LEATHER & LACE

You walked up to the tall middle blocker, bracing yourself for whatever line you might come up with. Flirting was never your strong suit, but you were blessed with shameless confidence.

“Hey there, handsome. You can middle-block me any time you want if you know what I mean.”

Suna squinted, looking both confused and offended. “I actually have no idea what you mean.”

With an understanding hum, you looked around for some inspiration and found nothing. Instead, you turned back to him with that same playful glint in your eyes. “That’s what he said.”

He gaped slightly, now looking quite concerned, which in total was more emotion than you’d seen from him through the whole volleyball game he just played. “I’m curious if this is going how you wanted it to," he admitted.

“Depends. Will I get your number?”

“…I’m down.”

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

BSD men: who fell first and who harder

~~just a friendly reminder that this is my own interpretation, feel free to share your thoughts~~

Dazai: he fell first but you fell harder

Ranpo: you fell first and harder

Atsushi: he fell first and harder

Kunikida: you fell first but he fell harder

Fukuzawa: you fell first but he fell harder

Tanizaki: he fell first and harder

Katai: he fell first and harder

Chuuya: he fell first and harder

Akutagawa: you fell first and harder

Tachihara: he fell first and harder

Ango: you fell first but he fell harder

Oda: you fell first but he fell harder

Poe: he fell first and harder

Mushitarou: you fell first but he fell harder

Junō: you fell first and harder

Tecchou: you fell first but he fell harder

Sigma: you fell first but he fell harder

Nikolai: he fell first and harder

Fyodor: you fell first and harder

↳ a very yakuza christmas

summary. injured after an ambush from a rival gang, Mikey finds himself stranded on a local farm with a girl who shows him the true meaning of this holiday season and what it means to finally let all his walls down.

pairings. bonten!mikey x farmer!reader + all of bonten makes an appearance

genre. hallmark christmas feel good romance, kinda a reversed crash landing on you 

overall warnings. fluff, angst, explicit sex, language, mentions of weapons, mild crack, injuries, mention of strippers, Bonten works on a farm, suggestive content, canon typical violence, off screen death, male objectification, romance, christmas themes 

a/n. I wanted to end this year with something fluffy and sweet as a big thanks to all of you for sticking around with my little writing blog <3 ALSO! a huge wet kith to my irl sibling @neetro for helping me give life to this idea bc mikey deserves his happily ever. merry christmas, everyone 💓 (psst feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated!)

wc. ~ 27,000+

listen to. i need you christmas- jonas brothers • luxurious - gwen stefani • here i am again - yerin baek

Bastards.

A false lead. That was what found the stoic, powerful and indomitable Sano Manjiro in the middle of a 30 men free-for-all; blows, punches and kicks delivered swiftly but not swift enough that their faces blended in a mash of jeers and leers. His limbs weighed tiredly by his side, and despite how much he tried to reign in his exhaustion, the Bonten leader was fatigued from the stream of violence that just would not stop.

They had cornered him at his weakest, and he could tell how the fight would turn out—most likely with a mortal wound on his end and these bastards going scot-free, bragging about how the mythical unstoppable Bonten leader had folded to a bunch of small town hillbillies.

“He puts up one hell of a fight, huh,” one of the country hicks chortled, swiping some blood from his broken nose where Mikey had managed to land a debilitating blow. “Let’s sweep him up, boys.”

Attacking him all at once, Mikey felt for the first time in his life a powerlessness that pervaded every pore in his body; not even being surrounded by a hundred men with only Draken at his side during his delinquent days could match to the bleakness he was currently experiencing.

The last thing he felt before white-hot pain lanced through his head was a glob of spittle hacked onto his face, dripping down his swollen eyes that slipped shut on their own as the world around him started to fade into black.

Let’s finish him.

Keep reading

perv!hinata almost going feral after meeting airhead!you during a beach volleyball skirmish just as the sun is going down. you’re at the front row of the crowd in your little bikini set, top barely covering your delicious tits as it bounces when you cheer him on, shaking your fists in makeshift pom-poms.

he couldn’t help the stir of his cock in his shorts as he hears you shout his name in a saccharine tone, wondering if that’s how you’d sound in the bedroom.

hinata getting all fired up from all the cheering, especially from you, that him and his teammate manage to win the skirmish 2-0 in a breeze if it meant he get to talk to you sooner. and how he thanked the gods when you’re still in the same place after the game, seemingly waiting for him with stars in your eyes.

he tried to be respectful at first, gaze trying to stray away from your cleavage as you babbled to him how amazing he was. then you told him how hot and sexy he looked until he turned beet red from your forwardness.

him flushed even redder when you reached out for his arm, pulling it plush against your bikini clad breasts, asking him to teach you how to play beach volleyball. and he can’t say no to a perfect opportunity.

he’s more than happy to help, although some of his methods maybe questionable. he leads you both to a more secluded area of the beach, just behind a closed hut where the street lights barely shine, reasoning with you that it’s better if there’s no distractions around you.

after that he shows you the right form to receive and he watches in excitement as you try to mirror his stance, pressing your tits together with your arms out then hitting the ball, hinata holding back a groan when he watches them jiggle from the hit.

he acts nonchalant about it, clearing his throat with crossed arms and telling you that your posture is off before proceeding to stand behind you to ‘help you the proper way’ instead of showing you side by side. the tent in his shorts only tighten as his fingers dig into the fat of your hips and a squeak of surprise leaves your mouth.

Keep reading

FLAVOR PROFILE—gn+afab!reader, references to pregnancy but nothing super intense+nothing gendered, oral sex (m!receiving), breeding, creampie, cum play, soft domestic Chuuya, Chuuya with baby fever, rough sex, dirty talk, teasing, nicknames (babydoll, baby, pretty, daddy in the sense of the breeding kink)

ABV—3.3k

tags, with love—@chuuminn @thewickedjazzy

He's holding his breath.

He doesn't realize it until you look to him, your eyes filled with laughter as the baby on the hip of the woman next to you reaches again for your hair.

I don't mind, you'd insisted with a smile when the mother apologized sheepishly over her shoulder for her handsy, outgoing child—you really don't, and the restaurant lobby is rather packed, after all. It isn't somewhere Chuuya would usually take you out (he'd rather bring you somewhere more upscale and less public) but this is one of your favorite places, and when you'd suggested it for date night this month, he couldn't help but agree after seeing how excited you got to show it to him.

And now he's exhaling, subtly as he can, as you turn back to the baby, untangling its little grasp from your hair and offering up your fingers instead; a tiny hand wraps entirely around your index finger, and when your face lights up with a grin and you coo, the baby mirrors you, giggling in that way that babies do—all teeth, squinted eyes, and pink, chubby cheeks. The opposite tiny hand swats at you, which you laugh through but direct a quiet, hey, play nice to, and now that Chuuya relaxes his shoulders, he's able to feel his face go red not from lack of oxygen but from how unbelievably fucking adorable the scene playing out in front of him is.

