suddenly it feels less empty.

The truth is, you’re not unhappy. You’re not strangers fumbling through awkward silences. You’re not enemies forced to play nice. You’re not even in denial. You just…are. Comfortable. Steady. Friendly.

Because who else in the world would understand this life like he does? Who else would get the endless galas, the suffocating weight of expectation, the way your last name feels more like a brand than your own? He’s the only one who’s ever seen the parts of you that exist outside of all that, the real you, the messy, quiet, human you.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

Your mornings together are strangely domestic. Not in the sitcom way, not in the “we’re cooking pancakes in matching aprons” way. More like: you wake up to sunlight spilling across the bed, and Soobin is already awake, sitting with a book open, his glasses sliding down his nose. He looks up when you stir, and he smiles in that small, sleepy way that makes your chest ache a little.

"Morning" he’ll say, voice low, gentle.

And you’ll groan, roll over, and accuse him of waking up early just to be smug about it. He never denies it, but he always laughs.

Breakfast is a table way too big for two people, lined with dishes no normal person could finish. But it doesn’t feel ridiculous anymore, not when you’re sitting across from him. Sometimes you tease him about looking like a staged magazine spread: Heir to the Choi Empire, photographed in his natural habitat. He always goes along with the joke, tilting his chin and pretending to look aloof until you’re laughing so loudly the maids startle.It’s not love. Not yet. But it’s something.

And at night, when the day’s obligations are finally over, the two of you walk the garden together. You don’t always talk. Sometimes it’s enough just to match your footsteps, to breathe the same air under the glow of the moon.

But when you do talk, it’s easy.

"Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t been promised to each other?" you asked him once.

He thought about it, long and serious, like he always does. And then he said "I don’t wonder about marrying someone else. I wonder if we would’ve found each other anyway."

You’d stared at him, heart aching in your chest.

"I like to think we would have" he added, quiet, almost shy.

And the worst part (the best part) was that you believed him.

The bed is big. Too big.

It was imported, of course. Some custom Italian designer your mother-in-law mentioned with pride as though you’d appreciate the craftsmanship. It could easily fit four people if it wanted to, maybe even six if you tried hard enough. But it’s just the two of you.

You, on one side. Soobin, on the other.

The mattress dips gently under his weight, a subtle reminder that he’s there, close enough that if you rolled over just a little, you could tuck yourself into the space where his warmth lingers. But you don’t. Not really. Because even though you share a bed, you don’t actually touch. Not when you climb under the sheets at night, not when you both shift and turn in your sleep, not even in the hazy, half-awake mornings when it would be so easy to just...reach out.

His body is a steady presence beside you, always within reach, but there’s a line drawn between you, invisible but sharp, and he never crosses it.

You don’t either. At least, not on purpose.

At first, it made sense. You weren’t in love. You weren’t strangers, but you weren’t lovers, either. This wasn’t some passionate whirlwind romance; this was a promise, a duty, a friendship sealed with wedding vows. The world didn’t need to know that when the cameras stopped flashing and the door shut behind you, you and Soobin just quietly agreed to go to bed. Together. Separately.

But then the weeks turned into months. And now, every night, you find yourself lying there, staring at the ceiling, wishing. Wishing for something simple. Not the grand gestures, no sweeping kisses in the rain, no cinematic declarations of love. Just…closeness. His arm draped over your waist. His breath warm against your hair. His fingers tangled with yours under the sheets. Cuddles. That’s all you want.

But every time you shift a little closer, every time you let your hand hover just inches from his, Soobin subtly moves. Not harshly, not with rejection, but with quiet, careful distance. As if to say: we’re friends, remember? And you hate that it stings.

Sometimes you catch yourself wondering if he notices. Like when you’re brushing your teeth side by side in the ensuite bathroom, and you glance at his reflection in the mirror. He looks calm, collected, as though nothing about this arrangement is strange. As though sleeping side by side without ever touching is perfectly normal.

Or when you’re both curled up on opposite ends of the couch, reading, the quiet of the house pressing in around you. You want to scoot closer, lean your head on his shoulder. But you don’t. Because you already know he’ll gently shift away, not enough to be cruel, but enough to remind you of the line.

It’s not rejection. Not exactly. It’s worse. It’s care. The kind of care that says: I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to take advantage. I don’t want to blur something you might regret.

But what if you wouldn’t regret it? The thing is, you can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be. All those years of friendship mean you already know him, the way he likes his coffee, the way he fidgets when he’s nervous, the way his laugh cracks when it’s really genuine. You already know him better than anyone else.

So what would be so wrong about leaning into him at night? What would be so wrong about asking for a little more warmth, a little more closeness?You’re married, for God’s sake. You wear the ring. You share the name. You stand beside him at every gala, every business dinner, every press event. People look at you and see a couple. They don’t see the gap between you in bed. They don’t see the way your fingers ache to reach for his.

They don’t see how much you want.

One night, the yearning gets the better of you. You’re lying on your side, staring at the shadow of him in the dark. His back is turned, broad and solid, his breathing slow, steady. The kind of rhythm that says he’s either asleep or pretending very, very well. Your hand twitches against the sheets. Just a little. Just enough to brush the edge of his side if you dared to reach.

You think about it. God, you think about it. And then you let your hand fall back, curling into yourself instead. Because you know what will happen. If you touch him, he’ll shift away. If you reach for him, he’ll gently set you back. Not cruel, not cold, just firm. Just Soobin. Drawing that same line he’s always drawn: we’re friends. I won’t cross it. I won’t let you cross it either.

And so you stay put. The distance between you becomes heavy, louder than the silence. You stare at the ceiling, heart aching in a way you can’t even explain.

But here’s the thing about yearning: it doesn’t go away just because you ignore it. You start noticing little things. The way his arm sometimes drifts across the middle of the bed when he’s half-asleep. The way his warmth seeps through the sheets and brushes your skin when you both turn at the same time. The way his voice softens when he says goodnight, even if it’s just a whisper in the dark. You want to reach across that invisible line so badly it hurts.

But Soobin doesn’t. He never does. And you wonder, late at night, when your chest feels tight and the silence feels endless, if he doesn’t want to.

The cruelest part is that he’s still Soobin. He’s still the boy who lets you steal the last dumpling at dinner. The boy who always walks on the street side of the sidewalk without thinking. The boy who makes you laugh so hard you forget what you were stressed about. He still cares for you, still looks out for you, still makes the whole weight of your life feel a little lighter just by being in it.

But he won’t touch you. Not the way you want. Not even a little. And maybe it shouldn’t matter. Maybe it’s selfish to want more when you already have so much. But when you’re lying awake in the middle of the night, staring at the shadow of his body just inches away, it feels like the only thing that matters at all.

So the bed remains too big. The line remains uncrossed. And you remain caught in the middle of wanting and waiting, wondering if one day he’ll finally reach across the space between you. Or if you’ll be the one who breaks first.

You’d been through countless dinners like this before. The polished silverware, the endless wine, the hushed but razor-sharp conversations that weren’t really about family at all, but about power. You’d sat through dozens of them with your own parents, smiling until your cheeks ached, nodding at comments you didn’t agree with, answering questions that weren’t questions but commands disguised as polite curiosity.

But somehow, walking into the Choi mansion that evening, the weight on your chest felt heavier than usual.

Maybe it was because it had been two months since the wedding, and tonight wasn’t just you being scrutinized, it was you as Soobin’s wife. The official daughter-in-law. The new extension of the Choi family name.

You smoothed the front of your dress as the butler opened the tall doors, the sound of your heels clicking too loud against the marble floor. Beside you, Soobin’s hand hovered close enough that you could feel the warmth of it, but he didn’t take yours. Not here. Not under his parents’ roof.

"Ready?" he murmured under his breath.

You nodded, though your stomach had been twisting all afternoon.

His parents were already waiting in the grand dining room, seated at the head of the impossibly long table. Crystal chandeliers glittered above. His mother’s jewelry caught the light. His father looked up from the glass of red wine in his hand, sharp-eyed even in his casual indifference.

"Finally" his mother said, her smile tight. "We were beginning to wonder if marriage had made you both tardy."

Soobin bowed slightly, polite, measured. "Traffic" he explained simply, before gesturing for you to take the seat beside him.

You sat, folding your hands neatly in your lap, back straight. You’d been trained for this, in a way. Years of practice had taught you how to smile without showing discomfort, how to look attentive even when you wanted to disappear.

The first few courses passed in silence, the clink of silverware against porcelain the only sound. But of course, it didn’t last.

"So" his father began, swirling his wine "two months already. How are you finding married life?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but Soobin beat you to it. "Comfortable" he said easily, as if that was the only word that mattered.

His father arched a brow. "Comfortable? That’s all?"

Soobin smiled faintly. "It suits us."

His parents exchanged a look, one of those silent, wordless glances that carried entire conversations. You kept your gaze lowered to your plate, pretending not to notice.

And then, as expected, his mother turned the topic where it was always destined to go.

"It’s time you start thinking about the future" she said, her voice smooth, rehearsed. "An heir. Or heirs, preferably. You both are young, healthy, there’s no need to waste time."

The words made your fork freeze mid-air. Heirs. Of course. You’d known it was coming. You’d known it from the moment the engagement was announced, from the way people at galas whispered not about the wedding but about what would come after. Your body, your life, reduced to an expectation.

But even expecting it didn’t stop the sting.

You set your fork down carefully, keeping your expression neutral.

His mother continued, as though she hadn’t just tossed the weight of an entire future onto the table like another dish to be served. "And of course, there’s the matter of your public presence. Charity work, hosting events, managing appearances. You’ve been doing...fine so far." She said the word with a little tilt of her head, a dismissal wrapped in silk. "But the press will be looking for more from you. More polish. More perfection. The wife of Choi Soobin must embody our family’s standard."

Your pulse thudded in your ears. You wanted to sink into the floor, to vanish into the glittering chandelier light above.

Because of course this was how it went. You weren’t a person to them. You were an accessory, a vessel, an extension of their empire. A trophy.

You swallowed hard, trying to will your face into calmness, but your chest ached with something sharp.

And then, for the first time in your life, you heard Soobin’s voice cut through the air, not soft, not hesitant.

"That’s enough."

The table went silent. You turned to him, startled. His gaze wasn’t on you, it was fixed on his parents.

"What did you say?" his father asked, his tone icy.

Soobin didn’t flinch. "I said that’s enough. She’s already doing everything asked of her. More than enough. She’s been dragged into every dinner, every event, every gala. She smiles, she answers your questions, she plays the role. And now you sit here and tell her she isn’t perfect enough?"

His mother’s expression tightened. "Soobin..."

"No" he interrupted, sharper than you’d ever heard him. "No more. We got married because you all decided it was best for the families. Fine. But she’s my wife. She’s not your project. She’s not your accessory. And she’s not here to be lectured like she’s never enough. She already is."

Your breath caught. The chandelier light blurred in your eyes, your throat tightening as you tried to process the words leaving his mouth.

His father’s jaw clenched. "You’re being emotional."

"I’m being honest" Soobin replied calmly, though there was a harshness beneath it. "If you can’t respect her, then you’re not respecting me either."

The silence that followed was deafening. His mother placed her wine glass down with a controlled little click. "We’ll continue this conversation another time."

Soobin stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "No. We won’t."

Then he turned to you, his expression softening instantly, and held out his hand. "Come on. We’re leaving."

You hesitated only for a second before slipping your hand into his. His grip was warm, steady, grounding. Together, you walked out of the glittering dining room, past the butlers and maids frozen in shock, out of the heavy mansion doors.

The car ride back was quiet. Not uncomfortable, just quiet. Your hands were folded in your lap, but you could still feel the ghost of his hand in yours, still feel the way your heart had been thruming in your chest from the moment he spoke up.

