#black yn

[bladebarbie]

you’re sweet bf!Choso failed to mention he was a virgin until…he was inside you

You’d just made it official with Choso, and honestly? You’d been on cloud nine, and he’d been keeping you there every day and night.

Nights at his place were heavy with sweet words, soft touches, kisses all the way down to between your legs that left your heart racing and your mind spinning,wanting more while still tugging at his hair because you couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been patient with you, careful, always watching your reactions like they were the most important thing in the world.

You had no reason to suspect anything was off, right?

You were on top, lips tangled with his after you finally managed to lower yourself on his ridiculously thick cock, wet pussy wrapped so tightly around him–Choso felt like he was getting dizzy from the sensation which made him unusually tense “Cho..you okay, baby” you breathed out between kisses on his jaw.

He let out a strained groan, hands tightening around your hips like he needed something to hold onto“Yeah..sorry, I’ve never gone this far before so the feeling is a bit—”

Your eyes went wide as you shot back, the sudden movement making him whine “Wait… what!?” your mouth fell agape “W-why are you just telling me this now?” You rambled, unsure what to do or how to feel.

He shrugged, like he genuinely didn’t see the big deal “Yeah I didn’t think it was important. We’re together so it was going to happen eventually…”

You blinked at him for a second, heart squeezing “… but we could’ve waited until you were ready” you suddenly felt this weird flicker of guilt, like you’d accidentally taken something from him without realizing it.

“please don’t get upset” His hands slid up your thighs, holding on a little tighter “I don’t care as long as it’s with you. I promise I’ll make you feel good! If that’s what you’re worried about…” He averted his gaze, like he hadn’t even thought about that until now.

You’d been looking at his face without really realizing it but he just looked so deliciously slutty. Cheeks flushed a soft pink, hair tousled across the pillow, eyes half-lidded and locked on you like you were the only thing that existed, like he had no control and was entirely yours

Your sympathy lasted about three seconds when you saw how ruined he was for you.

Because the moment you shifted slightly, Choso’s head tipped back and a cute, helpless sound came out of him “Ha–” he bit his bottom lip. You grinned and rocked your hips again “Oh—fuck—” he groaned quietly, fingers digging into your hips.

“I’m barely doing anything, Cho” you teased, planting your palms flat against his pecks. Choso looked up at you with a dazed expression that made your pussy flutter “J-just…give me a second”

You lifted your hips and slowly brought them back down until your ass met his thighs. your lip catching between your teeth as his dick dragged against your walls “Hmph–fuck!” He cried out, eyes glued on the part where the two of you connected “Baby…please” he looked up with those needy eyes that just had you clenching around him so hard “It’s too much…”

You leaned down, brushing a kiss along his jaw as he wrapped his arms around you “I know,my love” you said softly with a smile “I’ll go slow, ‘kay?” Another rock of your hips had him sucking in a breath and he immediately brought his forearm up over his eyes, hiding his face like that might help “Ha—wait—” he whined under his breath.

You laughed quietly, planting your hands on his chest. “So sensitive~” You bounced this time, a little faster, and his other hand came up to cover his face completely, fingers pressing against his eyes as another shaky sound slipped out of him, lips quivering from the unexplainable pleasure he felt right now from your cruel cunt sucking him in.

“P-please” he groaned, voice muffled behind his hands “Ha–ha..feels so…so” You couldn’t help smiling down at him, leaning forward so you could see his cute little face “good?”

He nodded, little whines slipping past his lips, and you felt your chest tighten, fuck, why was he so cute? “Come on,” you purred, tugging gently at his wrists, “show me your face~”

He hesitated, jaw tight and you couldn’t help the little smirk that crept over your lips. He peeked through his fingers, eyes glossy and entirely addicted to you.

“That’s it,” you whispered, leaning down so your forehead rested against his, watching every tiny quiver in his expression. His hands dropped slowly and you pressed closer, letting him feel the full weight of you against him.

He whimpered low, shaky breaths fanning across your skin “Shit-so warm…fuck”

“Ha-hmph…you like this, don’t you?” you murmured, fingers sliding lightly over his arms, breathing quickening as you picked up the pace riding him.