He doesn't stop thinking about it, even after you and the baby have waved a regretful and playful goodbye as you made your way to your table—one in a more secluded corner, much to his relief. Or, maybe, much to his disadvantage. There are images playing through his mind like a movie—you with an infant on your hip, cradled in your arms; it sports a pop of bright ginger hair on its soft little head, and you kiss it with such care. You, spoon-feeding a baby, you dancing with its tiny feet on top of yours, you lighting up at its first intelligable words. Its auburn tuft gets longer. Maybe it's a boy. Chuuya's son. In a span of seconds, the boy child's early years flash before him—reading with him sleepy and cuddled between you, pitting him against one another in comical prank wars, opening his birthday presents, walking him to school, gently washing his locks that he got from his father.

Yes, he's fucked for tonight.

Once you're both seated—he pulls your chair out for you like the textbook gentleman he is, though his mind swims—you tilt your head on your hands and raise an eyebrow at him.

"You alright, honey?" you ask. "You're a little red."

"Yeah, yeah," he brushes you off. He can't get a thing past you. "Just warm in here, 's'all."

"It's not exactly our usual type of spot." You turn a little red yourself. "Sorry, Chuu."

"No," he half-snaps, thinking he'd come off as stuck up—fuck, he ought to assert himself softer right now, "no, I don't mean—it's not the place, it's just—"

When he pauses to swallow, you tilt your head even more. It's rare that your slick-tongued, spitfire of a boyfriend is ever lost for words, so something must be up. You find a splinter of anxiety run through you as you wait for him to say something like he has to leave, boss's orders—it wouldn't be the first or last time something like that had happened on date night, but his next words both quell your fear and spark your attention.

"—it was just really cute watching you with that baby."

Ah, you think, smirking. "Really? You think so?"

Chuuya nods, loosening his tie a bit, hoping you'll make maybe one more little quip and then let it go so he can focus on letting it go. It's absurd to him that something so small and innocent has him hot beneath the collar. You're at dinner, at your favorite place—he's not planning to ruin it over the fact that he can feel his dick twitching to life in his pants over thinking about you parenting his child. That can be for later. He's going to focus on letting it go and also the array of sandwiches the restaurant offers on the cute, laminated menu with curly designs framing the perimeter that he suddenly finds very intriguing.

He knows you're going to speak again. He just hopes it won't be the next words that are falling from your mouth as you bat your lashes at him coyly.

But it is.

Your gaze flicks down to the menu—there's a wrap from here you always get, you're eyeing it with familiarity—but you've been here a million times; you hardly need to zero in on that, not when you've reduced the man in front of you to short puffs of breath as he scans the menu with vacant eyes. He is much more interesting. Chuuya Nakahara, feared mafioso, most powerful ability user in Japan if not the world: flustered at the mere image of his partner bantering with a baby.

You right yourself, looking thoughtful. "You think we'd be good parents, Chuu?"

But that coyness doesn't leave your voice; he hesitates to look up at you, knowing you'll be sipping your complementary glass of water in a manner to match, avoiding his eyes so he has to chase them so he can answer you with a sharp glare instead of the words he's thinking that will come out cracked and desperate—a yeah, we would, or even don't be silly, because who is he kidding? He's a mafioso. He's got his hands full trying to protect you as it is. He's killed people. He's certainly not the worst of the worst—he likes to think of himself as a man of morals, despite his profession—but there are certainly circumstances for a child of the both of yours to possibly end up entangled in that make his stomach turn even now, before anything has happened, before anything can happen, but he's righted himself after the challenge of your question and the words are tumbling out, confident, bold, the way you're used to hearing them—a challenge right back to see if you'll bite—

"Maybe we should find out."

Your eyes lock onto his then; a waitress floats by to refill your water glasses and ask if you're ready to order.

"We're gonna order to go," you say cordially, closing your menu. "If it's not too much trouble. Something came up."

"Of course," she chirps, pen and notepad scribbling down whatever it is that comes out of his mouth next—it might what you got, it might not be, but Chuuya's hardly focused on that enough to know—to care. "We'll get those right out for ya. Sit tight for about fifteen minutes, yeah?"

—

You sit tight for about fifteen minutes in the dining room, and then about fifteen minutes more on the back of Chuuya's motorcycle—the ride to your apartment should normally take about thirty. You clutch the takeout bag, but you're more invested in the arm you have wrapped around his middle which drops down to stroke his thigh at red lights; it has his knuckles tight around the throttle.

It has his fingertip mashing madly against the elevator button up to your place; he's impatient, it's evident in the way his heels hardly meet the floor as he strides in, finds you, immediately hikes your leg up against him and kisses you hard before the doors slide shut. He doesn't care who sees. Pretty soon, he figures, everyone will be able to tell anyway; you'll be cradling his kid, the spitting image of him, on your hip everywhere you go and there'll be no doubt who you belong to. What's an innocent kiss in the elevator?

By the grace of some god—or maybe, to Chuuya's ilk—no one stops you on the way up. Well, less time to spend stumbling toward the door as you're grabbing the hem of his shirt, untucking it frantically from his pants; he's guiding you by the back of your neck through the door and slamming it shut as you toss your takeout on the counter and promptly forget about it entirely in favor of wrangling each other into your bedroom.

It's late, but not so late that a sliver of sunset doesn't fall like a invitation across the sheets of your bed, left messy and slept in and loved in from the night before. An orange beam strikes across Chuuya's face, already flushed on his own account and yours, as you crawl atop him, slot your hips together; his hat falls over the edge of the bed and you take it as an opportunity to card your fingers through his fiery bangs while he works your shirt up and off. Cup his jaw, allowing for hot puffs of breath against your lips. Linger down his throat and into the line of buttons that keeps you—not for long—from his gorgeous, sculpted chest and middle.

And the gasps you pull from him when your hands splay across his pecs, up his shoulders as you kiss and bite your way down—they're like song.

"Oh, babydoll..." Chuuya's sighing, flicking his head up to watch you, then back at the bliss you so easily administer to his worn body; he's all rough edges, so ready to go, it's almost like torture to have you teasing your way down his abdomen with you tongue, taking it slow compared to where he wants to take you—but then again, it's you, so fuck it, he'll take everything you give him. Your touch is enough to send him reeling in the sweetest way.

When you work his cock out of his dress pants, he's throbbing, sticky.

"God, I really got you riled up, huh, Chuu?" you tease, tracing a ring around the head of his cock that sends his head back again; he props himself up on his elbows to watch you, hungrily, still red, now redder at your words. "Something so simple, too."

"'S'it so strange to get hard thinkin' about knockin' you up?" he teases back, albeit more breathless than you.

You relish in the small moments like this where you have control—where you're allowed to giggle and circle your tongue over the path your thumb just traced, lapping up his precum and letting your fingers settle delicately around his length. Where you get him to explain himself in low groans and lashes fluttering over his freckled cheeks. You make it a little show for him, every time, like it's customary, never mind how disgustingly you're soaking through your pants right now. You grind on nothing, acutely aware of how empty you are but so enamored with the man you have at your mercy in front of you as you hollow your cheeks and dip your chin to fit a few inches of him in your warm mouth. Low groan. You throb, sticky, too.