You kept replaying it in your head, over and over. The way he’d looked at his parents, unflinching. How he defended you. The way he’d said you're already enough. You hadn’t realized until now how badly you’d needed someone to say it.

By the time you reached your own home, your throat felt tight, heavy with unspoken words. Soobin closed the car door behind you. He turned, eyes immediately searching yours.“

"Hey" he said gently. "You okay?"

You opened your mouth, but the words tangled. "I…I don’t know."

His expression softened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice like he was afraid to scare you off. "You don’t have to listen to them. Not tonight. Not ever, if I can help it."

You blinked fast, your chest aching. "But they’re right. About the expectations. About-"

"No." His voice was firm. He reached out, and for once, he didn’t stop himself. His hands found your shoulders, warm and grounding. "Don’t say that. Don’t let them make you believe that. You’re already perfect."

The words hit you like a tidal wave. Perfect. Not for the cameras, not for the press, not for the family name. Perfect for him.

Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, and you lowered your head, embarrassed. But Soobin tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I mean it" he whispered. "You don’t have to do more. You don’t have to be more. You’re already enough, just as you are."

Your throat closed, your breath catching. And in that moment, standing in the quiet glow of your home, you let yourself believe him.

For the first time in weeks, maybe months, the ache in your chest eased. Because Soobin, your Soobin, your best friend, your husband, wasn’t just drawing lines to protect you. He was standing on your side.

Gala nights always feel the same. The chandelier light blinding, the air heavy with perfume and champagne, the endless murmur of voices that all sound the same: sharp, polished, and calculating. Everyone dresses like royalty, but you know better. These aren’t kings and queens. They’re hunters. Sharks in glittering gowns and tailored tuxedos.

And tonight, you are the newest piece of bait in the water.

"Remember" Soobin murmurs beside you as the car pulls up to the hotel entrance "it’s just a few hours. We smile, we greet, and then we leave."

You nod, clutching your clutch a little too tightly. His hand rests lightly on your back as the chauffeur opens the door, guiding you out into the blinding flash of cameras. For a moment, you want to lean into him, anchor yourself in the quiet steadiness he always carries, but there are too many eyes on you. So you straighten your shoulders, lift your chin, and step into the hall.

The first hour is a blur of introductions. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve bowed politely, how many times you’ve heard the same compliments dressed up in different words. Beautiful couple. Beautiful bride. So radiant. So graceful.

You know they don’t mean you. They mean the idea of you. The package you present standing beside Choi Soobin, the way your gown clings in all the right places, the way your smile looks like it was practiced in the mirror (because it was).

Soobin never strays far. Even when he’s shaking hands with an executive, even when he’s laughing at a politician’s dull joke, his eyes flick toward you. Just a glance, but enough. You can feel the tether between you, invisible but taut, pulling you back to him no matter where you drift.

It should make you feel safe. And it does. Mostly. Until you start noticing the other looks.

The first man is harmless enough, at least on the surface. Mid-fifties, balding, with the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He shakes Soobin’s hand, praises the merger, then lets his gaze slide to you. It lingers. Too long.

You feel the weight of it on your skin, crawling, leaving something dirty behind. You force a polite smile anyway, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. But you see the way his eyes trail over your dress, slow and greedy, before he finally looks away.

The second man doesn’t bother with subtlety. Younger, maybe mid-thirties, handsome in a too-perfect way. He laughs too loud at his own jokes, leans too close when he speaks to you, his gaze shameless as it drags down your figure.

"Soobin" he says, clapping your husband on the back "you really lucked out. Didn’t know you had such good taste."

You stiffen, your cheeks burning, but before you can even react, Soobin’s hand is at your waist. Tight. Firm. The man notices. He smirks, raising his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes flick to you one last time before he slinks away.

Soobin doesn’t say a word. But his hand doesn’t leave your waist.

As the hours drag on, it only gets worse. Everywhere you turn, someone is staring. Some openly, some behind the rim of their champagne flutes. You can feel their eyes tracing you, dissecting you, judging you like you’re not even real. You hate it. You hate how exposed you feel, how powerless. You hate that your smile has to stay fixed, that you can’t call them out, that you can’t do anything but endure it.

But Soobin sees. He always sees. You can tell by the way his jaw tightens when another man’s gaze lingers too long. By the way he positions himself just slightly in front of you, his broad frame blocking their view. By the way his arm finds its way around your shoulders, around your waist, pulling you into his side like he’s daring anyone else to look.

It’s subtle, almost invisible to anyone else. But you feel it. The possessiveness.The protectiveness. The unspoken promise: She’s mine. Don’t even think about hurting her. And God, it makes your chest ache.

At one point, while he’s momentarily pulled aside by a board member, you find yourself cornered by another man. Older. Wealthier. The kind of person who thinks his power allows him to do anything.

"You really are stunning" he says, his voice low, slimy. "Soobin’s a lucky man. Though, I suppose…luck has nothing to do with it, hm? Arrangements like yours are always…strategic."

The implication burns. You open your mouth, ready to respond, when a shadow falls over you. Soobin. His hand slips into yours, threading your fingers together firmly, unmistakably.

"Excuse us" he says, his voice smooth but edged with steel. "We have somewhere to be."

He doesn’t wait for a response. Just pulls you away, his grip protective, his stride long and determined. Only when you’re safely in a quieter corner of the hall does he stop. He turns to you, his eyes scanning your face, his jaw still tight.

"Are you okay?" he asks, softer now.

You nod, though your throat feels tight. "I’m fine."

He doesn’t look convinced. His hand squeezes yours, grounding. "I hate the way they look at you. Like just a trophy wife, a woman that got lucky to get married to me."

Your breath catches. He’s never said it out loud before.

"I know I can’t stop it" he continues, his voice low "but I want to. Every time I see it, I want to..." He cuts himself off, exhaling hard, shaking his head. "You’re not theirs to look at like that."

Something in your chest twists. Because you’ve wanted closeness. You’ve wanted warmth. You’ve wanted him to look at you as more than just a friend. And right now, in his words, in the way his grip tightens like he’ll never let go, you can feel the start of something more.

Something protective. Something possessive. Something that feels dangerously close to want.

The rest of the night, he doesn’t leave your side. Not for a second.

Every handshake, every smile, every polite conversation, you’re close to him. His arm around you, his hand at the small of your back, his gaze cutting sharp whenever someone’s eyes linger too long.

And you can’t help but feel it. The shift. Because this isn’t just duty. This isn’t just politeness. This is Soobin staking a claim.

By the fourth hour of the gala, your cheeks are starting to ache from smiling. The air is too warm, the champagne too sweet, and the voices all blend together in a single blur of names, titles, mergers, deals. You’ve shaken so many hands your skin feels faintly numb. And all the while, you can feel the eyes. Some curious, some calculating. Some wandering.

Soobin’s hand stays at the small of your back, a light pressure that never quite lets you forget he’s there. He hasn’t said much, he doesn’t need to. His presence is enough, a steady anchor in a sea of artificial glitter and teeth.

But then you feel it. A new gaze. Heavier. Hungrier. You know it before you even look up.

The man is older, maybe late forties or early fifties. Silver hair slicked back too neatly, a tailored suit stretched over a body gone soft from indulgence. He carries his glass like an extension of his hand, tilting it lazily as he steps toward you with the kind of confidence only obscene money and unchecked arrogance can buy.

You’re standing alone for a rare moment, Soobin pulled into conversation a few feet away and the man seizes the opportunity.

"My, my" he says, his voice oily, words slured as if drunk. "So this is the famous bride."

You bow politely, lips pressed into that same polite smile you’ve worn all night. "It’s an honor to meet you."

But you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down your frame. Slowly. Shamelessly. You want to shrink, to fold yourself into nothing, but you can’t. Not here. Not with so many people watching. So you stay still, spine straight, smile fixed.

"I must say, Soobin has excellent taste" he drawls, stepping closer, far too close. "I’d heard you were beautiful, but they didn’t do you justice. You’re even more exquisite in person."

The words make your skin crawl. His gaze doesn’t leave you, lingering on the neckline of your dress, the curve of your neck. You shift slightly, trying to put a little more space between you, but he only leans in.

"Tell me" he continues, his voice low, invasive, "are you finding married life… fulfilling?"

Your throat tightens. "I..." You glance toward Soobin, who’s still deep in discussion with two executives, his profile sharp under the light. He doesn’t see you. Not yet. You force a smile anyway. "We’re very happy, thank you."

But the man doesn’t take the hint. He chuckles, swirling his drink, eyes never leaving you. "Happy, yes. But satisfied?"

Your stomach turns. You take a half-step back, trying to keep your tone even. "Excuse me, I should..."

His hand darts out, fingers brushing against your arm to stop you. "No need to run off so quickly. I only wanted a little of your time."

The contact is brief, but it feels like a brand against your skin. You stiffen, panic flashing in your chest, when suddenly, his hand is gone. Because Soobin is there.

It happens fast. One moment, the man’s fingers are on you. The next, Soobin’s grip is wrapped around his wrist, firmly, pulling him back with a force that leaves no room for argument.

"Don’t touch her." Soobin’s voice is quiet, but it slices through the din of the gala like a blade.

The older man blinks, surprised, then tries to laugh it off. "Ah, Soobin. I didn’t see you there."

"You saw her" Soobin says flatly. His grip doesn’t loosen. His height towers over the man, his shoulders squared, his presence suddenly sharp in a way that makes the air around you tense. "And you touched her."

Around you, a few people glance over, curiosity flickering in their eyes. But most look away again just as quickly: no one wants to get in the middle of a chaebol son’s temper.

The man shifts uncomfortably, trying to free his wrist. "Come now, it was nothing..."

Soobin’s jaw tightens. "Don’t. Pretend it was nothing."

He finally releases the man’s wrist, but only to step closer, placing himself directly between you and him. The message is clear: a wall, immovable, impenetrable.

The man laughs again, brittle this time. "You’re overreacting. I was simply being friendly."

Soobin tilts his head slightly, his expression calm but cold. "If that’s your idea of friendly, then I suggest you keep it far away from my wife."

The word wife lands heavy, final. The man falters. His smile slips. He clears his throat, mutters something about needing another drink, and disappears into the crowd with his pride in tatters. And just like that, he’s gone.

But Soobin doesn’t move. He stays standing in front of you, tall and steady, his shoulders tense. His hand lingers at your waist now, not the polite, guiding touch he usually offers, but something firmer. Protective.

You realize you’ve been holding your breath.

"You okay?" he asks finally, his voice softer now, turning back to look at you.

You swallow, nodding quickly. "I...I’m fine."

His gaze lingers on your face, searching, like he doesn’t quite believe you. His hand squeezes lightly at your side. "Don’t lie to me."

The words nearly undo you. Because you weren’t fine. You’d felt cornered, trapped, like prey under a predator’s gaze. And if Soobin hadn’t stepped in...

Your chest tightens. "I just… I hated the way he looked at me."

Soobin’s expression darkens, his jaw clenching. "I did too."

Something about the honesty of it makes your breath hitch.

"I wanted to..." He stops himself, exhaling hard, like he’s fighting to hold something back. Then, quieter: "I wanted to make sure he’d never look at you again." Your heart stutters.You’re not used to hearing him like this. Not your gentle, patient Soobin, who always draws the line, who always insists you’re just friends despite the ring on your finger. This is different. Closer.

For a moment, you wonder if anyone else can feel it, the tension radiating off him, the way his hand hasn’t left your waist, the way his body is angled like he’s ready to fight anyone who dares come near.

It feels like a claim. It feels like protection. It feels like something more.

By the time the gala ends, you’re running on fumes. Your face aches from smiling, your hand feels numb from shaking so many others, and your feet, God, your feet are screaming. The heels you’d chosen to match your gown were stunning under the chandeliers, but after four hours of standing, walking, and twirling through conversations, they’re starting to feel like medieval torture devices.

