chronic femme fatal

my little black book

[kissmepostsstuff]

Summary: Rafe's wife asked him for the divorce and you're the only one that can make him feel better.

Warnings: cheating (don't like don't read) dark!reader, cheater!rafe, lying about birth control, unprotected p in v, rafe is lowk a pathetic asshole, jealousy. I can't think of anything else idc.

"𝒥ℯ𝒶𝓁ℴ𝓊𝓈 𝒿ℯ𝒶𝓁ℴ𝓊𝓈 𝒿ℯ𝒶𝓁ℴ𝓊𝓈 𝓰𝒾𝓇𝓁, 𝒾𝒻 𝒾 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎 𝓃ℴ ℴ𝓃ℯ ℯ𝓁𝓈ℯ 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓃..."

You met Rafe because your mom was Rafe's wife's best friend, it was that simple, you used to go to his house in your teenage years whenever your mom went there.

While your mom was talking to Rafe's wife, Pearl, you were simply spending time in the pool or chatting with Rafe.

You got obsessed with him from the moment you saw him shirtless by the pool, looking like a glazed donut and smiling at you charmingly.

Now that you were 23, you no longer needed to go only when your mom went; they welcomed you as if you were family, and you used to spend the afternoons at their house.

Pearl always loved you, but you got along better with Rafe, you always did. Now that you were an adult, he was a little more open with you about his problems.

One night, you were in your apartment watching a series when your phone rang, the screen lit up and Rafe's name appeared on the screen.

"𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚢."

You grabbed it and answered the phone; on the other line you first heard his rapid, ragged breathing.

"Rafe? Is everything okay?"

You asked worriedly and you could hear him take a deep breath before speaking

"I—I was hesitating to call you, I don't know if I should be—do this. I don't know if I should do this."

He sounded like he was crying, but trying not to make it obvious, though it didn't work cause you could immediately tell.

"Rafe—what are you even talking about?" You straighten up on the couch, now fully paying attention.

"Baby—It's Pearl, she—she asked for the divorce, now she did mean it."

You rolled your eyes the moment you heard it. Rafe already told you about his marriage problems and stuff. You acted like you cared and he always thanked you for listening to him, like you weren't waiting for the moment he finally finished everything with Pearl. You had nothing against her, you liked her, but you liked her husband better.

But hearing Rafe cry like this, like he actually loved Pearl and the idea of the divorce being hell, it stirred something in you, it wasn't pity, it was a dark jealousy and anger, you wanted him to cry like that because of you.

You took a deep breath and nodded along as he explained the whole situation.

"It's okay, Rafey...you know I'm here for you, always will."

You heard him laugh, but it wasn't a grateful laugh, it was almost like he was mocking you for what you said, like he thought it was stupid.

"You don't understand, sweetheart, you can't help, you can't do anything about it."

You stared at the TV blankly when you heard him say that. No wonder Pearl wanted to end it.

"Then why the fuck you called me? I was trying to help."

You snapped at him, he knew you were like this, that's why he was always careful with his words, not in moments like this though.

"Hey—I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, you know I never mean anything I do or say."

"Yeah, no shit. I can tell." You rolled your eyes and slumped back against the couch.

You could still hear his breathing from the other line, you knew his breath stank of whiskey and cigarettes, especially now that he was stressed, in extreme cases he even used the coke he kept in one of the kitchen cabinets.

"Sweetie, can you come over? Please? I need you—I need to talk to you..."

Your breath hitched at his needy, pathetic tone, you never expected him to be like this, even if you were annoyed with him, you agreed.

"Okay, let me put something on and I'll be there."

You were about to hang up when you heard his voice again.

"Yeah? Something on? What are you wearing, baby? The cute little babydoll set I gifted you?"

He tried to sound seductive so bad it just cringed you, especially after hearing him being so pathetic.

"Don't be ridiculous, old man."

Then you finished the call, leaving him there.

30 minutes later you were there, in front of the tall, french door of his house.

He opened there and you could tell he was trying to fix the mess he was.

"Baby...took you long enough."

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside, hugging you and burying his face in your neck.

"God...I missed my babygirl..." He couldn't hold himself back and pressed a wet kiss on your neck, his stubble and mustache tickled the skin of your neck, it was a feeling you were used to.

He walked you over the couch and sat you down, he sat down too.

"Where's Pearl?" You asked as you looked around.

"She, uh...she is at your mom's, she spending the night there."

"Wow, really?" You smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, really. I'm completely alone here...it's killing me if I'm honest."

You wanted to roll your eyes again.

"It's killing you? What?" Your little smile vanished as you stared at him.

"Nothing, just...the loneliness. I haven't even taken a shower yet, I came home from work and the first thing I find are those stupid divorce papers."

He pointed at them with his hands, using that Rafe-like gesture he always used.

"Well, then you should take one."

He nodded and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah, I should. I mean—I will, of course." He sighed and stood up.

"C'mon, make me some company."

You followed him towards his room, AKA Pearl's room.

"You can wait on the bed, make yourself comfortable."

Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

౨ৎ

When he stepped out he was already wearing sweatpants, you lost the opportunity of seeing him in just a towel, but at least he was shirtless.

His short, wet hair was messy and dripping down in his chest, you stood up and grabbed the towel he was holding in his hands.

"I'll dry your hair." You casually said and he laughed as he flopped down on the edge of the bed.

"Sweetheart, I'm a man, I don't need to dry my hair." He said and you rolled your eyes.

"That's genuinely so stupid."

You climbed onto the bed behind him and started drying his hair with the towel.

"You're using the same towel I used to dry my dick." He smirked and you smacked his shoulder.

"Eww! Why are you so nasty?" He laughed and reached back to grab your thigh and squeeze it.

"Come over here, sweetheart, I wanna see that pretty face."

He fully settled on the bed and leaned against the mattress, you settled yourself on his lap, straddling his hips and smiled down at him, he smiled back and brought his hands to your ass, squeezing it.

"I'm technically not married anymore...means I can do whatever I want with whoever I want."

He smirked up at you and you kissed him then, he didn't hesitate much, he just kissed you back.

౨ৎ

He was being vocal and moaned loudly underneath you, you were riding him, your hands gripping his shoulder to hold yourself as his cock hit the perfect spot inside you.

He grabbed your hips and started lifting you up like you weighted nothing.

"Oh—fuck, baby, you're so good...pussy so good I could burst in it right now."

You whined as he bit and suck at your nipples.

"Yeah? Better than your wife's?"

He moaned against your tits as he licked them like a dog.

"Fuck yes..." He started fucking up into you, the room was filled his sounds of his hips and balls smacking against your ass, you moaned and kissed him.

You clit hit his pubic bone everytime you sank down and it made it way better.

"Rafey—Imma—"

He fucked you harder and quicker, his hand came down to your ass with a sharp smack that echoed in the room, his wedding band stung against your skin.

"Do it—fuck, I've been waiting baby."

You came hard around his cock and he followed, cummin deep in your pussy.

Eventually he pulled out and flopped on the bed, you tucked yourself on his side, he kissed the top of your head and closed his eyes.

"You on birth control, right?" He asked lazily as his hand rubbed circles on your waist.

You nodded without thinking much. Though you weren't on birth control.

It wasn't like you purposely wanted to get pregnant to keep him by you. Right?

"Good, good girl...go to the bathroom and pee, I'll fill the bathtub for you."

He stood up with a groan, complaining about the pain on his back, like the old man he was. You giggled behind him and he looked back at you with a playful scowl, pointing a finger at you like you were misbehaving puppy.

"Don't get too cocky, young lady."

You lay there on the bed as you heard him move around the bathroom.

You weren't a bad girl for lying to him about your birth control, you just wanted the best for him.

And the best for him was you.

Finally a dilf!rafe fic!! Hope you guys like it xx

[rumisgf]

mango margarita

a bit of college!au sero to cleanse the soul

"‘m fine, sero.."

"lil’ girl. come here."

"i can walk—"

the tall, black haired boy scoops you up by the back of your knees, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. like it was nothing.

you were off 2… maybe 3 drinks. somewhere in, you lost cost. and somewhere in, the memory of you and sero practically grinding on each other at that party while pyramids by frank ocean played was sure to haunt you in the morning.

somewhere in, you seemed not to care that much right now.

"hardheaded.." sero sighed as you laughed in his arms, your legs dangling as he walked.

"’m an independent womann, sero.."

"mhm. i know."

"…why you so tall?"

"…to carry pretty, drunk girls like you around."

"..mm. th’t makes sense.."

funny, you were too drunk to catch the spoken coma in that sentence.

he carried you all the way back to your dorm, like any friend would. he even grabbed a hoodie from your closet for you to change into, and helped you take off your makeup… like any.. friend? would.

..except sero doesn’t do this. if you were anyone else, he would’ve dropped you off at the door and either stumbled back to his own, or fucked around and went back to the party after taking his drunk friend home. even mina doesn’t get treatment like this.

…but you’re you.

"y’ going back to your dorm, sero…?"

he sees the look in your eyes and he pauses. god, please help him.

"you kicking me out?"

"’m asking."

sero doesn’t do this. if you were anybody else, he would’ve gladly kicked himself out to go smoke himself to sleep. or maybe even hit up denki and the boys to see if they were still up late. but for you?

he sat in your bed, waiting until you talked yourself to sleep.

"did y’ have fun..? i had fun tonight.. th’nks for forcing me outside.." you slurred, the combination of you being drunk and high getting to you. he looked over at you, hiding his smile,

"..yeah, i had fun. glad you did too."

what he forgets about pretty, drunk girls you ask? they like to ask questions.

"when we was dancing.."

"…yeah?" he turns to you, not liking where this inquiry seems to be going. he shouldn’t have got you high.

"if i was a random girl, would y’ have kissed me or somethin’..?"

and if it was anybody else, his answer would be maybe. he’s had his fair share of drunk kisses and hookups, but none of them meant much. and you know that. even when you’re intoxicated, you can read him like a book.

…which is probably why he didn’t kiss you. you mean a lot to him. more than he’s ready to tell you.

"if i was a random guy, would you have?"

"ew sero, i don’t kiss random dudes ‘n’ shit…"

he nods in response. he knows that.

"and you’re not a stranger.."

"..yeah, i’m not."

"y’r danger though." you murmur, turning to him. he really wishes you would stop looking at him.

"you think i’m trouble?"

"yeah, y’ play too much."

and maybe he does. he knows he does, actually. but… he wants to tell you what you mean to him. he wants to court you. he wants to take you seriously. and he doesn’t remember the last time he felt that way about anyone.

but that can be a problem for the morning.

for now, note to self: stay away from cutwaters around your best friend that you have a crush on.

xoxo, rumisgf

[cherrielys]

─── 𑣲⋆ 𝓚. BAKUGO'S GUIDE TO BAG YOU

synopsis:: you and Bakugo were never close in school. just classmates who ended up in the same friend group by accident and stayed there out of habit. eight years later he's one of the top heroes with a mouth on him and you're the unbothered ex-classmate who somehow still doesn't know he's been in love with you since UA. His friends know. His mom knows. Everyone knows. You do not. This is Bakugo's guide— written badly on the back of a receipt at 2am— to finally doing something about it.

yellow and pink divs edited by me. base here if you'd like to make your own ♡ layout inspired by my goat @6x-x9

You were never the loud one in the friend group. That was never your job. Kirishima was loud. Bakugo was louder. You were the one who sat back and watched everyone lose their minds over something small and just — didn't. Calm under pressure. Unshakeable in a way that used to annoy Bakugo in high school and now just makes him feel like he's losing a fight he never agreed to start.

Eight years out of UA and somehow you're still around. Still in the group chat. Still showing up to Kirishima's birthday parties and Sero's terrible karaoke nights. Still completely unaware that Katsuki Bakugo — the number five hero, walking explosion, a man who has never once backed down from anything in his life — has been quietly losing his mind over you since roughly your second year of school.

Everyone else figured it out years ago. Kirishima figured it out first, mostly because Bakugo made the mistake of getting drunk at his own agency's holiday party and saying your name four times in one sentence. Mina figured it out next. Even Todoroki figured it out, which says a lot, because Todoroki barely notices when buildings are on fire.

You did not figure it out. You are, according to every single person in that group chat, the last person on earth who has no idea.

So one night Bakugo sat down with a receipt from a ramen place and a pen that was almost out of ink and wrote himself a list. Not because he needed help — he would tell you he did not need help — but because eight years of doing nothing had clearly not worked and something had to change.

Here's what he came up with.

Rule #1: Don't call her pretty. That's weak. She'll see right through it.

You've been called pretty before. Plenty of times. It rolls off you like water because it means nothing coming from strangers. So the first time Bakugo actually looks at you — really looks, across a table at a group dinner while everyone else is arguing about something stupid — he doesn't say pretty. He says your hair looks stupid pushed back like that and it takes you a full three seconds to realize that's the nicest thing he's said to anyone all night.Kirishima kicks him under the table. Bakugo kicks back harder.