"Fuck..." he breathes, still-gloved hand coming to push your hair out of your face; you, doe-eyed and drooling, is a sight he won't, can't miss. You look so pretty sinking your face down onto him, and it sends a shimmer of pleasure all the way to his toes when your tongue traces another circle, this time around the middle of his cock; he's going to lose it so fast, he knows it.

Chuuya loves to watch you worship his cock.

Which leaves him momentarily torn between letting you keep going, letting you keep wiggling your ass in the air so cutely as you suck him, turn him into putty with your lips and tongue, or pulling you off him and stuffing you full as quickly as he possibly can. He watches you, watches you; mouth falling open when you swirl, eyes rolling back when you play with his balls, frozen, in heaven until he comes back to what it was he dragged you home so quick to do: make a baby.

Your nose is just reaching the coarse, red tuft of hair at the base of his cock when he's working you up, off him by your hair, by your wrists, willing you up onto your knees so he can shove his hands between the wretched barrier called your pants and yank them down. You fall into him, kissing him, ever harder.

"Chuuya," you gasp when the waist of your pants and underwear are at your thighs and you feel two cool leather digits circling around your clit. "Ah—"

"Baby, 'need to fuck you, now," he mumbles with urgency against your lips; you're so fucking wet that you just tip onto your back to kick off your garments—he does the same with the rest of his— and spread yourself wide open for him, taking note of the wild look in his eyes next to all the lust, all the lovesickness. You hold yourself open, clenching around nothing, feeling every inch of him as he slinks up your body and slides into you so easily, like he's meant to be there, like he's meant to be pumping you full.

"Gonna fill me up, Chuu?" You're relentless. For now. "Gonna have it drippin' outta me?"

"Unh—agh, oh, fuck," he curses as you clench around him now. "Not gonna let any of it go to waste, babydoll." You rock your hips as he bottoms out and you're reaching for his wrists, his hands, tearing his gloves off his lithe fingers as they're the only thing that keeps you from feeling him so fully now and soon they're gone, too, with the rest of your clothing, and you have him, you have his fingers between yours, clasping hard like they did around the handles of his bike while you left a wet patch on the seat, turning whiter than they ever have, it seems, now that he has a mission beyond just filling you up. He's going to do that, of course, but it's more than just cum; it's him. He wants to put a fucking baby in you.

Which is what he mutters against your neck as he moves, pulls back, and thrusts forward roughly the way he always does on the first one—just to hear you yelp. Now it's his turn to chuckle. You've had your control, and even though he knows more about the control you exert even when you're under him than he'll ever tell you, he relishes in it, too. The way you squirm, the way your knees snap shut around his waist; he smiles into your skin as he picks up his pace, leaning up to watch your head nod against the pillow with the force underscoring his rhythm.

"Fuck, Chuuya," you whisper as the tip of his nose brushes yours. "Love you."

"Love you," he chants back without a second thought, ginger curls curtaining against your face. "Gonna give you my fucking kids. Know we'll be the best parents."

You would giggle again if he wasn't knocking the wind out of you with his next stroke; this time, as it flashes across the back of his eyelids, it does across yours, too. A little redheaded baby, with your eyes, your nose. It has Chuuya pistoning into your cunt, sends sounds of your lovemaking echoing off the walls. The sunbeam slips out of the room, painting you both in the evening; a perfect evening, orange and blue, so much like him, deep like your love and the moans he tears from your throat each time he bullies his way against the entrance to your womb.

Chuuya spends time working you and himself up—he always does. He knows how to angle himself in a way, knows how to fuck steadily in a way that not only drives you over the edge, but turns him into something more of an animal than a man just because it sends you arching, crying—he feeds off of you feeding off of him. A dance that, as those visions flash by him, he thinks, not for the first or last time, he only ever wants to dance with you.

"Chuuya," you cry again—it soon becomes the one of the only things you can get out coherently, other than, "Please, please—"

"W-want that? Wanna make me a daddy?" he presses between feral kisses; you bite each other's lips, you dig your heels into his back, you carve crescents with your fingernails into his knuckles as you nod—it's all you can do amidst his pace, amidst how steadily he's pounding into that spot that makes you scream.

A yes hurtles out of you, strained and broken; a string of more garbled yeses follow, intermixed with pleases and fucks, as your gradually more and more fucked-out brain latches onto to the word. "Wan' give you a fuckin' baby, Chuu, wan' make—unh, wan' make you a daddy, please, need y'tuh cum in me, Chuuya—" and his name trails off into a strangled groan as he releases one of your hands to reach down to your clit.

He rubs you with a quickness that sends lightning to the tips of each of your limbs. He feels your ribs press up, press into his; he watches your eyes roll back; he feels you claw at him with pure abandon as you ripple and heave against each other. He could fuck you forever. He will fuck you forever.

"'M so fuckin' close, pretty," Chuuya growls.

"Cum in me, Chuu," you whimper back, voice shaking as each rough thrust shatters it a little bit more. "P-please, please, please, don't fuh—don't fucking—unh—don't stop!"

Your teeth grind; a bead of sweat falls from Chuuya's forehead onto yours and you groan, almost twist from the pleasure that courses through you all the way to your fingers and toes, abruptly shortening his harsh thrusts as you trap him in the grip of your legs around his waist, his back, his ass, like a vise. You feel him pulse. He doesn't let up. Your orgasm crashes over you like thunder; twitching, creaming, milking him as you pull him down to your mouth to swallow the curses he sobs out as his own climax catapults through him, hot, heavy.

"Unh—ah, ah, baby, I'm—oh, fuck!"

"Fuck, yes—"

Your name, babbled and cracked; warmth spreading throughout you, tremors subsiding, and Chuuya, winded, letting his face fall into your shoulder as he weakly lets his hips come to a stop. You squeeze him closer, looking for air, rolling against him until you're both totally spent. Totally glowing.

"Fuck," he says again, lifting his auburn head like he's in a trance. "Fuck, lift those hips up, babydoll."

Without pulling out of you, he grabs an extra pillow and folds it, wedging it beneath your trembling hips; you look to him, hazy, as he leans down to press one kiss to each of your shoulders.

"Gotta make sure it stays in there, yeah?"

You let out a breathless laugh. "Oh, god, Chuuya."

"Yeah?" he asks again, pulling back to grin down at you, his two-toned eyes still swimming with all that lust, all that love. He circles his hips. "Give me a second before we go again."

"Again?" you repeat, smirking back at him; he sits up and peers down to your messy hole, still stuffed with him. He scoops up an escaping droplet of his cum and tucks it back between your folds, which still spasm softly. Your mouth falls into an o at the intrusion of his finger next to his cock.

"Gotta make sure you gimme a baby," he rasps slyly, and you giggle once more, mirroring the glimmer in his conspiratory eyes. Conspiring to love you for a long time.

"Alright, daddy."