You don’t complain, of course. Not out loud. Not here. You’ve been raised to know better. So you keep your spine straight, your head high, and your lips curved into that picture-perfect smile as the last goodbyes are exchanged, the last congratulations murmured. You let Soobin guide you through the glittering crowd with his hand at your back, the two of you weaving toward the exit.

But the second the massive doors close behind you and the cool night air hits your skin, you can’t help it. A small groan escapes you, soft, almost pitiful, as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

Soobin hears it immediately. He glances down at you, brows furrowing, the sharp protectiveness from earlier melting into something softer, gentler. "Are you okay?"

You nod quickly, out of habit. "I’m fine."

"You’re not fine."

"I’m-"

"Please" he says, the word carrying that quiet firmness he always uses when he knows you’re hiding something. His eyes flick down to your shoes. "Your feet hurt."

Heat creeps into your cheeks. You don’t know why it feels embarrassing to admit it. Maybe because you’ve been trained to never show weakness in public. Maybe because you hate that he notices everything, even the things you try to hide.

"...They’re just a little sore" you mumble.

Soobin’s lips press into a line. Then, before you can even process what’s happening, he crouches down in front of you.

Your breath catches. "Soobin...what are you..."

"Stay still." He’s already reaching for your ankle, fingers brushing against the strap of your heel. With surprising ease, he unclasps it, sliding the shoe off your foot. The relief is immediate, sharp enough to make you sigh out loud.

He glances up briefly at the sound, his expression unreadable, before repeating the motion with your other shoe. Both heels dangle from his fingers a moment later, and you’re standing barefoot on the cool stone steps, your gown brushing the ground.

It should feel awkward. Indecent, even. But the only thing you feel is your heart, pounding too fast in your chest.

"You didn’t have to" you start, your voice embarrassingly small.

"Yes, I did" he interrupts simply. Then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he straightens, slips one arm under your knees, the other around your back, and lifts you off the ground.

You gasp, your hands instinctively flying to his shoulders. "Soobin!"

"Shh" he says softly, not looking down at you as he carries you down the last few steps. His hold is steady, effortless, like you weigh nothing at all. "Your feet need a break."

You should protest. You should tell him to put you down. You should laugh it off, pretend it doesn’t mean anything.

But you don’t. You can’t.

Because something about the way he’s holding you, like it’s second nature, like he was meant to, is undoing all the walls you’ve carefully kept in place to avoid getting hurt.

The car is waiting at the curb. Soobin lowers you gently into the leather seat on the passenger side, careful not to let your gown catch, setting your heels beside you. Then he slides in next to you on the driver side, closing the door with a soft click. The city hums outside, neon lights casting colors across the tinted glass as the car pulls away from the gala. But inside, it feels quiet. Intimate.

You sit with your bare feet curled beneath you, the cool leather against your skin. Your hands twist nervously in your lap, the memory of his arms around you still burning into your body.

"You didn’t have to carry me" you murmur finally, unable to handle the silence.

"I know" he says simply.

Your chest tightens. "Then… why did you?"

Soobin leans back against the seat, his gaze fixed out the window. His profile is sharp in the passing light, but his voice is softer than you expect when he answers. "Because I wanted to."

The words are simple. Too simple. But they hit you harder than anything else tonight. You look down quickly, your cheeks heating, your fingers curling tighter in your lap. Your heart feels too big for your chest, pulsing rapidly.

The car ride stretches on, filled with silence but not empty. Not anymore.

You can feel him there beside you, close enough to touch. You can smell his cologne, expensive, clean, familiar. You can sense the weight of everything that went unsaid at the gala still hanging between you.

Your throat feels dry. You want to speak. You want to thank him again, not just for carrying you, but for everything, for stepping in when that man cornered you, for standing up for you in ways no one else ever has, for seeing you in a way that makes you feel less alone.

But the words won't come out. So instead, you sit in silence, watching the city blur past, your heart beating frantically.

And beside you, Soobin stays quiet too. But his hand, resting on the armrest between you, is close enough that if you reached out, just a little, you could slip your fingers into his.

You don’t. Not yet. But the thought lingers. You glance at him once, twice, before finally finding your voice.

"Thank you."

He turns his head, surprised. "For what?"

"For…earlier." You look down at your hands, fingers twisting together nervously. "For stepping in. For...protecting me."

His expression softens, just slightly. "You don’t need to thank me for that."

"I do" you say quietly. "You didn’t have to. But you did."

Soobin’s gaze lingers on you, unreadable. Then he exhales, leaning back against the seat.

"I’ll always step in" he says simply. "No one gets to treat you like that. Ever."

You want to reach out, to take his hand, to tell him how much it means. But you don’t. Instead, you sit in silence, the distance between you feeling shorter than ever. Something fragile.

By the time you get home, it feels like you’ve been holding your breath for hours. The mansion is quiet. The staff had gone to bed hours ago, leaving only a few lamps glowing to light your way inside.

You slip out of your gown in your shared walk-in closet, the heavy silk pooling at your feet. Your jewelry goes next, then the makeup, until all that’s left is the soft cotton of your pajamas and the faint ache in your muscles. You scrub at your face in the mirror until you look like yourself again, not the glittering wife of Choi Soobin, not the porcelain doll paraded through the gala. Just…you.

When you step into the bedroom, Soobin’s already there, changed into his own pajamas, simple, loose-fitting. His hair is damp from a quick shower, sticking slightly to his forehead, and his skin looks flushed and warm.

For a moment, you just…look at him. Not the heir of the family. Not the perfect son. Just the boy you grew up with, the one you’ve known all your life. He glances up when he feels your gaze and offers you a small smile, the kind that’s reserved only for you.

"Tired?" he asks quietly.

You nod. "Exhausted."

He doesn’t push further. He never does. Instead, he simply pulls back the duvet, a silent invitation for you to climb into the bed you’ve shared for two months without ever really sharing it.

You slide in carefully, settling onto your usual side, the cool sheets freezing your skin. The mattress dips as he joins you, the familiar distance stretching between you once again.

It should feel normal by now. Comforting, even. But tonight… it doesn’t. Tonight the space feels unbearable. You try to sleep. You really do. But your body is too aware of itself, too aware of him. Of the way his breathing sounds in the dark, steady but a little uneven. Of the way his presence radiates heat under the sheets. Of the way the silence between you feels heavy.

Finally, you turn your head slightly, peeking at his silhouette.

"Soobin?" you whisper.

He shifts slightly, enough that you know he’s awake. "Hm?" His voice is soft, a little rough from tiredness.

You hesitate, chewing at your lip, your chest tightening with nerves. You want to ask, but how do you? How do you put yearning into words without breaking the fragile balance you’ve kept for so long?

Your voice is small when it finally comes. "Can I…sleep closer to you?"

The silence that follows nearly swallows you whole. For a terrifying second, you think he’ll say no. That he’ll remind you of the line, the friendship, the duty. That he’ll gently set you back where you belong, as he always does.

But then, slowly, you feel the mattress shift. He lifts his arm, the duvet rustling faintly, a quiet opening. Your breath stutters. And then you move, tentative but determined, closing the space between you and curling carefully against his side.

His body is warm, solid, real. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heartbeat steady under your ear. His arm settles around you, not hesitantly, pulling you closer as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your eyes sting unexpectedly. "You’re shaking" he murmurs, voice low.

"I’m not" you whisper back, though you are. Every nerve in your body is alive, buzzing with the reality of him holding you for the first time.

"You are" he says gently. His hand rubs a slow circle against your back, soothing, grounding. "Hey. It’s okay."

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. "It’s just…I’ve wanted this for so long" you admit quietly, so quietly you almost hope he won’t hear. "Just this. To be close."

Soobin goes still for a moment. And then, just as softly: "Me too."

Your heart stops. You tilt your head up slightly, searching his face in the dim light filtering through the curtains. His eyes are already on you, unreadable but warm. "You have…?"

"I didn’t want to push" he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. So I kept my distance. But if you want this…" His arm tightens around you, just a little. "Then I do too."

Something inside you unravels. Relief, affection, longing, it all floods through you at once, overwhelming you. You bury your face against his chest to hide the tears threatening to spill, but he notices anyway.

"Hey" he murmurs again, tilting his head to press the lightest kiss to the top of your head. "You don’t have to be perfect with me, remember?"

Your throat aches. "I know" you whisper. "It’s just…I didn’t think you wanted this."

His chest rumbles with a quiet sigh. "I wanted it too much. That’s why I was careful."

You let out a shaky laugh, half-cry, half-disbelief. "So we were both suffering for nothing?"

"Pretty much" he says, a wry smile in his voice.

The absurdity of it makes you laugh for real this time, muffled against him. His arm tightens around you, his body shaking slightly with his own soft laugh.

And then the laughter fades, leaving only warmth, silence, closeness. You curl tighter against him, your bare feet brushing his legs, your body fitting into the shape of his like it was always meant to. His hand strokes absentmindedly through your hair, a steady rhythm that makes your eyelids close.

For the first time since your wedding, since the cameras and the vows and the expectations, you feel like you can breathe. For the first time, the bed doesn’t feel too big.

You drift toward sleep like that, wrapped in his warmth, his heartbeat steady under your ear, his breath a gentle whisper against your hair. And just before sleep pulls you under completely, you hear him murmur, so soft you almost think you’re dreaming: "You’re perfect."

The strange thing is, nothing really changes and yet everything does.

You still wake up in the same bed, still share the same routines, still go through the same obligations of two people born into chaebol families. The staff still bow when you pass through the halls. His phone still buzzes endlessly with meetings and decisions.

But now, there’s this. This secret sweetness. This undercurrent of joy. This quiet revolution between the two of you. Because now, when you wake up, Soobin’s arm is already around you. Not just draped politely, not the hesitant closeness from that first night you broke the invisible line, but solid and warm, curling you into his chest as though his body is the only place you belong. His face nuzzles against your hair in sleep, his breath soft on your skin, and sometimes you wake to the press of the faintest kiss against your forehead, placed unconsciously before his eyes even open.

And when he does open them, when those sleepy eyes meet yours in the first light of morning, it’s like the entire world softens.

"Morning" he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, lips curving into a smile that’s just for you. And you can’t help it, you smile back, every single time.

During the day, the difference shows in smaller ways. When you pass him a coffee, his fingers linger on yours longer than they need to, and the contact makes your chest flutter. When you’re walking through the gardens together, he sometimes reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers with his like it’s second nature. The first time he did it, you almost tripped from how casual he was about it, as though this wasn’t something you’d been secretly longing for, as though it hadn’t taken months of restraint to get here.

At the weekly family dinners, when his parents drone on about expectations, you feel his knee press against yours under the table. A grounding touch, steady, silent reassurance. Sometimes he glances your way, the tiniest lift of his brow, the corner of his lips quirking when he catches your stifled sighs. It’s almost conspiratorial, like you’re two kids again, sharing secrets across the dining table.

And then there are the kisses.

They’re not constant, not yet, Soobin is still Soobin, careful and deliberate, not one to fling passion out into the open carelessly. But now that the line has been crossed, he doesn’t stop himself when the moment feels right.

A kiss on your temple when he passes you in the hallway. A soft peck on your lips before he leaves for the office. A lingering kiss in the kitchen when you’re both trying to cook something ridiculous together, laughter spilling between you as flour dusts your hands.

Each one feels like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.

One evening, a week after that first kiss, you find yourself on the balcony outside your bedroom. The air is cool, the city lights glittering like jewels in the distance, and you lean against the railing, letting the breeze wash over you.

You hear the soft slide of the glass door and turn your head just as Soobin steps out. He’s changed into something comfortable, his hair slightly damp from a shower, a faintly tired but soft expression on his face.

"Cold?" he asks, stopping beside you.

"Not too much."