He groaned again, whimpering “yes! yeah so…so much–shit” His voice broke on each word, pathetic and needy, and you couldn’t help the small laugh that trembled through you.

you might be enjoying this a little too much.

[nobitchs-world]

When y/n gets too annoying to the point you want to stop reading

[blackbarb1e]

pairing: benito martinez x wife!black!fem!reader summary: He said just the tip. cw: 18+ mdni, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk (lwk) & wtv i wrote

a/n: i use lots of ‘—’ no it’s not ai

Benito had promised just the tip.

That's what he'd whispered against your mouth when he walked through the door, still smelling like the studio—cologne and that particular heat that clung to him after hours of tracking vocals. His hands had found your waist before he even kicked his shoes off, pulling you into his chest while your name fell from his lips like a prayer he'd been holding in all day.

"Mami, los niños—"

"Asleep," you'd told him, your own hands sliding up his arms, feeling the tension knotted in his shoulders. "Been down for an hour."

The groan that rumbled out of him was pure relief. Pure want. He'd pressed his forehead to yours and let out a long breath, his thumbs tracing circles against the fabric of your robe, that thin silk thing you'd thrown on after bath time, after story time, after the long ritual of tucking your babies in and kissing their foreheads and turning on their nightlight.

"Te necesito," he'd murmured. "Te necesito tanto, mami."

And then his mouth found yours, slow at first, like he was tasting you for the first time all over again. But you knew better. You knew that slow burn. You knew the way his hands tightened on your hips, the way his tongue swept past your lips, the way his breathing changed, shallow and hungry.

So when he pulled back and said it—just the tip, just a little, he'd be quick—you'd laughed, soft and knowing, and let him lead you to the bedroom.

Now you're on your back, your honey brown hair fanned across the pillow in waves, twenty inches buss down that cost a pretty penny and makes him go feral every time. His fingers are tangled in it, gripping the nape, tilting your head back so he can lick down your throat.

"Benito—"

"Shh, mami." His voice is rough, wrecked already. He's still half-dressed, jeans undone, shirt hanging open, that tattooed chest on full display. "Déjame cuidarte."

His hand slides down your body, palm hot against your stomach, then lower, past the waistband of your panties. You're already wet—you'd been thinking about him all evening, about the way he'd looked this morning, half-asleep and reaching for you before the kids came stumbling in. And when his fingers find your clit, you gasp, your hips bucking into his touch.

"Ay, Dios mío," he breathes. "Estás tan mojada. Todo para mí?"

"All for you," you manage, and he groans like the words hit him somewhere deep.

He pushes your panties aside, not even bothering to take them off, and you feel the tip of his cock pressing against you. Thick. Hot. That familiar weight that always makes your breath catch.

"Solo la puntita," he promises again, and you almost believe him.

Almost.

Because the second he pushes in, just the head, just a little, his eyes roll back and his hips stutter forward and suddenly it's not just the tip anymore. It's him sinking into you, inch by inch, that thick stretch that has you crying out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Benito— you said—"

"Lo sé, lo sé, mami." He's already breathless, already lost. "Pero te sientes tan bien. No pude— ay, coño—"

His hips press forward and he bottoms out, and you both moan together, a harmony of sound that fills the room. "Mmm, shit, Beni—

He starts moving. Slow at first, deep strokes that drag against your walls and make your eyes flutter shut. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot on your lips, and every thrust is punctuated by a grunt, a whisper, a "puta madre" or an "ay, Dios" that tumbles out of him like he can't help it.

You can feel every inch of him. The way his cock pulses inside you. The way his thighs press against yours. The way his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning your hand to the mattress.

"Mírame," he commands, and you open your eyes. His are dark, blown wide, locked on yours. "Quiero verte cuando te vengas."

"Then fuck me like you mean it."

The grin that spreads across his face is wicked. "Oh, ¿sí? Así quiere ella?"

He pulls out, and before you can complain, he's flipping you over. Your knees hit the mattress, your chest pressed into the sheets, your ass in the air. You hear him groan behind you—a low, guttural sound that makes your pussy clench around nothing.

"Mira ese culo," he mutters, more to himself than to you. His hands land on your hips, squeezing, kneading. "Dios mío, mami. Este culo me va a matar."