Rule #2: Don't let her see you get soft. Save that for when nobody's watching

You broke your wrist on a mission six months ago and Bakugo showed up at the hospital before your own agency finished the paperwork. He didn't say much. He sat in the corner with his arms crossed and glared at every nurse who walked past like they'd personally wronged him. You thanked him for coming. He said he was in the area. He was not in the area. He is never in your area.

Rule #3: If she teases you don't react. Reacting means she wins.

You have exactly one move against Bakugo and it works every time. You call him Kacchan in that flat unbothered voice of yours, the one that makes it sound like an insult and a joke at once, and he goes red before he can stop it. He tells you to shut up. You don't. He never actually wants you to.

Rule #4: Don't stare. Staring is for losers who can't say what they mean.

He stares anyway. Across bars. Across meeting rooms when your agencies do joint operations. Across the space between his couch and yours when the whole group crashes at his place after a night out and you fall asleep first, curled up small and unbothered like the world isn't currently on fire somewhere. He tells himself he's just checking you're breathing. He checks for a very long time.

Rule #5: If she steals your jacket let her keep it. Don't be a bitch about it.

It was cold outside a bar in October and you didn't bring one. He took his off without being asked and put it around your shoulders before you could even shiver a second time. You tried to give it back at the end of the night. He told you to keep it, said something about not needing two jackets anyway, which made no sense, and walked off before you could argue. You still have it. He knows you still have it. Neither of you has ever mentioned it again.

Rule #6: Don't get jealous. Jealous is for weak men.

A guy from a rival agency spent an entire mixer talking to you last spring and Bakugo spent that same mixer setting three separate small fires with his quirk completely by accident, according to him. Kirishima said it wasn't an accident. Bakugo told Kirishima to shut the hell up in front of everyone, which everyone agreed was extremely on brand and extremely obvious.

Rule #7: If she's tired let her sleep on your shoulder. Don't make it weird.

You fell asleep on the train back from a joint mission once, head tipping slowly toward his shoulder like gravity had made a decision without asking you. He went completely still. Didn't move for forty minutes. Told everyone later he just didn't want to wake you up. That was true. It was also not the whole truth.

Rule #8: Compete with her. Don't let her win just because you like her. That's pathetic.

You beat him at darts once, at a bar, fair and square, and he demanded a rematch on the spot. You beat him again. He demanded a third round. By the fourth round he wasn't even trying to win anymore, just trying to make you laugh at his increasingly unhinged trash talk, and you were laughing too hard to notice you'd stopped keeping score.

Rule #9: Play it cool when she touches you. Don't be obvious.

You have a habit of grabbing his arm when you laugh too hard at something, quick and unthinking, gone in half a second. It means nothing to you. It means everything to him. He has thought about that half-second more times than he'd ever admit under torture.

Rule #10: If she's cold under the table don't offer your legs. That's insane. Nobody does that.

He does it anyway. It's a slow dinner, everyone's talking over each other, and your foot brushes his under the table by accident. You don't move it. Neither does he. What starts as an accident turns into something else entirely — your foot pressed lightly against his shin, his ankle hooked loosely around yours, both of you carrying on two separate conversations with the rest of the table like nothing is happening below it. He nearly chokes on his drink when your foot slides slow up his calf, just once, just to see what he'll do.

He does absolutely nothing. Which is how you know it worked.

Rule #11: Don't ask about her ex. That's weak and clingy behavior.

He asks anyway, once, badly, wrapped inside a completely unrelated sentence about something else entirely so it wouldn't sound like what it was. You answered honestly and briefly and didn't ask why he wanted to know. He spent the rest of that night in a genuinely foul mood that had nothing to do with the mission report he'd claimed was bothering him.

Rule #12: If she gets sick you're not worried. You're just making sure she doesn't die. There's a difference.

You caught something nasty last winter and didn't tell anyone because you hate being fussed over. Bakugo found out from Kirishima and showed up at your apartment within the hour with a bag of groceries he refused to let you see the receipt for. He made soup badly. He stayed anyway sitting stiffly on your couch like he'd rather be anywhere else until you fell asleep on his shoulder for the second time in your life. He didn't move again. This time you were awake enough at the end to notice and you didn't say anything either.

Rule #13: Don't remember small stuff about her. That's obsessive.

He remembers everything. Your coffee order. The exact way you take your eggs. The name of the street you grew up on mentioned once years ago in passing. He tells himself it's just a good memory. Kirishima tells him that's not what a good memory looks like for anyone else in the friend group.

Rule #14: Don't get quiet around her. Quiet means she'll know something's wrong.

He gets quiet anyway sometimes when it's just the two of you left at the end of a group hangout and everyone else has gone home. You've noticed. You've never asked. You've started noticing you kind of like the quiet too.

Rule #15: If she insults your cooking don't take it personal.

You told him once that his katsudon tasted like it was made out of spite. He told you to make it yourself then. You did. It was worse than his. He has never let you live that down and somehow still makes you a plate every single time you come over unasked like it's not a big deal.

Rule #16: Don't let her see the soft stuff. Like the notebook. She can never see the notebook.

There is in fact a notebook. Bakugo would deny this to his last breath. It is not a diary. It is a training log that occasionally accidentally includes things like *she laughed at something dumb I said today* written in the margins in handwriting too small for anyone to notice. Nobody has ever seen it. It stays that way.

Rule #17: Don't dance with her at Mina's stupid parties. Dancing is for saps.

He dances with you exactly once badly at Mina's birthday both of you a little drunk and laughing about how neither of you knows what you're doing. His hand sits low on your waist the entire song. Yours rests flat against his chest close enough to feel his heart going faster than the song's tempo would explain. Neither of you comments on it. Both of you notice.

Rule #18: If she calls you at 2am for no reason answer immediately. Don't overthink it.

You called once at 2am half-asleep just to complain about a case that was bothering you and needed someone to talk it out with. He picked up on the first ring even though he'd been dead asleep three seconds earlier. Talked you through it for forty minutes in a voice rougher than usual low and half-awake until you finally calmed down enough to sleep. Neither of you brought it up the next day. You both remembered it anyway.

Rule #19: Tell her the truth eventually. Stalling makes you look like a coward.

He almost doesn't. Eight years of almost. Eight years of jackets and soup and 2am phone calls and a notebook nobody's supposed to see all adding up to exactly nothing because Katsuki Bakugo — who has never once in his life backed down from a fight — has apparently decided this is the one fight not worth having.

Kirishima finally sits him down and tells him flatly that watching this has become genuinely embarrassing for everyone involved. That you deserve to actually know. That you're not going to figure it out on your own because you're the single most unbothered person either of them has ever met and unbothered people don't go looking for things they've never been told to look for.

Rule #20: Ask her out. Just say it. Stop being a coward about it

He shows up at your apartment on a random Tuesday with no plan and no speech prepared which is unlike him in every possible way. You open the door in an old shirt and no makeup unbothered as always and ask what's wrong like something must be wrong for him to be standing there.

"Nothing's wrong," he says and immediately looks like he regrets starting that way. "I just — " He stops. Starts again. "You're coming to dinner with me Friday. Not the group. Just you and me."

You blink at him. For the first time in eight years something in your carefully composed face actually slips just a fraction just enough for him to see it happen in real time.

"Is this a date Bakugo?"

"Obviously it's a date," he says too loud the way he gets when he's covering for something. "What else would it be. Are you always this slow or is it just with me?"

You don't answer right away. You just look at him for a long moment the unbothered mask cracking wider by the second and something like a smile starts pulling at the corner of your mouth.

"Friday," you say. "Pick me up at seven. And Katsuki—"

"What."

"Wear the jacket back. I've had it long enough."

He goes red for the second time in eight years. Somewhere across town Kirishima's phone buzzes with a single text that just says *finally* and nothing else and every single person in that group chat already knows exactly what it means before he explains a word of it.

[pearlessance]

r/AmITheAsshole?

u/dr-abbot.j: AITAH for provoking my girlfriend because i think it's hot when she acts crazy?

+18 mdni, age difference, fem reader, bratting/brat taming, jealousy (from both jack and reader!), lowkey ragebaiter jack, size difference, 'i'll pay for it' jack abbot, oral sex (f! and m!receiving) semi public, cum swallowing, finger sucking, overstim, dirty talk, praise, possessive behaviour, one use of the word daddy said unseriously, alcohol consumption, club culture, unprotected piv, clit stim, begging, creampie, written in one day and bareeely edited!

┊MASTERLIST┊AO3┊

everyone always tells jack abbot that what he needs is a real nice girl to settle down with. someone who will bake him sweet treats and warm dinners, who will make cozy nights in alluring enough to get him to stay home every once in a while.

but the thing is, jack likes the chaos of his life. he likes working twelve hour shifts and then clocking in to dodge bullets immediately after. his therapist says it's a coping mechanism—can't relive old ghosts if you're fast enough to outrun them.

and that might be true for some things, but not with this. not with you.

sure, jack can't deny that he loves the little rush he gets when you somehow manage to look down your nose at him even though he towers over you. he loves that crazy look you get in your eye. he loves when you raise your voice and point a perfectly manicured finger in his face (a manicure that he paid for, mind you).

but more than that, he loves what follows. he loves the groveling apologies and the soft makeup kisses. he loves taming that craziness of yours and soothing you back into that sweet little thing you truly are.

he loves it so much, in fact, that he occasionally finds himself pushing your buttons just for fun.

sometimes he turns his location off in the middle of a shift and make bets with shen about how long it'll take for you to show up to ptmc.

jack comes out of a trauma half an hour later to find you talking with lena at the charge desk, and he thinks you look real cute wearing a pair of his boxers, a hoodie, and your house slippers.

he smiles big and says, "hey, baby. what're you doin' here so late?"

lena snorts and mutters under her breath, "give him hell, kid."

you give him that scowl jack knows all too well, saying, "don't hey baby me. why the fuck did you turn your location off, jack?"

he wraps his arms around your waist and sneakily slides his hands just a liiitle lower than what should be acceptable in a place like this. "just wanted to see you, sweetheart. that so bad?"

"me, or your other girlfriend?"

it makes jack laugh. the idea alone is insane—there would never be anyone else for him but you. his pretty little brat. "c'mon. let's go talk about this somewhere quiet, hm?"

you let him lead you to an empty room, and jack locks the door behind him because he knows good and well what comes next.

he admits he'd stopped sharing his location because he knew you'd show up, and he'd just missed you sooo much. jack sets you on the hospital bed and stands between your legs, his hands roaming down your shoulders, over the curves of your hips, thumbs massaging little circles on the inside of your thighs.

"just been such a long day, baby," he tells you, pulling over the stool to sit between your spread legs. jack presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, mouth moving upwards until he's pressing kisses against your pussy through the cotton fabric of his boxers that you've stolen. "m'sorry i upset you. just missed you so much, you know? can i make it up to you, hm? you gonna let me do that?"

and you do, of course. let him pull your bottoms off so he can lick and suck at your clit until you're writhing, moaning so loud he has to stuff his fingers in your mouth to quiet you.

there's something addicting about it, about having you like this. you're always so strong and sure of yourself, yet you turn to putty in his big hands. so pliant and perfect for him.

jack makes you cum with just the warm slide of his tongue against your clit, circling the pulsing nerves until you're begging him for reprieve, so overstimulated there's not a trace of that attitude left behind.

when he does finally come up for air, his chin is slick with your arousal and he wears a knowing little smirk. "that's better, isn't it? hm?"

you roll your eyes, but the action is full of playfulness instead of irritation and jack knows he'll get through the rest of his shift a whole lot easier now that he's had a little pick me up.

by the time you leave, jack's sharing his location once more and he's twenty dollars richer (much to shen's dismay).

jack's favorite button of yours to push is the jealous one, though. and he knows it might be a little mean, but god. he just can't help it. you get so territorial and it's not like it's his fault that it makes his dick hard.

the two of you will be out shopping one afternoon. jack has the things you've already picked out draped over his arm, and you're carrying a few items you're not sure about when you find a employee to ask for a fitting room.

the woman is nice enough—she wears a tight-lipped smile and leads you to the back of the store and opens one of the rooms for you with the key around her neck.

but then she turns to jack and her smile brightens. "one for you too, sir?" the words are sweet and soft and overly bubbly, and jack fights the grin that starts to form on his face when you turn rigid at his side.

your fingers find his bicep, curling around the thick muscle. "uhm, no. he doesn't. thanks," you answer for him—tone stiff and final. not rude exactly, but something pretty close.

you then pull him into the fitting room and lock the door, already shaking your head as he sits on the little bench across from the mirror. "she was just being nice, baby," he says, but it's a lie, and you both know it.

"yeah, sure. too fucking nice if you ask me." you scoff. "i bet you she was hoping you'd say yes so she could go in with you and suck your dick or something. i mean, seriously. what the fuck is her problem? she didn't see me right next to you? you guys offer eye exams at the ED? i bet she'd love to come see you sometime, jack—"

"okay, hey. come here." you do as he says, coming to stand in front of him with your arms folded tightly over your chest. jack takes your hands in his and untangles them. he's grinning up at you—he can't help it. jack thinks you just look so sexy all riled up. "don't care what she wants, cause i only want you. hm? yeah? you listening?"

you still sport a crease between your brows, but nod in acknowledgment.

jack reaches up with one hand and takes your jaw gently between his fingers. "i only want my dick in this mouth for the rest of my life," he says.

you giggle and try to hide your amusement by shyly turning your head into your shoulder. but there's nothing shy about the way you kneel before him and reach for his belt buckle. there's nothing shy about the way you pull his cock out, already hard watching you indulge those strong feelings of yours.

jack's hands are tender as they stroke your hair away from your face while you swallow him down. your tongue swirls around the tip, your saliva collecting and dripping down to the base of his cock. his muscles go slack at the sensation when you hollow out your cheeks, sucking him hard.

