reblogging my favorite fics — 18+ content
call me babydoll ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ — other accounts: @cameronsbabydoll @babydollybun @bunnydollys

Origami Around
Three Goblin Art

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
d e v o n

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🪼

JVL

Product Placement

@theartofmadeline
Stranger Things
h
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Love Begins
No title available
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

ellievsbear
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
noise dept.
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

#extradirty

seen from Indonesia

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@vogueprincess
reblogging my favorite fics — 18+ content
call me babydoll ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ — other accounts: @cameronsbabydoll @babydollybun @bunnydollys
Continuation here
Simon Riley is the type of man to go to your mean boss' house in the middle of the night to “scare him straight” after he hurt your feelings.
He canceled your office birthday party. "Purely budgetary" was what he said, but Simon didn’t give a fuck. That bastard hurt your feelings, and as your husband, it’s his job to fix it and make you happy.
He waited until you were asleep to track the man down. He drove with the headlights off, wanting to be completely undetected. The house was nice. Too nice. Just another thing that pissed him off. This muppet didn’t deserve a house this nice.
His large fist pounds the door hard, ready to kick this prick's ass straight into the ground. Your boss answers the door in his robe, looking tired and annoyed.
His face changes quickly when he sees your gigantic, furious husband on his doorstep, masked and all in black. “Who- who are you? I don’t have any money.” Your boss stammers in terror, lips trembling.
Simon huffs and pushes the door open fully. “I don’t want your fuckin’ money, prick. I’m here for my wife.”
“I don't have her! I swear, Sir! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The pathetic wanker was nearly in tears already just at the sight of Simon. To his credit, Simon was a sight to behold, especially when he showed up ready to throw fists and ask questions later.
“Shut up!” Simon bellows. “You hurt 'er feelings today, canceled 'er party. She’s been excited about tha', been talking all month about it.” It was true; you really had been excited for that stupid party. It was nothing but a small office party with a cake and maybe some streamers, but Simon knew it meant the world to you.
“What? That… that was budgetary. I had no choice.” Your boss faltered, pulling the fluffy robe tighter around himself like it would save him from the soldier in front of him ready to strike.
“I don’t give a fuck.” Simon growled, standing taller and grabbing the man by his collar. “I’ve killed men for less than this.”
“Please, Sir.” Your boss whimpered, trying to pull away.
“Be quiet, you pathetic shrew.” Simon rolls his eyes and shoves the man inside, towering over him. “You’re gonna do exactly what I say, or we're gonna have problems.”
Your boss scampered away quickly, trembling now. He pressed himself into a corner like a frightened animal. “Okay okay I swear I’ll do whatever you want.”
Simon sneered at him, satisfied with the pathetic display. “You’re gonna give ‘er the party. You’re gonna make it the best damn party she’s ever been to. There will be gifts, an apology, and whatever cake my wife wants. Got it?”
“Y-yes yes I understand.” Your boss nodded rapidly, eyes wide and pleading.
Simon couldn’t help but smirk. He deserved this. Deserved this for making you sad, taking something special from you. Your boss was not going to get away with it. “Throw a bonus check in there too.”
“I can’t just-“ Your boss sputtered pitifully. It was bullshit. Simon knew it. The company was doing better than ever, especially considering the lavish state of this man's house. He would find the money for your party whether he liked it or not.
Simon was having none of it. He wouldn’t actually kill him. You would never allow that. But that didn’t stop Simon from crouching for effect, needing to really give this little shit a good scare. “Do it. Or I’ll be back, yeah?”
Your boss looked down, nodding in surrender. “Y-yeah… okay.”
Simon slipped back into your house without a word that night. He tells you nothing when you come home with that bright, beautiful smile, saying that your boss gave you the party and you got a raise to go with it. Seeing that look on your face would always be worth terrifying a man in the middle of the night.
Thinking bout Simon's truck being so big he has to lift you up by the waist to get you inside every time. The thing is, you can't even reach the fucking handle, so you don't bother trying to get in anymore after failing miserably a couple of times. His Ford's just impossible to get into gracefully.
So, you simply wait by the door, standing there pretty and patient until he's towering behind you, and you feel the warmth of his tattooed arms effortlessly scooping you up to sit your ass on the seat.
It's actually funny because you're perfectly capable of getting in yourself, but over time you started doing it on purpose. He'd never tell you that, but he knows it too. The way your face lights up every damn time you wait for him gives you away immediately. Still, he'd never dare ruin your little game.
"Si, come pick me up, please?"
You stood in front of the monster he drove until you heard the door to your house click shut and his heavy boots against the driveway.
You didn't even bother to turn around. The low, amused huff that left Simon told you everything you needed to know.
The car unlocked with a click.
"Y'know," he drawled, coming to a stop behind you, "for someone who runs their mouth as much as you do, you're awful helpless, love."
A grin tugged at your lips as you felt his hands settle on your hips, giving them a light squeeze.
"Mhm."
He snorted.
"Such a fuckin' brat."
One second your feet were planted firmly on the ground; the next, they were kicking in the air as he hauled you up against his warm chest. A squeal escaped you before you could stop it.
"Simon!" You grabbed onto his forearms.
"What?" His voice was full of that stupid satisfaction he got whenever he managed to get a reaction out of you. "Thought you wanted me to help." He murmured close to your ear, sending shivers through your body.
You loved how easy he made it look and hated how your stomach flipped every time.
But fuck, what you loved most was being manhandled by him.
By the time he set you down on the passenger seat, your face was all warm.
His hand lingered on your thigh for a second longer before he stepped back.
You narrowed your eyes. Simon looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Creep."
"Got in the truck, didn't ya?"
You pouted.
"Buckle your seatbelt!" Simon barked out a laugh and shut the door.
"You fuckin' buckle my ass," you huffed under your breath.
The driver's side door opened.
"Did ya say something?"
"Love you, Si!"
See you again?
maybe the pipe wasn’t the only thing about to burst.
pairing : plumber toji x housewife reader
content warning : explicit sexual content, cheating themes, degradation kink, degrading names, dirty talk, dry humping, grinding, cum play, 18+, mdni.
morning’s already a mess.
the sink pipe’s busted, water dripping like it’s mocking you, and you’d already asked your husband for help. of course, he just shrugged, stuffed his bag, and left for work muttering, "call someone", like your plumbing problems weren’t a damn priority.
great.
so here you are, all wet, damp top clinging to your body, trying to wrestle with the pipe yourself.
spoiler: it’s not working. you panic, muttering curses, and then the slow realization that maybe calling a professional is the best idea.
you grabbed your phone and dialed the first plumbing service that popped up on internet, half-annoyed and half-desperate. they picked up after a single ring. chipper voice on the other end saying, “sure, we’ll send someone right over.”
you didn’t even have time to fix your hair or change your damn top before there was a heavy knock on the door. fast. too fast. and when you opened it,
there he was.
the man who stands infront of you, filling the whole damn doorway makes your jaw drop. broad shoulders, arms that could crush a watermelon, jeans tight enough to make you do a double take at the heaviness of his crotch. shirt clings in all the right ways, like he knows exactly how much to show.
Jealousy looks good on you, baby
when toji trains a girl at the gym infront of you
synopsis : starting gym shouldn't be a big deal. unfortunately, neither should the pretty girl smiling at Toji. or the way she keeps touching him. or the fact that you've spent the entire day thinking about it. apparently, jealousy looks terrible on you.
content warning : nsfw, possessiveness, jealousy, marking kink, praise & degradation, power dynamics, breeding talk, size kink, rough handling, mild fear play, emotional vulnerability, mdni, 18+.
read the main series here
You stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, eyes narrowing at your reflection as you tilted your body left and right. You walked out of your room making a beeline towards Geto who was lounging in the couch.
“...Suguu,” you called out softly, brows furrowed. He glanced up from his book on the couch, instantly alert at your tone.
“Hmm?”
“Do I look… uhmm… fat?”
Geto blinked once, then set the book down with a small sigh. “Nope. Why, baby?”
“I just…” your fingers squeezed your waist, “...I feel like I’ve gotten chubby.”
Before Geto could say anything, Toji’s voice rang from the hallway. “The fuck is wrong with that?” he grunted, strolling in shirtless, hair damp from a shower. “More for me to grab.”
You flushed instantly, face burning as your mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I didn’t… I mean–”
Toji smirked like he’d won something. “You ain't fat. But you keep sayin’ dumb shit like that and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”
“Toji,” Geto sighed, but you were already a flustered mess.