He lines himself up and pushes back in, and the angle is different now, deeper, harder, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Your mouth falls open, a sharp cry tearing out of you.

"¡Ay, coño!" he growls, picking up the pace. "Así— así— mierda, qué rico—"

The sound of him fucking you fills the room. Wet and rhythmic, skin slapping against skin. You're dripping down your thighs, soaking the sheets, and every time he thrusts you feel it in your throat.

"Beni— right there— fuck—"

"¿Ahí? ¿Ahí te gusta?" He pounds into that spot, relentless. His hand reaches around, fingers finding your clit, circling it in time with his strokes. "Dime. Dime cómo te sientes."

"So good— ahh— so fucking good, Benito—"

"Mmm, sí. Grita mi nombre. Quiero oírlo."

And you do. You scream it when he hits that spot again, your fingers gripping the sheets, your whole body trembling. "Benito! Benito!"

"Así, mami. Así."

He slows down, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, torturously slow. You whimper, pushing back against him, trying to get more, but his hands hold you still.

"Tranquila," he purrs. "Disfrútalo."

He fucks you like that for what feels like forever, deep and slow and deliberate, every stroke hitting places you forgot existed. Your legs start shaking. Your breath comes in gasps. You can hear yourself making sounds you don't recognize—high and desperate.

"Te siento," he whispers, leaning over your back, his mouth against your ear. "Te siento apretándome. Estás cerca, ¿verdad?"

"Yes— yes, Beni, I'm—"

"Ven conmigo. Vamos juntos."

He speeds up again, his thrusts losing rhythm, getting sloppier, needier. His breathing is ragged, his grip bruising, and every word out of his mouth is a curse or a prayer.

"Mierda— te quiero— esta pussy es mía—"

"Yours— fuck— all yours—"

"Dilo otra vez."

"All yours, Benito— ahh— I'm gonna—"

He hits that spot one more time—slap, slap, slap—and you shatter. Your orgasm rips through you like a wave, pulling you under, and you hear yourself screaming his name, a long, breathless "BENITO!" that echoes off the walls.

He follows right behind you, a guttural "¡Ay, coño, mami!" as he buries himself deep and spills into you, hot and thick, his whole body shuddering against yours.

You collapse together, a tangle of limbs and sweaty skin and ragged breaths. He's still inside you, softening, and neither of you moves for a long moment.

Then he kisses your shoulder. Your neck. The curve of your spine.

"Te amo," he murmurs against your skin. "Perdón por la mentira."

You laugh, weak and breathless. "You're not sorry."

"No," he admits, grinning against your back. "No lo siento."

all rights go to @𝐁𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗕𝗜𝗘 . i do not agree with my content to be stolen nor to be translated without my permission.

divs creds : kodaswrld

[pastelcloudy28]

Sundress Season - Brendon Park x Reader

The Pitt Masterlist|Masterlist

Summary: Brendon is mesmerized when he sees his wife's new dress.

Content and warnings: Penetration, begging, a bit of brattiness? Cute date, Brendon being a lover boy. Oh, and cursing! WC: 700+

“What do you think?” you asked with a giddy smile and a slight bounce. You spun to give Brendon a better view. 

It had taken almost a week, but you’d finally found the perfect sundress for your date at the museum. 

Ditsy pink rosebuds and peonies were scattered across the white background of the nearly calf-length dress. 

The halter top fit so delicately and landed right just under your neckline. The dress fits so well around your figure.

The pins in your hair acted right today, too! Your updo is sitting behind your headband perfectly.

One look from Brendon let you know he absolutely agreed; the arousal in his eyes was clear. 

He walked you back against your bedroom wall before saying with a smile, “You look gorgeous in florals.” 

You flushed and said, “Thank you, honey-” he dropped to his knees and tugged the front of your dress over his head.

You felt him slowly remove your panties before licking a stripe up your pussy.

The moan you let out was music to his ears as he palmed himself through his pants. 

It was insane. The way he could unravel you with just a few flicks of the tongue. Stars shone behind your eyelids as you continued to mewl and whine. 

He held you against the wall as you leaned your head back with a gasp. You were brought to the brink of your orgasm and quickly thrown over the edge. 