"you look so pretty like this," he murmurs. "taking it so well, baby. feels so fucking good."

he lets you take what you need, lets you prove yourself the way he knows you need to.

"so much better than anyone else could ever be," jack encourages, cock throbbing between your plush lips. "yeah, there you go. that's it—shit—"

he finishes at the back of your throat, groaning as his cum fills your mouth. he slides out slowly, but keeps a firm hand on the back of your neck.

"show me," he instructs, and you obey immediately, sticking out your tongue and looking up at him with wide, glassy eyes. jack feels himself twitch at the sight of what he's made of you. filthy little thing. "mmhm. good. swallow now."

you do, swallowing his release like the perfect girl you are. a small drip spills down the corner of your mouth, and jack swipes it away with his thumb and makes you lick the digit clean.

he tucks himself back in his jeans while you stand. you reach for his hand next, pulling him to his feet to lead him out of the dressing room.

jack tries to grab the clothes you'd picked out earlier, but you tell him to leave them. "over my dead fucking body am i letting her check us out while she checks you out," you grumble. "we're leaving."

he doesn't argue, but he does ask parker to go back a week later with his credit card to pick up the things you liked.

that jealousy appears again a few weeks later when trinity invites a few people out for drinks at a new bar that just opened a short drive from the hospital.

but as it turns out, it's more of a nightclub than a bar—not exactly jack's scene. not for the last twenty years, anyway.

you and trinity have always gotten along so well, and jack thinks the invitation might've only been given to him in hopes that you'd attend, too. robby shows up late, his invitation given from dennis, of course—and the night quickly turns into drinks and a show.

jack and robby sit at the bar, nursing a couple of sweating beer bottles while they watch the group of you dance together animatedly. there's strobe lights and poppy synth music playing. you're wearing a pretty sequined dress, giggling and twirling victoria around in a circle.

and try as he might, jack can't keep his eyes off you—so passionate and full of life, young and carefree in a way he wants to soak up. he could stay here for hours, jack thinks. just watching you have your fun with a smile on his face.

later in the night, you come over to order another one of those garnished pink drinks and a round of green tea shots. you've got your arm around jack's shoulders and his is bracketed tight around your waist, pulling you into him, close enough he can smell your sweet body spray and the faint scent of you underneath.

the bartender is a young guy—far closer to you in age than jack is. he's got a shaggy hair cut and a nose ring and when he sits your drink and the shots on the bar in front of you, he grins and says over the music, "i like your nails."

and jack…well. jack doesn't think it's funny at all, when he's on the other end of this.

you immediately glance at him, at the amusement that falls from his face—and then you turn back to the bartender and say, "thanks! my boyfriend paid for them!"

jack's arm tightens around your waist. he's never considered himself a jealous man, not really. but the way the bartender's looking at you doesn't sit well at all.

you take a drink from your glass and swallow the shimmery pink liquid. "mm, it's so good, jack. here, try some."

at first, he thinks you're going to pass the glass to him to take a small sip. but what you do instead is take his jaw between your manicured fingers and kiss him hard. your tongue slips lewdly into his mouth, sliding against his own. he can taste the alcohol and the sugary sweetness on your lips.

jack doesn't think he'd be able to fight off his big ass grin if he tried.

you pull away, laughing girlishly, and then turn his head to playfully lick the stubble on his cheek. "thanks for the drinks, daddy!"

jack squeezes his jaw and chuckles low as you gather the shots in your hand before returning to the dance floor.

the bartender mixes someone else's drink now, jaw feathering as he pointedly avoids jack's gaze.

beside him,robby shakes his head before taking a slow swig from his beer. "you've got your hands full, brother."

it makes jack laugh.

because yeah, he does. and he fucking loves it.

and later that night, back at your apartment? well, jack's got his hands full of something else.

you're bent over the mattress, dress pushed up around your hips, panties pulled to the side. he palms the pillowy globes of you ass as he fucks his cock into you, pussy slick and dripping for him.

"yeah, there you go. fuckin' take it," he says, hips snapping forward. "my girl. my girl, baby. no one else can fuck you like this, huh?"

"only—hmm—only you," you whimper. you're a trembling mess beneath him, fingers clutched tight in the sheets. your moans echo against the four walls, the obscene, wet slide of his cock making him throb.

"say it," he orders, a low sound rumbling in his chest. "tell me who you belong to."

"m'yours, jack—oh god, oh—yours, yours yours—i'm your girl—fuck—"

"that's right, sweetheart," he says, slipping a hand around your hip and beneath you to find your clit. he circles it gently, applying the perfect amount of pressure. "can feel you squeezing me. you wanna cum, baby? hm? you like the way i fuck you?"

"yes, jack—oh god, so fucking good, please please—"

he drives his cock deeper, spreading you open so he can watch it go in. he can feel his own release threatening, a white hot bliss coiling tight at the base of his spine. "give it to me," jack says. "mmhm. yeah, that's it. this pussy belongs to me. my pussy. my fuckin' girl."

the sticky walls of your cunt tighten around him, pulling him in impossibly deeper, and it sends jack over the edge. he fucks you through it, filling you up with his release, fingers circling your clit until you're shaking beneath him.

when he's spent, jack falls forward, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as he tries to catch his breath. he presses sweet, soft kisses to your skin, whispering all the while. "did so good for me. my favorite girl. so pretty."

he feels you stiffen beneath him, and jack stands to allow you the space to move. you turn over, tugging your dress up and over your head to discard it on the floor.

you're still panting and your thighs are still trembling, but jack can see the irritation in the way you move.

with his mouth turned up at the corners, jack asks, "what's wrong, baby?"

and he knows the answer before you narrow your eyes at him and say, "your favorite girl, jack? how many girls do you have?"

[indiewritesxoxo]

frat!sukuna crashing out over gojo trying to steal his baby mama!

frat!sukuna wouldn't say he baby trapped you.

because apparently, the whole trap part didn't fucking work in the first place.

if it did, you wouldn't be letting rival frat president!gojo buy you groceries and grin at you like he couldn't wait to get in your panties. freak just wanted to try your fucking breast milk.

the white-haired idiot had no interest in changing diapers or pushing around strollers or burping a four-month old only to end up with a trail of spit down his shirt.

but noooooo, it seemed like you still thought he would make a better boyfriend than the actual father of your child.

sure, okay, it wasn't like the two of you had ever officially dated. but fucking in the bathroom at frat parties was and going out for breakfast together the morning after was kinda close? besides, you were supposed to come to him all doe-eyed and distraught with a pregnancy test in hand to let him lock you down for good and become future father of the year. not just retreat and run away - right into the arms of a waiting buffoon with nothing better to do than beg for your attention.

he'd been trying to step up. but someone wouldn't stop getting in the goddamn way.

sukuna knew you used to tutor him. he just hadn't known how borderline obsessed gojo was with you.

intercepting his calls, pretending to be you over text, trying to tell him the wrong times for appointments and pick ups, everything possible in his power to put himself firmly between the two of you. you didn't even believe him when he tried to tell you either.

rolling your eyes and swearing that satoru would never.

you were naive. a little awkward. the shy sort that got all agitated at the slightest bit of attention. sukuna liked the way you flushed just from a few words, how you refused to meet his stare unless you were laid bare beneath him, biting your lip or burying your face into his collarbone when he groaned your name.

so how the hell had a guy like satoru gojo sunk his claws into you right under his nose?

"he just wants to fuck you," sukuna gritted his teeth, trying not to actually growl when you slid into the booth across from him - all while mr. moron who snuck in walked over to the barista with your baby strapped to his chest.

"i think you're projecting," you muttered under your breath, arching up an eyebrow and swirling a straw around the drink sukuna already ordered you. your favorite.

"i never said i didn't," he sharply retorted, holding his chin up high like it wasn't eating him fucking alive seeing you act like a married couple with gojo when that was supposed to be him.

"come on, it's not like you're actually interested anymore," you murmured, shaking your head as you sighed at him.

"what the fuck are you talking about?" he frowned, brows furrowed tight.

"you're surrounded by sorority girls most weekends," you shrugged, as if he wasn't trying to spend every night you'd let him at your place taking night shifts with his son. "and i just had a baby."

"did he fucking say something to you?" he snapped, squinting accusingly at gojo before swiveling his head back to you.

you were all flustered, your cute face scrunching as you scoffed and motioned for him to lower his voice, "it's common sense. we're not together. of course you're sleeping with other girls. it's fine, i-"

"no, no, i'm-" he protested, but you weren't finished, awkwardly mumbling that it wasn't like the two of you were ever something serious anyway.

"satoru asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday," you added, shoulders sheepishly bobbing up. "so, you know, if you decide to date around too, it's not gonna be weird or anything."

"did you say yes?" he gawked, grinding his molars as he debated on banging his own head against the wall of the cafe.

"well, not yet," you mumbled, tilting your head to the side. "but i'm-"

"you two talkin' about me?" your not-boyfriend chuckled, grinning as he returned with a bag filled with muffins and croissants and whatever else filled with sugar he could find on the menu.

you opened your mouth to speak, but then you abruptly glanced down at your chest, mouth pressing together as you sighed and slipped out of the booth, holding your arm's out to take your baby back. his baby back. "i think i'm about to start leaking. i'm gonna go feed him out in the car."

sukuna almost said that no one would give a shit if you fed him in here. but he knew you better. knew you'd never be comfortable with that - so he bit his tongue, not exactly pleased at the prospect of spending the next twenty minutes sitting here with gojo waiting for you to come back.

"her tits look fuckin' great, don't they?" satoru chirped the second you slipped out the door, loudly opening the bag and popping the first thing he pulled out into his mouth.

"shut the fuck up," sukuna snapped at him, scowling as he resisted the urge to strangle him.

the asshole was just trying to ragebait him.

and it was unfortunately working a little too well.

"can i ask you something?" gojo grinned, crumbs falling to the table as he spoke with a full mouth.

"no," sukuna automatically replied.

"what would you do if i gave your son a sibling?"

[prinnay]

How August kinda feels to me

[prinnay]

Process gif!

This is the same person but aged up a bit:)

[jad0renneee]

telling him a guy waxed you !

cw; explicit smut, mild jealousy, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, language

katsuki got home later than usual. you heard the front door open, the heavy drop of his bag, then the familar sound of him toeing off his shoes. he didn't call out, never did. you stayed where you were on the couch, one leg curled under you, the other stretched out, scrolling through nothing on your phone while some random show played quietly in the background.

he walked past the living room first, heading for the kitchen. you listened to the fridge opening, the soft clink of a soda can, then his footsteps coming back. when he finally dropped down beside you the couch dipped under his weight. he smelled like outdoors and faint sweat, maybe he just came from the gym.

he craked the can open and took a long sip before glancing at the tv.

"this shit any good?"

"not really." he grunted and leaned back, stretching one arm along the back of the couch behind your shoulders. his fingers brushed your hair once, absent-minded, then stayed there. the two of you sat like that for a while, and it was comfortable. quiet. his thumb eventually started moving in slow, lazy stroked against the side of your neck.

you shifted a little, turning toward him more. his eyes flicked down to your bare legs for a second before going back to the screen. "you're all smooth." he muttered, almost to himself.

"got it done earlier."

"the usual place?" "mhm! they had a different person today, though."

his hand stilled. "...what kind of different.?"

"a guy. the girl i usually see was out on vacay, so i had to settle with this dude. he was fine though, really throrough actually."

katsuki turned his head to look at you properly this time. his expression didn't change much, but something in his eyes sharpened. "a guy." he repeated. "mhm." he stared at you for another second, then let out a short breath through his nose and looked back at the tv. his hand left your neck, and he took another drink from the can, slower this time.

"you fuckin' wimme?"

"no...?"

"you're tellin' me some random dude had his hands all over you for an hour." "it's his job, katsuki." "i know what a fucking job is."

he set the can down on the table a little harder than necessary. you watched the muscle in his jaw work. he didn't look angry exactly. more like irritated and trying not to show it. after a moment he reached over, hooked two fingers in the hem of your shorts, and tugged once.

"c'mere."

you let him pull you closer until you were half in his lap, one leg thrown over his thigh. his hand settled on your bare knee, warm and rough, sliding up a little higher than necessary. he didn't say anything else for a bit. just kept his palm there, thumb brushing back and forth over your skin like he was checking the smoothness for himself. eventually, he spoke again,

"was he weird about it?"

"no, of course not! he was professional."

he made a low sound that could've meant anything. his hand kept traveling higher, slipping under the loose fabric of your shorts until his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear. you felt him pause there, then push the fabric aside so he could drag two fingers slowly between your folds. you were already a little wet, and he noticed immediately.

