Squ1shygutszz666 - PUrple.3n1gma_6x6x6

Vampire whimpering and moaning while he drinks your blood and he gets all breathless as he tells you how good you taste and also he’s jacking off the whole time. Think about it.

idk what this is, but enjoy this gojo x reader fic <3

cw: smut, cream pie, unsafe sex, fluff, Satoru is a sucker for missionary, all characters are 18+, minors, ageless and blank blogs dni or you will be blocked

Satoru becomes the most clingiest and affectionate loser whenever he’s inside you, especially in missionary.

His cock twitching and throbbing as he sinks into your tight walls. His lips are relentless as he rotates between kissing your lips sloppily or marking your neck with wet hickies.

Something about missionary is just so intimate to him, that more often than not, you’ll find yourself in this position. He craves the physical intimacy, craves to feel your skin against his as he brings you into his infinity, keeping you safe from the outside world.

Satoru’s curious hands roaming every inch of your body, leaving goosebumps in their absence. His balls smacking against your ass with each thrust, as he holds your hips high, keeping your legs spread wide and wrapped around him.

Your ankles are locked behind him, your heels dig into his soft ass as he pounds into your slobbering pussy. Wet squelching sounds, mixed with soft moans fill the empty room. The bed creaking underneath you two as the headboard slams against the wall, surely waking up your neighbours.

And yet, Satoru doesn’t stop. Drunk off your wet pussy and your sweet moans, he fucks into you deeper, watching as you sink into the bedding.

Chest to chest, you both share the air as you breathe. A goofy smile rests on his face as he looks at you, pressing soft kisses along your lips and cheeks as he rearranges your insides.

The words ‘I love you’ slipping from your lips repeatedly, only encouraging him to go faster. Your nails dig into his back, leaving scratches that Satoru will only gloat about.

Satoru groans as he feels you cum around his cock, your pussy having a death grip on him as you milk him dry. His release following soon, as he bottoms out into you, his balls flat against your ass as he cums.

Not edited + do not copy <3 also I suck at writing smut sorry lol :P

Marathon Sex

Warning: Marathon sex, tons of cumming, tons of orgasms, doggy and mating press, squirting, breeding

Oh god, this was it. You were going to die. You were going to die because he can't stop fucking you.

You don't know what's happening, you couldn't even tell someone your own name if they asked. Your grip on the sheets was starting to get loose, tears flowing down to your cheeks, mouth hanging open with drool pooling on the sheets as you were already fucked out of your mind.

"Come on baby just keep your legs on my shoulders. Can you do that for me?" His breath is hot against your ear. "F-fuck please" he says through a groan. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind you would think that he was actually begging. And you were right. He isn't a whimpering man but here he is, voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt

You are too dumb to reply, only spurting outcries and whines about how good he was fucking you. He snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a dream, the bed was shaking immensely with the headboard banging on the wall and you were losing your mind from the friction of his dick against your walls. How long have you been in this mating press? How many times have you cummed? How many times has he cummed in you?

"Wanna fuck you every day," he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal brutal. "fuck fuck fuck," he swears, as he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses your lips onto his. Your so dazed you practically drool into the kiss, letting him entangle his tongue with yours until spit smeared on either side of your lips. He doesn’t slow the movement for a second as he kisses you, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

Suddenly, it hits you. Like an ignition of fire your brain goes white and you feel yourself ascend to euphoria.

“You gonna cum baby?" he coos into your hear, pressing light kisses on the hollow of your neck. "fuck, cum for me baby, please, cum on me." His hand flew between your bodies to rapidly rub your clit back and forth, hurtling you towards your orgasm. Your pussy tightens so hard around his cock that he nearly has to stop his thrusts. Your mouth grows lax as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“That’s it,” He fucks you through your orgasm, pouring every ounce of his strength into chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy, hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flushed against yours, burying himself in your creamy cunny.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

His grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him, coming so hard he sees white. But he's not done.

Before you could recover, he rolls you onto your back, in doggy, and slips into you. After the first thrust he has to hold still for a second, knowing that if he kept moving, if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would burst inside you again. But the moment of rest only lasts for a second. He resumes his brutal pace, pumping himself in and out of you.

You are wetter then ever down there, there is no longer friction only the mind-numbing pleasure of his tip hitting your cervix again and again.

There is no warning when he cums inside you again, you only know when you feel his cum drip down your thigh.

"Feel so good, you feel so good baby."

You're in heaven right now. Your mind has gone to a different space detached from this world. Every time he pushes into you, this tip of his dick rubbed perfectly against the gummy spot in you that made your whole body shake.

“Fuckkkk… I’ll fill you up, make you a mommy, you’d like that wouldn’t you… shit.”

All you can do is dumbly nod as you felt the crescendo of your euphoria building and building. It was so hot, your skin was radiating heat and before you could say anything you were tumbling toward the end faster then you could put a stop to it.

“S’feels weird~” you babble, too fucked dumb to properly pronunciate words.

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?” He coos, grabbing either side of your hips harder to fuck himself into you from your behind.

“Like m’gonna pee I don’t-hah-” something was pressing down on your stomach and it was overtaking your body; too fast to put a stop to it. You started to shake, abdomen clenching and mouth going into the lock jaw, tongue rolling out as you squirted clear juices everywhere.