Your legs shook, and you moaned out breathlessly, “Bren”. 

He sat up, pulling your dress down before smoothing it and wiping his lips. Your arousal coated his mouth. 

You hadn’t even noticed he’d also cum, too distracted by the pleasure. 

It wasn’t until he said, while starting to walk away, “I have to go change my pants, baby, but honestly, you’re making me hard again,” he said without an ounce of embarrassment and all the nerve of a guy who’d make his partner cum with only his mouth. 

“Ready to go?” Brendon asked coolly while pulling your dress down and pocketing your panties after he’d returned, “With traffic, we’ll be a little late,” he finished off.

“My underwear-” you were shushed. Actually shushed. He smiled teasingly.

You balked before he pecked your lips and stepped back to look at you. Your eyes no longer brimmed with tears, and your lip liner had been reapplied. 

Anyone looking at you would be none the wiser of what just happened moments ago.

You nodded with a slightly dazed but happy smile and grabbed his hand; the two of you got into his Bentley and made your way to the Pittsburgh museum.

Truthfully, you and Brendon were both ready to go home. You more than him. The museum was fun, but the day’s earlier antics had you frustrated, needing more.

It had shown in the way you’d snapped at Brendon for telling you, and not asking about where to get food.

Or, when you’d rolled your eyes at him telling you to stop being a brat.

Which is exactly why you were folded in half, legs nearly touching your ears, in his slightly cramped backseat, and you’d lost track of time.

Your sundress sat abandoned on the console, along with your white sandals thrown somewhere.

All he’d told you before beginning to thrust into you was,” As much as I love your dress, sweetheart, you better take that off before I tear it off.”

“Hnngh- fuck- Brendon, I can’t-” you moaned loudly.

“You’re not tapping out on me now, are you, baby?” he responded with a groan in his voice. “Are you gonna be quiet this time?” he asked sultrily.

Not wanting him to stop, you begged, “Please keep going, I promise I’ll be quiet.” 

You let out a string of curses and mumbled pleas once he began to twist his hips in the way sure to make you cum. 

He could feel himself nearing the edge as well. But he always made sure you came first. But it would be of no use if the two of you were caught. 

As much as he loves your noises, he pulled your panties from earlier from his back pocket and stuffed them in your mouth. 

Moaning around them, you felt yourself starting to orgasm. Your body began to shake from the immense pleasure, and your vision started to turn white.

“You had all that attitude in the museum, hm? You just needed me to fuck you, huh- Fuck, you feel amazing, baby.” he thrusted with more intention, hitting your sweet spot, making your back arch.

He looked down and saw a creamy ring connecting the two of you, which triggered his orgasm.

You could feel his cum shooting into you, which led you to let out a louder moan. Your body finally settled down, and he caged you in.

“Next time, we stay home,” you said, taking a breathy laugh.

Thank you for your patience anon!

I've caught up with reuqests and they're open!

[wiinterz]

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒.

I genuinely can not stand when there’s a black character in a TV show, especially if it’s a black woman character and she’s shipped with a well-known (male) character that’s beloved by the fandom, but the fandom treats her horribly.

I’ve seen this with every fandom I have been in, and each time it aggressively gets worse. For example, Damon and Bonnie from The Vampire Diaries. I have not read the books, but I have been told they did get together in them, and if I am not mistaken, I believe Ian was at least interested in the idea of Bonnie and Damon being together. When watching the show, you can see the chemistry; it just rubs off on each other. Yes, everyone knows Damon is a problematic character, but when he cares, he cares hard, and that especially goes for Bonnie. I wish the writers (Julie Plec) weren’t cowards and allowed us as an audience to see that side of their relationship blossom.

Then, with Mel and Jay from Arcane, the disgusting things I have seen this fandom do, the lengths that they go to treat Mel as an abuser in the relationship? To treat Mel as trash and not a character with complex qualities, just like everyone else in the show. Which is why I will forever side-eye any and every JayVik shipper. I do not care if you’re not the one perpetuating the stereotypes on Mel, but you being a shipper and seeing fellow shippers be distasteful; the least you can do is call them out on their behavior and make sure you’re not a safe space for them. Some fanfic writers have the nerve to write her as some aggressive black woman, and even Jay as aggressive sometimes, and Victor as the docile, could never hurt a fly character. Which is wrong, it’s disturbing, and it is racism.