"hah." the corner of his mouth twitched. "that from talking about it?"

"maybe."

he huffed something close to a laugh and pushed those two fingers inside you without much warning. the stretch made you inhale sharply as he watched your face while he worked them in and out, slow and deliberate, curling them just enough.

you attempted to surpress your moans, but he sees right through you, he always does. he absolutely adores the sounds you make, it makes his dick harder than anything.

"still sensitive?" he asked.

you nodded.

"good."

he pulled his fingers out, shiny with your slick, and brought them up to his mouth like it was nothing. you watched him taste you, eyes half-lidded before he wiped his hand on his sweats and reached for the waistband of your shorts.

"up."

you lifted your hips so he could tug everything down and off. the second you were bare he pulled you fully into his lap so you were straddling him. his big hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open over the hard line of his cock still trapped in his sweats. he grounded up against you once, slow and filthly, letting you feel every inch of him through the fabric.

he then shoved his own pants down just far enough. you felt the thick, hot head of his tip nudge against you. he held himself steady with one hand, already pumping himself. you heard him groan a little, trying to hide his own moans.

he used the other hand on your hip to guide you down. the first push made both of you go quiet. you sank onto him inch by inch, the stretch familar but still intense, until you were fully seated and his forehead was pressed to your shoulder.

"fuck."

you started moving first, slow rolls of your hips that made him exhale hard. katsuki let you set the pace for a minute, just holding on and watching the way you took him. then his grip tightened and he started helping, lifting you and pulling you back down onto his cock in a deeper, steadier rhythm.

everytime you dropped down he filled you completely. you could feel the thick drag of him, the way your walls clenched around the length of him on every damn stroke. the wet sound of it got louder the longer you went. his breathing turned rough against your neck. one of his hands slid up your back, palm warm to keep you close.

he kissed you then, messy, open-mouthed, a little desperate. you felt like smile against your lips when you moaned into it.

"louder," he said. "i wanna hear it."

and you did just that, gave him exactly what he wanted. your hands braced on his shoulders as he fucked up into your harder, the angle shifting until every thrust dragged right against the spot that made your thighs shake. his thumb found your clit and rubbed, steady circles while he kept moving.

the sensation was building fast, and eventually you came first clenching hard around him, a broken moan being caught in your throat as the pleasure flushed through you. katsuki cursed under his breath and kept going, fucking you through it with short deep thrusts until your body started to relax again.

but he didn't stop.

he shifted under you, planting his feet on the floor for better leverage, and drove up into you with more force. the new angle punched fresh sounds out of you. you were overwhelmed and he knew it, but he only groaned like he liked the way you twitched around him.

"still so fucking tight," he muttered. "jesus."

his rhythm started to deter. you felt him get closer by the way his hands gripped harder, the way his breathing got sloppy. a few more deep thrusts and he buried himself all the way in with a low, rough sound, dick pulsing as he came inside you in thick, hot spurts.

neither of you moved for a while, while his arms stayed around you, holding you in place while he caught his breath. eventually he leaned back against the couch, taking you with him.

his hand stroked lazily up and down your spine. "...don't tell me no shit like that right when i get home," he said after a minute. "nearly short-circuited my fucking brain."

"so it worked?"

"what worked? it was a prank? you piece of shit."

a/n; that pic of him is so fucking hot omg; dividers by @robinavitchslut !

[girlluvkatsuki]

thinking about katsuki who just can't focus while he's training with you. he normally has no issue but you look so distracting in your workout gear with your hair messy, skin sweaty, and chest heaving…

and he's been thirsting after you 24/7 this week and he hasn't masturbated in a while and suddenly he's thinking with his cock instead of his head. he's losing too easily and you obviously know it, but katsuki doesn't want to fix it. he wants you to pin him down so he gets to have you on top of him

eventually you pin him one too many times and you start going off on him, irritated that he isn't even trying. and oh that gets him so hard, hearing you snap and talk back at him while you're straddling his stomach. just a little too far up for him to rut against you

he just grabs your hips and slides you back so he can grind his cock up against you. your face changes so quick once you realize he's just been horny this whole time

notes -> i like thinking about katsuki just getting so horny for u he'll do things he'd never do normally like ughhhh hot af

[kooksandpearls]

rafe cameron 𖦹 old man.

pairing – husband!rafe cameron x wife!reader summary – six teenage boys make the unfortunate mistake of discussing mrs cameron within rafe’s hearing range. warnings – strong language, teenage rule-breaking, sexual comments, lowkey objectification, possessive jealousy, suggestive. notes from me – oh my god i love them so bad!!!!!! based loosely on these requests, thank u my babies!! <3 word count – 2.7k

navigation – masterlist | wife!reader masterlist

Rafe has been home for eleven days, which is long enough for the house to stop treating him like a guest and begin assigning him work again. The first three days had been almost pleasant. 

Lila followed him from room to room with the solemn devotion of a small, talkative shadow. Marlowe pretended she hadn’t missed him and then spent forty minutes sitting on the floor of his office while he answered emails, offering unrequested commentary about every person who called. His wife slept later than seven twice, which felt like an achievement worthy of champagne.

Banks lasted until day four before getting caught skipping his last class to take somebody’s dirt bike down a maintenance road near the dunes. So Rafe stayed home.

He moved meetings, ignored three increasingly anxious messages from Charleston and told the office he was taking two weeks, possibly three, depending on whether his son rediscovered basic survival instinct. His wife had looked at him across the kitchen island with one eyebrow lifted and asked whether he was taking time off or establishing martial law.

“Time off,” he’d said.

Banks, standing beside the fridge with his car keys newly confiscated, had muttered, “Feels like martial law.”

Rafe had pointed toward the stairs without looking at him. “Keep talking.”

Banks had stopped.

Now, on a bright Saturday morning, Rafe stands over the grill with a wire brush in one hand and six sixteen-year-old boys sprawled across the back deck behind him like laundry nobody has folded. 

Their shoes are abandoned near the sliding door. Three empty cans of soda sweat rings into the outdoor table. Somebody has brought a speaker and is playing music low enough that Rafe has chosen not to complain, mostly because the boys have forgotten he exists.

It’s unexpectedly useful.

They talk differently when they stop performing for adults. The conversation rolls between school, somebody’s terrible new haircut, a rumour about the lacrosse coach and an argument over whether Tyler actually kissed two girls at the same party or only told two different girls that he had.

Rafe scrapes another line of burned grease from the grate and listens without turning around. His wife is going to love this.

She calls it tea, which Rafe finds embarrassing for everybody involved, but she also once sat cross-legged on their bed for nearly an hour while he relayed an argument he’d overheard between Marlowe and two girls from dance.

She’d asked follow-up questions. She’d made him repeat exact wording. At one point, she’d put down her moisturiser and said, “No, no, go back. What did Ava say after Marlowe called her exhausting?”

Rafe hadn’t known what that meant at thirteen. He’s fairly certain he only knew three emotions at that age, and two of them were anger.

Behind him, one of Banks’ friends laughs hard enough to choke on his drink. “Bro, no chance she said that.”

“She did,” another boy insists. “Right in front of everybody.”

“Who?”

“Steph.”

Rafe’s hand slows against the grill. There’s a tiny pause behind him. The sudden, collective awareness of boys who have stepped near information one of them doesn’t want examined.

Then somebody says, “Banks, bro, how is Steph goin’?”

Rafe turns his head just enough to catch his son cutting a quick look toward him.

Banks is stretched low in one of the patio chairs, long legs kicked beneath the table, sunglasses pushed into his hair.

At sixteen, he has begun taking up space the way Rafe does without noticing it – shoulders broadening, knees always in somebody’s way, one arm draped along the chair beside him like the world was built slightly too small.

His expression closes the second he sees Rafe looking.

“Shut up,” Banks mutters.

The boys erupt.

Banks shoves one of them in the shoulder and says, “I’m serious, dude. Shut the fuck up.”

Rafe turns back to the grill before his mouth gives him away. Steph. Interesting.

He files it away for later, somewhere between Tyler lying about his sexual history and Banks having referred to somebody named Cooper as a desperate little freak for posting gym selfies.

His wife will enjoy all of it. She’ll probably ask what Steph’s surname is, and Rafe will have no idea, and then she’ll accuse him of gathering incomplete intelligence.

The back gate clicks below the deck. A second later, Lila’s voice carries up the stairs before the rest of her does. “Daddy!”

Rafe sets the brush down just in time for six years of wet limbs and tangled towel to come flying toward him.

She’s wrapped in a faded pink beach towel from her shoulders to her ankles, her damp hair slicked backward from her face and her feet leaving little dark marks over the boards.

Rafe catches her beneath the arms when she launches, lifting her against his chest while the towel loosens.

“Hey, baby girl.” He settles her onto one hip and pulls the towel higher over her shoulders. Her skin is cool and pebbled beneath his hand despite the heat. “How was the water?”

Lila nods so violently her wet hair slaps against her cheek. “So good. I went splash, and then the water went sploooosh–” Her arm shoots out from the towel, nearly catching Rafe beneath the chin. “–and then Mama had to come get me because I went too far, but I wasn’t too far. Mama just couldn’t see because the wave was big.”

“Right,” Rafe says, looking down the steps. “Sounds responsible.”

His wife reaches the top as Lila begins reenacting the wave against his shoulder. She has a canvas beach bag hanging from one elbow and Lila’s sandals hooked through two fingers.

A pale sarong is knotted low around her waist over a black bikini, damp hair pushed back from her face and drying in uneven bends over her shoulders. There’s a faint strip of sand along one shin and a pink flush high over her chest from the sun.

Rafe forgets the grill. It happens with humiliating regularity. He’ll be in the middle of something normal – opening mail, finding a missing shoe, explaining why the pool company has overcharged them – and she’ll walk into the room looking like that, like three children and half a lifetime have somehow only given her more places for his attention to catch.

Her stomach is softer than it was when they were eighteen. Her hips curve beneath the sarong in a way his hands know better than his own.

There’s a thin silver stretch mark near one side of her waist that he can see when the fabric shifts, left by Banks or Marlowe or Lila; he doesn’t remember which anymore, only that each of their children changed her and somehow made her look more specifically his.

Every version of her body has held some part of their life.

She looks up and smiles at him, attention moving first to Lila shivering in his arms and then to his face. Rafe’s chest pulls tight in the familiar place.

Unfortunately, Banks’ friends have eyes.

He notices because they all go quiet in stages. One boy stops halfway through opening a bag of chips. Another sits up. Tyler, the liar, looks at her for one second too long before glancing quickly toward the ocean as though he has developed a sudden interest in tides.

Rafe’s grip tightens around Lila. Not because he’s jealous of teenage boys. He’s a grown man. A husband. A father. He owns property and has employees and understands at least seventy percent of his mortgage.

Still. Little fucks.

His wife either doesn’t notice or chooses not to. Her entire focus remains on Lila as she steps closer and rubs both hands over the child’s towel-covered arms. “Come on, sweet girl. Let’s get you into a warm shower, yeah? Then I’ll make you some lunch.”

“Yes, please!” Lila immediately begins wriggling out of Rafe’s hold with no concern for gravity.

He lowers her to the deck, catches the towel before it falls and wraps it around her again. “Walk. Boards are slippery.”

“I know, Daddy.”

She runs anyway.

His wife watches her disappear through the sliding door, then comes to him, one hand flattening against the centre of his chest. Her fingers are cool from the water. The contact settles something in him before he has decided it needs settling.

“Hi, baby,” he murmurs.

His hand closes around the back of her neck, thumb fitting beneath her ear as she rises onto her toes and kisses him. It’s brief and warm and tastes faintly like the sunscreen she always gets too close to her mouth.

“Hi, honey.” Her smile brushes his lips. “You want food too?”

“Yeah.” He slides his other hand around her waist, palm flattening over the damp knot of the sarong. “Thank you, baby.”

She looks past him toward the table. “Banks? Boys? Food?”

The response is immediate and absurdly polite.

“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” Banks says.

“Yes, Mrs Cameron.”

“Yes, please, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mrs Cameron.”

Rafe glances over his shoulder at them. Tyler is looking directly at the table now with the concentration of somebody sitting an exam.

She only nods. “Won’t be long.”

She follows Lila inside, leaving the smell of salt water and coconut sunscreen behind her. Rafe watches until she disappears up the stairs.

Then he turns slowly toward the boys. Every face is arranged into innocence.

Rafe picks up the grill brush. “Something wrong?”

Six heads shake.

“No, sir,” one of them says.

Banks closes his eyes briefly.

Rafe hums and goes back to cleaning.

He waits another five minutes before carrying the brush and drip tray into the kitchen. The window above the sink has been cracked open to let the breeze through, facing straight across the deck toward the ocean. From inside, the boys are mostly hidden by the frame, but their voices carry perfectly through the gap.

Rafe turns on the tap. Behind him, the floorboards upstairs creak as his wife walks Lila toward the bathroom. Pipes groan inside the wall. Outside, a chair scrapes.