This is my first time requesting something but HEAR ME OUT, "Slow Cuddle-fucking with og Sukuna while he is holding (and caressing) Reader (His wife) tightly and praising her (with him having size(difference) and breeding kink) oneshot please please please PLEASESSS😭

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: NAH CUZ I SEE THE VISION, HOLD ON–

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks, y'all) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spooning dp position - breast fondling + nipple play - breeding kink - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - dacryphilia - pet names ([little]dove, good girl, my wife, woman) - soft! kuna, but not too OOC - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

“Stay still, woman…Mmnnn, good girl, nice and easy…”

It’s not a rarity for Sukuna to have his hands on you as you two slept through the night. After all, he is the King of Curses; asking permission to touch his is beneath him. You were made for him to hold – sculpted for his cursed hands to touch – everyone else was far behind or had no standing compared to your demonic husband. And with you both sharing a futon every night, who’s supposed to tell him to keep his hands to himself?

You, his little spouse, knew of this. Marrying the King of Curses was something you never imagined would happen — let alone falling in love with the giant man! You’ve always had dreams of becoming a sweet little partner to someone; for that to be fulfilled by the cursed man who could kill thousands in the blink of an eye is astounding. 

And, of course, being a wife entails all the duties accompanying the package. Especially now, as you two lie together on the floor, nude bodies nestled close on the futon above the tatami floor, and your naked figure trembling from the insertion of one of Sukuna’s paired cock. And your heart drops at the second one brushing up against the crevice of your ass when he pushes the one inside your throbbing, velvety channel. 

“Mmmph…! Sukuna, no,” you whined, your butt inching away from the second member. “I can’t handle both—“

“Don’t lie; you’ve done it before and did it well,” a hand brings your waist to him. “Or maybe I should just have one of the concubines take care of me, seeing as though my own wife is neglecting their duties.” 

He wouldn’t do that; Sukuna’s interest in his insignificant mistresses had long been diminished once he took you up as his bride, practically collecting dust as he hadn’t visited them since you shared a bed with him. Now, he uses them as tools to probe you. And he has to hold back the mischievous snicker when your eyes widen with anxiousness, wrapping your arms around his neck in desperation.

“N–No, please!” You pleaded; it was the only sufficient approach. “I’ll be good to you, I promise!”

The four-eyed curse scoffs. “Then do what you’re supposed to,” Each crimson orb takes in information about your bashful expression, “And attend to your husband like a wife should.”

Further complaints cease at his command, so you quiet down and arch your behind to him submissively. Sukuna takes your initiation with his hungry bottom hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh as you guide his other dick to your lubed asshole. With a hum, he pushes himself and forces you to take his cocks with your bottom, needing a few seconds to breathe when your holes reach the base of his members.

“Good girl,” he says to your ear to make you shudder, and he lifts your leg with the hand that finished groping your asscheek. “Obeying me so well like always…”

He begins to move without a signal, slowly pulling himself in and out of your warm wetness that coats his length with your slick. You can’t help but grip the girth limbs that massage your insides, involuntarily throbbing on them with shaky breaths.  

“Mmmaah, ohhhmyG—Mmm!” Speech isn’t easy, even with his upper left hand cupping your cheeks. And your brows furrow as the upper right sneaks to grope a breast. “Faaahh, Suk..una, I’m too full already…”

“Mmm? Is that so?” Sukuna asks with a patronizing tone, licking the helix of your ear to hear you gasp. “But we’ve barely started yet, my wife. Don’t bore me before I can enjoy you yet.” 

His hips go at a gradual cadence that has you keening a mess, the sensation of the veins of his cocks felt by the walls of your holes. You howl silently, not wanting to make too much noise.

But that doesn’t fly with your husband, speaking to your ear with that hoarse voice. Almost has you melting as he squishes with your cheeks, “Let it out, princess,” he commands. “I want to hear that voice; don’t you dare hide that from me.”

Fuck, the way you felt on his dicks was so fucking good, having the cursed behemoth burrow his face into the cubby of your neck. Slow kisses on your skin segway to sucks that should mark for later. He could never get enough of how small you were up against him. His giant palm swallowed your tit, your ass bouncing with every thrust, and how damn tight you were as you accommodated the two members making your entrances busy. 

Goddamn it, he bites his lip, dialing up the speed of his ruts a bit. Scratching your inner walls has you squeaking louder, unable to stop yourself when he grinds his hips after a sudden grim pound. So warm and snug for him as if you were meant for him. He knew you were meant for him — taking his huge, fat shafts with no objections, just arching your back further so the sensation could be more pleasurable like the loyal, little pet you are. “Hmngh…! Yeah, just like that, little dove; keep clenching around me like that…”

Restraint was gone long ago, letting your voice and shrieks fly out and fill the quiet bedroom. The sound of his skin shaking against your ass, the heat of your cheeks making it hard to think, and the shivers crawling your spine with every graze to your sweet spots. Everything feels like a haze, your brain too clouded to think outside this moment. 

And then you sense the hand on your breast let go, slithering down to your unattended clitoris, which has your eyes shoot wide as your demon husband presses down. “—Khhff! Nooo, ‘Kunaa, you mustn’t…!”  

He lifts a brow with a grin; you dare question him? “And why shouldn’t I?” He pinches the delicate bud, resulting in a scream sneaking past your lips. “Hmm? Plead for yourself.”

“Becau—Ahhh! Mmmm, I’ll cum. I’m gonna cumm…”

“Then don’t,” Sukuna doesn’t remove his digits playing with your clit, and the hand on your chin pulls your face to look at him. “Cum without my permission, and I’ll make sure to not be so kind next time...” His words carry a warning filling your bones with apprehension, yet his soft lips greet yours and he hums into your mouth. The kiss serves as a distraction from his thick digits gently swiping on the pearl.

The rhythm of his hips, however, increases in speed and prompts more moans to be taken by Sukuna. Drool trickles down your lips, same with tears that welled up earlier from the insertion of his girth inside your ass. Your eyes roll at the jab to your silky walls, breaking the sweet yet passionate kiss to cry out as your husband’s fat balls smack your ass. 

“—Ooooo, fuuuck, I can’t,” your eyelids shield your vision, using the rest of your senses to indulge in this euphoric pleasure. “‘Kuna, I’m so close, so—Ooohh!”

“Me too…Ghhh! Shit, me too…” Sukuna presses his hot face to yours when you throw it back, licking the tears off your sweaty skin. You looked so stunning like this, all disheveled and immodest because of him. “Gonna take my load, huh?” He licks the sweat off your shoulder and bites when you don’t respond. “Answer me, Y/n.”

“—Ahhh, yes!”

That’s not enough. “I said,” he pinches your clit again as he gives slow yet rough ruts to your holes. And he can tell by your twitching that you’re doing everything in our power not to come. “Answer me.”

Holy shit, this was borderline torture. “Mmmph! OhhhLord, ‘Kunaaa, I want you to fill me up. Pleasee, pleasepleaseee, I wanna be full; wanna be all ‘round and fat with your child…!”