“Can I… join the gym you train at?”
𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 (𝟏) g.graham
pairing: Dark!Garrett Graham x Reader
synopsis: You're way too trusting for your own good. Garrett realizes quickly that he has to step in to make sure you're not taken advantage of. And if he ends up getting you in the process, well, that's just a bonus.
warnings: soft!dark!garrett, possessiveness, overprotectiveness, controlling relationship dynamic, innocent reader, future smut
word count: 3.4k
Garrett Graham had no intentions of stalking you.
It kind of just happened, given how impossible it was for him to take his eyes off you.
He didn't recognize you as one of Briar U's infamous puck bunnies, mainly because there wasn't a group of sophomore hockey players surrounding you. You stood near the fridge in the hockey house kitchen, nursing a red Solo cup, a cute pink purse tucked under your arm and held close to your side. The way your wide eyes wandered around the room gave him the impression that you were a little out of your depth.
Bicep pic — jjk men 💭
pairing/characters: jjk men x f!reader | gojo, nanami, yuji, megumi, toji, sukuna synopsis: how the jjk men react to you asking them for a bicep pic! cw: cussing, suggestive jokes, fluff, petnames, fratkuna not canon sukuna masterlist
SYNOPSIS:
in which the men turn to the AITA subreddit for opinions on their relationship disputes. the comments aren't always the most...supportive
warnings: just fluff and crack, some cursing, some sexual language, prob not the most accurate depiction of reddit (I am not familiar with the platform so I did my best lol), non curse au mostly, NOT PROOFREAD (this was a pain to edit you don't even know so I don't want to hear it) featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna
PAIRING: Suguru Geto x BunnyHybrid!Reader x Satoru Gojo (Non-Sorcerer au)
CONTENT: Suguru is your gentle and strict owner while Satoru loves to get you all riled up [tw: Hybrid reader, non-con/dub-con touching of hybrid features, rough manhandling, spanking, humiliation, polyamory/shared ownership setup]
Suguru remembered the exact way you used to look in the university library. You were always tucked into the furthest corner of the archives, practically melting into the woodwork, your eyes wide and focused entirely on your books. You never spoke to anyone. You barely even looked up.
He had been utterly fascinated by you.
He used to choose tables just within your line of sight, watching the quiet, precise way you turned pages, the soft sweaters you buried yourself in, and the way you’d nervously bite your lip when a concept was hard to grasp. He’d never found the right moment to approach you because you looked like a fragile bird that would take flight at the mere sound of a heavy footstep. So, he had contentedly kept his distance, letting an obsession quietly simmer beneath his calm exterior.
Then, you abruptly stopped coming to campus. Days bled into weeks, and Suguru’s quiet world felt irritatingly empty.
Until tonight.
A sudden, freezing downpour had forced Suguru into a narrow, covered alleyway to shake out his umbrella. That’s when he heard it, a tiny, fractured gasp, followed by the wet, frantic rustle of a cardboard box tucked behind a row of industrial dumpsters.
Suguru froze, his sharp eyes cutting through the gloom. "Who's there?" he asked, his voice a low, smooth rumble.
A terrified squeak answered him.
Stepping closer, Suguru knelt, keeping his movements deliberately slow. He pushed aside a damp flap of cardboard, and his breath caught in his throat.
It was you.
But you were different. Shivering violently, stripped of your oversized sweaters and wrapped only in a threadbare, oversized shirt, you looked impossibly smaller. Curling out from your messy hair were two long, velvet-soft, snow-white rabbit ears, pinned flat against your head in sheer terror. A tiny, fluffy tail twitching against the brick wall completed the picture. You were a hybrid. In this world, freshly turned hybrids without registered owners were prey, hunted, abused, or sold.
Your wide, tear-brimmed eyes locked onto his. You recognized him from the library. He could see the faint spark of familiarity in your gaze, but it was quickly drowned out by your instinctual urge to hide. You buried your face in your knees, trembling so hard your teeth chattered.
"Hey," Suguru murmured. The sheer rush of possessiveness that surged through his veins was almost dizzying, but his expression remained perfectly serene, a mask of pure gentleness. "Hey, sweetheart. Look at me. It's okay."
"P-Please," you whispered, your voice a tiny, breathless thing. "Don't hurt me."
"Never," he promised softly, extending a warm, broad hand, palm up, leaving it a few inches away from you. He let you sniff the air, letting you catch his scent of rain, sandalwood, and safety. "You remember me, don't you? From the archives. You're safe now. I'm going to take you home."
You stared at his large hand. The cold was biting into your skin, and your bunny instincts were screaming at you to trust the large, warm predator who was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. Slowly, hesitantly, you nudged your forehead against his open palm.
Suguru’s heart thudded. He closed his fingers gently around your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Good girl. Such a brave little thing."
Without another word, he shed his heavy, insulated trench coat and draped it over your trembling shoulders. It swallowed you whole, smelling heavily of him. Before you could even process the warmth, Suguru gathered you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly against his broad chest. You let out a soft gasp, your small hands automatically bunching into the fabric of his shirt as you hid your face in the crook of his neck.
His apartment was warm, smelling of cedar and hot tea. The moment Suguru set you down on his plush sofa, you tried to curl into a tight ball, acutely aware of your new ears and how terrifyingly exposed you felt.
Suguru didn't press you. He disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a basin of warm water, a soft cloth, and a fresh, incredibly soft sweatpants-and-hoodie set.
"We need to get you clean and warm," Suguru said, kneeling on the floor in front of you so he wouldn't tower over your small frame. "May I?"
You gave a small, submissive nod, your long ears drooping forward shyly.
Suguru was agonizingly patient. He gently wiped the grime from your face, your hands, and your scraped knees. When his fingers brushed against the base of your white ears, you let out a tiny, sensitive whine, your shoulders twitching.
Suguru paused instantly. His dark eyes softened, melting with an affection that ran terrifyingly deep. "Sensitive?" he asked, his voice a soothing purr.
"Y-Yes," you whispered, blushing furiously, your ears burning hot. "They... they feel a lot."
"I'll be very careful, I promise," he murmured. He didn't touch them again, respecting your boundary perfectly, though his gaze lingered on how incredibly soft they looked. He helped you into the oversized clothes, gently pulling the waistband of the sweatpants low enough so your fluffy tail wouldn't be squished.
Once you were wrapped up like a cocoon, he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of warm, lightly sweetened oatmeal and a cup of chamomile tea. He sat right next to you, his large thighs brushing against yours, offering a grounding weight that your anxious instincts desperately craved.
"Eat, sweetheart," he commanded gently.
You picked up the spoon with trembling fingers, but your coordination was shot from exhaustion. A bit of oatmeal smudged onto your bottom lip.
Before you could wipe it, Suguru’s thumb was there, catching the stray bit of food. But instead of pulling away, his thumb lingered, gently pressing into your bottom lip, forcing your mouth to part slightly. His gaze darkened, a flash of his strict, possessive nature breaking through his gentle facade.
"You're making a mess," he whispered, his tone dropping into a low, firm register that made a shiver run straight down your spine. "Look at me."
You looked up, completely frozen, your pulse fluttering like a trapped bird.
"From now on, you belong to me. Do you understand?" Suguru said, his voice entirely devoid of malice, but heavy with an absolute, unshakeable authority. "No more running away. No more hiding in dark alleys. You stay where I can see you, where I can take care of you. If you are good for me, I will give you everything you could ever want. But you must listen to me perfectly. Understood?"
The strictness in his voice didn't scare you. It did the exact opposite. It drew a boundary line around you, keeping the cruel outside world out. It meant someone was finally in charge of keeping you safe.
You let out a soft, submissive sigh, your long ears flopping completely flat in surrender as you leaned your cheek heavily into his hand. "Yes, Suguru," you whispered, using his name for the first time. "I'll be good."
A blindingly sweet, genuine smile broke across Suguru’s face. The intense predator vanished, replaced instantly by the doting, caring man who had watched over you for months.
"Such a perfect little bunny," he cooed, wrapping his long arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. He began to stroke your back in slow, soothing lines. "Rest now. You're home."
The transition from solitary confinement in a damp alley to the suffocatingly sweet safety of Suguru’s apartment had completely rewritten your internal wiring. Months had passed, and under Suguru’s strict, doting care, you had blossomed into a thoroughly spoiled, utterly dependent creature.
Suguru liked you soft, compliant, and perfectly taken care of. He set strict rules: you ate what he made, you wore the clothes he bought, and you stayed inside where the world couldn't touch you. In return, he treated you like glass. You had learned that submitting to him brought absolute peace.