Then Tyler says, in the low, urgent voice of somebody sharing state secrets, “Banks, bro.”

Banks sighs. “What?”

“Your mom is so fucking hot.”

Rafe’s hand stops beneath the water. There’s an immediate collision of voices.

“Dude, shut up.”

“No, seriously.”

“Full MILF, man.”

“That’s my mom, you fucking freak.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Don’t.”

Another boy laughs. “No way your old man can handle all that.”

The metal tray slips in Rafe’s hands and hits the sink with a sharp clang. Outside, the conversation dies. Rafe stares through the window at the ocean, jaw locked hard enough that something aches near his ear.

Old man. He’s thirty-eight, not dead. And handle all that? He’s been handling all that since before these little assholes were even a thought. 

He handled her at seventeen when she used to climb through his bedroom window because Ward hated sleepovers. He handled her through college, through a breakup, through three pregnancies, two mortgages, four houses, one wedding and more arguments than he could count. 

He knows exactly where she likes his hand when she falls asleep and which side of her neck makes her knees weaken and how to calm her down without telling her to calm down.

He knows she hates tomatoes unless they’re cooked, that she cries when she’s angry enough, that she pretends not to want the last bite and always wants the last bite.

No way your old man can handle all that.

Rafe shuts off the tap. Stupid fucking children.

Footsteps move down the stairs before he can decide whether throwing six teenagers into the ocean would technically violate his time off. Lila appears first in clean yellow shorts and a shirt with a glittering dolphin across the front, hair brushed and beginning to curl as it dries.

His wife follows more slowly, still in the bikini and sarong, gathering her damp hair into a loose knot.

Lila runs toward the pantry. “Can I have chips?”

“No,” both parents say at once.

She stops. “Why?”

“Because lunch is coming,” his wife says.

“But chips are lunch.”

Rafe reaches for his wife as she passes, catching her around the waist and drawing her between his body and the counter. She comes without resistance, arms folding around his shoulders, her whole weight settling into him with a small, tired hum.

There it is. The thing those idiots outside couldn’t begin to understand. She melts for him.

Her stomach softens against his, cheek tipping near his collarbone while his palm moves slowly up the warm line of her back. She smells like salt and shampoo from helping Lila, though she hasn’t showered yet herself.

“I can make lunch,” he says against her hair. “You wanna go shower?”

“Don’t mind,” she murmurs, fingertips scratching lazily at the back of his neck. “I can do it.”

Rafe lets both hands slide lower, settling over her ass through the thin sarong. He taps lightly once, then again, a quiet rhythm beneath his palms. She makes another soft sound and presses closer.

The sliding door opens. Six boys begin filing into the kitchen, loud until they see him.

Rafe looks over his wife’s shoulder. Every single one of them becomes deeply interested in something else. The fridge. The floor. Lila’s abandoned towel. One boy studies the bowl of fruit as though he has never encountered an apple.

“Little shits,” Rafe mutters.

His wife lifts her head. “What, baby?”

“Nothin’.” He pats her ass again, eyes still on the boys.

Her brows pinch faintly, but then she tilts her chin toward him in the familiar, wordless request she’s made for more years than any of these kids have been alive.

Rafe smiles. She has no idea. His hand comes up to hold her face, fingers spreading along her jaw as he bends and kisses her.

Slow this time. Deliberate. His mouth moves over hers until she opens with a surprised laugh, and then his tongue catches hers just enough to make the laugh melt into a warm, pleased sigh against him.

Lila groans with her whole body and slaps both hands against his thigh. “Yuck! Daddy, stop! Mama!”

From beside the island, Banks says, “Oh my God. Really?”

His wife pulls back laughing, cheeks warm and eyes shining. Rafe steals one more kiss before she can get far, short but thorough enough to make Lila shout again.

“I’ve got lunch,” he tells her, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “Go shower, Mama. Tell Marlowe to come down on your way up for me.”

“‘Kay.” She kisses his cheek this time, then slips from his arms and heads toward the stairs. “Lila, don’t touch the chips.”

Lila freezes with one hand already inside the pantry. “I wasn’t.”

She disappears upstairs.

For several seconds, the kitchen stays quiet. Rafe turns toward the boys. They stare anywhere except at him. Banks looks like he wants to crawl beneath the island and stay there until adulthood.

Rafe takes a cutting board from the drawer and sets it on the counter with calm, measured care. “Tyler.”

The boy near the fruit bowl goes pale. “Yes, sir?”

Rafe looks at him, then he nods toward the fridge. “Get the burger meat out.”

Tyler moves immediately. “Yes, sir.”

Rafe glances at the rest of them. “You boys want lunch, you can help. Buns are in the pantry. Plates outside. Banks, cheese.”

They scatter through the kitchen with the efficient panic of unpaid staff during an inspection. Rafe reaches for the knife, mouth pulling slowly to one side.

Old man. Fuck that.

Upstairs, the shower turns on. Marlowe calls something unintelligible through her bedroom door. Lila begins explaining to one of the boys why dolphins are smarter than him.

Banks opens the fridge and mutters, “You’re so embarrassing.”

Rafe looks over at his son, then toward the ceiling where his wife is moving through the house above them, still humming faintly to herself.

to be notified when i post new fics, follow @kooksandpearls-library and turn on notifications! i no longer use a taglist for my fics.

[chibi-tokki]

Fuck that ho, fuck that bitch, It's fuck that ho 'til the condom slip

messy pro hero!kastuki who has beef with your also pro!ex boyfriend and who decides to one up him when he sees you drinking alone at a bar. you guys have been public for a while now, headlines and front pages so to see you sitting alone nursing a glass of whiskey, katsuki is intrigued to say the least. turns out you and your ex had broken up (he is a messy horrible cheater who got caught while in another city with at least three girls) and while you are upset and hurt and kinda heartbroken, you are furious, filled to the brim with a desire for revenge,for retribution and that’s exactly how you find yourself under dynamight with his cock shoved deep within you.

you’re a babbling mess, a mess of lipgloss, spit and tears are smeared across your cheeks. your cunt squeezing and gushing around him and god did he feel good. as if the number one pro wasn’t enough of a good hero, he was a good fuck. already making you cum on his tongue then his fingers and now his cock.

“who’s making you feel this good, baby?” he drawls, pulling his hips back to sit on his hunches as you fuck yourself.

“you” you whine, hips chasing his.

“nuh uh. give me a name, sweetheart.” he tsks, slowly beginning a grind of his hips.

“ ‘s you, dynamight.” your voice stutters out as his thumb comes to press on your clit.

dynamight chuckles above you. “yeah, it’s me isn’t it, pretty girl”

his phone pans up from your sopping pussy, clenching around his bare cock (you never let your ex hit it raw) to your messy, flushed face. his fingers that were once deep in you grip your chin, hard and rough, but not cruel.

“better than your number two hero?”

you nod, words leaving you as he slides two fingers against your tongue.

“need you to say it.”

he presses down on your tongue.

“so much better.” you grin around the digits.

katsuki clicks the phone off, throwing it across the room as he leans over you, kisses being pressed to your jaw, cheek, neck, anywhere he can reach.

“you wanna send it to him?” he is breathless as he returns to fucking his hips into you

“shut up, katsuki.” you push against his chest to roll him over. “just fuck me”

[bfbkg]

JAILBIRD! (2.1k)

— bakugou katsuki x reader

SYNOPSIS: after getting in another fight, you and your friends wind up in a jail cell. you call your boyfriend to get you out.

NOTES: quick drabble, somewhat crack fic? but not really lol. established relationship. fluff. mention of fighting n blood by reader.

“who is this!?”

the phone doesn’t have a second to ring before your boyfriend screeches down the phone. it sounds as if something’s in his mouth, a pen? he’s usually in his agency office at this time, finishing up an evening patrol and about to go home.

“hello? who the fuck got my number—,”

you take a deep breath before revealing yourself.

“it’s me, katsuki.”

“kacchan, did you get the stats—,”

bakugou sits up in his black leather chair, dropping his ballpoint pen and waving at deku across the room to shut up. he recognises you from the first syllable that crackles down the line.

“yn? baby? why’re you calling me from an unknown number? where’re you? you okay? what’s—,”

“i only have a minute so let me talk.”

you’re supposed to be out tonight with your girls, a monthly club night where you dance, eat and drink. a few of your favourite things in the world. you even sent him a selfie blowing a kiss before you left in your pretty outfit, wishing him good luck on his patrol and hoping he doesn’t get too bored with the low crime rates.

bakugou’s heart spikes, inhaling deeply before standing up. a villain has kidnapped you… someone is out to harm you. he’s already looking around for his gauntlets. he just tugged out of his hero suit but it’s right across the room for him to pull back on.

“what’s wrong with yn?” deku frowns from his seat on bakugou’s sofa. he’s typing up notes from their patrol together. bakugou hushes him again, with a warning finger.

“go on. are you safe?”

“please don’t be mad at me. please don’t be. but i might need you to—,”

“thirty seconds!” a man shouts somewhere down your line.

“who the fuck is that?” bakugou shouts, grabbing his keys and pulling an arm through his uniform. usually he’s levelheaded during missions and patrols. a mobile alert that there’s a villain robbery downtown doesn’t send a pang of panic through him. nor a kidnapping or high risk attack. bakugou’s seen it all. nothing scares him anymore.

but anything to do with you and bakugou’s back to square one. he can barely think straight. every single thought of his is scrambled, spelt backwards and upside down and he needs to get to you now.

“dickhead officer,” you mumble quickly, “okay don’t be mad at me, i need you to come get me at the station. maybe get me out of jail with your hero ways and connections. please. don’t be mad.” 

it’s all in one long ramble and he imagines you at the police station, fingers playing with the loopy wire of the telephone. bakugou freezes in place. his shoulders drop and he relaxes.

the list of reasons why bakugou loves you goes on forever. bakugou himself is yet to find an end to it. he loves your patience with him and his job, how you’re understanding when he needs to leave a date early and interrupts your evenings with heroic phone calls. how you’re always willing to learn something new, like self defence with him in his agency gym. he loves how much you love your friends and family, just like he does his. willing to stand up for them and stand by them. he also loves how you never take any disrespect. not from anybody, to you or others. that is exactly why he struggles to be mad at you right now.

“hah? the fuck did you do?” he pauses, pulling off his hero suit. he doesn’t need it. you already did the work for him.

“why do you assume it was me!?” you whine down the line.

“wasn’t it? why the hell are you in there?” he wants to bark but his tone softens knowing you’re on the other end. you give a dramatic huff that makes him grip the phone tighter for more.

bakugou looks at deku who still stares expectantly, unsure if he should be putting his hero suit on also. bakugou shakes his head.

“i’ll explain when you’re here. come quickly please. it stinks—,”

“ten seconds!” the same voice.

“quick, baby. i love you!” you shout.

“fuck, baby. love y—,”

bakugou shoves his phone in his pocket, letting out a short hearty laugh. 

“is everything okay with yn? did someone hurt her?”

“it’s gonna be the opposite. she’s in jail right now.”

when your boyfriend stops into the police station, with his black boots, black jeans and an oversized grey hoodie, you squeal, running to the bars trapping you inside like an animal. he looks so good, all boyfriend with his hood over his head and bags under his eyes. you even catch him rolling his eyes at you, giving you a nod and lip bite as you jump in excitement.

“katsuki’s here, he’s gonna get us out! we’re saved!” you tell your two friends sitting arms folded in the jail cell with you.

you wave to him and bakugou stomps right over, past the authorised doors and right to your cell.

“excuse me, sir! you can’t just—,”

bakugou turns to the police officer, one eyebrow raised.

“oh! dynamight, why are you here?” the policeman’s face floods a bright pink but both you and bakugou ignore him.

bakugou immediately reaches his hand through the bars, gripping your chin and moving your head side to side.

“he was the one telling me to hurry up on the phone!” you say smushed, “i’m okay! you should see the other girl!”

there’s no scratches on your face. your makeup has smudged and sweated off, just from time and dancing earlier. there is blood on your knuckles however, contrasting against your short little party girl outfit.

bakugou drops his hand with a loud grunt then eyes your friends, who send him jolly smiles and even a wave.

“hey dynamight!”

“thanks for helping us!”

he still has a soft spot for your friends, who look exactly like you. no bruises or scratches. the only proof of a fight is maybe two broken nails on your friend’s left hand and your other friend’s hair is a tamed mess. he often cooks you and them dinner whenever he is around your flat.

“why the hell are you here, baby? again?” he sighs hopelessly. he shakes his head, ignoring the other cells of people eying him suspiciously. 

a prohero visiting a jail cell? probably not his biggest fans.

still you smile at bakugou shyly, “i said don’t be mad!”

“i need to know what happened so i can get you out,” he levels with you.

you huff, looking away from your lover.

“baby. you told me to come quickly. i know you’re fine so what happened?” he soothes, despite the fact you don’t need soothing. he wants to give you a kiss and cuddle, scrub you down in the shower and bring you to bed. 

but you’ve got to be this firecracker.