“Keh, dumb pet; who said I wanted a brat, huh?” He scoffs, yet you can hear the groan as he licks and sucks on your neck while squishing your hot, tear-stricken cheeks. “Fine then; go on and cum with me. So damn needy for my seed…”

Sukuna brings your chin for another steamy kiss, his lower left hand holding yours as his pelvis goes at an irregular pace. Your muffled shrills are taken by feisty lips, teeth clashing with his fangs before sucking on his tongue, and the upper left hand releases your chin to caress your chest once more, tweezing the nipple along with swipes to your clit.

Release gradually creeps up your shaky frame, crying to his mouth when your chasm and anus pucker around the lengths that graze your walls with the tips. Sukuna is not too far behind you, pumping his load into you with a few harsh plunges, making your contracting cunt and rear full of his hot and thick semen. The lower right hand propping your leg up leaves soft kneads on your inner thigh, hoisting it up further so his shafts are deep enough until his pulsing balls meet your ass.

You withdrew from his lips to breathe, your figure quivering through the aftershocks, and your slit and asshole still flutter around his girths. And you mewl when he kisses your cheek and temple.

“Mmm, that’s my princess,” he purrs while placing your leg down to massage your waist. “Such a good dove…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

୨★✧.*party 4 u ✧★.*୧

Jean Kirstein x Reader, one shot

★ recreational drug use, angst, fluff, post break up, kissing, ex boyfriend, insecurity and anxiety

Ik the song is trending but when I tell you it's been a fave with me forever.. this WIP has sat with me for a while, and I changed my mind with a lot of it but hopefully u all still like it! (If I had a nickel for every Jean fic I wrote inspired by a charlixcx song, lol) Who said you can't make corny songfic in 2025??

┈➤here's the ao3 link or read under the cut :)

Jean thought you were the most beautiful he’d ever seen. 

Silver confetti fluttered around you, the echoes of the crowd and thudding bass was overwhelming. You felt weightless and free as you danced in the darkness. The strobe lights made you see spots, highlighting the smoke that spun into the air, and for the briefest moment, everything was fine.

You couldn’t believe you almost didn’t come. 

Hitch barely managed to persuade you to skip your 8 am tomorrow, just so you could all get fucked up tonight. 

You took an Uber so none of the group would have to drive from the pregame near campus to Jean Kirschtein’s obnoxiously large house in the country.

You and Jean had a complicated history—Hitch and Annie didn’t know, because you hated the drama of it all. 

All your freshman year at Paradis State, you were inseparable in puppy love, and so unprepared for the consequences of it. You weren’t the best at expressing your feelings and boundaries, and Jean was eager to please you. It should have worked better, and you tried not to linger on that fact. He was breathtakingly handsome and had lots of friends, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you eventually just stopped seeing each other. 

Well, you stopped seeing him. 

You practically ghosted Jean when you found out about his weird feelings about Mikasa. You couldn’t unsee his crush whenever he was around her, and it killed you. You weren’t even angry with her for it, since Mikasa was happily infatuated with Eren, though you wished you could tell her plainly that you harbored nothing against her for it. 

You were young and emotional, and let your hurt get the better of you. It didn’t make any sense, and you didn’t even give Jean a chance to explain himself, ever. 

The aftermath was awkward considering how many mutual friends you had, so you just avoided him entirely. You started going to clubs in the next town over instead of bars and parties around campus, and you were content with the new friends you made in Annie and Hitch, despite their connections looping back to the same place. 

You supposed for as long as you lived in Trost, everyone you knew would lead you back to Jean. He was a good guy. You kind of freaked out, and got too embarrassed and proud to go back to him and apologize. 

“C’mon man, are you gonna try to enjoy yourself?” Connie gave him a light punch on the shoulder. 

“I am,” Jean said, irritated, and glanced outside again. “Are you sure she’s coming?”

He had spent the first hour of the evening hovering by the windows. They were tall and wide, so he would have seen you perfectly from the other end of the room, but as soon as he heard that you were coming, he was a wreck. 

He insisted on picking out the decorations instead of letting Sasha take the lead, like she usually did. He couldn’t help himself from the excitement that blossomed in his chest at the idea of seeing you, really seeing you. 

As the others around him began pregaming, Jean really drank. 

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. His heart raced all evening, resounding all his longing, begging, willing you through that door. Come to my party. Come to my party.

Jean felt like he was always catching glimpses of you, and no matter how hard he tried to move on, the way you seemed to, there was always a remaining trace of bitterness. You were barely there, yet not close enough for him to properly ignore the way you made him feel.

It was years ago, and should mean nothing. It meant nothing. 

“Look man,” Connie put his hand on Jean’s shoulder, his breath fanning the scent of beer over to his friend. “Just relax! Either y’talk to her, or you don’t. I don’t think you should waste your night being emo about it. Make a decision. Do something instead of moping around.”

Jean shoved his hand away, a little harsher than he intended to. He couldn’t gauge his own strength—or temper–when he got drunk like this. 

“Yeah, I know.”

By the time you arrived at the sizable mansion, up a long winding driveway lined with trees, you were so high, you didn’t give Jean a second thought. 

You walked in with the girls, immediately enamored with the superfluous decorations, the colorful, ambient lighting, and the blasting music. Balloons hung from the ceiling and littered the floor, and it seemed like over a hundred people were crammed into every crevice of the house. 

“What the hell is this party for again?” You yelled to Hitch, despite her face only being a few inches from yours. Her eyes were hazy and distant, as she’d shared some molly with you earlier, the dose she took was far more. 

“Uhh, I think Jean said he just needed a pick me up for the new semester,” she shouted back and slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. “I think it’s pretty.”

“I’m getting jungle juice,” Annie said boredly. She’d taken more shots than any of you, and remained composed like it was nothing. “Come with?” 

Hitch nodded. 

“Y/n? You rolling?” 

“Not yet. I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” you shook your head and gave them an encouraging smile.

“Fine, but if I leave here alone, I’m killing you both,” she stuck her tongue out at you playfully, and gripped Annie’s arm as they went off. 

You smiled and decided to occupy yourself by weaving through the crowd, people watching. 

There were people taking shots, legs in tall boots and short skirts, groups smoking cigs and rolling up by the staircase. A throng of people surrounded the DJ on the raised platform by the living room. 

Your senses were pleasantly heightened, you felt warm and light. The mixture of drugs kept you at ease, though a part of you ached, and seemed to search for a certain familiar face.

You pushed away the thought and made your way across the floor. 

You saw Historia posing as her girlfriend took photos of her, the flash briefly blinding you as you stumbled past. You waved at Connie and Sasha, the former shotgunning a beer as his friend timed him. It was always nice seeing them. 

“Hey Y/n!”

You turned to find a buzzed, cheerful Marco, with a solo cup in hand, and he leaned in for a hug. 

“Hey!” You said, surprised, and squeezed him tight. 

You liked Marco a lot, and despite being Jean’s best friend, he was one of the kindest people to you throughout the past few years.