Many fandom spaces are full of misogynoir and people who do not care to unpack their ignorance, even pick up a book and see why that is. Two authors I could easily recommend to people would be Bell Hooks and Toni Morrison. You have to do the work on unlearning racist and misogynistic behaviors because it is so deeply rooted in fandoms and other communities.

Whenever a black person decides to ship a black character and a non-black character together, I have seen many non-black people try to correct them, saying, “Oh, they’re just friends, he/she wouldn’t date them.” Are you the writer of the show? No, so what makes it right for you to police that person?

This goes with The Bear fandom and how people treat sydcarmy shippers. Why is it so shocking to you that people ship those two characters together? I personally haven't seen the show fully, but from the many clips I've seen of those two, I can see why people ship them, and even if I couldn’t, it's still not my place to police a person if it’s not doing any harm to anyone, or even the characters.

A lot of people love to humble black shippers and characters and force us into a box of some sort. While their counterparts get a safe space to be themselves.

With the Bridgerton fandom and their mistreatment of Michaela Stirling. It’s not just lesbianphobia, it’s racism, it’s misogyny. I see a lot of white lesbians and non-black lesbians in general forget to mention that racism plays a big role in why people want Michael Stirling and not Michaela Stirling. There are people in this fandom who will use AI and turn Michaela back into a man, but only a white man. As if the Kilmartin and Stirling families aren’t full of black people. I’m not interested in excuses either because more racism will go dismissed.

A lot of people don’t care to realize that if these problems do not get called out in fandoms, then we’ll have a situation like the Percy Jackson fandom and The Flash. As someone who grew up with both of those things, I am extremely tired of seeing the mistreatment of the actors and their characters. You don’t care about black women, you don’t even care about the character, you just want to insert yourself in these situations because of another character you love. A lot of white people have that problem, and we see it a lot in BookTok. I have seen it all my life.

[cocoadropp]

Warnings: Feetkink? Dry humping, thigh fucking, sub!ony. uhhh idk guys.

NSFW

you were like a vixen straight out of a 80’s porno. always had curtain bangs, hair black with streaks of blonde or pink. lips puckered with a dark brown lip liner and nude pink in the middle glossed up. eyeshadow always sparkled with glitter, body always sparkled in glitter. and Jesus you smelled so good.

looked even better with your black lace bralette and black lace panty, thong so skinny it almost looked like you had nothing on if it wasn’t for what’s between your legs getting hidden by that exact lace. top and bottom belly pierced with a tattoo that reached the top of your ribs all the way to your ankle.

gosh, to say onyankapon was infatuated would be an understatement.

“so you the birthday boy?” you questioned, walking up to him where he was seated in the private room. “friends out there hollering about you, how you deserve this cause you just won a football game, what? last thursday?” you smirk at him, you tease him.

he’s never felt so stuck before, not when he was on the field, not when he had to talk in front of damn near millions of people when he lost a game, and never when he talking to some female. his lips curl as if he was mad at her for even given him a reason to stutter on his words.

he bite his lips, diamond grills showing slightly “yeah, that’s me.” he eyes your feet first when you get closer, cute, feminine with black frenchtip. he eyes trail higher when he sees the long straps on your heels that reaches below your knee, you so fucking captivating. the hell you doing at a strip club?

his eyes meet your pelvic bone, looks at you petite waist and ribcage and he can tell you been working hard on that pole. your body just shows it, faint muscles in your arm, ass so plump and he bet he can sit a cup on it if he concentrated hard enough. “yea that’s you?” you bite your lip back at him, all white straight teeth.

you get even closer, one heeled foot going between his man-spreaded legs. and with that he leans back, gets more comfortable. arms behind the seated area. you tuck your head to the side as you inspect him, designer baggy pants and chrome heart long sleeve, he has a hat on but you can tell he got a fresh cut with some braids underneath. Silver Cuban link chain around his neck and an even big Cuban link bracelet over his wrist that matches perfectly with a blinged out Rolex.

you can’t say the money he obviously has wasn’t making your pussy a little wet, you loved when men came in, and they looked as good as they money. but you can tell onyankapon is different, he’s a little calm, he looks like he was forced into this but possibly has taken a interest in you. and another thing you absolutely loved more than a cute face with money is someone you can get over.

the way he flinches a little, you can tell even though bitches probably flaunt they way at him he ain used to someone like you, and that makes him…cute.