“you know those girls who hate us? they saw us out tonight and started shouting at us! we weren’t even doing anything! and then you know what happened,” you drawl, grabbing bakugou’s hand though the bars as if he needs convincing.

bakugou fights the smirk off his face. of course he knows your lore and the beefs you have with everyone in your life. there’s nothing he doesn’t know about you. 

“no babe. what happened, huh?”

“she threw the first punch at me! she was chatting shit, so i did too! she tried to punch me, clearly didn’t get me, so then i punched her, it did get her. i’ll admit.” but you struggle to hide your own grin.

one tooth from you and bakugou’s grinning, “then what?”

“it was a little scrap! i had it under control. did the one with the elbow you showed me.”

“yeah? in her stomach?” bakugou eggs on.

you nod, grinning like a kid who’s won an award, “yeah! also some good old hair pulling. if it ain’t broke don’t fix it!”

bakugou does actually let out a laugh at that, rubbing his face with his palm restlessly, “oh shit, baby.”

“but then someone called the police and they got sent to the hospital together and we are… here.”

your friends have the audacity to look pitiful and you join them by pulling him closer by his hand.

“and what do you want me to do, princess?” he smiles devotedly, cheeks high and pink.

“what do you mean? get me out, stupid! use your hero ways, seduce or fight them. legal language. what you did last time!” you say, waving your free hand around like you’re in a position of power here, “i wanna shower.”

“how’s that supposed to teach you your lesson? no fightin’—,” he jokes but you send him a dead stare.

“katsuki, not funny. we wanna go home. look at us,” you pout.

you’re fucking adorable, bakugou thinks. with your little top and tiny skirt. you’re in thick sports socks currently, your shoes under the chair by your friends. your feet hurt he can only assume. he eyes the k gold necklace at your neck. feeling the stare, you subconsciously play with it between your fingers.

“if i let you out, you promise no fightin’?” he plays but you’re back to huffing. so close to stomping your foot.

“katsuki! i said it wasn’t our fault anyway!”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. i’ll see what i can do,” he smirks, fixing his hair. “gimme a kiss.”

you smile, pouting your lips to meet him through the bars. it’s a quick peck, one that has you missing him even though he’s still there.

“i’ll be back in a sec. no startin’ fights while i’m gone.”

“go hero!” 

bakugou slips his calloused palm out of your hand and stuffs his hands in his pockets, smiling back at you before turning around the corner to find an officer.

he fixes his hair under his hood, trying to keep his crush on you under wraps.

bakugou just about hears you say. “katsuki’s going to save us! didn’t he look kinda... that hoodie… yum.”

bakugou is waiting by his range rover when you and your friends fall out of the police station, giggling the same way you do when you leave the club.

your soft smile at katsuki makes his heart skip a beat, his breaths soften. he feels the urge to float over to you, despite the fact you’re already walking towards him.

“thanks for saving us, hero,” you coo, kissing his cheek once he’s close enough. bakugou’s quick to lean into it.

“thanks dynamight! it wasn’t our fault, i swear, dont get mad at yn.” your friend says, her bag and phone back in her hands.

“it was those girls again!” your other friend curses, “i swear once i find them—,”

“okay, okay. get in the damn car, i’ll drop everyone home,” he pretends to be annoyed but you see through it all. 

a fresh breeze swoops your hair back and causes bakugou’s hood to fall off his head. he’s tired and adorable, towering over you with his hand sliding onto your waist like it belongs there.

you take his hand as your friends mumble their thanks again, sliding into the backseat of his car.

“i mean it, ‘tsuki. thanks for getting us, i know you’d rather be in bed now.” you say, reaching up on your tiptoes, shoes back on. you’re still not close enough to his face so he manages by bending down to yours.

“we’re gonna talk about this properly. i hate you gettin’ hurt,” he tries to be stern, like how he is at work with his sidekicks that aren’t fast enough or his emergency team that aren’t precise enough. 

but you are enough. everything about you.

“i said i didn’t get hurt. well, my wrist is a bit sore but aside from that, i’m fine!” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “i swear!”

“d’you want me to deal with those girls? get mina and momo to tell them to not bother you—,” he tries but you shake your head.

“it’s not hero business, ‘tsuki.”

“you shouldn’t be fightin’ anyone. hero shit or not.”

you slink your arms around his neck and bakugou finds it hard to not let his eyes go half lidded with interest. he leans into you like he’s at home, just the smell of you dragging him closer.

“then they have to stop chatting shit,” you whisper, pecking his pouty lips softly. “i love you.”

bakugou knows he’s not going to win this conversation. he could train you to fight better though. he sighs, ready for a hot shower and bedtime with you.

“fine. we’re talkin’ about this later. love you too.”

[robbyscoffee]

— ꕤ｡˚⋆ jack abbot who loves his drama queen wife. . . ♡

"no," jack was saying. he was currently holding a divorce paper he wasn't even sure was legitimate, but your show was far too entertaining to disrupt.

"sign. it," you said with your arms crossed.

"no," he repeated. this time, there was a stupid smirk on his face that made you want to shove him away as much as you wanted to kiss it off.

"i'm serious, jackie," you said. mostly serious, anyway. you pretended to be unaware of your dramatic antics to add to the spectacle, but part of the performance was actually real. "sign the damn paper."

jack laughs at your faux show of confidence. he can't take you seriously with your face twisted in the cutest pout. "you're still calling me jackie while you're trying to divorce me. sure that's what you want?"

"mhm," you huff. the divorce paper was real enough! just because it didn't have his or your name on it and was issued by the internet as opposed to an attorney didn't mean anything.

"and what was your reasoning again, baby?" jack mused.

"you don't love me anymore!"

jack sighs. "i tell you how beautiful you are before i leave for work, bring y’flowers everyday, and take you to dinner every friday, and you think i don't love you?"

"yeah, but those are the routine things!" you said. "so, you obviously don't love me anymore!"

jack put the paper down on the nightstand and approached you, backing you into the bed. "say it again, sweetheart."

you gulp at his proximity, sweat trickling down your face from the way his thumb tilts your chin upwards. "you. don't. love. me."

"yeah, okay," jack hummed. “if you really thought that, you wouldn't be wearing the shortest little skirt," he says, promptly hiking the garment in question up and making your breath hitch, "when you're trying to fucking divorce me."

"jackie-"

"mhm, there she is," jack said. he pushes you down onto the bed without further warning and pulls your skirt down your body, revealing your pussy to his hungry eyes. "and already so wet,” he tsks.

"hmph," you say with a huff. you turn away from his gaze, but it's short-lived as jack cranes your face back towards him.

"ah-ah. what do you have to say?"

you roll your eyes. "sorry."

"like you mean it."

"sorry," you say again.

jack doesn't have it in him to correct your attitude from that look on your face. god, his wife is just too cute.

you don't say anything else as he frees his cock from his slacks, slipping inside your aching cunt. jack is gentle with you as he rocks into you, whispering the sweetest praises that you'd needed for reassurance.

"tell me i love you. tell me how much daddy loves you, baby," jack coos as he cups your cheek, his thrusts slow as he fucks you deep.

"d- daddy loves me," you relent. "so much."

jack nodded with a triumphant smile. "that's my girl."

[bfbkg]

luna…

need cuddlefucking with bakugou por favor :(

-mars(aplanet)

SOFA SURFING (4.1k)

— bakugou katsuki x f!reader

synopsis: you and your boyfriend have to sleep on his family sofa because his mother turned his bedroom into an arts and crafts room.

what's coming up: fluff, smut (p in v, fingering (f) unprotected), having to be quiet, loads of pet names, established relationship, bkg's parents here!, set in japan, italics for japanese luna says: this was written when i was taking requests. i am not now. thank u @marsaplanet !!! probs needs another proofread. thank u aali for title hehe

“i fucking hate this,” you boyfriend says squished beside you, forced to be a big spoon on his parent’s tiny very public living room sofa. it’s only tiny because you’re sharing it with him.

it takes you longer than necessary to twist around with the small space you’re allowed. in order to accommodate bakugou’s big body that can barely manage a single bed, you’re left to only be able to lay on your sides. though once you manage, you give katsuki a pout in the dark and his chin a peck.

“i’m sorry your mum changed your bedroom into an arts and crafts room,” then you look away from him, which is quite hard considering you’re face to face, nose to nose, “it is such a nice room though. i’d love one of those.”

since bakugou became pro, he moved out of his parent’s home at the humble age of eighteen years old and never returned permanently. for the first few years, his parents kept his bedroom how it is, ready for him to visit when he wanted a traditional home cooked dinner instead of the unhealthy western food or just a break from the intense world of heroics. 

but this visit, without warning, his mother has changed his sweet all-might and manga filled bedroom into a well prepared arts and crafts room. fashion drawings up on the walls, sewing machines that cost more than your computer, rolls and rolls of fabrics and so much more. 

if bakugou didn’t plan to help his father out early tomorrow morning with his fishing gear, he would have booked a nearby hotel instead of attempting to stay over on the living room sofa with you.

he does love being this close to you though. having you tangled in his arms, your leg slung over his waist and your breasts pressed to his chest. you’re in a permanent cuddle unless you want to fall off the sofa or be crushed by your boyfriend during the night.

“no, i don’t care about my bedroom. i’d rather sleep in a goddamn bed,” he complains until you shush him.

“too loud, kats. your parents are sleeping.”

bakugou rolls his eyes but he does get noticeably quieter. he tightens his grip on you and his words tickle your ear, “shoulda got a hotel nearby. we haven’t… damn.”

he trails off, blinking slowly at you.

you know exactly what he means. you curl a wheat blonde lock around your finger and pull slightly. bakugou releases a low whine that vibrates into your body.

“i know, but we’ll be home tomorrow,” you sympathise. you get it. you really do. “you can have me all to yourself then.”

you shift your lower body to get comfortable, you swear it’s only because your leg is going dead laying on your side for so long. you twist into bakugou, your crotch bumping right over his. just at the feeling of him, hard and thick against your soft thigh, you eat your words. you don’t want tomorrow, you want him now.

bakugou had been on a two week long mission across the world, solving crime and fighting villains. he’s barely been able to call you during the weeks. a few texts littered in and definitely no photos due to the top secret nature of the mission. only to then arrive in your home country to meet you at the airport to fly to japan to meet his parents. it was the only time he could fit them in on his busy schedule and in an attempt to spend as much time with you as possible, you came along also.

which leads you about to hump your boyfriend like a teenager in his family living room. you were surrounded by family photos and cute baby photos. even a drawing he made of all-might when he was seven next to a photo of him with all-might at seventeen. you get to the baby photos his mother has already text to you, she knows to send every one she finds for your collection. 

but face to face with the grown katsuki, large hand spread over your lower back to press your hips into his. you can practically taste his breath, minty toothpaste that freshens your nose also. even in the dark you can see the lovesick way he stares at you, a sad pitiful gaze on your lips then your eyes. it even makes you laugh because despite how hot you are, trapped in his sleepy cuddle, you refuse to wear your usual pyjamas in his living room. your usual little boy shorts and a tank top for bed time. big tshirt and underwear. you’re in a long sleeve plaid set, just in case anyone wakes up for a glass of water in the night. 

bakugou can work around all the fabric. placing his hand on your bare back. pinging your elastic waistband against your hip. he doesn’t give a fuck, still counting this as his home despite the lack of bedroom. he’s shirtless, just a pair of shorts on.

“i haven’t seen you in weeks, doesn’t even feel like i had you today and the only alone time we get is on my fuckin’ sofa,” he huffs, stuffing his big head in the crook of your neck. bakugou inhales harshly, nose brushing against your silk bonnet, chest pressed right into yours.

you’re already whining, gripping on a semblance of control. “tomorrow, kats. tomorrow.”

you feel his stubble against your cheek, prickly but makes him look so fine. a few years older, a little rougher. bakugou pulls out your neck at your tone. he can predict you from a mile away.

“y’need me, baby? i haven’t been takin’ care of you, have i?”

always the first to read the room, always the first to read you. sugar sweet words from him have you falling apart like a dandelion, using your hooked leg around his waist to hump your hips against his cock.

it has been weeks. you’re used to being dicked down at least four times a week by him with multiple rounds but now, nothing. you could drool at the memory of being filled to the brim, your knees by your ears as he thrusts as an alternate way to show his love. honestly, you’d love to be pounded by him right now, pressed into a mattress with your beautiful man above you.

“b-but we can’t. your parents are across the hall. i’m not waking them. a-nd all your baby photos are out, this is your living room,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip. you can feel your clit pulse, a hot tightness that gets you moving without meaning to, “we don’t have space either a-and you’re loud.”

bakugou narrows his eyes, pursing his lips, “you’re louder than me.”

“kats,” you warn, “remember in april, for your birthday?”

“that’s ‘cause you fuckin’ touched my—,”

you peck his lips to shut him up but it only draws out the palpable need between you both. your hand flies to his cheek as he pulls you back in. he rests on his forearm slightly to get the best angle on your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

your kisses are louder than the words you just spoke. 

everything happens all at once with a rush you didn’t know you both felt. on the same equilibrium, you clutch a tuft of bakugou’s blonde locks to keep his open mouth over yours, his tongue licking after yours. but every time he tries, you smile or grin or touch his tongue for a second before pulling back.