“I’m great, did you just get here?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Looks like you guys went all out,” you grinned and gestured at the crowded room. If it wasn’t silver or gold, it was sparkling or glowing. 

“It was all Jean’s idea,” Marco rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling over his words. “I dunno. He’s uh– excited. Probably on a second bottle by now.” 

“Oh,” your eyebrows betrayed your concern. “Um, is he alright?”

“It doesn’t seem fair to… sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Marco was pink from the alcohol, and seemed to turn a little redder. “You should enjoy yourself!”

“Well, where is he?” Your eyebrows pinched together. 

The temptation was killing you. Was Marco trying to say that Jean wanted to talk to you? Why else would he suggest it?

“Um, outside, I think,” he gave you an apologetic smile. “Really, he’ll be okay. You should enjoy your night. He sent me away to enjoy mine.”

You swallowed and watched him disappear into the crowd. 

You were fucking out of it. Maybe any mistakes you made tonight could be reasonably excused. Besides, you were friends with Jean long before you fucked things up. 

You made your way through the sea of people and to the back door, an angelic synth swimming in your ears. 

You stepped outside, and shivered from the biting February breeze. 

The pool shone blue in the night, casting a glow that shimmered and shook with the water. It was quieter in the backyard, the thudding music and chatter was muffled and seemed worlds away. 

You braced yourself to see Jean around the corner, or on a chair, but you were completely alone. 

Your head was pounding from the powerful speakers. You took a deep, shuddering breath, allowing yourself to feel. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so fucked up, knowing that Jean would be here. You kind of walked into this. Yet, you think you might’ve felt the same sober. That was sadder. At least with this, you could blame it on the drugs. 

Fuck. You couldn’t let yourself spiral and lose it. You felt like shit ruining girl’s nights like this, even if Hitch and Annie were preoccupied elsewhere. 

You sank to your knees by the pool, and took off your heels. You dipped your feet in the water, grateful for the cold, tranquil distraction. You closed your eyes, and took deep breaths. With the muffled crowd and the occasional car passing in the street, the moment felt a little more real. 

Jean was always good at helping you calm down. When you managed to convey the times you were overwhelmed, he was a saint, rubbing your back and keeping you hydrated when you got too high or anxious. 

Tears leaked down your face before you could stop them. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup, after using so much glitter, but your cheeks were wet and your vision blurred. You hadn’t thought about this, or him, in years. 

Did you overreact? You let your jealousy get to the better of you. God, you sucked. Maybe you should have stayed home. Maybe it’s just been too long, or you were high, and lonely, but the idea of Jean holding you close now made your heart ache. 

You heard the back door slide open, spilling more heavenly electronic music into the air until it shut again. 

“Hey.” A familiar voice called your name, nearly cracking. 

“Hey,” you said, hastily wiping your face, staring straight ahead at the water. “Are you alright?”

“I think I should be asking you,” Jean slurred and sat down on the pavement. He had a bottle in his hand, and wore a button down with the sleeves rolled up, his hair tousled and sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat. His legs were crossed, and he leaned down while he spoke, his posture ruined in favor of staying at your eye level. “I di–um..” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Seemed like fun,” you laughed, despite the salty taste in your mouth. “It’s all beautiful, Jean. You always throw one hell of a party.”

His eyes were pained, and it sent a stabbing sensation to your chest. 

“Thanks.” He seemed very tempted to say more, but instead took a swig and passed you the bottle. 

“No I’m good, I’m rolling,” you pushed it back to him. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Any.. particular occasion?”

You shrugged. 

“Hitch offered.” You tried not to read too much into his question. You rolled very rarely—partying was always magnified by a little molly every now and then. You likely flattered yourself too much as you wondered if he was thinking you came out tonight to fuck someone, with its reputation as a sex drug. 

“Sounds fun,” he said, jaw tight. “So… why are you out here?”

“Marco kind of sent me,” you laughed. “Obviously, I was too late. Thought you’d be somewhere else by now, and the pool’s nice.”

“Well, here I am,” he said bitterly. He swept a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes and ruining the near-perfect coif. You liked it better that way, messy and long, you didn’t think the perfectly combed look really fit him. 

“How–how are you?” You said lightly. His lashes were so long, perfectly framing his sad eyes, brushing his cheek with every blink. 

“Second semester always sucks,” he shrugged and took another swig. “Thought something extravagant would lighten everyone’s spirits.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled and laughed nervously. You were chewing your lip as you kicked your leg gently against the water, watching the small droplets flick away from you.  “I think it was a great idea. And it’s stunning– inside, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

There was a trace of a smile on his lips from your compliment. He couldn’t make himself say that it was really all for you. 

Your features were glowing from the light refracting off of the pool, your short dress rode up your thighs, and Jean couldn’t help but stare. He wondered if you sensed it too, the tension—not from the awful history, or the unsaid professions, but the near tangible desire.  

“I’m glad you made it,” he said softly. “It’s really nice to see you.”

“Of course,” you said quickly. You averted your eyes, your hands in your lap. 

The drugs were heightening all your emotions, and all your senses—the tinge of chlorine in the air, mixing with Jean’s familiar scent, the faint thudding of music from inside the house, the cool water against your skin. 

“Um,” your breath was shaky, your hands clenched into fists. “I’m sorry, by the way. A-about freshman year.” You nearly choked on the words as they bubbled out of you. “It’s—I was really dumb and jealous. You’re a great guy, Jean. You’re an amazing, sweet, romantic son of a bitch. You deserve the world.”

You tried not to stare, but it wasn’t like he was returning the favor. You were both shamelessly memorizing each other's features, a mingling of fear, apprehension, and desperation. You felt so wretched, to pretend like he was someone you never loved. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Jean said pathetically. It was all he could manage, despite everything he wanted to say. 

You blushed and tried not to smile too hard. That was more than enough for you. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You ignored the tossing in your stomach as Jean held the door open, leaking sound and smoke into the air before sliding it shut. 

It was a small, guilty pleasure, feeling him guide you through the mass of people, dancing, thrashing bodies and balloons. 

You found a small opening, nearly thrown together from the crowd. 

You spent the night with your arms at Jean’s shoulders, and his hands at your waist. The strobe lights nearly blinded you, but you couldn’t look away from him. The adoration in his eyes, the curve of his lips. Maybe he was thinking the same thing, that you were both ridiculous, cowardly idiots. Maybe you were just delusional. 

You couldn’t stop yourself when you leaned into him, taking in his scent, yearning to feel his heartbeat, as if you were the only people in the room. It was like time stopped and everyone else faded away when he closed the space between you, his lips warm and rough and they met yours, finally reuniting after all the heartache. 

Jean tasted like home. His hands roamed your body, through your hair, and you clung to him, kissing him and forsaking your breath. It all felt so good, so right.

“Oh my god,” Jean groaned, thrilled by the taste of you, the way you felt against him and in his hands. He tried to be gentler, but he was too excited by your shallow breaths, your impossibly soft skin, your moans urging him to be more and more indecent. 