But it also made you incredibly lazy when he wasn't around to command you.
On a quiet Tuesday afternoon, you were sprawled across Suguru’s plush living room rug, laying flat on your stomach with your ankles kicked up in the air. Your white rabbit ears twitched lazily in sync with the rhythm of your chewing. You were eating strawberries straight from a bowl Suguru had left on the coffee table, letting a bit of the sweet juice sticky your fingers, completely ignoring the "no eating on the rug" rule because you knew he’d just sigh and clean it up for you anyway.
The click of the front door lock echoed through the quiet apartment.
Your ears shot straight up, pinning back for a fraction of a second before flopping forward in pure excitement. Suguru was home early from his university lectures. Abandoning the strawberries, you scrambled to your knees, a bright, eager smile breaking across your face as you scrambled toward the entryway. "Suguru, you're back..."
The words died in your throat.
The man standing in the doorway was entirely too tall, his broad shoulders practically blocking out the hallway light. He was casually tossing a spare set of apartment keys in the air, catching them with a metallic clink. He wore a heavy leather jacket, and slung carelessly over his eyes was a pair of dark sunglasses, though the blinding blue gaze piercing through them was unmistakable.
Satoru Gojo.
The university’s resident golden boy. The untouchable, impossibly popular, notoriously arrogant bully who used to track terror through the campus hallways just by walking down them. You had spent semesters actively hiding behind bookshelves to avoid even being perceived by him.
Your bunny instincts spiked into absolute red-alert. The cozy, warm apartment suddenly felt like a cage with a predator inside.
"Huh," Gojo voiced, his hand freezing over the keys. He tilted his head, his gaze sliding down from your wide, terrified eyes, over your trembling shoulders, and locking onto the long, snow-white rabbit ears twitching on top of your head. A slow, incredibly sharp grin pulled at his lips. "Well, well, well. So this is the little pet Suguru’s been keeping locked away. I thought he was just hiding a mountain of contraband, but you're way more interesting."
Panic made you stupid. Because you didn't feel the absolute safety of Suguru’s presence, your submissive facade completely shattered, replaced by a defensive, spiky wall of pure fear-induced attitude.
"Get out," you snapped, your voice trembling but laced with an uncharacteristic venom. You took a sharp step back, your fluffy tail twitching aggressively against your sweatpants. "Who gave you those keys? You can't be here."
Gojo’s grin only widened. He didn't look offended. He looked like a cat that had just watched a mouse pull out a tiny switchblade. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel, strolling into the apartment with an agonizingly slow, confident stride.
"Oh, a feisty one," Gojo cooed, his tone dripping with mock delight. He stepped right into your personal space, forcing you to look up at his towering frame. He reached out a large hand, his long fingers aiming directly for your sensitive ears. "Let me see..."
Smack.
You slapped his hand away with a loud crack. "Don't touch me!" you hissed, baring your teeth slightly, your chest heaving. "Suguru is going to kill you if you touch me. Leave!"
Gojo froze, staring down at his backhanded knuckles. For a second, the sheer audacity of a tiny, fragile hybrid striking the most powerful guy on campus hung heavy in the air. Then, Gojo threw his head back and let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed off the walls.
"Oh, I get it," Gojo chuckled, pushing his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to reveal those piercing, electric blue eyes, completely unbothered by your hostility. In fact, his gaze was dark with a sudden, intense fascination. "Suguru thinks he bought himself a sweet, quiet little rabbit. But you’re a total brat, aren't you?"
"I am not!" you yelled, your ears burning hot with a mix of fury and terror as you backed away until your spine hit the living room wall. "I'm good! I'm good for Suguru!"
"Yeah, because you're terrified of him," Gojo reasoned, taking a casual step closer, completely trapping you against the drywall. He leaned down, placing one hand on the wall right beside your head, invading your space so completely you could smell his expensive cologne. "But with me? You're a little monster. I like that. I really like that."
"I hate you," you whispered fiercely, squeezing your eyes shut and turning your face away, your rabbit ears pinning flat against your skull.
"Keep talking like that, sweetheart," Gojo whispered, his voice dropping into a low, teasing gravel that sent an entirely different kind of shiver down your spine. He leaned in close enough that his breath brushed against your cheek. "Suguru isn't going to be home for another two hours. And I think you and I are going to get to know each other real well."
The shift from terror to pure, unadulterated irritation happened the moment Satoru Gojo refused to leave. Under Suguru’s roof, you had forgotten what it felt like to be challenged, and Gojo was pushing every single one of your newly defensive boundaries.
"Get out," you snapped again, your voice shaking but sharp. "I mean it!"
Gojo didn't move an inch. He let out a low whistle, his piercing blue eyes tracking the way your long, snow-white rabbit ears twitched with aggression.
"Holy shit," Gojo murmured, a slow, realization-filled grin spreading across his handsome face. "No wonder you suddenly stopped coming to school. The whole campus thought you vanished off the face of the earth." He tossed the keys onto the kitchen counter with a loud clatter. "And here I thought Suguru was just losing his mind. Every now and then during lectures, he’d smirk and mention he got a 'bunny' to take care of at home. I thought he bought a literal pet, not you."
The mention of how Suguru talked about you made your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. Seeing the smug, knowing look on Gojo’s face pushed you entirely over the edge.
Thump! Thump!
In a sudden burst of pure, instinctual frustration, you lifted your leg and brought your foot down hard against the hardwood floor. It was a loud, aggressive double-stomp, the exact behavior of a wild rabbit warning a predator to back off. Your entire body was tense, your fluffy white tail twitching violently in a display of angry defiance.
Gojo actually blinked, his smug grin faltering for a split second. He stared down at your feet, then up at your flushed, angry face, completely caught off guard.
"Did you just... stomp your foot at me?" he asked, a look of genuine, shocked amusement washing over his features. The utter absurdity of a tiny, fragile girl trying to intimidate him by acting like a literal forest creature was the most hilarious thing he had ever seen. "Are you serious right now? Wow. You really are a brat."
"I told you to leave!" you cried out, completely humiliated by his laughter.
"Yeah, not happening," Gojo chuckled, his shock instantly melting back into pure, predatory delight. "In fact, now I definitely have to see what Suguru is dealing with."
Before you could scramble away, Gojo moved with terrifying speed. His large, heavy hands shot forward, catching you by your wrists. With zero effort, he spun you around and pinned your back flat against his broad chest, trapping your smaller frame securely against him. He used one arm like a steel band across your waist, lifting you just enough that your toes were barely brushing the floor, completely neutralizing your ability to stomp or run.
"Let me go! Suguru!" you shrieked, wriggling frantically in his iron grip, your ears pinning flat against your head in a panic.
"Suguru’s not here, princess," Gojo teased, his voice vibrating directly against your back. He shifted his weight, forcing you down onto the plush living room sofa, effectively pinning your lower half under his heavy thigh so you couldn't kick. "Stop squirming. I just want a look."
"Don't touch me! I'm not a toy!" you bared your teeth, turning your head to try and bite his sleeve, a total bratty display of defiance because you knew you couldn't physically overpower him.
"Feisty," Gojo hummed, thoroughly entertained.
With his free hand, he reached up and deliberately brushed his long fingers against the velvet-soft skin of your left rabbit ear. The moment his fingers made contact, a violent, sensitive shiver tore through your entire body. Your gasp was cut short as a warm, heavy sensation flooded your lower stomach, your ears burning bright red.
"Oh, wow," Gojo whispered, his tone dropping into something much darker, completely fascinated by how intensely your body reacted to the touch. He stroked down the length of the long white ear, his thumb gently rubbing the sensitive base. "They really are super sensitive, aren't they? No wonder Suguru keeps you hidden away."
"S-Stop," you whined, your bratty attitude melting into a breathless, shaky plea as the overwhelming sensation made your knees go weak, even while pinned.
Gojo didn't stop. His hand slid down your spine, his large palm smoothing over the fabric of your oversized sweatpants until his fingers brushed against the fluffy, round bundle of your tail. He gave it a firm, teasing squeeze.
You let out a loud, high-pitched squeak, your hands clenching into the sofa cushions as your whole body arched against his hold.
"Look at you," Gojo murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed the crown of your head, right between your twitching ears. He could feel your heart hammering like a piston against his chest, a mix of pure bratty outrage and physical overload. "You're a handful, sweetheart. I think I'm going to start visiting Suguru a lot more often."