“you cute onyankapon.” and just as he was about to question you with a eyebrow up, you plop on his lap. “can tell you never did nothing like this before huh? even though football filled with niggas that ain shit, you a good boy.” you lean closer to his ear and ony swears his spine tingles and straightens.

his fist balled up and he leaned his head to the side as if it was an invitation. you don’t take the invitation though, you lean back and look at his face, your hands going behind you to lean or his knees, covered pussy in the front of his zipper.

“I-it, what?” it’s like he wanted to confess but a cat caught his tongue telling him no. One hand from his knee moves to grab on his jaw, his breath is caught up and staggered. “usually men aren’t supposed to be touching on the girls, not supposed to be doing more than giving money and watching,” you lean closer to his face, teeth softly biting at his bottom lip, he groans almost pathetically. “I can tell though ony, you might be my favorite.”

your hips grind once against his, and his hands find your thigh, not giving in all the way.

ony was frustrated to say the least, though you had something so skimpy on, his jeans was making it hard.

and speaking of hard he can feel his shit twitching more, the more he smelt you, the more you body moved, the more your fingers touched over his face and under his undercut, the more you fucking breath against his ears.

he was a sensitive man, barely fucking anyone because that’s just not his style. he aware of gold diggers and money hungry girls, which is ironic because he at a strip club where the reside at but fuck he was forced her and fuck did you change every thought process he had.

his friends told him about you, how you move, how you laugh and just how sexy you are. they always said how strict you are about the touching policy, about how you barely even give them more then a 5 minute lap dance before you requesting the money.

he doesn’t know nor you, but you end up on your back.

his jeans still on but dick so hard it’s form against his thigh and he’s getting so fucking greedy he just jumping against your thigh and covered pussy like his famous career doesn’t even exist. like she can’t go and rat him out for actually being a loser.

but you would never, because this is exactly how you like em.

“f-fuck sorry I just….oh god.” he moans softly. his hands grip the underside of your thighs and your hands follow his shoulders. “it’s okay ony, you can take it out though.”

he pauses, breathing heavy as fuck and eyebrows furrowed. “you can’t put it in, but I’ll give you a little something more for your birthday.”

and he does, his thick tip sliding against the pudge of your pussy that’s now poking outside of your panties.

he feels the wetness, he feels the lace and he so turned on he feels like a teenager.

you can tell he’s getting into it, your biting your lips and your pussy is fucking throbbing cause it all just feels so good. he smells so good, and he’s doing so good.

“mm, my- I’ve never did this before.” you mumble and moan, watching him bring your legs up and over one of his shoulder so your thighs close better around his dick and he goes deeper like that, balls squished against where your hole is pulsating and the top of his dick covering almost your whole belly button. “just like that ony.”

“uhn fuck! mama, I think I can nut just like this.” he half way laughs and groans. and now he’s unstrapping your heels to digs his nose in your ankle, to suck and lick on the heel of your feet all the way to the tip of your toes.

you moan out in shock, back arching off the couch.

yes, this is exactly your type.

his hips go sharper, but sloppy nonetheless, it makes him tremble and he’s not even sure what he’s doing anymore, “ima become a regular. I swear, you gon give me this treatment everytime?” he questions and oh he’s the cutest with the way he’s absolutely deadass.

you smile behind a moan and you nod.

you’d give him everything he wants.

A/N: lowkey y’all im finna drop drafts because why not. I’ve been MIA ASF, i edit a little of em but not all. I have so many drafts. (Should I start finishing them? I lowkey lost motivation, I feel like a Wattpad author when they ghost their audience lmao)

[corsetdevious]

cw: smut(mdni), p in v, unprotected rough sex, daddy kink, dom!toji, sub!reader, black!fem!reader, spanking, choking, age gap, crampie, dirty talk, name calling, praise kink.