You nearly stumbled, getting shoulder checked from a nearby dancer, and your tall heels failing you. Jean’s grip at your waist was firm, and he led you to the corner and pinned you against the wall. He kissed you until you gasped for air.

“Uh, should we do something?” Sasha nudged Connie with her elbow as she spotted you both from a distance, making out passionately, for all to see. 

“Are you kidding?” Connie snorted. “They need that shit. I’ll find them an empty closet myself.”

actor!gojo dryhumps you under the sheets during the “fake” sex scenes you both film together… nobody on that set has any idea that your moans and his moans are, in fact, very real

situations / tecchou suehiro

Prompts... "I had a dream about you." & "You've done enough teasing, now it's my turn."

Contains..! smut, mutual touching, fingering, dry humping, pussy slapping, slight!manhandling, dirty talk, teasing, jealousy, almost getting caught, public sex, rough sex, use of "good boy", creampie, switch!tecchou, he cries from the pleasure perhaps... also says "i love you" while cumming...

AFAB Reader.

2,784 words.

If Tecchou had to use one word to describe you, it would be... confusing.

You had been colleagues for a long while now, nothing more.

At least that's what Tecchou had assumed, but you played tricks on him; sitting atop his lap when you finished your report before him, always giving him the same reasoning as to why. Which was, "Your lap is much more comfortable than my chair. More padding." Perpetually followed by a cheeky squeeze to his upper thigh, which never failed to pull a gasp from Tecchou's lips.

Not to mention, you always requested to be paired up with him on missions. Giving him lingering kisses on his reddened cheeks when you both came out on the other side of your battles virtually unscathed.

Oh, but the best of them all? The 'thing' that plagued Tecchou's every thought?

Well...

He would stay up countless nights. Thinking of the 'things' you would utter to him with a straight face. You were nothing more than colleagues. And yet, he couldn't help but fist his cock while thinking of you. And the lewd scenarios you'd describe, cursing his body for betraying him this way. Every single night.

Six simple words would start the end of it all for him.

"I had a dream about you!"

Tecchou perked up in this chair at your words. If he had a tail, it would be wagging behind him. Chestnut eyes tracked your every move, intently staring as you made strides toward Jouno's desk. Sitting atop the sadistic man's lap without a second thought.

Tecchou tilted his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowing in the process. Why were you sitting on Jouno's lap right now and not his? Especially after you just uttered-

"Jouno! Did you hear me...? I said I had a dream about you!"

Jouno let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slightly. Bringing his free arm up to wrap around the small of your back before he muttered, "Oh, I heard you, princess. Loud and clear."

You let out a small giggle before wrapping your arms around Jouno's neck. "Aren't you going to ask what happened in the dream?" You swung your legs playfully from where they dangled off the side of Jouno's lean thighs, causing the blind king to tighten his grip on you ever so slightly.

Tecchou's jaw clenched at the scene unfolding before him, practically oozing jealousy. Jouno could sense the envy radiating off his idiotic colleague. The Hunting Dogs knew about Tecchou's little crush on you, yet all of the teasing they put him through for it went right over his head. Tecchou was seemingly unphased by the teasing until now. So there was no way in hell Jouno was about to pass up this opportunity to get on his least favorite colleagues' nerves.

"Alright, enlighten me. Did we perhaps fuck?" Jouno asked candidly. The brazen smirk etched into the sadistic man's features only proved to piss Tecchou off even further.

"Mhm! We did, and it was while we were on a mission too! Can you believe that? The perp had an aphrodisiac ability, and I ended up getting hit with it. And, well, you can use your imagination for the rest." x

Tecchou watched with raged filled orbs as Jouno's hand snaked further down your frame, cupping the side of your upper thigh tightly and pulling you impossibly closer to him. "Oh? How vulgar, princess. What did I do to help you out exactly? Shall I make your dream a reality?"

Tecchou was standing in front of you both in an instant. And before you could respond, you were being tugged away. Tecchou wrapped his arms around your frame, Hoisting you over his shoulder, paying no mind to Jouno as he made long strides toward the elevator down the hall.

"Hiro?! Put me down- I have rights, you know!" You shouted playfully, kicking your legs in an attempt to free yourself. Your fists pounded against his broad back, but he could care less. All Tecchou could think about was how he wanted you to be all his.

Tecchou ran his free hand along all the elevator buttons for each floor, causing them all to light up. "There, that should give us time," Tecchou mumbled before carefully placing you on your feet. You had a moment to take in your surroundings before he was on you, caging you between his sturdy chest and the elevator wall behind you.

"Hiro, what are you--"

"You've done enough teasing, now it's my turn."

Tecchou deadpanned. Both of his hands came up to entangle around your waist in an instant as his lips captured yours roughly. You whined into the kiss as his hands kneaded your sides, bringing your digits up to tug on the ends of his dark hair.

He let out a low groan against you, taking advantage to slip your tongue past his parted lips. But Tecchou wasn't about to let you take control with ease, not after your little display with Jouno only moments prior. Before you knew it, Tecchou pulled away from your lips. His strong hands kept your hips still against the back of the elevator as he glared down at you.

His gaze was intense, one you only ever saw when something seriously got on his nerves. "Don't get bold with me, angel," Tecchou whispered, nimble digits coming up to caress your frame. Eliciting a whine from you, your eyes still locked on his.

He traced patterns into your upper thigh with his lithe finger, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. Heat swirled within your core at the sudden change in demeanor from the usually stoic man. Who knew all you needed to light a fire under him was to get him a little jealous?

"Do you think you deserve this?" Tecchou cupped your panty-clad pussy from under your skirt. His eyebrows twitched in amusement at the feeling of your slick seeping through your panties. "Who got you this excited, angel? Me or Jouno?"

Tecchou's free hand grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger. He invaded your personal space, not that you minded, but still. It felt as though you still hadn't awoken from one of your wet dreams.

You gasped as his hand pulled away briefly from your needy cunt, only to make quick contact with a curt slap. "Well, angel? We don't have all day." His continual naughty slaps to your sensitive pussy, and filthy words pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Y-You! I made up that dream with Jouno to make you j-jealous…" You confessed, biting your lip and averting your gaze. Shifting on your feet in an attempt to distract yourself from the embarrassment. Your eyes darted back to Tecchou's stern face the second you heard a low chuckle rattle through his chest.

"If this was your end goal, all you had to do was ask. I want you too, angel." Tecchou confessed, a tight-lipped smile coating his face as his fingers finally dipped under your panties. You both gasped in unison as his lithe digits ran along the expanse of your slicked-up pussy. His tough-guy facade faded the second he got to touch you so intimately like this.

"Really? All this… for me? You mean it?" Tecchou tilted his head slightly. His brows were knitted, bottom lip jutting out into a pout as the pads of his fingers made contact with your puffy clit. Tecchou desperately needed your reassurance after your little display with Jouno. It was clear as day. And how could you deny him when he looked at you so pathetically while he tried his hardest to please you?