For the next ten minutes, Satoru showed you absolutely no mercy.
To him, you were the ultimate toy, a tiny, furious ball of fluff and attitude that he could bend to his will. Every time you tried to claw your way out of his grip, he would simply laugh, catch you by the waist, and effortlessly shove you back down onto the plush cushions. He spun you around, roughly pinning your wrists above your head one moment, only to release you and watch you try to scramble away, just so he could grab you by your oversized waistband and drag you right back across the sofa.
"Come on, princess, you can do better than that," he teased relentlessly, his voice deep and breathless with amusement.
You bared your teeth, swinging a wild fist at his shoulder, but he caught your forearm with agonizing ease. With a sharp tug, he yanked you forward, his other hand coming up to firmly grasp the very base of your snow-white ears. He didn't hurt you, but the heavy, unyielding pressure on your most sensitive spot sent a violent jolt straight down your spine. You let out a ragged, high-pitched gasp, your legs instantly turning to jelly.
Before you could even recover, Satoru's large palm slid down, roughly gripping and squeezing your fluffy tail, pulling your hips back against him. The sensory overload was dizzying. You wriggled, you hissed, you tried to bite his leather jacket, but Satoru just handled you like a whirlwind, completely dominating your space until your muscles ached and your lungs burned.
Finally, the fight completely drained out of you. Your bratty defiance crumbled under the sheer weight of his stamina. You couldn't breathe, your throat felt dry, and your sensitive ears were burning a bright, furious crimson from how much he had touched them. With a soft, defeated whine, your body went entirely slack.
Satoru let out a low, satisfied chuckle, sensing the exact moment you gave up.
He slid back on the couch, making himself comfortable against the armrest, and hauled your limp, exhausted body right along with him. He hoisted you up by your hips, forcing you to straddle his lap. Your legs fell to either side of his broad thighs, and because your spine was completely tingling and spent, your back arched weakly as you collapsed forward. You buried the side of your face directly into the crook of his neck and shoulder, your hot breath fanning against his skin.
The silence in the apartment was heavy, broken only by your shallow, ragged breaths.
"There we go," Satoru murmured, his voice finally dropping the mocking edge, replaced by a deep, possessive purr. "Look at you. All worn out."
He didn't let you go. Instead, his large hands settled into a rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion. One of his long-fingered hands reached up, gently cradling the back of your head while his thumb and forefinger lightly stroked and flicked the tips of your velvet ears, soothing the ache he had caused. His other hand slid down to the small of your back, his broad palm cupping your fluffy tail, his fingers mindlessly swirling through the soft fur.
You let out a tiny, pathetic whimper, too tired to be angry anymore. You hated how good it felt, and you hated how safe his massive frame felt, even though he was a total menace. You just melted against him, your small hands weakly bunching into his leather jacket, entirely at his mercy until Suguru walked through the door.
Satoru didn’t stop moving his hands, and he certainly didn’t stop talking.
For nearly an hour, you remained hopelessly pinned to his chest, your body completely spent. He kept up a steady, low stream of murmurs right against your ear, a dizzying mix of condescending praises and sweet nothings that made your face burn.
"Look at how quiet you are now," Satoru whispered, his thumb lightly flicking the tip of your left ear, making it twitch. "So sweet when you're not trying to bite my head off. Such a good little bunny, resting so nicely for me. You like being held like this, don't you? Even if you're too stubborn to admit it."
You let out a soft, exhausted whine, your face burying deeper into his shoulder. You hated how the steady rhythm of his fingers stroking your fluffy tail was making you drowsy, completely clouding your judgment.
Suddenly, Satoru’s fingers went still against your tail. His head tilted slightly toward the entryway.
You were too dazed to notice the faint sound of a key turning in the lock, but Satoru's sharp senses caught it instantly. A slow, deeply amused smirk spread across his face. He didn't move an inch, keeping his large arms securely wrapped around your waist.
"Look who finally decided to show up," Satoru called out, his voice loud and dripping with mischief. "You're late, Suguru. Your pet and I already got real cozy."
The mention of Suguru’s name acted like an electric shock. Your eyes snapped open, your rabbit ears instantly shooting straight up in panic. You tried to scramble off Satoru’s lap, your heart hammering against your ribs, but Satoru’s grip tightened like a steel vise, anchoring your hips firmly against his thighs. He wouldn't let you budge.
Suguru stepped into the living room, his coat slung over his arm. His dark eyes swept over the scene, you, flushed and breathless, straddling his best friend's lap, while Satoru casually fondled your ears and tail.
Suguru wasn't angry with Satoru. The two men understood each other too well for that. Instead, Suguru’s gaze locked entirely onto you. His eyes narrowed, a cold, dangerous strictness replacing his usual gentle warmth. He noticed how relaxed your body had been just moments prior. He noticed the slight glaze of sensory pleasure in your eyes.
And it irritated him deeply.
For months, Suguru had treated you like the most fragile porcelain doll. He had intentionally avoided handling your ears or your tail with any real force, terrifyingly aware of how sensitive hybrid anatomy was, terrified of hurting his precious, shy little girl. Yet here you were, completely melted into another man's touch.
"Get up," Suguru commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a terrifying, heavy authority that made your entire body freeze.
Satoru finally chuckled and loosened his grip, allowing you to weakly scramble off his lap. You stood on the rug, trembling, your head bowed and your ears drooping completely flat against your skull in pure submission.
"Suguru, I-I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice cracking. "He wouldn't leave, and he..."
"I don't want to hear it," Suguru interrupted smoothly, walking over and placing his briefcase on the table. He unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves with a slow, deliberate precision. "I leave you alone for a few hours, and I come home to find you completely disregarding my rules. Not only did you let a guest touch you, but you look like you thoroughly enjoyed it."
"I didn't! He forced me..."
"You didn't fight him hard enough," Suguru countered, stepping directly into your space. He reached out, his fingers catching your chin and forcing you to look into his dark, unyielding eyes. "I have spent months being agonizingly gentle with you, treating your little bunny features like glass because I didn't want to overwhelm you. And this is how you repay my patience? By letting Satoru handle you however he pleases?"
From the couch, Satoru propped his chin on his hand, a thoroughly entertained smirk on his face as he watched the drama unfold. "Don't be too hard on her, Suguru. She put up a decent fight at first. Total little brat."
"Which is exactly why she needs to be corrected," Suguru said softly, his tone dripping with a strict dominance. He let go of your chin and sat down on the armchair across from the sofa. He tapped his thigh. "Over my lap. Now."
Your heart stopped. Your eyes darted to Satoru, who merely winked at you, enjoying your utter humiliation.
"S-Suguru, please," you begged, tears immediately welling up in your eyes. You were a submissive creature by nature. The threat of his genuine displeasure was enough to make you weak, but the thought of being disciplined in front of a witness was agonizing. "Not in front of him..."
"You should have thought about that before you let him treat you like a toy," Suguru said, his voice entirely devoid of pity. "Do not make me repeat myself."
Knowing there was no escape, you walked over with trembling steps. You lowered yourself over his lap, your stomach pressing against his thighs, your hands gripping his knee for support. Your fluffy white tail twitched in absolute anxiety.
Smack.
The sharp, loud crack of Suguru’s broad palm landing against your sweatpants echoed through the room. It wasn't meant to injure you, but it carried the heavy, stinging weight of his absolute authority.
A sharp gasp tore from your throat, and a fat tear rolled down your cheek.
Smack! Smack!
"You belong to me," Suguru murmured rhythmically, delivering the firm swats with a steady, unhurried pace. "Every part of you. If those ears are going to be handled, they will be handled by me. Do you understand?"
"Y-Yes!" you sobbed, burying your face in your arms as the stinging heat bloomed across your skin.
Satoru watched from the couch, his blue eyes flashing with amusement, entirely unfazed by the display. If anything, seeing you cry and squirm under Suguru's strict hand only made you look more delicious.
After a dozen firm swats, your soft sobs filled the quiet apartment. Suguru finally stopped, his hand resting heavily on the small of your back, letting the heat settle. He let out a soft, heavy sigh, the strict disciplinarian instantly melting away, replaced by the deeply doting, caring savior who adored you.
He hooked his arms under your armpits and pulled your crying, shaking body up into his chest. He shifted you so you were sitting sideways on his lap, tucking your face securely into the crook of his neck.