“You like that, you little slut, don’t you?” Toji’s voice was a low growl, hot against your ear as he drove into you, each thrust brutal and deep. He was splitting you open, that thick cock hammering your tight, slick pussy until you could feel every ridge and vein dragging against your walls. Your hole was already leaking, a mix of your own arousal and his pre-cum making a mess of his sheets. “Always testing my patience.”

“Fuuuck— mmh, Daddy, I’m sorry—” The words tumbled out of you, muffled by the mattress, your face pressed into the damp fabric. He had you pinned just how he liked—ass up, face down, your brown body arching under his weight. You’d teased him earlier for being an old man. Thirty-five to your nineteen, a whole fifteen-year gap that made your friends raise their eyebrows. But you couldn’t help it. There was something about his rough hands, his cocky smirk, the way he took what he wanted. Now you were paying for that smart mouth.

Your eyes rolled back as he hit that spot again—that deep, spongy place inside you that made your toes curl and your vision go white. Your mouth hung open, drool gathering at the corner of your lips, a thin string of spit dripping onto the pillow. You were already gone, lost in the rhythm of his hips slapping against your ass.

SMACK.

His big hand came down hard on your right cheek, the sound echoing off the walls. The sting bloomed across your brown skin, the round globe of your ass jiggling under the impact. You could feel the heat of his handprint, the mark he was leaving on you—a brand that said his. Your body bucked forward, but he held you steady with his other hand gripping your hip.

“Who’s Daddy’s little girl, huh?” His thrusts got sloppier, more frantic, the wet sound of your pussy sucking him in filling the room. He was losing control, and you loved it. “Answer me, princess.”

His hand left your hip and found your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck and squeezing just enough to cut off your air. You gasped, a strangled moan escaping as he yanked your head back, forcing your spine to arch deeper. The pressure was intoxicating—that mix of fear and trust, knowing he could crush your windpipe if he wanted, but he wouldn’t.

“M-me… it’s me, Daddy,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. Your pussy clenched around him, desperate and hungry, as if trying to milk him dry.

Another slap landed—SMACK—on your left cheek this time, harder than the first. Your ass rippled, and you cried out, a sharp “Ahh!” that turned into a guttural moan. He didn’t let up. Both hands now wrapped around your throat, he choked you properly, pulling you upright against his chest while still buried deep inside you. His hips never stopped, slamming into you with wet, loud slaps that echoed off the bedroom walls.

Your vision blurred, spots dancing at the edges. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, that thick vein pulsing against your g-spot with every grind. He was holding you up by your throat, your body limp and pliant, a doll in his hands. The only sounds you could make were choked gasps and broken moans, your nails clawing at his forearm—not to push him away, but to anchor yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, his hot breath making you shiver despite the heat of the room. “That’s it, take it like the little whore you are. You like being my little cum dump, don’t you? Say it.”

You couldn’t speak, not with him cutting off your air. But you nodded as best you could, tears streaming down your cheeks. He loosened his grip just enough for you to gasp a single word: “Yes…”

“Yes what? Use your fucking words.”

“Yes, Daddy… I love being your whore… your little slut…” Your voice was wrecked, hoarse, but you meant every syllable.

He groaned, a deep, feral sound from his chest, and shoved you back down onto the mattress. Your face hit the pillow, and he was on top of you again, one hand gripping your hip, the other fisting in your braids, yanking your head back at an angle. He fucked you harder, faster, his balls slapping against your clit with every punishing thrust. The wet sounds of your pussy were obscene—a sloppy, squelching rhythm that mixed with your cries and his grunts.

“Fuck—you’re so fucking tight,” he hissed, his pace becoming erratic. “This little cunt was made for me, wasn’t it? Say it.”

“It was made for you, Daddy! Only for you!”

He growled, a sound that vibrated through his chest and into yours. His hand left your hip and came down on your ass again—SMACK—then again—SMACK—each slap punctuated by a sharp cry from you. Your ass was raw, the skin hot and tingling, and you could feel the heat radiating off the marks he was leaving. His handprints were all over you now, a roadmap of his ownership.