Without a word, he slides his arm around your waist, pulling you against his side. The gesture is so natural, so easy, that you have to bite back the giddy smile threatening to bloom. For a while, you stand there together in silence, watching the city below.

Then Soobin exhales slowly, his chin resting atop your head. "You know… I didn’t think I’d get this."

Your brows furrow. "Get what?"

"This. Us. Like this." His thumb strokes absentmindedly against your hip. "I thought marriage would always just be…an arrangement. A contract. Duty."

You look up at him, heart squeezing at the vulnerability in his voice. "And now?"

He meets your gaze, and the answer is obvious in his eyes before he even speaks. "Now it feels like the first thing that’s really mine."

Your throat tightens, and before you can think better of it, you rise on your toes and kiss him. It’s slow, unhurried, full of quiet promises. His hands slide up your back, holding you close, and the world seems to melt away until it’s just the two of you and the taste of something sweeter than you ever thought you’d have.

The weeks that follow are full of little moments like that. Moments where joy drowns out all the pressure and expectations. There are late-night talks sprawled out across the bed, the two of you whispering about old childhood memories, about dreams you were too afraid to share before.

There are quiet car rides where his hand rests on your knee, absent but deliberate, like he needs to feel you there beside him. There are stolen kisses in the library, laughter muffled against his lips when one of the staff nearly catches you tucked between bookshelves.

You’ve always known him, as a friend, as a partner, as someone bound to you by family ties. But now you’re learning him in new ways: the little hum he makes when he’s focusing on a crossword puzzle, the way he always drapes a blanket over you when you fall asleep reading, the surprisingly terrible doodles he makes in the margins of his notebooks.

And you think maybe, just maybe, this is what love feels like.

One night, after a particularly long day, you’re curled on the sofa together, your head on his chest as he absentmindedly traces shapes against your arm.

"Soobin?" you murmur, breaking the silence.

"Hm?"

"Are you happy?"

His hand pauses for a moment. Then he tilts his head, looking at you, his expression softening.

"Yeah" he says finally. "I am. With you, I am."

Something inside you warms at the confidence in his tone.

And when he kisses you, slow, deep, filled with quiet devotion, you believe him completely.

The first brush of his lips against yours is as soft as ever, but tonight, it doesn’t end there. Tonight, he doesn’t pull away after a heartbeat. Tonight, when you sigh into him, his hand slides from your shoulder to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

Heat sparks low in your stomach. You respond instinctively, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. The kiss grows sloppier, more insistent, the two of you finding a rhythm that makes the rest of the world blur.

Soobin makes a quiet sound into your mouth, half sigh, half something deeper, and it shoots straight through you. His thumb strokes against your jaw as his lips move against yours with more certainty, like he’s finally allowing himself to give in.

You’ve kissed him before, plenty now. Sweet, lingering pecks that left you smiling like a fool. But this…this is different. This is hungry. This is months of restraint finally slipping.

Your breath stutters as his tongue brushes against yours, hesitant for a moment until you part your lips for him. The contact sends a shiver down your spine, your body melting against his.

His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat pounding hard, quick as yours, proof that he’s just as swept up as you are.

When you tilt your head, deepening the kiss further, his fingers thread into your hair, holding you to him like he’s afraid to let go. It’s dizzying. It’s intoxicating. It’s Soobin everywhere, overwhelming.

You lose track of how long it lasts, how many times you break for air only to dive back in, lips finding each other again and again like magnets.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, and the low groan he lets out makes heat flood your cheeks. The sound is unlike anything you’ve heard from him before, raw, unguarded, uncomposed and you swear you’ll replay it in your head for days.

It’s messy. It’s breathless. It’s perfect.

By the time you finally part, your head is spinning, your lips numb, your body humming with the aftermath of it all. You collapse against his chest, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. His arms circle around you instantly, holding you close, as if sealing the moment. He presses one last kiss to the top of your head, soft again now, tender.

And in that quiet aftermath, wrapped up in him, you realize something certain: You don’t ever want to go back to the days before this.

It’s not perfect. Of course it isn’t. There are still the endless demands from family, the suffocating expectations of heirs and image, the looming shadows of duty that neither of you can entirely escape.

But now you face them together. And somehow, that makes all the difference. Because now, when the days are heavy, you have his hand to hold. When the nights are long, you have his arms to curl into. And when the world feels like too much, you have the reminder that in the midst of it all, you’ve found something real. Something joyful. Something yours. Something that feels like love.

The first sign is the silence.

Normally, when Soobin comes home, there’s at least some kind of soft acknowledgment: a muttered "I’m back", the faintest of smiles, the quick loosen of his tie as he enters the bedroom you share. Not always cheerful, he’s not the type to bubble over, but steady, familiar.

Tonight, there’s none of that. Tonight, the door shuts with a low thud, heavier than usual. The sound makes you glance up from where you’re curled on the sofa, a book open in your lap. You catch sight of him as he steps inside: shoulders hunched, tie askew, hair mussed in a way that isn’t charming but messy.

"Soobin?"

His eyes lift to you, and you’re startled by how tired he looks. Dark circles beneath his eyes and there’s a tightness around his mouth that hasn’t been there before.

"You’re still up" he says, his voice low, rough around the edges.

"I was waiting for you."

Something flickers in his gaze, too quick to understand, before he looks away. He crosses the room in long strides, shrugs off his suit jacket, and drops onto the other end of the sofa with a heavy exhale.

The silence stretches. You study him, worry gnawing at your chest. "Rough day?"

"That’s one way to put it" he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Back-to-back meetings. Arguments. The board’s restless, the investors are restless. My father-" His jaw tightens. "He never thinks anything I do is enough."

Your heart aches at the sadness in his tone.

"Soobin…"

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands rubbing down his face.

Without thinking, you shift closer. You reach out, laying your hand gently on his back. The contact makes him freeze for a second, like he isn’t used to it. Then he exhales, some of the tension removing from his shoulders under your touch.

"Want to talk about it?" you ask softly.

His head shakes slowly. "Not really."

"Then don’t" you murmur. "You don’t have to. Just…let yourself rest."

For a moment, you’re not sure he’ll let you. For a moment, you think he’ll brush you off, stand up, retreat into the shell of duty and self-control that’s been drilled into him since birth.

But instead, he leans. His body tilts until his shoulder presses against yours, heavy, grounding. You slide your arm around him instinctively, and he lets you, his weight shifting until his head drops onto your shoulder.

The breath you let out is shaky, but you hold him anyway. Your fingers find their way into his hair, brushing lightly, soothing. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing slowing bit by bit.

You whisper his name once, softly. He hums in response, too tired to do more.

"You don’t always have to be perfect" you murmur, stroking his hair. "Not with me. You know that, right?"

For a long time, he doesn’t answer. You start to think he’s drifted to sleep, but then "Why do you always know what to say?" he mutters, voice muffled against your shoulder.

A small smile curves your lips, though your chest feels tight. “Because that's what I like to hear for myself."

That earns you the faintest huff of laughter, warm against your skin. But then, before you can react, he shifts. He kisses you deeply.

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, something caught between relief and need, and suddenly the kiss deepens. His hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until your body presses against his. It’s dizzying. Overwhelming.

It happens so suddenly you almost think you imagined it. One moment you’re still on the sofa, wrapped in the warm haze of the kiss, his forehead pressed to yours like he can’t bear to let go. The next, Soobin is pulling back, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with something you’ve never seen in him before. Not just affection. Something deeper. Something hungrier.

And before you can speak, he scoops you up. Your breath catches as your world tilts, his arms sliding beneath your knees and back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He rises smoothly, holding you as though you weigh nothing at all, though you can feel the tension in the strength of his grip. His suit jacket is gone, but he still smells faintly of cologne and the long, exhausting day he’s carried on his shoulders.

"W–What are you doing?" you whisper, though your arms instinctively loop around his neck.

"Taking you to bed" he says simply. His voice is low, steady, but there’s a tremor under the calm, a crack in the perfect composure he’s always carried.

Your heart stutters at his words, your pulse hammering in your ears. Soobin carries you down the hall, his long strides unhurried but certain, every step echoing through the mansion. The two of you have walked this hallway a thousand times before. But this time feels different. Charged. Each step is weighted with something that makes your breath catch, makes you bury your face in the crook of his neck just to steady yourself.

You can feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, quick and uneven. He’s not as calm as he looks.

When he pushes open the door to your bedroom, the air shifts. It’s familiar, the soft lamplight spilling over the spacious room, the linen sheets tucked perfectly over the bed.

Soobin sets you down gently on the mattress, as though you’re made of glass. He lingers for a moment, his hands still at your waist, his tall frame looming over you. His eyes search yours, dark and uncertain and full of something that steals the breath from your lungs.

You should speak. You should say something, break the tension, make sure you’re both on the same page. But the words catch in your throat, because you want this. You want him.

And then he leans down, and your mouth meets his before you can think. The kiss is different this time. No hesitation, no testing. It’s deep and desperate, the kind of kiss that says I’ve been waiting for this longer than I can admit. His hands slide up your arms, cradling your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones with a tenderness that makes you ache.

You cling to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you. The world narrows to just the two of you, to the warmth of his body pressed against yours, to the way he sighs into your mouth like he’s finally letting go of something he’s been holding back.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his breath uneven. His forehead drops against yours again, but this time his hands are trembling where they cradle your face.

"Are you sure?" he whispers, his voice rough.

The question triggers something in you, because it’s so him. Even now, even here, he’s giving you the choice. He’s always drawn the line, always kept you safe, even from himself. And for the first time, you push past it.

"Yes" you breathe, your voice steady despite the rush in your veins. "I’m sure. Soobin… I want this. I want you."

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His eyes search yours, looking for any flicker of doubt. And when he finds none, when he sees the certainty in your gaze, something inside him breaks.

His mouth is on yours again, fiercer this time, his hands sliding down to your waist as he presses you back into the mattress, his hips grinding against yours. You gasp into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his lips, and you swear you can feel the years of restraint unraveling in every movement, every touch.

The kiss deepens, turning messy and heated, as though he’s memorizing the taste of you. His hands trail over you with reverence, never rushing, never taking without asking.

"Good ?" He asks.

You nodded, though your mouth felt dry. "Yeah, just... nervous. In a good way."

He knelt in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees, thumbs tracing small circles over your skin through your thin pants.

"Me too" he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with raw honesty. "I've wanted this for so long, but I don't want to rush you."

You reached out, cupping his face, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palms. His cheeks flushed slightly, and you leaned in to kiss him. It was slow, his lips soft and tentative against yours, but as your fingers threaded into his hair, it deepened. His tongue slipped past your lips, and a low groan escaped him when you tugged lightly on his hair.

Soobin's hands slid up your thighs, gripping your hips, his body pressing flush against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the subtle hardness growing in his pants brushing against your lower belly. It sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and nerves.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Tell me if you want to stop" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Anytime."

"I don't" you whispered back, your voice breathy. "I want you."

That seemed to ignite something in him. His hands found the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, his knuckles grazing your sides as he peeled it off. You raised your arms to help, and when it was gone, his eyes darkened as they roamed over your exposed skin, lingering on the lace of your bra.

"God, you're beautiful" he said, almost reverently.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in his world, made your confidence surge. You reached behind to unhook your bra, letting it fall away, and Soobin's breath hitched. His hands cupped your breasts immediately, thumbs brushing over your nipples, which hardened instantly under his touch. He leaned down, taking one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the peak while his other hand kneaded the other.

A moan escaped you, your head falling back as pleasure sparked through your body. His mouth was hot, wet, and insistent, sucking and licking with a fervor that made your core ache. You arched into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Soobin... that feels so good."

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. Switching to the other breast, he gave it the same attention, his free hand sliding down to hook into the waistband of your pants. He tugged them down slowly, along with your panties, exposing you inch by inch. You got shy, now completely bare before him, and he straightened, his gaze hungry as it traveled down your body.