"Shh, it's over. I've got you," Suguru murmured, his voice incredibly sweet and gentle now. He wrapped his large arms around you, rocking you slightly as you cried into his shirt, your tiny hands gripping his collar desperately. He reached up, his long fingers finally brushing against your sensitive ears, stroking them with the exact, perfect amount of gentle care you had been craving all along. "Such a sensitive little thing. You're okay. Suguru’s got you."
The room was dead silent save for your shaky, hitching breaths as you hid your face in Suguru’s neck. The sting from his palm was already fading into a warm, thrumming heat, but the heavy comfort of his arms around you made you feel entirely secure.
From the couch, Satoru let out a low, appreciative hum, shifting his weight as he leaned forward. He wasn't leaving. In fact, his intense blue eyes were fixed entirely on the way your white ears were twitching under Suguru's soothing strokes.
Suguru caught the look. He didn't pull away from you, but his hand paused on your back as his dark eyes lifted to meet his best friend's gaze. A heavy, silent understanding passed between the two men. Satoru loved a challenge, he loved the sharp, spitfire attitude you had thrown at him. And Suguru? Suguru loved your absolute surrender, the way you melted into his rules.
"You're looking at her like you want to take her home, Satoru," Suguru said, his smooth voice cutting through your quiet sniffling.
Satoru grinned, pushing his sunglasses up into his white hair so his piercing eyes were fully on display. "Can you blame me? She’s a total menace when you’re not around, Suguru. A little brat. I think she needs someone to rile her up every now and then so she doesn't get too lazy on your rug."
You stiffened slightly against Suguru's chest, your ears pinning back. You wanted to snap at Gojo to shut up, but the lingering warmth of your discipline kept you completely quiet, your fingers tightly bunching Suguru's shirt.
"Is that so?" Suguru murmured. He tilted his head down, kissing the crown of your head right between your ears. His grip on your waist tightened, a possessive finality settling into his posture. "Well, she isn't going anywhere. She belongs right here. But... if you’re going to be coming over here and making a mess of my hard work, you’re going to help keep her in line."
Satoru’s grin widened into something wicked and delighted. He slid off the couch and sank onto his knees on the rug right in front of Suguru’s chair, bringing himself down to your eye level.
"Look at me, princess," Satoru cooed, his tone dropping into that teasing, gravelly register that made your tail twitch.
Slowly, hesitantly, you turned your head, peering out from the safety of Suguru’s shoulder. Your eyelashes were still wet with tears, your cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed pink.
Satoru reached out, and this time, his large hand was incredibly gentle. He used his thumb to carefully wipe away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch surprisingly warm. "Look at those big, sad eyes. Did Suguru hurt you? Such a dramatic little bunny."
"Behave, Satoru," Suguru warned softly, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his broad chest anchoring you from behind while Gojo hemmed you in from the front.
"I'm always good," Satoru lied smoothly, his fingers sliding up from your cheek to lightly, playfully pinch the tip of your rabbit ear. You let out a tiny, involuntary squeak, leaning back directly into Suguru's solid frame. "I'll be back tomorrow, sweetheart. And you better have a better attitude for me, or we're going to have a repeat of today."
"She will be perfectly behaved," Suguru answered for you, his hand sliding down to firmly cup your fluffy white tail, offering a grounding, strict reassurance that you were entirely theirs. "Won't you, my sweet girl?"
Exhausted, completely surrounded by the two most powerful men on campus, and thoroughly overwhelmed by the intense, dual weight of their attention, you let out a soft, defeated sigh. Your ears flopped forward in total surrender as you nodded against Suguru's neck.
"Yes, Suguru," you whispered.
Satoru chuckled, leaning in to press a quick, teasing kiss to your hot cheek before standing up and pocketing his keys. As the front door finally clicked shut, you let yourself sink completely into Suguru's lap, finally safe in your warren, knowing your quiet life in hiding had just become a whole lot more chaotic.
the way dex needs to be your father figure. needs to needed. he so weird, he wants to pick your pjs, brush your teeth and tuck you in and finger fuck you sleep :(
love that he just wants to teach u everything :( wants to mould you into someone that’ll never disobey him in a serious way (because of course he likes when you get a lil bratty) like if you act up and catch an attitude with him he’ll sit you at his table with a piece of paper and a pen and make you write ‘i will not give daddy attitude’ 100 times …… he looooves making u write lines as a non sexual punishment <333 doesn’t care if you cry or you’re sleepy or you complain. you don’t get anything til you write !!
anyway the thought of him finger fucking you to sleep is soooooo . <3 letting you lay on his strong bicep, drooling into it as he shushes you with the other arm wrapped around your front, fingers curling up inside you perfectly. “okay pretty girl, just relax. i’m here. daddy’s got you. daddy knows all your spots.”
“‘cus daddy’s bullseye.” you murmur sleepily into his skin, humping into his palm between whimpers. he chuckles low in his chest and it vibrates against you, smiling fondly as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“exactly, kiddo.”
omgee i have such a vision of bunny packing adrian cute little lunches n putting a pink post it with a glitter gel pen n a cute note (n maybe a dirty polaroid) i love them
“whats that?” adebayo peers over curiously, lips tugged up in amusement when adrian pulls up in full vigilante gear, a cute little tin lunchbox in his grasp.
“a lunch box,” he shrugs a shoulder. “my girlfriend packed me it.” adrian elaborates, smile audible even with the mask on.
“is that hello kitty?” economos deadpans, holding back a snicker as adrian takes a seat inside the back of the truck — opening it up.
“its her special interest, asshole.” he defends like it’s obvious, beginning to pull things out one by one. “a banana, okaaay…” he lists, excitement in his tone. the gang stare in intrigue, genuinely wondering what you packed. “a scooby doo style sandwich. ugh, she just gets me.”
“are we ready to go, or what?” harcourt blinks, confused at the interest in his lunchbox.
“home-made cookies, a handwritten note…” adrian grins before plucking up the polaroid film, turning it around to look at it. “oh! a polaroid picture of her pussy! sh-weet!” he celebrates casually, his confession followed by the pained groans of the group.
JJK HUB: UNCENSORED…?!
ft. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, sukuna ryomen.
+ jjk men as (corny) porn titles.
warnings. mdni. fem reader. milf reader. prostitution. age gap. backshots. creampie. blow job/throat fucking. praise. cults/religious themes. sub choso. usage of good boy. squirting. size kink. consensual recording. deff ooc.
@cash_only (Toji Fushiguro)
SORCERER KILLER RAW-DOGS RICH BUSTY MILF TO PAY OFF HIS GAMBLING DEBTS (GONE FILTHY) !
Toji can barely bother to spew out the filthy commentary his subscribers pay for. He’s too busy working—taking you from behind, heavy balls slapping against the round globes of your ass, forcing your manicured nails to clench deep into your expensive silk sheets. He reaches down with his free hand, shifting the phone camera, angling the lens down to show the audience exactly how your soft, well-kept cunt is stretching to take every single inch of his cock.
omg omg imagine popstar!reader had a bad day..difficult choreo n rude staff n shes js so pent up trying to hump her pillow n get off n ofc dexy swoops in to save the day 🪽💗
it had been a very frustrating day at rehearsals. nothing was going right with the choreo — fumbling with the changes being made last minute for your upcoming tour that had your head spinning. on top of that, your iced coffee tasted like shit, the sound guys couldn’t stay on queue, your rhinestoned ear piece kept falling out, the venue staff were snappy and rude. do they even know who you are? ( ⁼̴̤̆ლ⁼̴̤̆ )
you called the rehearsal day short, all but storming out the venue to the blacked out rangerover waiting for you— the hulking steps of your bodyguard following you, eyes trained on your surroundings. you wasn’t even in the mood to play around and flirt with him right now like usual, slumping into the seat, dex beside you.
“just take me back to the hotel right now please, i can’t do this shit today.” you inform the driver as he pulls away… and then comes the ranting.
high pitched, bitchy and whiny was the only way to describe the endless slew of insults flying out your mouth on the journey home. usually, dex wouldn’t be able to stop himself from scoffing out a chuckle, shaking his head at how spoiled you were being, but even he was frustrated after watching the way everyone had handled your rehearsal today with such utter unprofessionalism. he had half a mind to add a few names to his ‘hit list.’ — so, he just listened. silently, jaw clenched, a few affirming nods of the head to show he was still listening. you arrive at the hotel, and he goes to reach out to your elbow, wanting to smooth the skin over reassuringly with his thumb, maybe tell you it was going to be okay — but you swing your door open, hopping out before the car had barely come to a stop, marching ahead to the front entrance.