“stop playin’ with me, baby,” he whines against your lips, “gimme a taste.”

it’s always done something to you, your boyfriend just yesterday was shouting at his sidekicks and team in a foreign country, strategising a plan and being the voice everybody listens to. to now, him listening to you, begging you to give him more.

you don’t need to speak, you just slot your mouth over his in a wet kiss that is all tongue. you lick your tongue over his, circle it with the tip before letting him suck completely.

your moans bubble up, your thigh tenses around his waist and bakugou’s hand under your shirt is hot. 

“you’re gonna have to fuck me, kats. i can’t sleep like this,” you whisper, laying kisses across his jaw as he catches his heaving breaths. 

you lick over his earlobe, complete with a nibble to make him fall apart. “fuck. i know, i know. turn around f’me.”

you pout, “why? i wanna see your face.”

he grins, he’s exactly the same, “just for now. it’ll be easier for me. i’ll still be here.”

you huff dramatically, awkwardly shifting around so your back is to his chest. you lock eyes with three year old katsuki in the cutest red dungarees you’ve ever seen. though the actual katsuki behind you already has his massive hand under your shirt and on your stomach, fingers passing your elasticated waistband.

your hand flies to his, “not in front of your baby photos. look how cute you were.”

bakugou scoffs behind you, instead opting to unbutton your pyjama shirt, “the fuck? were? i still am.”

you look back, letting him reveal your breasts. you shove down the blanket to your knees. “you hate me calling you cute?”

bakugou kisses your neck then presses his cock into your ass without meaning to, “i’m still the cutest man you know.”

“you’re so stupid,” you giggle softly, eyes fluttering shut as his hands finally sneak past your waistband, over your tuft of hair and onto your soft clit. “oh shit.”

bakugou knows you better than he knows himself. he knew you wouldn’t be wearing underwear, he knew you’d already be wet and he knew you’d give in.

with two flat pads of his fingers, katsuki rubs firm clockwise circles into you, letting you shove and kick your pyjama bottoms to the ground. he lets you adjust to him, opening your legs wider and resting your leg on his hip behind you. 

you moan open mouthed, head falling back onto his bicep as he lifts himself upon his elbow.

“quiet, baby. feels good, though?” he asks, completely captivated by you.

it looks like you’re from a sexy christmas calendar despite it being mid july. your red and green plaid pyjama shirt is completely unbuttoned, naked body stretched around his and rolling your hips into his hand. 

“so good. so good, gorgeous,” you mumble, running your hand over his thick arm between your legs. you kiss his bicep by your cheek, “missed this with you. being—,” you inhale sharply, then soften into a whine, “being this close to you.”

“i know, baby. i get it. didn’t see your pretty face for two weeks. was going insane, staring at photos of you. fisted my cock over them one night,” he grunts into your ear and he feels your breathing hitch, your head roll back to look at him already looking down at you.

“kats, oh god,” you mewl as the sounds between your legs get louder, squelching and wet. “w-which picture, baby?”

katsuki stops the circles on your clit, instead choosing to sink his two fingers inside of you. you reach your hand behind you, fingers crawling into his hair and gripping. it only riles him up, a deep growl into your neck.

“those mirror selfies you sent before i left. on your bed, ass up in those tiny ass yellow panties you’ve got. and that one i took of you in my bed half naked in my old tee, so fuckin’ sexy baby.”

he curls his fingers inside, rubbing at your wet ribbed walls over and over again, pressing against your softest spots.

“oh fuck. oh fuck, kats,” you chant, your hips jolting without thought, your lower half burning up with the influx of pleasure, “right there. please.”

“you’re so beautiful, baby,” your boyfriend coos. he feels your stomach tense on his arm and he knows exactly what that means, “come for me, all over my hand. c’mon, darlin’.”

sliding your hand between your thighs, you only rub your clit a few times as bakugou keeps up pistoning inside you. despite your brewing orgasm, you’re only excited about being completely and utterly full by him afterwards.

you let your orgasm wash over you with ease. clenching your eyes shut as you’re mindful to keep quiet. honey and delight ripples over your body, a warming heat spreading under your skin starting right at your core.

“kats… kats… fuck,” you mumble and when you’re about to do one of your typical high pitched screams, bakugou smushes his face over yours to swallow them. he’s feels your vocal chords vibrate in the kiss and only when he’s sure you’re going to be quiet, he pulls off you.

you stop touching at your clit and bakugou slowly pulls his fingers out of you to stuff in his mouth.

you’re panting heavy, eyes closed and laying back on him with all your weight. still, you manage to laugh “you’re so… you really missed me?”

with your heaving chest, you look back at katsuki, shirtless in the dark with his tongue between his two fingers. “a fuckin’ stupid amount.”

you eye his tattoo of your name on his collarbone, then your eyes on his inner bicep amongst his tattoo sleeve. katsuki hasn’t seen his parents in months, you only a few weeks ago yet he still flew you across the world to spend time with him. it all hits you differently now, his love spreading through you at a rate you can’t measure.

“i love you. thanks for bringing me here.”

bakugou smirks, pecking your forehead, “one orgasm and you’re getting sappy on me?”

you scrunch your eyebrows together, “katsuki. say it back now.”

“‘course i goddamn love you.” he hums, watching as you twist around to face him again.

you’re back to being nose to nose with your lover, bare chest against bare chest. “your koibito.”

this is your second visit to japan with katsuki meeting his parents but despite that, you’ve heard him speak japanese over the phone and chatting with his friends. he’s taught you a few words and sentences, often helpful when he’s watching his japanese dramas with the english subtitles on for you.

but one word his father taught you was koibito. it was the first thing he said when you stepped out of the taxi with the same smile as your boyfriend and his arms out to embrace you.

“you brought your koibito!” katsuki’s father says to him, in a mix of both languages so you understand also. his arms wrap around you in greeting.

you don’t miss bakugou’s blush but you do miss when he says something very fast to his father in japanese.

“what’s koibito?” you ask, as his father brings your suitcase inside and you watch katsuki take his out the car boot.

he’s still flushed, cute red cheeks as he glances up at you. “lover. like my partner. my person.”

“oh!” you say, “why didn’t he just say girlfriend?”

you know the word for girlfriend.

bakugou sighs under his breath, placing his suitcase on the floor, “i think ‘cause it’s my second time bringing you ‘round. koibito is more serious, a committed relationship.”

you grin, hugging his arm, “i’m your koibito!”

bakugou says the same thing he said then but more solemnly. with a soft nod, “you are and i’m yours.”

you can’t help but pout at him, lifting your face to press your lips into his. it’s starts off slow, controlled but all too soon, bakugou is shoving his shorts below his ass and you’re wrapping your fingers around his cock.

“gonna love you properly when we—,”

“shh, it’s okay. just want you now,” you speak into his mouth, obsessed with how quickly he begins panting. you flick your wrist over him a few times. he’s already as big as he can get, stiff and curved, slapped against his lower stomach.

“put me in, baby,” katsuki drawls, his lips over your cheek.

again, you cock your leg over his hip. you just need to lift up a little, press his cockhead between your legs and let him do the rest but—

“we need to use a condom. can’t make a mess on the sofa, kats,” you whine.

half lidded eyes look back at you. you can tell he’s strategising, adding up ratios to likelihoods and where the hell his wallet is and if he even stocked it with condoms.

you feel him pulse, hot and heavy in your hand.

“no clue where they are, baby. we can put the blanket under us and i’ll wash it in the mornin’. yeah?” he brushes his nose over yours.

honestly, bakugou could have said anything and you would have said sure.

after a rushed shuffle of stuffing the blanket underneath your hips, you fist bakugou’s tip and press him against your opening.

“move kats,” you whisper and in one push, bakugou slides into you utterly and completely.

in unison, a moan ripples out of you both, one of pure relief. even though you’re across the world from yours, slotted like a final puzzle piece with your lover feels like home. 

you slide a hand under bakugou’s cheek between the pillow and wrap your other arm around his back in a cuddle. bakugou’s the same, with a hand spread over your lower back and his other arm under your side to keep you close.

“you are so perfect,” bakugou whispers to you, pressing a kiss to your lips. you’re warm and slippery, an easy glide from your orgasm before. he almost doesn’t want to move, wanting you to cockwarm him until the morning.

“so are you,” you smile, breathing a little shaky because despite not moving, he still manages to press against your sensitive spots. you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress a groan. “f-fuck.”

“i used to sit here as a kid, wonderin’ when i’d get a girl. what she’d look like, if i’d even like her,” he chuckles to himself. he taps your ass softly.

“w-why wouldn’t you like your girlfriend?” you reply, blinking slowly.

“i was a dick. girls would ask me out at school and i never liked ‘em back. thought my first relationship would be completely one sided.” he breathes a half hearted laugh. “how wrong was i?”

you giggle softly, brushing his locks off his forehead. “so wrong. i’d love to tell teen katsuki how many times you begged to take me out.” 

he kisses your cheek, “he’d say you’re a fuckin’ liar.”

“flying me here to meet your parents twice. you love me so much. it actually might be one sided.” you cheese and bakugou playfully rolls his eyes.

“won’t even be fuckin’ surprised with how much i think about you.”

bakugou punctuates his comment with a thrust, an easy bounce of his hips as you lay tangled side by side.

he sees your eyes roll back in real time, a swear falling past your lips.

“oh shit. oh shit, i missed this,” you warble as bakugou keeps up his thrusts, every one keeping him deep and full inside of you. 

“shh, baby,” he says over your lips, “fuck, i love you.”

“i love you too.”

every slap of bakugou’s hips causes your chest to bounce, has you inching up the sofa but he keeps you in place. he feels incredible, everywhere. his lips on your neck, nibbling your shoulder. you don’t mean to scratch down his back but when the sweet gets sweeter you need a release somewhere. 

it’s only when bakugou speeds up his thrusts, thighs slapping against thighs, heavy breaths transferred from mouth to mouth that the sofa starts to creak. loudly.

“we’re… we’re too loud,” you moan in pleasure, practically hugging bakugou’s big head to your shoulder.

“old ass fuckin’—,” bakugou bites on your shoulder to stop his moan waking up the whole house, he can’t stop now. if it’s not the squelching of you and him, the sofa is groaning too.

there’s nothing you can do about it but stop though you both refuse to. he’s hitting all your best spots at this pace. it’s as if fireworks are being lit all over your skin, your next orgasm rumbling.

“p-please don’t stop,” you cry into him, “i’m so close.”

“not stoppin’ for shit, baby,” 

having not seen each other in two weeks, means you’re both closer quicker than usual. bakugou notes your cute little gasp, you’re about to come.

“all for me,” he coos, “lemme have it all.”

amongst the slaps, the creaks and bakugou’s accidental loud grunts, you come all over his cock.

again, he envelops you in a kiss, swallowing everything you release. you tremble and shake in his arms, tensing tight around him which only sets him off.

he tries to keep up his pace for your orgasm but his own makes him jolty and stuttered. instead he goes for slow and deep, keeping you still with his arm locked around you.

“my beautiful baby,” he’s completely fucked out as he spills inside of you, the added friction of his come making him slide even deeper. 

your hand flies to his hip, “t-too much.”

bakugou gets you, mumbling an apology in your temple and opting to pull out. but once he does, dribbles of his come does too. 

“oh fuck,” 

with the original plan completely forgotten, bakugou grabs your pyjama bottoms and wipes you up.

“katsuki!” you whisper-whine.

“didn’t wanna make a mess. don’t want my mum on my ass,” he speaks to between your legs, lightly dabbing you down. 

“i hope we weren’t loud” you say, blinking up at him. then embarrassment washes over you, “acting like horny teenagers. we should have waited katsuki. we were so loud.”

bakugou kisses you quiet, “they’re both old as fuck, nothin’ is wakin’ them up. you’re good, baby. we’re good.”

“still don’t even know if your mother likes me—,”

“fuck off with that shit. you both text all the time.”

it’s true, that’s how you grow your folder of bakugou fun facts and baby stories.

“okay,” you mumble and you feel cosy when he kisses you on the tip of the nose. “i really liked this.”

bakugou grins cutely, stuffing your dirty pyjama bottoms on the floor. he’ll remember to wash them tomorrow. “yeah? next time i’ll eat you and—,”

“shh, i said i enjoyed this now with you,” you emphasise and bakugou gets it.

“me too. missed you.”

breakfast with the bakugou’s is a mixture of japanese and english. you forced Katsuki into a t-shirt because your scratches down his back look like hes been attacked by a cat in his sleep. he’s also in a new pair of shorts since he gave the ones he wore last night to you. your pyjama bottoms stained with him are currently what you’re staring at, swirling around the washing machine.

you refuse to talk, completely convinced your boyfriend’s parents heard you fucking their son in their living room the night before. you stuff your scrambled egg in your mouth and katsuki can feel the anxiety dripping from you.

he sighs to himself, “did you guys hear anythin’ last night?”

you gasp, kicking katsuki’s foot under the table. what the fuck?