"Your turn" you said, your voice bolder than you felt. You grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his smooth chest, the toned abs that you'd only glimpsed before. He was lean but strong, muscles flexing under your touch as you ran your hands over him.

He kicked off his pants and boxers in one fluid motion, and your eyes widened at the sight of him. He was long and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum, veins prominent along his shaft. He was bigger than you'd imagined, and a flicker of apprehension mixed with your arousal.

He noticed, his expression softening. "We can take it slow" he assured you, stepping closer to wrap his arms around you. His erection pressed against your thigh, hot and hard, but he didn't push. Instead, he kissed you again, putting a pillow under your head.

He hovered over you, his weight supported on his elbows. His lips found yours once more, then moved down, kissing your collarbone, your sternum, down to your navel. He parted your thighs gently, settling between them, and you felt his breath fan over your core.

"Soobin..." you breathed, a mix of embarrassment and need.

He looked up at you, eyes locking with yours. "Can I taste you? Please?"

The plea in his voice made you melt. It was so him, your Soobin.

You nodded, and he didn't hesitate. His tongue flicked out, tracing a slow line along your folds, and you gasped at the sensation. He groaned at your taste, his tongue delving deeper, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked gently. His tongue circled the sensitive bud, then dipped lower, pushing inside you with shallow thrusts.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, pleasure building rapidly. "Oh fuck, Soobin... right there." One of his hands held your thigh open, the other sliding up to tease your entrance with a finger. He slipped it in slowly, your wetness making it glide easily, and curled it upward, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

He added a second finger, stretching you gently, his mouth never leaving your clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming, his fingers pumping in and out, scissoring to prepare you, while his tongue lapped and sucked. You could feel the knot tightening in your belly, your breaths coming in short pants.

"I'm gonna... Soobin, I'm close..." you whimpered, your hand fisting in his hair.

He hummed in encouragement, increasing the pace, and it pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you, waves of ecstasy pulsing through your body as you clenched around his fingers. He worked you through it, his tongue gentle now, until you were trembling and oversensitive.

Pulling back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawled up your body, kissing you deeply, and you tasted yourself on him, making you moan into his mouth.

"You taste amazing" he whispered, his voice rough with desire. His cock was pressed against your thigh, throbbing, and you reached down to wrap your hand around it. He hissed at the contact, his hips jerking forward. You stroked him slowly, feeling the smooth skin thumbing the slit to spread the pre-cum. He was so responsive, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he panted. "If you keep that up, I won't last."

You smiled, feeling empowered. "I want to make you feel good too, like you did for me."

He shook his head, kissing your neck. "Next time. Tonight's about us, together."

He reached over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom from the drawer. You watched as he tore it open with his teeth, rolling it down his length with ease.

"You had condoms in your drawer?" You ask.

"I mean, I kinda hoped we'd do this soon. And we don't plan on having kids yet."

He positioned himself between your legs, the tip pressing against your entrance.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"Yes" you whispered. "Please, Soobin."

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. The stretch was intense, a delicious burn as he filled you completely. You gasped, nails digging into his back, and he stilled when he was fully seated, his hips flush against yours.

"Fuck, you're so tight" he groaned, his voice strained. "You feel incredible."

You nodded, breathing deeply, the fullness overwhelming but perfect. "Move, please."

He started with slow thrusts, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in, each movement deliberate. The friction was exquisite, his cock dragging against your walls, hitting deep. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he picked up the pace.The room filled with the sounds of your bodies, skin slapping against skin, wet and rhythmic, mingled with your moans and his groans. He buried his face in your neck, sucking hickeys into your skin, his hands gripping your hips almost hard enough to bruise.

"Harder" you begged, and he obliged, slamming into you with more force. Each thrust sent jolts of pleasure through you, building toward another orgasm.

Soobin's control was slipping, his thrusts became erratic, deeper, his breath hot against your ear.

"I'm not gonna last much longer" he admitted, one hand moving between you to rub circles on your clit.

The added stimulation was too much. "Me neither...come with me."

A few more thrusts, and you shattered again, your walls clenching around him like a vice. He followed seconds later, groaning your name as he spilled into the condom, his hips stuttering as he rode out his release.

He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, sweaty and spent. After a moment, he disposed of the condom and pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead. "That was... amazing. Are you okay?"

You smiled, snuggling into his chest. "More than okay. That was perfect."

And in that quiet aftermath, wrapped up in him, you realize something certain: the marriage you once thought would only ever be duty and friendship has become something else entirely. Something real, something warm, something that feels like a home you never knew you were waiting for.

Soobin’s hand strokes down your back, his voice low but sure when he murmurs “We’ll be okay, you and me.”

And as you melt into him, heart light, you believe it.

Maybe this arranged marriage won’t be so bad after all, not when it’s him, not when it’s you, not when you have each other.

The two of you against the world.

Taglist : @whoisgami @frvnbeom @motheraiya55 @lustfulwithoutsex @haohaoshoe @usuallyunlikelyfox @hanhani29 @love4yubin @soobinieswife @seungminnieinthebuilding @tttubatttu

[makismei]

virgin!reader, fem!reader, mdni 18+ only pls, overstim (what's new guys), fingering, squirting, pussy licking :D

you've only ever let toji rub your clit. truth be told, you're nervous to let him do more. obviously, you've sucked him off here and there to dispel his idea of him pleasuring you in the way he wants.

as much as you want it, as much as you know he'd make you feel so good—you don't want him to know that you can squirt... quite easily at that.

"baby," he kisses your neck, your cheek, "let me taste you, i'm dying for it."

rough fingers tease your clit, he groans at how wet your pussy's become. "tojiiii," you whine, legs shaking because he's already made you cum twice, "it's so embarassinggg..."

"how, baby?" he whispers and his voice sends shivers up your back, "i jus' wanna make you feel good. what are you so worried about, huh?"

you can feel him smiling into your skin, but your silence makes him falter. he withdraws his hand, "talk to me, doll."

"it's—it's just that," you stutter, shrinking in on yourself from embarrassment. his gaze is so intense that you make him look in another direction. "stop looking at me like that!"

he laughs, turning his head so he's able to kiss your hand, his gaze meeting yours once again.

"um, well.. i'm scared that if you finger me or whatever i'll... squirt." you mutter out that very last word so quietly he almost misses it.

he looks at you incredulously, "what? squirt?"

"yes! it's embarrassing okay!" you exclaim, hands coming up to hide your face. "my ex fingered me before he tried to put it in and when he saw me squirt, he said it was disgusting and didn't wanna sleep with me anymore!"

"he what?" toji gapes, irritation bubbling in his voice. he always hated that guy. in fact, when you guys broke up, toji was in a good mood for an entire week—not that he'd ever tell you that, though.

he gets off the bed and you feel your heart drop because you think he's leaving.

"yeah, so—toji! what are you doing?!" you yelp when he drags you to the edge of the bed. you look down at him like he's crazy. there's a feral look in his gaze, like he's getting ready to devour you.

"what does it look like?" he deadpans, "'m gonna eat your pussy."

you scramble to try and pull yourself up the bed, but he grips your thighs so you stay put.

"you know your word, baby." he reminds, not even looking at your face as he takes two fingers to part your slit, groaning at how wet you are.

first lick has your entire body tensing. he's disgusting with it, long tongue covering your whole pussy. he kisses and sucks at your clit, feeling his boxers grow damper at the sound of your moans.

"oh my god—okay! you don't have to—mmmphhhh!" he starts adding more pressure with each lick, and you don't even realize he's sneaking a hand closer to your leaky cunt.

you squeal when he slides a finger past your gummy walls, legs kicking out as you thrash on the bed. back arched, you fist the sheets underneath you as toji's finger prods at your insides, his tongue still relentless on your poor clit, alternating between flicking and sucking.

"pussy so fucking good, baby." he groans against your cunt, "can't believe you tried to keep me away from this."

"i—i just—" his hand comes down on the side of your thigh. it's not painful, just a warning.

"i don't wanna hear your excuses. i want you to cum, baby." he slurps at your clit, "'n it better be messy f'me."

you shake your head, "toji, i can't—oh my god, 'm gonna cum, please.. please."

you don't know if you're begging him to stop or keep going, but toji decides for you when he hooks his fingers up and presses against a spongy spot hidden inside your soaked pussy.

eyes widening, your whole body goes rigid and it's like toji's won the lottery. his eyes gleam with fervour as he hears your moans get louder and feels your cunt sporadically clenching down on him.

concentrated, he keeps his pace steady, needing you to fall over the edge for him.

"'m cumming!" you gasp, squealing as squirt gushes from your cunt, pushing his fingers out. some of it gets on his face, but he pays no mind as he starts to rub your clit, watching with awe as your squirt splashes around.

you're practically shouting as he hurls you into another orgasm, two mischievous fingers finding their way back inside as he makes you ride out your climax.

your hands come down on the bed, fists banging against it as you're overwhelmed with pleasure. toji watches as you writhe from how good he's making you feel, his fingers slipping out of your cunt and shamelessly popping them into his mouth.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" panting, you try to push him away with your foot.

"that was so sexy, doll." he grins ear to ear, redirecting your foot to sit on his shoulder, his head turning to kiss your calf. "can't believe you've been holding out on me."

your body twitches involuntarily and he chuckles. "damn i can't wait to make you squirt on this dick."

"w-what?!"

[sukunasbopit]

Drunk on You

roommate!sukuna x fem!reader 18+

Ryomen Sukuna is losing his fucking mind.

Three months of this torture. Three months of you walking around the apartment every night in that burgundy silk nightgown. Three months of having to endure the divine scent of your perfume on your skin. Three months of keeping his hands off you while you drove him to the edge of sanity.

You have to know what you’re doing to him. You have to.

Last week nearly killed him. You walked into his room wearing nothing but a crop top and panties. “Can I borrow your charger?” you asked, all innocent, like you weren’t standing there nearly naked in his doorway.

He gripped his desk chair so hard it almost cracked the plastic. “Put some fucking clothes on,” he growled, tossing the charger at you.

The second you left, he locked his door, shoved his sweats down and jerked himself raw.

He used to think so highly of himself. But you. Somehow, you reduced him into a drooling fucking mess.

He wanted to put you in your place. Shred every last stitch of clothing off your body. Spread those plush thighs wide open and ruthlessly pound you until you couldn’t stand.

And tonight he feels no different. The thought of you is always in the back of his mind.

When he sees you in front of the hallway mirror smoothing down your black dress, hair and makeup done beautifully, his mouth nearly falls open before he clenches his teeth to stop it.

“Where are you going?”

You meet his eyes in the reflection. “On a date.”

He never thought he’d feel bothered by those words but they hit him like ice cold water. His eyes darken. 

“No.”

You raise a brow. “What?”

“Just—wait. Hold on.” He disappears and returns with a bottle of tequila. “Take some shots with me.”

“I have to drive.”

“I’ll get you a damn Lyft.” His words come out harsh but he didn’t intend them to. Everything is coming out wrong. The thought of you with someone else pisses him off badly.

He pours two shots and slides one towards you. You pick it up and side-eye him.

“What are we drinking to?” you ask.

“Your date.” The sarcasm drips from his tone as he knocks it back. The burn feels good. He immediately pours another and downs it.

“That’s… sweet of you.” You take your shot and he watches your throat as you swallow. His face stays expressionless but his eyes are wild.

“Who is he?” Third shot down. His eyes are becoming a little hazy.

“A guy from work.”

“The accountant?” Shot number four. “The one with the stupid haircut?”

You laugh. “It’s not stupid.”

“It’s fucking stupid.” Shot number five. The tequila is hitting now, making his tongue looser, making him care a lot less about what he says. “Everything about that loser is stupid.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“Don’t need to.” He leans against the wall, trying to look casual but probably failing. “Where’s he taking you?”