“jesus christ.” dex mutters, now irritated at you disregarding usual safety procedures. he slams his own door, bolting after you as you tip-tap aggressively through the lobby. “hey, you wait for me to open your door. don’t be an idiot.” he scolds, catching up to you.
he’s half expecting you to snap back at him with a bratty remark, or given the weight of the day — for your bottom lip to start wobbling before you finally break, but no. icy cold silence. you step into the lift, swiping the key to the penthouse suite, not caring if he’s with you or not.
“kid. do you wanna talk?” his arm touches yours, trying to ground you with his warmth.
“no. i want to relax.” you speak out, hardly throwing a glance his way. the doors open, and before you’ve even made it through the door to your suite you’re unzipping the side of your pink polkadot skirt as you step inside, letting it drop around your ankles, pooling around your white kitten heels before you step out, striding toward the master bedroom.
dex raises his eyebrows, watching you disappear behind a corner in the hallway as you reach for your white rhinestoned crop top to pull over your head, revealing the pink bra that had already been showing through the fabric of your top. his heavy steps follow you, slowly, certainly. he wanted to make sure you were okay— yeah. it was apart of his job. he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t curious though, fighting the urge to let a smirk pull his lips up slightly as he rounds a corner to your room.
he finds you on the bed, two pillows stacked on top of eachother, smooth legs either side as you grind your underwear-clad pussy into the softness. your movements are strained, rushed, like you needed the orgasm to be able to breathe again. dex crosses his arms, leaning against the doorway as he keeps his dark gaze on your movements. you had left the door wide open on purpose, so he didn’t see why he couldn’t enjoy the show.
between gasps and petulant whines there are whispered “come on”s and “please”’s, begging to no one in particular as you rut away like a badly behaved puppy. you still have your shoes on, toes clenching and curling in the kitten heels as you swipe your cunt back and forth. that’s when he hears the first sob, there it is. it was frustrated beyond belief, and followed by many more as you drop your head down — still furiously humping.
dex speaks your name once firmly, pushing himself off the door to walk over, sat beside you. you don’t stop, nor look at him, just humping away like it was all you knew how to do. he places a warm hand on your back, brows raised at your state. “shh, i know, i know.” he hums, close enough now to be able to hear how creamy you were getting against the pillow, stomach muscles tensed and arms braced on the bed. “keep at it, sweetheart. it’ll come.”
“can’t!” you whine, sniffling and he tsks in condescending sympathy, swiping at a glittering tear on your cheek with his thumb. “let me help you. yeah? you gonna let me do that now?” he practically purs, helping slide the dainty piecesofporcelain thong off your hips as you halt your movements finally, snivelling and nodding with a pathetic mewl.
he gets your clothes off, kneeling on the bed behind you as he keeps you laying on your front on stacked pillows. with two strong hands on your waist, he gently tugs you back and forward. “keep humping baby, let dad help you a little.” he whispers, testing the waters and watches you melt, hips moving with more ease now, breathing regulated. when you don’t need his hands to pull you anymore, he grips your ass cheek, spreading them which in turn pulls your folds apart, exposing your excited lil clit more to the fabric. you gasp out a shaky moan and he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“right there, huh?” he chides, entertained. following the wave of your movements, dex circles your glossy hole with his middle finger teasingly before dipping into you, curling up to hit your special squishy spot as you grind into it.
“oh— my— fuck, daddy—” you curl a taloned hand into the bedsheets, other hand frantically reaching out for him. he lets another finger slide in with ease as you writhe on the pillows.
“daddys right here, angel girl. just needed something else, didn’t you?” he comforts, watching the goosebumps spill up your back as he softly pins your frantic hand down, stroking over your knuckles with his thumb as he looms over you, finger fucking you with such a precise rhythm that it doesn’t take long to get you to the crest of an orgasm.
“i think m’gonna — daddy i wanna cum— daddy—” you’re slurred, incoherent and he’s nodding, despite you faced the other way. his brow is locked in a concentrated frown, eyes glued to the way your hot, puffy folds suck him in, dribbling bubbles down his wrist.
“you take what you need. you cum on my fingers and i’ll let my spoiled baby girl cum on a nice thick dick. you want that sweetheart? you want me to fix that bad mood baby?”
Introducing Soldier Boy to cockwarming is difficult bc he doesn’t understand why you’d want him inside you and not want to cum from it. He’ll always oblige you and try but within a couple minutes he’s already thrusting up into you, talking bout “if you didn’t want dad to fuck you, you wouldn’t so wet. now let me take care it you, kid”
“fucks the point of it then?” the older man stares at you, mouth a little gaped at the bizarre request as he sits back against the white couch in your apartment, impossibly strong back crushing a myriad of pink throw cushions. his thick arms are crossed over his chest, legs spread comfortably as you stand between them. you sway on the spot a little, playing sheepishly with the hem of your skirt. (⸝⸝ɞ̴̶̷ ⩊ ɞ̴̶̷ ྀི)
“so i can stay close to you.” you pout, hoping that batting your lashes at him will just get you what you want. ben being the brat tamer he was, it barely worked.
he blinks, shaking his head in exasperation as he tries to wrap his head around the concept. “these younger girls, i swear.” he mutters to himself as he uncrosses his arms, sitting up a little straighter. ben takes a moment to eye you, reaching out an arm to drag his finger upward at the hem of your skirt, flipping it up a little. “you got panties on under that skirt, kiddo?”
“so you’ll do it?” you grin, bringing your fists up under the chin hopefully as you ignore his question. he shrugs, reaching to the side table to take a swig out of his beer bottle. he swallows, smacking his lips with a satisfied ‘aaah’ sound before looking at you decidedly.
“you think any man’s gonna pass up on burying himself in a wet hot cunt? come sit on it.”
you get comfortable as he flicks through the tv channels, trying to find something he can kind of focus on as you snuggle into him, tip of his cock trying to wedge space near your cervix. you feel so full, even more so than when you’re just fucking and you shiver, trying to dig even closer into his warmth as your eyes flutter shut.
“so this is it? you just wanna have a little cat nap with my cock in you?” he deadpans, unamused — but you feel him purposefully twitch his length, the mushroom tip thudding against your walls, forcing your eyes to roll back a little.
“mhm. jus’ stay like this daddy.” you slur, drooling against his chest. he tips his chin to his chest to get a better look at you, mouth turned downward in that grumpy old man way that you loved so much.
“fuck it. whatever you want.”
only four minutes pass, and as you drift in and out of a euphoric, tingly nap — your senses are pointing toward bens impatience, the man shifting beneath you. his hand slides up your spine, gently clasping the back of your neck with his big man hand.
“you really want me to believe that you don’t want me to make that pretty pussy cream right now?” he sounds amused, sarcastic — like this was a game you’d set up.
“mmph.” you hide your face, avoiding an answer. it did feel good to stay full — but god his cock was made for you, and your folds flutter around him.
“i felt that.” he pulls you back by the scruff of your neck like a little stray kitten, forcing your groggy eyes on his. “i think you fuckin’ like that i have all the power here. i could just start pounding up into you right now, and there’s not a god damn thing you could do about it.” he’s confident, voice deep and rumbly and you suck on your lip, a squeaked whimper leaving you when he bounces you on his lap once with little effort, cunt clenching hard.
“see i just don’t think your little kitty would get that sticky if she didn’t know dad was gonna fix her up, and dad always fixes her up.” he tightens his grip on your neck. “aint that right?”
“yes dad yes — yes dad!” you break, almost panicked in your hushed pleading. he smirks, big and cocky.
“no please? you little girls just have no manners.” he starts to push in and out, forcing you as deep as you’ll go and right to the tip, holding your body up by the back of your neck still. “lucky for you i don’t care too much. now how about you show me how thankful you are by creaming on your dads big cock.”
i know we talk about it a lot but my god soldier boy is Dad. I love him and supe!bunny and the idea of people being annoyed to go on missions with them because of the way they act but sb just plays it up and calls it ‘daddy daughter time’
yes yes yes supe!bunny and soldier boy always being paired up together <3333 as mentioned before supe!bunnys powers revolve around being able to persuade anyone of anything (her powers don’t work on soldier boy because he’s too strong, which is why he’s the one to always keep a handle on her or she just skips around magically getting her way…) ₍ᐢ⸝⸝› ̫ ‹⸝⸝ᐢ₎
ben doesn’t let anyone lay a finger on her, always saying something along the lines of “you wont be fighting. wouldn’t want someone to tear that pretty costume of yours, n’god forbid you break a nail.” acting all exasperated with you as he trudges up ahead, but really he loves that shit.
after each mission he’s rewarding you by letting you burn off all that adrenaline by bouncing on his cock like a lil bunny, tits spilling out of your pink rhinestoned push up bra, impossibly tight pussy swallowing him whole. “are you so proud of me today daddy?” he knows you needed to hear it, and that hearing him say it will get you to soak his dick. it surprisingly wasn’t bothersome when you asked for his validation, choosing you one hundred times over his actual piece of shit son.