“what do you mean? was it the matsumo’s sprinklers again? they’re always fucking going off at night.” his mother replies in japanese and you blink at her, “our stupid neighbours sprinklers are broken. sorry if they woke you up, honey.”

you sit up straight, shocked at how you weren’t caught, “oh uh, no! it was only for five minutes and it stopped.”

you look over at katsuki who grins sadistically.

“i heard dad snoring. still haven’t got that checked out, huh?”

“snoring?” his dad frowns, with accented english.

“snoring, dad.” katsuki translates.

“i’ve been tellin’ him!” his mother chips in, “he still refuses to go!”

“there is nothing wrong with a little snoring,” his father defends, “sorry if you heard it though, yn.”

you shake your head, “not a thing! i must have been asleep.”

for the rest of breakfast, you watch as the bakugous laugh, eat and bicker amongst themselves. every booming laugh from katsuki has him looking at you, checking if you’re okay, feeling safe and included. 

as katsuki’s mum shows his dad something on her phone, katsuki squeezes your thigh.

“told ya they didn’t hear shit.”

but katsuki’s mum has ears of an eagle, her head robotically turning to look at you both.

“hear what?”

you almost choke on your spit.

katsuki rolls his eyes, “nothin’ mum. mind your business.”

“don’t smart me. i can still slap your head.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

“It finally came!” You squeal as you shut the front door with your foot. You’re still in your green and pink striped pyjamas and you’ve got a bit of bed head, but Jack thinks you look as gorgeous as ever.

“Your books, pretty lady?” He looks up from his sudoku, glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

You’ve been raving nonstop about them and when you had finally ordered them, Jack swears you tracked the package’s every move.

“Mhm,” you set the box down next to him and run into the kitchen for a knife. You’re nearly sprinting on your way back, but a raised eyebrow from Jack slows you into a brisk walk. “I hope they aren’t damaged, they’re special editions.”

He’s well aware, but he smiles and says, “We’ll return and replace them if they are, sweetheart.”

You nod, hair coming loose from the hair tie keeping it off your skin. You’re practically vibrating as you open the box and sift through the packing paper to find the books.

You pleased gasp and the reverent way you hold the books makes Jack even happier he chose express shipping. “Look at them!” You thrust them both in his direction and he chuckles.

“Come up here and tell me about them,” he’s got to be bored of hearing about the fictional war in a kingdom that doesn’t exist, but he happily listens because you get so animated and so happy and who is he to begrudge you?

“Am I talking your ear off?” You ask when you stop to take a breath, suddenly conscious of the fact that you’ve been jabbering for at least twenty minutes now; Jack just shakes his head ‘no.’

“I love listening to you chat about your books, sweetheart.” He kisses your nose that’s only getting hotter as your body heats from his words. “I love listening to anything you have to say.”

[r4venbitee]

Overheated

first time at the beach with Sukuna.

It was still hard to believe you’d actually managed it, but here you were, on your way to the beach with Sukuna. The man had rarely stepped foot on a sandy shore in his entire life.

You had spent the previous night practically begging him. At first, he’d shot the idea down with a bored roll of his eyes, muttering that it sounded pointless and certainly boring.

But you knew exactly how to work him. One look at you pouting on the couch, combined with the mental image of you looking mouthwatering in a tiny bikini stretched out on a towel, was all the convincing he actually needed to change his mind.

You had stubbornly refused to let him see the bikini you wore under your clothes this morning, telling him, “I want it to be a surprise!”

Now that you had finally arrived at your destination, you didn't waste a second. You whipped your tube top off right there in the car, revealing a tiny, yellow triangle top covered in brown polka dots.

Stepping out, the matching thong bottom left absolutely nothing to the imagination from behind.

You turned around to face him, and the look on your boyfriend's face was completely priceless.

Sukuna was practically drooling, his eyes fixed entirely on you, tracking every single inch of bare skin you had just unveiled.

A wicked smirk spread across his face as you laid both of your towels out on the sand, his eyes tracking the way the summer sun hit your bare skin. “Come put sunscreen on me first, yeah?”

You nodded in approval, grabbing the bottle before straddling his thighs and sitting down on his lower back.

Pouring a generous amount of the cool lotion into your palms, you rubbed your hands together and smoothed them over his muscular shoulders first.

You worked your way down at a gentle pace, your thumbs kneading into the tight tension of his back, nearly massaging him.

“You're so warm and huge… I think I just wanted an excuse to sit on you like this,” you said, chuckling while your hands were still working on applying sunscreen.

You patted his broad shoulder, smoothing down the last of the lotion. “All done! You can turn over now.”

He kept his face buried in his arms against the towel. “I can't.”

“Why?” you asked, blinking down at him.

“I said I can't. Now just go swimming,” he growled, voice tight.

Giggling at his stubborn behavior, you ran off toward the water, which was completely calm without a single wave in sight.

You had absolutely no idea that his sudden stiffness was actually a raging boner, brought on entirely by your touch and that little remark you'd made earlier.

It took a solid ten minutes of intense waiting before the blood finally receded enough for him to turn over and sit normally on the towel.

Spotting him, you waved excitedly before running out of the water to head back to the spot.

You were completely soaked, your wet hair slicked back, and the water droplets tracking down your skin made your tits move in a way that had him wanting to take you right then and there.

Unfortunately for him, that exact view sent all the blood rushing right back to where it had just left.

As you got closer, he snatched your tiny purse on the towel by his side using it to hide his growing erection.

You stopped in front of him, dripping wet. “The water is amazing, get up!” you beamed, reaching out to tug at his tattooed arm.

Sukuna gripped the purse like his life depended on it, glaring up at you with pure desperation. “No. Go back in the water.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “You're no fun. I thought you wanted to see the bikini?”

“I do,” he gritted out, his knuckles turning white around the strap of your bag. “From a distance. Sit down before I make you.”

Going to the beach wasn't that bad after all.

[dolcemisu]

frat!kuna is a reward based learner (shy tutor!reader)

this was not how you normally held tutoring sessions: legs tangled in the sheets, sweat slick between your bodies, and not a single piece of clothing on. yeah, this had to be a first.

sukuna’s face was covered in your slick, and by the looks of it, he wanted even more. he buried his face between your thighs for the nth time, and you tugged at his hair in protest.

“no! you need to answer another question first!” you said sternly. or at least, you tried to. you felt the gentle kitten licks he was leaving on your cunt and you folded at his touch. within seconds, you forgot what you were scolding him about, and he forced your thighs apart once more. he mumbled something against your skin, before kissing your thigh.

“hit me.” he said with a smirk. he was doing this on purpose. ignoring your urges to get back on track, only entertaining them when he had you like this—melting like putty in his hands, completely out of it and with only him on your mind.

“t-the probably of the…” your mind went blank on the problem as he pressed a kiss to your pussy before diving in again. you cried his name out as he lapped at your wet folds, thighs trembling as another orgasm threatened to crash over you. he bullied your poor cunt with his tongue, grunting and groaning as if he was in your place. just as you were about to reach the edge, he pulled away and laid on his stomach before you.

“sorry you know me, i tend to get distracted easily… you were saying?” sukuna took in your current state: pupils blown wide, chest heaving, and a look of hurt and confusion crossing your cute face. he immediately felt guilty and apologized.

“i’m sorry, that was fucked up of me. do you want me to keep going?” his eyes searched yours frantically, like he was panicking.

you averted your eyes. you were torn. you needed to actually make use of this session so it wouldn’t be all for nothing…but the way he went down on you felt heavenly. he was scarily good at it, making you feel so good, reaching places you didn’t even know existed, all with just his tongue.

“no pressure, we can go back to studying too. i’m fine with whatever.” he reassured you.

maybe it was the denial of orgasm. maybe you just weren’t in the best position to be responsible right now. whatever it was, you leaned forward and pulled him closer with smile.

“one more. just one ‘kuna.” you cupped his cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. he grinned and raised an eyebrow at you.

“you wanna ask me a question first, don’t you…” he asked reluctantly, leaning into your touch. you giggled and nodded.

“mhm!” he was catching on quite fast. at this rate, he could be the tutor next…

he groaned, but the smile never left face. “alright, ask me it.”

“is weight qualitative or quantitative data?”

“obviously it’s quantitative,” it was his turn to narrow his eyes at you, “did you seriously ask me an easy one on purpose?”

“err… maybe?” you replied all innocently, already spreading your legs wider for him.

“that’s cheating.” he scoffed, but inched forward anyway.

“nuh uh! it’s not cheating if i make the rules!”

series m.list

© DOLCEMISU

[ohfreshlinen]

𓂃✍︎ 18+ mdni · pussy so good, sukuna taps in

Loving Yūji comes with a package deal you don't necessarily know how to deal with. Granted, you've loved him first before this whole ordeal even happened — it still is a matter of when and never an if, per se, when it comes to his special situation. 

"So tight, baby," Yūji says between sucking his breath. He's not quite sure whether to ram and go at a harsher pace or let you adjust to his girth first. His control is being tested too much right now. "Even after all that." 

You moan his name in praise before you lock your legs around his waist and pull yourself closer to him, effectively shutting him up from keeping things slow. You've always wanted things rougher, something that Yūji loves about you (but even then, he still wishes to take his time). 

"Oh s-shit, baby!" Yūji would've let his eyes roll back if he wasn't focused on keeping his entire weight off of you. "F-Fuck!"

"H-Harder, Yūji," you beg him, "please."

Yūji doesn't need to be told twice. He grabs hold of your thighs roughly and pounds into you like an animal in heat. You arch your back further for more, and he gives in. 

"So good, baby," Yūji drools, "so, so good. Oh my — fuck!" 

Just as you are coming down with your first orgasm, another voice pierces through the solidity of the air and breaks it easily as if he had done this countless times before. 

"Enchain." 

Suddenly you are flipped on your hands and knees. Your hair has been forcibly fisted and yanked until your head is pulled back enough to see your lover covered in tattoos, and a vitriol laugh teases your ears. 

"Y-Yū —" 

"Brat's not here," Sukuna's voice deeply rumbles against your skin. 

This is the first time he's ever made his presence known to you. You've heard stories of how Sukuna would pop on Yūji's cheek or his hands whenever he's got something to say (especially towards your sensei and Megumi), but not once has he ever manifested and break through Yūji's control — and right in the middle of fucking, too. 

"Heh," he yanks you further until you can see his eyes gazing heatedly at yours, "pussy so good, my own vessel lost control. Let's see if you do live up to that expectation."

Then he slams your head against the pillow and fucks you senseless. It's wrong . . . to even feel how fucking good it is to be brutally pounded. 

Yet, here you are in the mercy of a sadistic curse, cackling like a bastard that he is. 

Sukuna had you spread out for him, as he continues to ram his cock up inside of you. One of his hands kneads your ass mockingly before he slaps each cheek hard. 

Your teeth bite into the soft fabric of the pillow, muffling your screams lest you want Megumi to hear you at the other side of the room. At this point, Sukuna slapping you might've really been a dead giveaway. 

"Y-Yūji —"

"My name, brat —"

"—Y-Yūji, Y-Yū—"

"— I said my name." He slaps your sloppily wet clit. 

You arch your back unknowingly to the sensation, and before you could have thought twice about it, your body yields and your mouth muddles the name, "S-Sukuna!"

"Good." He mutters darkly, "Good girl."

He fondles your breasts next. Then his tongue laps to the outline of your spine and back up to your neck, where he marks you. His canines have sunk into your skin so deeply, he can taste your blood, and that further fuels him into a mess of moans and praise as if he's drunk on an aphrodisiac. 

"Again." He orders you. "My name. Only." 

"Sukuna," you say. "Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna! F-Fuck, I —" 

"That's it."

The first of your orgasms comes to you like a torrent. It's harsh and unforgiving, much like how Sukuna doesn't even stop fucking you even as you try your best to squirm away. 

When you feel that he's finally slowed down, when his hands have released the hold against your body, and you allow yourself to breathe a little better, there's a sudden shift between you and the King of Curses. You realize that it's because you've been flipped back and your legs are locked around his waist again. 

"S-Sukuna?" 

"No," Yūji breathlessly says. He leans his face closer until his lips brush yours. "I-It's me, baby. It's me. I'm sorry. I-I lost control. Are you hurt?" 

You shake your head with a smile. "N-No, I'm fine. I'm more than fine." 

"Yeah?" Yūji perks up. You notice that his cock has hardened once more and he's repositioning himself to your abused cunt. 

"Yeah, baby." You laugh dumbly. "That was . . . quite exhilarating." 

Yūji bumps his nose against yours. The heat in his eyes is visible, but it is nowhere near as intense as the other pair you were forced to look at prior. 

"That was hot," Yūji admits. "Watching you . . . like that." 

"It was," you breathe out. 

When you peer below Yūji's eyes, you swear you've seen the glints of red and black squinting back at you as if to tell you that he's heard about your little honesty. 

Well, it really can't be helped sometimes. After all, loving Yūji does come with a deal. 

"Are you tired?" Yūji brushes your hair tenderly. 

You shake your head. "Not at all, baby." 

"Let me fuck you next, then." 

© ohfreshlinen — all rights reserved. do not modify, edit, steal, or plagiarize my content.

[trueshellz]

....

I have discovered something new... 😲