“Olive Garden.”

“Boring.” His eyes slide down your dress again. “You got all dressed up for Olive Garden?”

“Olive Garden isn’t a bad place for a first date.”

He pours another shot but doesn’t drink it yet, just stares at the liquid like he’s trying to figure it out or something. “You never dress up when we get food.”

“You never go out with me,” you reply. “You always wanna get takeout and eat it on the couch.”

“So? What’s wrong with wanting to eat at my own place? There’s nothing wrong with it.” He’s slurring his words a little. The tequila is clearly breaking down his walls. 

“I can take you out anytime I want. Somewhere much nicer than Olive Garden.” He practically snarls as he says the name of the restaurant again.

You tilt your head to study his face. He downs the sixth shot to avoid your eyes.

“Ryomen, are you okay?”

“Perfect.” He pushes off the wall but has to steady himself. When did you get so close? He can smell your perfume, that intoxicating scent that haunts his dreams. “You should stay here.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Stay.” His heavy-lidded eyes are fixed on you, and his fingers slide down your arm with more gentleness than he’d ever show if he were completely sober. “We have tequila. We have food. Why waste money on a restaurant?”

“Because I have a date?”

“Fuck your date.” The words practically exploded through his teeth. His hands find your waist and pull you against him. His crimson red eyes stare into yours. “You don’t want him.”

Your face heats up when you feel his hot, heavy breath against your skin. “How would you know what I want?”

“Because I know you.” His inhibitions are completely gone now, three months of self-restraint drowning in tequila. He drops his head to your shoulder and breathes you in. “Fuck, you smell so good. Always smell so good.”

“Ryomen…” you whisper, breathing almost as heavy as he is now. You try to suppress your smile but you fail, and he catches it instantly.

“You’ve been making me suffer on purpose.” The accusation comes out broken and pathetic. He’s past caring. “Walking around in that slutty nightgown every night. Smelling like a damn cupcake.”

You can’t help but laugh a little.

“I’m serious, brat.” He lifts his head to look you in the eyes again. “No pathetic man is worth looking this good for. I know you’re wearing it for me.”

“You did this on purpose. The dress, the date, all of it.” He pulls you unbelievably close and starts shamelessly grinding against your hip. “You wanted to make me lose it.”

“Maybe.”

He lets out a bitter, wrecked laugh. “Congratulations. I’m broken. Happy?”

He kisses you hard before you can answer. His teeth nip at your bottom lip before his tongue slides deep, twisting and tangling with yours until you’re dizzy. When he pulls back, you’re both breathing hard.

“You’re going to pay for it,” he growls low. His hands are shaking. His hands are actually fucking shaking over a woman. What the hell is wrong with him? You’re going to think he’s some kind of pathetic virgin.

He won’t let you think that of him.

He presses you up against the wall and brings his mouth to your neck, teeth and tongue dragging down your skin.

“Cancel the date.”

You can’t help but giggle as you tilt your head back against the wall.

“Don’t fucking laugh. Cancel it.”

“I cancelled it when you were cracking open the tequila,” you say, laughing.

The words take a moment to penetrate the fog in his head. You were toying with him this whole time.

“You little—“ But he’s kissing you again, lifting you up, needing your legs around him. “My room. Now.”

He carries you down the hall, still kissing you, the tequila making him stumble slightly. He sets you down on his bed. He’s so desperate for you, the need is clawing at his insides.

He finds your collarbone with his mouth and marks your skin like you’re already his. “Say it. Say you want me and I’ll give you everything.”

“I want you,” you say breathlessly. “I want you so bad, Ryomen.”

He bites down on your shoulder hard enough to make you gasp. “Atta girl. I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

He grabs the zipper of your dress and yanks it down with zero patience. Three months of teasing and the tequila has destroyed any ability to go slow. He pulls your dress off roughly and tosses it to the floor.

He looks down at you through his haze. Your lipstick is smudged from his kisses, hair messed up from his hands, marks all over your neck and collarbone. 

You’re wearing a black lace lingerie set that he can practically see your nipples through. He drags his hand up your stomach and over your breast to squeeze it.

“Was this going to be for him?” His expression darkens at the thought.

“No.” Your hands tangle in his messy pink hair. “I bought it for you.”

That stops him cold for a second. He stares at you, eyes unfocused from the alcohol, but then he gives you a hungry grin. “Is that so?”

“Mm hm.”

He snickers and pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing his muscular chest.

“Your turn to stare,” he says, catching you looking.

You can’t stop your hands from exploring the tattoos across his skin, tracing the dark lines.

He kicks off his sweats and boxers impatiently, nearly losing his balance and falling on top of you, but he catches himself on one arm, gripping into the sheets. His heavy cock slaps against your thigh.

You slide your hand into his hair again but he grabs it and guides it exactly where he wants it. When you wrap your fingers around him, the sound he makes is like he hasn’t been touched in years. Just completely destroyed.

“Fuck—“ His forehead drops to your shoulder, hips bucking into your hand. His teeth dig into your neck again, harder this time.

You stroke him so gently and teasingly that his whole body shudders. “Stop,” he growls, grabbing your wrist. “Such a fucking tease. I’m not waiting any longer.”

He grips your lacy lingerie top and tears it off completely.

“Hey! That’s expensive—“

“I’ll buy you ten more,” he cuts in, yanking your lace panties down your hips. “Twenty. Whatever. I need you bare. Now.”

He grips your hip with one hand and adjusts the head of his cock between your soaked folds.

Then he slams himself all the way to the hilt, tearing an earth-shattering scream from your lungs. Ecstasy takes over as he throws his weight into every thrust, fucking into you relentlessly.

He’s ravaging your unprepared pussy like you’re his personal fuckdoll. You slide your hands up his chiseled chest and wrap your arms around his neck. His face drops to your shoulder in a feral grin as he ruts against that spot that makes your pretty head go blank. 

Drool drips from the corner of your mouth and he raises his head to look at the effect he’s having on you.

“You like being put in your place, don’t you?” He laughs low. “No other man could ever make you feel this way. Only me.”

He grips your throat. “Tell me, baby.”

You nod frantically, breasts bouncing with every slap of his hips against yours. “On—only you…” you manage out.

“Damn right,” he growls, fingers tightening around your neck to make you lightheaded, heightening the dizzying pleasure. “Remember that next time some pathetic idiot thinks he has the right to take you away from me. You don’t want anyone else.”

He gets to his knees and wraps his arms around the backs of your legs to adjust the angle to grind the thick head of his cock against you deep and hard. It forces a loud, broken sob from your lips, sending shockwaves up your spine as he pistons into you with zero mercy.

“I’m going to fill that pussy up,” he growls possessively, movements turning erratic. “You’ll be fucking dripping with me for days.”

“Yes, please… give it to me,” you sob, nails digging into his sheets as the pressure becomes unbearable. “I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me,” he commands, looking down at you, those fiery red jewels baring into yours in anticipation. “Cum around my cock like a good little slut.”

His words are your undoing. Your vision whites as you gush and tighten around his cock, waves of hot pleasure crashing over you as he continues to take you with everything he’s got.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans loudly, his face twisting in ecstasy. He buries him to the hilt one last time, his swollen dick throbbing violently as he empties himself deep inside you with a grunt. You can feel spurt after spurt of his hot cum flooding your pussy as he grits his teeth, riding out the high. Then he collapses on top of you, both of you heaving against each other’s damp, naked bodies.

You wrap your arms around him, deep in thought. “…Ryomen?”

He responds with a tired grunt but then looks up at you through the corner of his eye. “Hm?”

“What happens tomorrow when you’re sober?”

“I’m already sobering up… and nothing changes. You’ll still be mine. Don’t you dare forget it.”

“In that case…” You slide your hand down and wrap your fingers around his cock. “Want to go again?”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “Have some damn patience, brat. You’re going to kill me.”

“What a way to go though.”

He huffs out a laugh and leans his face into your neck to kiss you there. “Should’ve done this the second you moved in.”

[frostedpinkdoll]

୨ ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ babydaddy!toji fucking hates your new boyfriend! [18+]

( mdni. cw: (18+), infidelity/cheating, possessive/jealous ex, breeding kink, oral sex (cunnilingus), rough yet loving penetrative sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, )

The front door clicked shut behind your boyfriend, his goodbye kiss as perfunctory as always—quick, distracted, already scrolling his phone as he headed to his car. You sighed, locking up and glancing at the clock. Nearly 10 PM.

Megumi had crashed out after storytime, his little chest rising and falling in his race car bed down the hall.

Your baby daughter, sweet-faced and tiny at just eight months, was bundled in her crib, monitor humming softly on the kitchen counter. The house settled into that familiar quiet, the kind that amplified every creak and whisper.

Life had shifted since you and Toji split two years ago. Back then, things were fire and chaos—passionate nights tangled in sheets, his massive frame pinning you down, cock stretching you until you saw stars. But commitment? He dodged it like a curse.

Fights escalated, toxicity poisoned the air, and you walked away for the kids' sake. Separate paths, co-parenting through gritted teeth.

He showed up religiously, though—picking up Megumi for park days, cradling the baby with surprising gentleness, handing over child support without a fuss. But his eyes always lingered on you too long, that scarred lip twitching into a smirk that hid regret.

Then came your new boyfriend. Steady job, nice enough, made you laugh sometimes. But the sex? Vanilla. Predictable thrusts, over too soon, leaving you feigning satisfaction. Toji hated him.

Every visit, he'd grill Megumi: "So, what's this guy's deal, kid? He treatin' ya mom right?" Megumi, loyal little echo, would shrug: "Dunno, Dad. He brings pizza."

The baby just babbled, oblivious. Toji's jaw would clench, green eyes darkening. Possessive. Always had been.

A sharp knock rattled the door—three raps, firm. Your heart stuttered. Peering through the peephole, there he was: Toji Fushiguro, towering on the porch in a black hoodie zipped low over his pecs, sweatpants slung low on those V-cut hips. Hair messy, like he'd been pacing.

You cracked the door, chain still latched. "Toji? It's late. Kids are asleep. What's up?"

He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, biceps bulging. "Can I come in? Need to talk. About the kids... and shit."

Hesitating, you unlatched, stepping back. He ducked inside, filling the space, that familiar scent—clean sweat, faint cologne, raw man—flooding your senses.

You shut the door softly, arms folding over your chest. "Talk, then. Megumi's got a check-up Tuesday. Baby's teething, needs more formula—"

"Not about that." His voice dropped, rough as gravel. He toed off his boots, padding into the living room like he owned it—hell, parts of him did, etched into your kids, your memories.

He dropped onto the couch, manspreading wide, patting the cushion beside him. "Sit. Please."

You perched on the edge, knees together, hyperaware of the inches between you. "What is it, Toji?"

He rubbed his neck, scarred lip quirking. "Miss you, Y/N. Fuckin' miss this." Gesture swept the room—the photos on the mantle of Megumi's first steps, baby girl's ultrasound.

"Livin' here together. Wakin' up to you in my shirt, pussy still wet from the night before. Cookin' breakfast while I fuck you over the counter. That life."

Heat bloomed low in your belly, traitorous. You missed it too—the way he'd wreck you, body molding to his like clay. But you schooled your face. "We're not together anymore. You made that clear."

"Yeah, and I regret every goddamn second." His eyes bored into yours, intense. "Was a dumbass. Too caught up in my bullshit. But seein' you with him? That prick? Kills me. Megumi mentions him droppin' by, baby coos at him—fuck that. He make you happy?"

You swallowed, glancing away. "He's... fine. Steady."

Toji scoffed, shifting closer, thigh brushing yours. Electricity sparked. "Steady. That's code for borin'. Does he fuck you better than me? Huh? Stretch that tight pussy like I did? Make you scream loud enough to wake the neighbors?" His hand landed on your knee—warm, callused, thumb stroking slow circles.