“so fuckin’ proud of you, babydoll.”
when you have to share a car with any other supes for a mission, he’s always the one driving— telling you “go ahead and get in the backseat baby, only grown ups allowed in the front today.” you pout, but skip around to the backseat anyways, chiming out a melodic ‘okay dad!’
if anyone dares to ask about your dynamic, soldier boy is huffing out a shameless chuckle, leaning in. “you gotta get yourself one of these ‘daddy issues’ girls. let me tell ‘ya— they’ll let you do anything’.” he leans in, lowering his voice. “and i mean anything… whatever you’re thinking right now, yup. that. that one.”
your favourite is when it’s just missions with the two of you alone, loving when ben calls it ‘daddy daughter time’, usually taking breaks to have him take you up against a tree, or in the back of the car, or wherever the mission took place— the supe holding you in the air, arms tucked under your knees to bounce you on his cock against the nearest wall.
kitty!reader being too deep in kittyspace after dex had left her too long to do bullseye stuff ଘ꒰ྀི ˊ∩ ິ∩ˋ ྀི꒱
he told her he was going away. tried to prep her the best he could — stocking up the refrigerator with all her favourite snacks, gave her all the passwords for his netflix, his laptop, the lot of it. he’d even given her his card to order food to the apartment — which worked in his favour as an alibi on his records if anyone went poking around. he thought you’d be a-okay.
but things didn’t go how he thought they would. one week turned into two weeks, and then someone was on his tail so it turned into 3.5 weeks. 3 weeks was a long time to be zero contact— as it was only three weeks for a regular person, but apparently three hundred million weeks in cat years.
he gets home in the evening, assuming you’re asleep early from the lack of lights in the apartment— so he tries to stay quiet as to not disturb you. he places his travel bag that had been sat on his shoulder on the floor, squinting around at the dark apartment. it was a little messy, which made his eye twitch. dex really liked to keep it clean, but he’d assumed if you were worried about his extended time away, you might not be looking after yourself like you should.
he peers down the dark hallway, and that’s when he spots it. a shape, a heap of dark mass at the foot of his bedroom door. his eyes adjust — two big, shiny eyes. you crawl a little further into the light. oh, poor kitty.
dex immediately lowers himself to your level, squatting as you crawl on hands and knees into the living space, blinking at him tiredly. as his eyes adjusted more and more, he began to notice your appearance. your hair looked a little matted, eyes puffy and rimmed with darkness, claw like nails uneven and bitten. the ears pinned to your head are askew, your tail limp behind you.
“sorry.” is the first thing he says as you get closer. he holds out a hand, taking into account what mindset you were in and you gingerly sniff it before pushing your forehead into it. your mouth is turned downward, but you’re too dehydrated and sleepy to cry. dex sighs, scratching behind your ear as you squeak out a hoarse mewl. “i know baby.” he sounds disappointed in himself, he definitely should be.
he thinks you might try and curl up on his lap, but you crawl past him, dragging your tired body to your pink metal bowl on the floor. you swipe at it a few times, the clang on the wooden floor sure to paint a picture of how empty and dry the bowl was. you stare at him in the dark. “milk.” is all you croak.
dex stands, walking his tired and bruised legs to the refrigerator and opening it up. he can smell the milk before he has to open it, the sell-by date on the carton expressing that it was the same one he’d left you with before he’d gone.
“baby.” he sighs, forehead creasing between his brows as he stares down at you, now at his feet.
“milk.” you whisper, as if in a trance.
“i know, kitty. no milk. we’ll get you some first thing tomorrow, the nice one from the farmers market. do you… remember?” he promises, leaning down to smooth a hand over the top of your head. your lip quivers.
“milk.” you mourn, digging your forehead into his leg and playing with the laces of his boots. dex pries himself away to walk to your bowl and pick it up, walking it to the sink.
“its gonna have to be water, angel. can we do that?”
you don’t say anything. he knows you’re not happy with it, but he also knows you’re thirsty and you need him to give you something. you need him to look after you.
your bell jingles as you follow him with the bowl, dipping down to lap it up when he leaves it for you. the front of your hair gets wet from dipping into the bowl but you don’t care, slurping and making a mess of water in the surrounding area on the floor. this was something dex would usually punish you for, but even he knew you couldn’t handle that right now.
as you drink, dex flicks on a lamp, walking to the couch and dropping down — exhausted. he tsks when he spots you approaching, front of your hair dripping down you. you slide between his legs, laying your cheek to his crotch.
“and… milk.” you try again and dex stares down at you.
“i told you it went bad. nowhere is open at this time. i’m sorry, sweetheart. there’s no—”
“daddy’s milk.” you whisper, but it stops him in his tracks.
“kitty-cat.” he chides, and releases an exasperated sort of chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “seriously?”
“you left me all alone.” you speak. it’s quiet, but the most coherent thing you’ve managed as thus yet. it stops him completely in his track, heart dropping in guilt.
“look, i… got caught up. i didn’t mean to leave you that long, baby. i swear… never again.” he sighs, pushing your wet hair from your face and adjusting your collar before letting you rub your cheek against his palm. still, that sour, downturned frown remains on your face. it destroys him.
dex reaches for his belt, undoing it blindly.
“get it hard. i’ll handle the rest. okay?” he reasons, and you’re happy to oblige — lurching forward to rub your wet lips all over his shaft, feeling it twitching and waking up. you drool on his tip, stuffing the soft, wet organ past your lips. he grows stiffer by the second, as you suck and lick with enthusiasm. a pointy canine scrapes beneath his mushroom tip and he grunts, yanking your head up by the hair to look into your eyes warningly.
“easy, puss.”
you continue your ministrations until he’s hard enough before he takes over — fist wrapped round his length as he pumps, exhaling out his mouth as he stares down at you lustfully.
“kitty just wants the cream ‘soon as daddy walks back through the door, that right?” he hums, fingers drumming rhythmically against your bottom lip as he jerks himself directly onto the flat of your pink tongue. “just can’t say no to you baby. can’t say no to that pretty mouth.” you were spoiled, but he made you this way. he broke you down into this, a sweet kitten who only relied on him. he’d waited so long for times like this, he just couldn’t complain.
hate that i made U love me . . . ♡
. . . dex kills your ex
your keys, obnoxiously adorned with pink trinkety goods hits the wooden floor of your apartment first. then comes the thud of your bag, thumping and then slumping like a corpse into itself. you can only stare ahead.
dex is there, but not the dex you know so well — the version of him that usually welcomes you home with strong open arms and a kiss at the top of your head. you’d seen this alter ego of his a handful of times, mostly at the start of your relationship. he looks like a void, a shadow — stood parallel to you at the end of your long hallway in his bullseye gear, but he’s not alone.
it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the male figure struggling, tied to the white chair that usually sits tucked beneath your small circular dining table. you’d think you wouldn’t recognise him after all this time, but the body never forgets. your eyes widen, matching his frightened gaze. you know that face, that muffled voice escaping the makeshift gag stuffed into his mouth. your ex boyfriend.
“hello, sweetheart.” dex’s voice was cool, calm, his silhouette more imposing than ever, casting a jagged shadow up the wall, reaching closer to you.
“wh—why did — what is this—” your voice refuses to climb higher than a raspy whisper, fingers trembling so hard you thought your glittery rings might slide off the manicured tips.
“what, don’t tell me i got the wrong guy?” you can hear the jest in his voice, big black boot taking a calculated step toward you. when you jolt, going to step back only to be caught totally off guard by the firm door hitting your back. dex slows, holding out a hand as if to show you he meant well. “baby, really? we both know i wouldn’t hurt you by now. not unless you asked me to, anyway.”
your ex boyfriend lets out a frantic wail behind his gag, silenced into a cower when dex slowly turns to acknowledge his presence for the first time since you’d walked through the door, his spread, reassuring fingers curling into a brutal fist— irritated at his interruption.
dex only leads him a scalding glare, before focusing his attention back on you. “october 2022.” he hums, like he was reminiscing — but there’s a bitter underflow to his tone as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. his screen lights his face up— his eyes peeping through their balaclava staunched with neon blues and whites as he clicks around. he turns the screen toward you, a facebook post from an account that didn’t even belong to you.
it’s you, younger, even more innocent than you were now, a concept that dex couldn’t have fathomed. he didn’t want to fathom it — a time before him, an innocence that he didn’t get to claim. you’re grinning in the photo, arms wrapped around someone that wasn’t him. it’s halloween — couples costumes. regina george and aaron samuels. such a typical, girly costume from you. the costume looked cheap and the bunny ears were too big for your head, but you looked like a million bucks. he was… there.