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a desperate kiss as Tecchou began rubbing quick, tight circles into your sensitive bud. You whimpered into the kiss as your hands grasped the hair that resided on the nape of his neck, causing Tecchou to rut his hips into you unintentionally.

His erection pressed against your upper thigh. And on instinct, you pushed your leg in between his. Allowing him to rut against your thigh with ease as Tecchou continued to play with your pussy.

He whined into your mouth at the newly added friction as his fingers came down to prod at your entrance. You pulled away from his lips, taking a sharp breath before you quipped, "Does this answer your question?"

Tecchou's eyes were half-lidded, drool seeping past his parted lips as he hurridly humped against your thigh. You could see the tears beginning to brim over his lashline as he nodded his head fervently, followed by a string of, "Yes- yes, yes!"

So much for him "being in control", huh?

Two of his fingers slipped in with ease from how wet you had become. A whine escaped your lips at the sudden intrusion, eyes glued to Tecchou's face as he fell apart before you. "You're being such a good boy for me, Hiro. My good boy."

A cry spilled past his ruddy lips at your words as he picked up his pace inside you. His fingers pumped in and out of you with ease. Curling on the drag down perfectly, hitting your sweet spot with each deep plunge of his thick digits inside your needy pussy.

"S-Say it again… please…" Tecchou begged candidly, rutting against your thigh desperately. You could feel his clothed cock throbbing against you with each thrust of his hips. His thumb moved up to rub your clit as he continued to finger fuck you. You were sure Tecchou would cum in his uniform if you uttered those words again.

Your release was approaching and fast. Just as you were about to say those pretty little words; something else grabbed your attention. There was only one button still glowing brightly from when Tecchou pressed them earlier, causing fear to settle within your chest as you began to watch it fade.

"Hiro, wait- stop!" In an instant, that perfect pleasure he was granting you was gone. He pulled away from your thigh as worry coated his features. His chestnut eyes scanned your face, looking for any sign of discomfort. "What's wrong- did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, angel-"

The doors began to open, causing panic to creep up on you. Reaching out for Tecchou's hips, you quickly hauled him toward the back of the elevator. Standing in front of him in an attempt to hide his erection as you smoothed your skirt back into place right as the elevator came to a complete standstill.

Tachihara gave you a small smile and a nod as he stepped inside, his eyes traveled to a disheveled Tecchou who stood behind you. "Uh, everything alright with him?" Tachihara questioned, pressing the button for his floor before his eyes met yours.

"Y-Yeah! We just got back from a bad mission. I'm going to take him home to rest. Mind pressing floor one for me?" You lied through your teeth, hoping it was at least good enough to trick your good pal Tachihara.

He narrowed his eyes at you, nodding and reaching out to press your requested floor. A few awkward moments passed before the elevator came to a complete stop and your colleagues' floor. "Alright… be sure to take good care of him, y/n. See you both tomorrow, yeah?"

You gave him a weak smile before waving him off, uttering a small "See ya then!" Before the doors shut again. Granting Tecchou and yourself some much-needed privacy. You let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding before reaching out to highlight all the elevator buttons one more, resetting your timer.

"That could have been so fucking bad- Hiro! C'mon, we don't have much time…" You hurriedly expressed. Making quick work of undoing Tecchou's belt, followed by the button and zipper of his pants. Tugging his uniform slacks and boxers down in one swift motion.

"W-What are you…?" Tecchou trailed off, voice getting caught in his throat as he watched you slip your panties down your legs. You balled them up before tucking them into the breast pocket of his uniform. Your hands made their way to the hem of your skirt, wasting no time lifting the flimsy fabric to reveal your bare cunt.

"Hiro… I want you to fuck me, but we have to make this quick! Please? I promise I'll make this up to you another time. I just- I need you right now. C'mon Hiro, you're my good boy, right?"

The last of Tecchou's resolve snapped with that. He was standing before you in an instant, large hands coming up to your hips. He spun you around with ease, pressing your chest up against the back of the elevator wall firmly as his hands moved down further to soothe over your ass.

He flipped the back of your skirt up, admiring the sight of your slicked-up pussy from this angle. "F-Fuck angel… I don't know if I'll be able to l-last long if we…" You pushed your ass into his twitching cock, cutting him off before you muttered, "That's what I'm betting on."

Tecchou grasped his length, lining himself up to your entrance. His thick cock pushed into you. Stretching you out perfectly, causing you both to cry out in unison as he bottomed out. "T-Too tight, hah…" You wiggled your hips into him, encouraging Tecchou to fuck into you as he pleased.

"C'mon my good boy, make me cum. I know you can do it, baby." His mind was fuzzy. All Tecchou could think of was how good you felt wrapped around him and how badly he wanted to make you feel good. He gave you an experimental thrust eliciting a moan from you. He attempted another one. Only this time with more force, you clenched around him fiercely at this.

"Ah- Hiro! So good, baby…" You babbled, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts as Tecchou finally found a steady rhythm. One of his hands found purchase on your hip, fucking you on his cock as he pleased. His other hand snaked around your frame to play with your puffy bud.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as the coil within you began unraveling. He was so deep inside you, and his nimble digits worked wonders against your clit. There's no way you would last like this. "Hiro, m' close! Please d-don't stop!" You cried out, trying your hardest to stay up on your shaky legs.

Tecchou picked up on your struggle. Opting to wrap his hand, which was on your hip, around your midsection. Pulling you close to his chest and burying his cock even deeper inside your twitching hole as he held you up against him.

Tecchou ground himself deep inside you. As he added more pressure to your twitching clit, the thread within you snapped. "Cumming- m' cumming!" You cried out. Your walls clamped down on his cock with so much force. Tecchou's hips stilled inside you as his orgasm tore through his entire body.

"Fuck- angel! S-So good, so perfect… I-I love you!" He doubled over, whining into your ear as the tears ran freely down his cheeks at this point. His breath fanned over the shell of your ear as his cum spilled deep inside you. You could feel his balls twitching from where they kissed the underside of your spent pussy as he emptied his load inside you.

As both of you came down from your highs, you fully processed what Tecchou uttered to you only moments ago. You pulled off his cum coated-cock, tugging his hand away from your waist and turning in place. Getting a clear view of his fucked out expression.

"What did you just say to me…?" You looked up at him in disbelief. Watching the way his face morphed into a deep shade of crimson. "I-I uh…" Tecchou trailed off, too embarrassed to utter those three words back to you once more.

You peeked over to the elevator console, noticing that the floor numbers were not fading in color. Now that you thought about it, the elevator hasn't moved up or down in the last ten minutes… shit.

You brought your finger up to Tecchou's lips, "We'll pick up on this conversation later. I think we have something more substantial to deal with." Tecchou looked defeated. What could've been more important than him confessing his love to you?

You answered his intrusive thoughts before he could express them aloud, "Hiro! Not like that, no- but, we're fucking trapped in this elevator! Fuck, and I have no service, great…"

"We can always go for round two while we wait-"

"Not a chance…"