"Toji—stop." But your voice wavered, nipples pebbling under your tank top. Deep down, you ached for him. That boyfriend never ignited this fire.

"Tell me," he pressed, body crowding yours now, breath hot on your neck. "He hit it right? Or you fakin' it, thinkin' of my cock the whole time?" Face inches away, lips brushing your ear. "I know you, doll. This pussy's mine. Always has been."

Your resolve cracked. "He left ten minutes ago. Kids asleep. This is crazy."

"Crazy's what we do best." He cupped your jaw, turning your face. Lips crashed—slow at first, testing. You melted, mouth opening under his, tongue stroking deep. Tastes of mint and him, hands fisting his hoodie as you kissed back, hungry.

He pulled back, smirking. "Knew you missed me. C'mere." Scooping you up effortless, he carried you to the bedroom—your room, door clicking shut. Laid you on the bed gentle, despite the hunger in his eyes.

"Toji, we can't—" Protest died as he knelt between your thighs, peeling your sleep shorts down slow, panties clinging wet to your folds. "Fuck... look at you. Soaked already. This for me?"

You nodded, biting your lip. He spread your legs wide, thumbs parting slick lips, exposing your clit—swollen, begging.

"Missed this pretty pussy. Sweetest thing." Leaned in, breath ghosting your core. Nose dragged along your slit, inhaling deep. "Smells like heaven."

Tongue flicked out—flat, slow lick from hole to clit. You gasped, hips bucking. He pinned you down, one hand splayed on your belly, the other fingers circling your entrance teasing. "Stay still, mama. Gonna eat you proper."

Lips sealed around your clit, sucking soft—pulling pulses that made stars burst.

Tongue delved lower, spearing your hole, fucking in shallow thrusts. Wet sounds filled the room, his groans vibrating through you. "Taste so fuckin' good. Forgot how you drip for me."

Fingers joined—two thick ones sliding in easy, curling right against that spot. He pumped slow, deliberate, thumb rubbing your clit in tandem.

"This what he does? Nah. He don't know your spots like I do." Mouth latched back, sucking harder, tongue lashing your bud while fingers scissored, stretching you.

Pleasure coiled tight, your hands fisting sheets. "Toji—oh god—"

"Cum on my tongue. Gimme it." He devoured—licking, sucking, fingers crooking relentless. You shattered, walls clamping his digits, juices flooding his palm. He lapped every drop, humming approval.

Not done. He stripped slow—hoodie off, revealing slabs of pecs, ridges of abs glistening faint sweat.

Sweatpants shoved down, cock springing free: thick, veined, head leaking pre-cum. "See this? Made our babies. Gonna make another."

You whimpered, legs wrapping his waist as he notched at your entrance. Pushed in slow—inch by burning inch, walls fluttering around girth. "Fuck... tight as ever. Missed squeezin' me like this."

Bottomed out, balls snug to your ass. Held still, forehead to yours, kissing soft—loving. "Love you, Y/N. Always did. Gonna fuck you right, make you mine again."

Hips rolled deep—grinding, then withdrawing halfway, slamming back. Rhythm built sensual: long drags, circling grinds hitting your clit. Hands roamed—tweaking nipples, gripping ass, pulling you onto him.

"This pussy's home," he growled, pace quickening. Skin slapped skin, wet squelches echoing. "He can't fill you like this. Bet he cums quick, leaves you empty. Not me. Gonna breed you full."

Words ignited you. "Harder—please—"

He obliged—thrusts punishing yet tender, one hand cradling your face. "Yeah? Want daddy's load? Pump you up, tits swell again. Fuck that stupid boyfriend— you're mine." Cock pistoned, hitting cervix, balls tightening.

Second orgasm ripped through—screaming into his shoulder, nails raking his back. He followed, roaring low, cock pulsing ropes of thick cum deep. Held buried, grinding to push it higher. "Take it all. Good girl."

Collapsed together, breaths syncing. He kissed your temple, arm banding possessive. "Don't need him. We fix this—family. Me, you, kids. Yeah?"

You nodded, tears pricking—truth spilling. "Missed you too."

Comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[faeloresha]

Sound of Obedience

╰─ Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

What starts as a heated argument about your recklessness dissolves into something far more consuming—a power exchange that leaves you breathless and begging, finally uttering the word he's been waiting to hear.

content: Explicit sexual content, age gap dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, praise kink, rough sex, choking, dirty talk, size difference, possessive behavior, power imbalance, breeding kink, spanking, degradation/praise mix.

word count: 2,213

song: Say It by Tory Lanez

masterlist ୧₊˚ playlist

The door hadn't even clicked shut behind you before Toji's hand wrapped around your wrist, spinning you back against the wood with a force that knocked the air from your lungs.

His body pressed into yours, solid and unyielding, pinning you in place as his dark eyes swept over you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“You're fucking reckless,” he growled, voice low and rough like gravel wrapped in silk. “Running headfirst into a setup like that. What the hell were you thinking?”

You opened your mouth to snap back—some defensive retort about saving his ass, about the three men you had taken down while he was busy with the main target, but the words died in your throat when his hand slid up to grip your jaw.

His thumb pressed against your bottom lip, calloused and warm, and the fight drained out of you as quickly as it had flared up.

“I asked you a question.” His tone didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes.

Darker.

Hungrier.

“What were you thinking, throwing yourself into danger like that?”

“That you needed backup,” you managed, voice barely above a whisper. “That I wasn't going to let you—”

“Let me?”

A harsh laugh escaped him, but there was no humor in it.

His grip on your jaw tightened fractionally, forcing your chin up until you were baring your throat to him like prey submitting to a predator.

“Baby, I've been handling shit like this since before you were born. I don't need you playing the hero.”

The words should have stung.

Instead, they sent a bolt of heat straight to your core, pooling low in your belly and spreading outward like wildfire. You hated how easily he could do this to you—reduce you to a trembling mess with nothing but his voice and his hands.

“Toji—”

“Shut up.”

His mouth crashed into yours, and there was nothing gentle about it. It was all teeth and tongue and the metallic tang of blood—whose, you couldn't tell anymore.

His hands found your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise, and you moaned into his mouth as he ground his growing hardness against your thigh.

“You know what we started... don't run from it...”

Toji pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his forehead pressed against yours. His breath came heavy and hot, fanning across your spit-slick lips.

“You want to know what I thought when I saw you charging into that warehouse like you had a death wish?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

“I thought about bending you over the nearest surface and fucking the stupid out of you until you remembered your place.” He said it so casually, like he was discussing the weather. “Thought about making you scream my name so loud those bastards would hear exactly who you belong to.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, but you didn't look away.

“Then do it.”

His eyes flashed, something dark and predatory flickering in their depths.

“Oh, I plan to. But first, I'm going to make sure you understand exactly what happens when you pull shit like that.”

Before you could respond, he had you spun around, face pressed against the door, his body molding against your back.

His hand came down on your ass with a sharp crack that echoed through the apartment, and you gasped, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wood.

“Count.”

“One.”

Another slap, harder this time, right on the curve where your ass met your thigh.

“Two.”

“Three...”

Your voice wavered as he delivered the next blow, and the next, each one sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure through your body.

By the time he reached ten, you were trembling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your core aching and empty.

He pulled you upright, one arm banded across your chest, the other hand sliding down your stomach to press against the damp heat between your legs.

“Look at that,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and teasing. “Soaking through your pants and I've barely touched you. You like being punished, don't you?”

“No...” you whimpered, even as your hips bucked into his hand.

“Liar.” He bit down on your earlobe, hard enough to make you yelp. “But that's okay. I like breaking liars.”

He stripped you with practiced efficiency—your top torn open, buttons scattering across the hardwood floor, your pants pooling around your ankles, your panties following a moment later.

He left you in nothing but your bra, exposed and vulnerable, before stepping back to admire his work.

“Turn around.”

You obeyed, slowly, deliberately, giving him time to drink in every inch of you.

His gaze was a physical thing, dragging across your skin like rough hands, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

When your eyes met his, you saw raw hunger there, barely leashed.

“Sit on the bed.”

You walked backward until your knees hit the edge of the mattress, then sank down onto the rumpled sheets. Toji approached, still fully clothed, towering over you.

“I know what you like... I'll give it to you...”

“You know what I want to hear.” It wasn't a question.

His hands went to his belt, working the buckle loose with deliberate slowness. “Say it, and I'll give you what you need.”

Your mouth went dry.

You'd thought about it—dreamed about it, but saying it out loud felt like crossing a line you couldn't uncross. Still, the ache between your legs was unbearable, and the way he was looking at you promised exactly the kind of ruin you craved.

“Please,” you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for anymore.

“That's not it.”

His pants dropped, and your breath caught at the sight of his cock, thick and heavy, already hard and leaking at the tip. He wrapped his hand around the shaft, stroking once, twice, a glistening bead of precum appearing at the head.

“Try again.”

“Daddy...”

The word slipped out before you could stop it, quiet and shaky, but it landed like a bomb. Toji's eyes went dark, his jaw tightening, his grip on his cock turning white-knuckled.

“Louder.”

“Daddy.” This time it came stronger, surer, the taste of it sweet on your tongue. “Please, Daddy... I need you.”

He was on you before the last syllable left your lips, pushing you back onto the mattress, covering your body with his.

The weight of him pressed you into the sheets, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him impossibly close.

“You're going to be the death of me,” he muttered against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Do you know that? Running into danger, making me worry, looking at me with those fucking eyes like you know exactly what you do to me.”

“Then show me...” you gasped as his mouth found your nipple, tongue flicking across the sensitive peak. “Show me what I do to you.”

He obliged.

His mouth worked its way down your body, leaving a trail of bites and bruises in its wake, marking you as his in the most primal way possible. By the time he settled between your thighs, you were a trembling mess, fingers twisted in his hair, begging without words.

He looked up at you, his lips inches from your core, his breath hot against your slick flesh.

“You're so wet for me, sweetheart. So fucking perfect.” He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, then another, inching closer but never quite reaching where you needed him most. “What do you want?”

“You...” you whimpered. “Please, Daddy, I need your mouth, need you to—”

He gave you exactly what you asked for.

His tongue swept through your folds, broad and flat, collecting your arousal like it was a delicacy.

The moan that escaped him vibrated against your clit, and you cried out, back arching off the bed. He worked you with practiced skill—flicking, circling, sucking, driving you higher and higher until you were teetering on the edge of release.

“Cum for me,” he commanded, and you shattered.

“Ngh... Fuck...”

The orgasm ripped through you, wave after wave of pleasure that left you gasping and shaking.

He didn't stop, didn't let up, licking you through every aftershock until you were oversensitive and whimpering, trying to squirm away from his relentless mouth.

He crawled up your body, his cock pressing against your slick entrance, the head teasing your opening.

“You ready for more, doll, hm?”

“Yes...” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes, Daddy, please—”

He thrust into you in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt, and the stretch was exquisite. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust to his size.

“Ahh! Shit... Toji...”

He was everywhere—filling you, surrounding you, consuming you.

“Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. His pupils were blown wide, borderline black, and the intensity there stole your breath.

“You're mine,” he said, voice low and rough. “Say it.”

“Mhm... I'm yours...”

“And whose good girl are you?”

“Yours...”

Your voice cracked on the word. “Daddy's good girl...”

He rewarded you with a kiss that was almost tender, his tongue sliding against yours as he began to move. The rhythm he set was slow at first, deep and deliberate, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.

The sounds of your joining—the wet slide of skin against skin, the creak of the bed frame, your shared gasps and moans. Toji's hand found your throat, pressing lightly, not enough to cut off air but enough to remind you who was in control.

“Fuck—ngh... Daddy...”

“Shit—you feel so fucking good...” he growled, picking up the pace. “Tight little pussy gripping me like you never want me to leave.”