“cute costume.” he goes to snort, but his voice comes through icier than intended.
“i— i haven’t seen that picture in years, i haven’t spoken to him in—” you’re panicked, hands held up in defence and dex frowns nearly in offence.
“oh i know. i would never question your loyalty to me, baby girl. my very good girl, aren’t you?”
you nod— because you don’t trust your voice, and you had no idea where this was going.
he steps toward you again, but slower this time so it doesn’t catch you off guard. you allow it, as you have no choice — the painted door cooling your spine.
dex observes his phone screen once more, before forcing out a scoffed chuckle and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “what was that, ‘mean girls’?” he asks, but you know he knows the answer. you’re guessing he looked it up, researched everything revolved around that one picture from years ago. “you must’ve been so little when that movie came out, baby.” he chuckles adoringly, like it was just the two of you.
you can’t hold his gaze, focused on the man strapped down in the background. he looked different now, older, you’re not even sure if you’d recognise him if you were walking down the street, in your own head like you usually were. dex, now stood just out of arms reach follows your gaze, twisting his body in annoyance to observe the frantic ex boyfriend. the older man’s chest expands as he takes a grounding breath. what he asks next doesn’t feel like a question, the certainty in his tone telling you everything you needed to know.
“was this the boyfriend that cheated on you?”
your body runs cool, heart thumping too hard to feel the remnants of the cracks left by the heartbreak that took place years ago. “w—we were young, and stupid. i don’t even think about it anymore. doesn’t even hurt anymore, ‘cos i’m so happy, so happy with you!” you try to reassure him, but you sound panicked as you watch his jaw tense beneath the mask, rolling his neck like it ached.
“i really, really just hate these young guys. found a beautiful girl, tainted her innocence with his…” his eye twitches. “unclean hands. n’then he just… wasted it. threw it away, just like that.”
your ex boyfriend cries out one last time, voice strained and cracking — telling you he’d been at it for quite some time now. around the spit-soaked gag, you can barely make out that he’s crying for ‘help’.
“i just can’t stand an ungrateful motherfucker.” dex ticks his head, like it were all a minor inconvenience. what happens next, occurs within the blink of a feathered lash. dex reaches, a glint of metal in low light, he swings his body, throws something— and then a chilling groan, and a gurgling sound.
“oh my god. oh my god dex.” you shake like a wet chihuahua, watching the syrupy, dark red fountain from your ex boyfriends mouth and throat, his eyes are wide with terror, before they go lax, unblinking…
dead.
your glossy lips part by themselves to scream, and it escapes you for a second before dex is on you in a second, one hand stuffed over your mouth, the other cupping the back of your head to stop you from hurting yourself against the door when you inevitably started flailing and panicking.
“shh, shh, shh.” he soothes over your muffled scream as he crowds your space. “baby,” he almost scolds with a laugh, seemingly shocked by your reaction like he’d only played a harmless prank and you were majorly overreacting. “i don’t think you wanna draw attention to this, hm?”
you suck in a breath, and trusting you — dex slowly withdraws his hand, smiling proudly and softly beneath his balaclava as he nods, a fond thumb stroking your cheek. “good girl. relax, s’just us now.” he whispers as you peer behind him at the dead body.
“you killed him.” you mewl.
“i just couldn’t— the idea of him walking around, having memories of you, of touching your skin, kissing those lips.” he drags two gloved fingers down your glittery lips, pulling down your pout as you drag your gaze back to his. “it has to be all mine.”
“it is.” you gasp in disbelief. dex peels his balaclava back off his face and drops it beside his feet. he tilts his head, still cupping your head like a predator about to devour his prey, about to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole.
“say it. say it’s all mine.”
you so hope he misses the way your thighs naturally push together, an unexpected throb in your underwear distracting from the unadulterated terror and guilt swelling in your chest. but of course he saw, he always does.
“s’all yours. i’m all yours. always was.”
dex tilts his head, a fond smile on his weathered, scarred face. he presses a long, warm kiss to your lips, and then your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear as he lurches over you. you stare unblinking at the corpse over his shoulder. there’s a pool of blood beneath the chair now, so dark in the low light that it resembles an alien, black mucus. his body is slumped and contorted in an unnatural position, dead eyes staring forward. watching with cuckhold perversion.
you’re distracted by your flimsy mini skirt getting kicked up by firm gloved fingers, rubbing over your panties where your clit was. his movements are gentle and precise and your vision is shrouded by your own eyelashes as they flutter. “what about her? she all mine?” he refers leudly to your cunt, applying a firmer pressure. your jaw gapes, trying to fight your gaze away to anything but your dead ex-boyfriend. dex nips at your ear and you yelp quietly. “answer me.”
“she— my pussy is all yours dex.” you whimper, hating how your body reacted to him so easily. it was just so familiar, a grounding warmth even in a horrific moment like this. you feel your shameful lust drooling from your pussy and into the delicate pink lace of your panties. dex chuckles when he dips his hand inside, swirling his fingers through your folds and smearing the arousal down to your spasming hole.
“hmm, she definitely doesn’t seem as scared as you, sweetheart.” he teases, pushing his thick fingers inside. he pulls back from your jaw to watch you, pin your gaze with his dark one. you can barely stare back as you buck into his hand. not because you couldn’t stop looking at the dead body behind him this time, no— you always squirmed and struggled to keep his gaze when you felt good like this. your eyes water, twitching and squinting as he toys with your g-spot, curling his long, precise fingers inside you.
“daddy—” you whine, humping against his hand. his lost little puppy, he just wished he got to you earlier.
“oh baby.” he chuckles, letting you drip down his wrist and up his sleeve. “so ready for me. makes you think, doesn’t it?”
the hand cupping the back of your head that had grown relaxed suddenly claws into a grip, yanking you by the hair to turn your body, pushing you against the wall of your hallway. your cheek presses to the cold paint, your boyfriend ensuring you’re staring directly at the corpse that grew colder by the minute as he uses his other hand to hold your skirt at the small of your back and fight your panties down.
dex only let’s go of your hair to make quick work of his belt, shoving his cargos down to his knees to line his tip up with your needy hole. you’re soaked, but to be extra generous he spits, the glob landing directly on the centre of his tip. his aim was impeccable after all.
he doesn’t say a word, just pushes inside you. your back arches and you gain sweet relief for a second when you squeeze your eyes shut, not having to stare at the massacre before you for a second. seated deep inside, balls resting against your ass — dex leans in, lips to the shell of your ears once more. “open those pretty eyes for me, baby.” he sounds strained, like he’s holding back a groan. “look at what i did, for you.”
you do as he says, and he sighs a kiss against your cheekbone, starting to thrust — slow at first, calculated, measured, like he’s feeling out the exact spot where the slight up-curve of his cock notches in the crook where your g-spot was. “fuck.” his voice comes out a broken moan as he indulges, briefly staring down between your bodies to admire the way you cream on his shaft in the dim light.
it’s when he turns his cheek to look at the corpse that his thrusts get harder, meaner, more merciless — almost like he was putting on a show to eyes that could no longer see.
he’s gripping your hair again, forcing you to stare back too.
“that’s it, take daddy’s dick. s’a good girl. my good girl. show him, baby. show him.” he’s growling, maddened by possessiveness. you can’t do anything but whine, held completely in place by his strong frame. in all honesty, there wasn’t anywhere you’d rather be but pinned beneath him.
“please daddy, please dad, need it, need it—” you’re just as mad with lust, and it becomes increasingly less difficult to stare at his act of love before you. you hated how easily mouldable you were, how easily you bended to his will every time he got his hands on you. you hated how special you felt, because he did this for you. you hated how hard your pussy squelched around his cock as you stared at a dead body. you hated how your ex boyfriend cheated on you, messing you up more than you already were. most importantly, you hated that once upon a time you made him love you, because now he was nothing — and thanks to dex he’d be nothing forever.