“Always running that mouth, testing me,” he muttered, his pace losing its rhythm. He was close, you could feel it in the way his cock swelled, the way his breath came in ragged pants. “But you know what happens when you test Daddy, don’t you? You get filled up. Every. Single. Time.”

He punctuated each word with a deep, grinding thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your pussy clenched around him, milking him, pulling him deeper. You were so close yourself, that knot in your belly tightening, ready to snap.

“Please, Daddy, please—let me cum, please—”

“You wanna cum? You gotta earn it.” He pulled out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could whimper in protest, he flipped you onto your back, spreading your legs wide and hiking them over his shoulders. He didn’t even pause to admire the view—just shoved himself back inside, bottoming out in one smooth motion that made you scream.

Now he could see your face—the tears, the drool, the fucked-out expression of a girl completely owned. He leaned over you, his forearms bracing on either side of your head, his hips grinding in a slow, deep rhythm. His eyes were dark, almost black, pupils blown wide as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “Such a pretty little mess. This is what happens when you talk back to Daddy, huh? You get your guts rearranged until you can’t even remember your own name.”

You couldn’t respond, could only babble incoherent pleas and moans as he fucked you deep and slow, hitting that spot with every single stroke. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles, and your body seized up, your back arching off the bed.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for Daddy. Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”

The command broke you. You came with a scream, your pussy clenching around him in waves, your whole body shaking. He didn’t stop, kept fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own. His strokes became ragged, his breath hitching, and you felt him pulse inside you.

“Fuck—take it all, take my cum, you little slut,” he growled, and then he was coming, hot and thick, flooding your pussy with rope after rope of his seed. He kept thrusting, shallow and slow, riding out his climax, grinding his cum deeper into you until it leaked out around his cock, dripping down your thighs.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight a warm, heavy blanket. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, his breath hot on your neck. For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds were your heavy breathing and the faint squelch of his softening cock still nestled inside you.

Finally, he pulled out, watching as his cum trickled out of your pussy, pooling on the sheets. He lay down beside you, pulling you into his arms, one hand splayed across your stomach.

“You’re mine, you understand?” he murmured, his voice softer now, but still edged with possession. “Every time you run that mouth, I’m gonna fill you up until you can’t walk straight. Now sleep. You’ve earned it.”

Your body was sore, used, and completely satisfied. You snuggled into his chest, your legs still trembling, feeling his cum leaking from you, warm and wet. You knew you’d be feeling him inside you for days. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

©corsetdevious, all right deserved.

[eddies-ed]

EX BOYFRIEND!BAKUGO ⋆˚࿔

ex boyfriend! bakugo who still has your contact saved exactly how it was. same nickname. same emoji. never opened the edit screen once.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who tells himself he’s “over it.” says it out loud. believes it for maybe ten minutes at a time.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who mutes your social media… then checks it anyway. never likes. never comments. knows exactly when you cut your hair or get new nails.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who hates that the breakup wasn’t loud. no screaming. just two stubborn people who didn’t know how to stop hurting each other. the quiet makes it worse.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who still remembers the way you say his name when you’re tired. it plays in his head at the worst times. grocery store. gym. 2 a.m.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who stiffens when someone mentions you. jaw tight before he can stop it. “don’t talk about her like that.” doesn’t explain.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who despises whoever you date next without even meeting them. already decided they aren’t good enough.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who keeps the hoodie you borrowed and never gave back. refuses to wash it. folds it carefully like it’s fragile.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who is one drink away from texting you something dumb like u eat yet then deleting it. then typing it again. then throwing his phone across the room.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who still steps in front of you instinctively when something loud happens. body reacts before his brain catches up.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who shows up if you ever need help. no questions. doesn’t matter how long it’s been. “i said i’d have your back. i meant it.”

ex boyfriend! bakugo who argues quieter now. longer pauses. looks that linger. both of you pretending you don’t know what the other wants to say.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who tells himself loving you is just a habit he’ll break eventually. even though habits don’t hurt like this.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who waits without admitting it. not hopeful. just resigned. like part of him never left you.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who would fold instantly if you came back and said his name the way you used to. no pride. no hesitation.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who doesn’t love you loudly anymore.

ex boyfriend! bakugo who loves you quietly. constantly. and lets it ruin him a little every day.