“Don't want—ahh!” you managed, voice strangled. “Don't ever... leave, please...”

His hips snapped forward, harder, faster, chasing both your releases with single-minded determination.

The hand on your throat tightened fractionally, and your vision swam, pleasure and lack of oxygen combining into something transcendent.

“That's it, baby...” he praised, his brow furrowed with concentration. “Taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

The words washed over you like warm honey, and you felt yourself climbing toward another peak. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper.

“Come on, baby...” he coaxed, his rhythm becoming erratic. “Give me another one. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

His thumb found your clit, pressing tight circles that sent lightning bolts of pleasure through your system. You shattered again, harder than before, your walls clenching around him as you cried out his name—no, not his name.

“Ngh—daddy!”

He followed you over the edge with a guttural roar, burying himself as deep as he could go as he spilled inside you, hot and thick. His body shuddered above you, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard and tangled together.

Minutes passed or hours, you couldn't tell.

The sound of your heartbeats slowly returning to normal. Toji pulled out carefully, collapsing beside you and pulling you into his arms.

“You're not allowed to do that again,” he murmured against your hair.

“Do what?”

“Scare me like that.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, surprisingly gentle for a man who'd just fucked you into the mattress.

“I'm too old for that shit.”

You laughed, the sound soft and breathless. “You're not old.”

“I'm old enough to be your—” He paused, and you felt him smile against your skin. “Well. You know.”

“Daddy?” you teased, and he groaned.

“You're going to be insufferable now, aren't you?”

“Absolutely.”

He tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer, and you let yourself sink into his warmth.

Outside, the city hummed with nighttime energy, but in here, in this moment, there was only the two of you.

“Hey, Toji?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m yours. Completely.”

The admission felt dangerously fragile against the raw intensity of the last hour.

Toji didn’t move.

He didn’t even blink.

The silence stretched, vibrating with a tension that made your heart stutter against your ribs as he looked down at you with those cold, calculating eyes.

Then, his hand found yours.

He didn't just hold it; he pinned your wrist back against the pillow, his fingers interlacing with yours in a grip that was possessive and unyielding.

He leaned in, but he didn't go for your lips.

He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, his stubble grazing your skin like a brand.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that settled deep in your bones. “I know, baby. I know.”

He shifted, his weight a grounding pressure as he hovered over you, eyes dark with a lesson he wasn't finished teaching. He nipped at the shell of your ear, his breath hitching just slightly as he reminded you exactly who was in control.

“You’ve been doing a lot of talking, but if you really mean what you say, you better be ready to say it and prove it when I get started.”

© 2026 faeloresha. All content is owned by @faeloresha. Do not repost, edit, translate, or copy in any form across any platform.

[evfers]

clit inspection with cult!suguru

18+ mdni | masterlist

He opens the door and makes his way over to you, sitting patiently on the floor. Knees folded, hands resting on your lap. You bow before him—lowering your head as your hands moves to the floor. “Lord Geto…” he looks down at you and softly smiles—“no need for formality, my lady. Raise your head,” you look up at him and nod then sit up, laying your hands back in your lap. “You’ve been good lately, my dear deserves what she desires.,Yes?” He talks softly.

“Yes..” you agree without question or hesitation. He keeps a close eye on you everyday making sure his favorite pet was following instructions. And for that—he thinks you need to be rewarded with something that pleases you. Every time he’s noticed you’ve been exceptionally well behaved he always gives his favorite a special treat. “Mmm…” he hums, “you know what you may desire at this time?” He questions. “Yes l-“ your tongue is so used to ‘lord Geto’ it was muscle memory for your mouth. You correct yourself. “Yes…” he relaxes his smile, “come on then sweetheart, enlighten me.” He extends out his right hand out to you. “C-clit inspection…” you mumble looking away. “Hmm?” He pretends to think about it. “Anything you desire is also mine.” He closes his eyes calmly. He opens them and looks at you. “Open up then.”

“Mmh..” blood warms at your cheeks—you feel his hands touch your knees and push them apart. “Just relax.” He reassures you. You reposition your legs and sit properly so now your legs are spread before him. He takes off your lace panties but only pulling them down to your ankles. He pulls your hips forward towards him and looks down at your pulsing pussy. He gets down to the floor then gets up close and personal with your pussy—more specifically your clit. You breathe heavy as he stares at it. “It’s twitching.” He reaches his right hand to touch it, he lifts your clitoral hood and you hiss in response—whipping your head back. “Geto..” you lightly moan. He leans in closer then licks it softly—his tongue felt so good against your aching clit. The tip of his tongue slides to the base of your clit then targets that spot and keeps licking there. “Mmmh..so good..” you moan. “Mmmh..” he moans into your clit then starts making out with it.

Small drops of cum leak from your pussy, you moan again and put your hand behind you on the floor while the other palms the back of his hair. He sucks and seals your clit into his mouth—moaning into it more as your moans turns into whines of pleasure making him want to suck harder. “Nnh..please..Geto..haaaah..” you grip the back of his hair and push his head deeper into your cunt, “fuck..” his tongue flicks over your clit that’s growing more sensitive. He thinks your mewls are so cute. “Let me cum…please..” you take your hand from behind and grip his hair again with your other one. “Mmmmmhhhmmmm…” he moans approvingly. He takes your legs in his arms and holds them as they start to shake. Your clit growing harder under his repeated motions of his tongue and lips. “My cli-ohhhh!” Your body gets a shiver down your back and you start grinding against his tongue. Your pussy making little noises as his tongue glides over your clit.

“I can’t take it..” he lets go of your clit then plays with it with his hand. Firm motions swirling over your aching clit. “Oh but you must.” He leans back down and sucks your clit harder into his lips and your hips start shaking—you feel a knot forming deeply in your stomach. Your whole body shaking under him—making you pant. “Fuuuuuckkk….” Your moans start slowing your words as you try to keep steady. “Getoooooo…” you moan louder. You feel that warm knot swell and then your body shakes harder. Hot cum starts leaking from your hole making you creamy—every-time he licks you fresh cum leaks out. “Nnnnh!” He licks up all your cum and swallows it then kisses your clit and pampers it in more kisses. Even when their soft pecks they still make you feel amazing, your body is sensitive and on edge. All 8k nerves being stimulated made you feel like heaven is real. And it’s this pretty man’s mouth sucking your soul. “C-cumming!” Your hole convulsing and hot—he sucks your clit harder. It rips through you and you start crying. “Fuck please please pleaaaasse I’m cumming I’m cumming!!” You wail out.

“Mmmh!!” You ride his face and cream into his mouth—on his tongue. Then after all that he goes back to soft sucking through the after shocks. “Mmmh…” you moan shaky—he massages your legs then gives your clit another soft kiss then pulls back. He looks up at you, “alright then, satisfied?” “Mhmmm..” you breathe hard. “Good.” He pulls your panties up and puts your clothes back on. He helps you stand up to the best of your ability then leads you back to the door. He softly smiles back to you then whispers in your ear before letting you out.

“By the way, that’s the prettiest clit I’ve ever seen.”

ꉂ (′̤ॢ∀ ू‵̤๑))ˉ̞̭♡ Taglist: @kitty1haveabreak @cuntphoric-main @zukobendsme @cuntphoric @nonamedreams @lilithkleia @levisfatjuicycock @sapph22 @manonism @insanjity @cypresseddd @stqrgumi @lemonzie @angelicwhispersofsin @sugusplaything @dearkuna @izuruverse @serpenttine

[abbygoons]

<𝟑 .ᐟ just some rambles about loverboy toji!

₊˚⊹ ᰔ modern au, single dad! toji, mentions of pregnancy/babies but sfw, this was supposed to just be short headcanons but i kinda got carried away im sorry, lowkey all over the place i just wanted to write about toji before work

yes, toji can be an asshole. he’s a prick and a douche and only cares about himself. that is, until he meets you.

i mean, have you seen the way he treated mamaguro?! he was a gentlemen, a loverboy. i won’t take this “toji is an asshole to you and cheats” propaganda! that man is a loverboy! he wants to shower you with love!! take you on nice dates when he can afford it!! propose to you at a pretty venue!! take your last name!! give you his babies!!

toji wants to romance you, and he has no idea why because he’s never in his life felt this chivalrous before, besides the expectation of his late wife. when he meets you, the pretty woman next door, it’s like everything he’s ever known of pushing people away crumbles. you make an effort to talk to him, you even bake him cookies once a week. he can’t imagine someone so sweet, someone like you, taking the time out of your day to do something for him.

toji is okay with admitting he doesn’t have many friends. just an old college friend, sukuna, and his co-worker, shiu, if co-workers even count has friends. toji doesn’t make any efforts to make any new connections, he’s fine living on his own with his son, megumi.

maybe the loss of his late wife is what made him so reclusive, she was the only one (besides his son, of course) who witnessed his frozen heart melt, witnessed how soft he could be if he was just given the chance.

when you worm your way into his life, all sweet and generous, the first thing he feels is guilt. because what he’s feeling for you is the same feeling he felt for his wife when they first met, and he didn’t think he’d ever move on.

toji really does try to get rid of this silly crush he has on you, his pretty neighbor. he tells himself even if he did have a chance, you’d reject him when you find out about his son. who would want to date a single father?

he couldn’t have been more wrong. one night, shiu’s calling him in last minute. he doesn’t work nights, he can’t. he has to watch after megumi. so he’s stuck trying to find a last minute babysitter. bless your soul, because there you are offering to do the job for free. you heard him cursing over the phone from your backyard, and with nothing better to do that night, you prance right over to his front door and knock.

knock! knock! knock! your loud knocks only irritate him further. great, he needs to find a last minute babysitter and now there’s probably some mormon at the door! he marches right over to the door, slams it open with frustrated intensity, already yelling “i don’t give a shit about your fucking pamphlet!”

when his gaze falls down to you, the last person he’d ever want to yell at, his cheeks are turning an embarrassed crimson as he mutters an apology. you can only laugh in response, waving an understanding hand.

“sorry i came so suddenly. i know you’re in a bad mood, i could hear you from my backyard.”

your words only deepen his blush further, frustrated hand running down his face as he apologies once again. your cute giggle echoes out, a melodic tune he wishes to put on repeat and listen to for the rest of his life. his embarrassment isn’t so bad, if this is the response it creates.

“if you still need a babysitter i can watch your son. of course, only if you’d feel comfortable doing that. i don’t need any pay or anything, i have nothing better to do anyways.”

god. not only are you a sweetheart, not only are you generous, and not only are you the best baker this neighborhoods ever seen, but you’re also a saint. bless your soul.

he’s hugging you before he can overthink it, crushing your much smaller body. he’s a towering, 6 foot something hunk of muscle, you could barely breathe! yet you still return the hug, assuring him that you really don’t mind, that you’d be happy to help him.

you go back to his house that afternoon, excited to finally meet your favorite neighbors quiet son. megumi is a little shy at first, giving you a tiny wave from his spot on the couch, homework sprawled out in the coffee table.

megumi opens up more after you’ve helped him with his homework. he tells you about his day at school, his best friends yuji and nobara, and what he ate for dinner. he’s also telling you about how much his dad talks about you, how lonely his dad is, and how he wishes his dad had more friends because “it’s embarrassing for your best friend to be your son.” you have to stifle a giggle at that comment, but you mostly just feel bad. from this day forward, you’ll make an effort to be his friend. maybe something more, considering megumis comment about him talking about you all the time. you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, he was an attractive man. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t check him out every time he came out shirtless to mow the lawn or clean his car. and megumi was just the sweetest, you’ve always wanted to be a mom.

by the time toji gets back home, surprisingly you’re the one tuckered out, asleep on the couch with a sleepy megumi in your arms. megumis asking if you can be his babysitter everyday now, and toji can’t help but think how pretty you’d look as his wife, all domestic with megumi. who knows, maybe another baby too?