“Oh f- good girl" He says through a groan, not stopping for a second as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him.

GOJO, GETO, TOJI, SUKUNA, NANAMI, CHOSO, SANAMI, TENGEN, BOKUTO, KUROO, ATSUMU, OIKAWA, SHIGARAKI, DABI

men of jjk and their blowjob preferences <3

cw: oral, rough sex, throat fucking, dirty talk, degradation kink, size difference, power dynamics, all 21+ characters, raaaah, 18+

masterlist

kento nanami earned this blowjob and isn't going to move a muscle while you do it. prefers to sit back on the couch while you kneel—something about the way you look on the floor before him, working your mouth over his erection. cups your head and rubs your cheek, dragging fingers over your scalp but never tugging or directing—you're in charge by his own will. soft groans and intense, confronting eyes as he watches and doesn't look away. loves when you pull his length from your mouth and slap the head of it against your tongue; can't deny how much he gets off on your lewdness.

slow sucking, kitten licks, and nuzzling your face into his thigh gets him the hardest, spit-slick and leaking. composed and tense until he gets close—then, he begins to pant gruff breaths and tighten the grip he has on your head. if you want to make him finish quick (but let's be honest, why would you ever want this to end?), take his cock down your throat; feeling your nose pressed into his abdomen and your struggle to swallow his cock has him shooting into your throat. always! kisses! you! after!

blowjobs with toji fushiguro always go two ways: #1, his body laid back or stood before you, you and your small hands and face between his thighs as you slowly suck on and drool over his thick cock (p.s., gag on it, it makes him leak like a faucet), arrogant grin twitching at his lips as you milk him, as your service him—or, #2, his big hands in your hair, holding you firm, and your nails scratching down his legs as he fucks your face, his dick and balls covered in slobber, your chin dripping with it, too. adores the sneaking way of your hand, how it always ends up rubbing your clit, how you get off on the way he uses you.

grunts and loses himself in the confines of your mouth, but a gentleman at heart, so he holds your hair from obstructing your face as he tests the limits of your gag reflex. prefers to finish there, in your warm throat, but will paint your face if you want—if you ask. dirty, dirty girl, he'll laugh as he strokes himself over you.

a total asshole (tells you how good it is entirely throughout) (kisses you after) (cleans you up with gentle hands and kind eyes).

yuta okkotsu can't decide if he loves or hates the way you ogle his cock before you put it in your mouth. you do this every time, too—on your stomach between his legs, a cloudy haze to your pupils as you hold him by the base and give him a squeeze. he'll whine and buck into your hand, desperate and a rigid, pulsing mess, his cock head angry and begging to be licked.

the first time you ever blow him, he promises himself to be considerate and normal about it, to not relent to the base urge to breed and take, and he keeps a leash on the desires for most of the experience. he'll lean back on his elbows and digs his nails into his palms so he doesn't reach for your face and hair, and he'll gnaw hard on his lip when the need to fuck your mouth nearly overcomes his will, lips so flushed and cheeks splotchy, chest heaving.

but you gag. you gag around his aching cock and your throat convulses and flutters and he whimpers—it's so good—and he abandons his control and holds your head in place as his hips meet your chin, as you sputter and he comes embarassingly quickly inside your mouth. apologizes after, weak and abashed—sit on his face and he'll feel better.

SUGURU GETO really prefers your pussy—prefers the intimacy of it, the pleasure you both get to feel, the kisses and hugging and closeness of it all. but he won't refuse you and your blowjobs—not at all. concentrate your tongue on the head of his cock and cradle his balls and he's a goner. doesn't enjoy thrusting into your face or taking control. instead, he let's you take set the pace and take control.

will purr like a housecat if you praise him, how he tastes, how big it is—that does something for him. pulls you off his cock, hands under your arms, and slides you into his lap. cock nudging at your entrance, thumb wiping your messy face, blowjob disregarded—this happens more than it doesn't.

you can give satoru gojo a blowjob, but you'll have to earn it. frustratingly evasive and taunting, hands in your hand holding you back inches from his pretty, hard cock, his smile teasing. makes you beg for it—"come on, tell me how much you want this dick"—when he's feeling cruel. likes when you take it until his balls hit your chin, when two hands jerk his shaft and your lips wrap around the head, when he's overstimulated and flushed and begging for release—likes it period.

sometimes he'll have a hand on your chin and the other tugging at your scalp as he pounds into you, other times, he's sprawled back and watching through his lashes, his dick heavy on his thigh as you kiss up the hard length of it. expectant, lazy, hedonistic; you can suck him off since he's feel so nice, and, "make me come," he'll say, sucking his lip into his mouth, eyes rolling back.

white strands will stick to his forehead, a sheen of sweat coating his skin, and he'll just moan and fuck up into your lips like he needs to come like he needs air and that's how you know he's teetering on the edge, balls tightening as his arousal shoots against the roof of your mouth.

━ HC aftercare beats it all (18+)

( main!mark grayson x girl!human!reader )

HEADCANON: rough!mark grayson + his aftercare AUTHOR'S NOTE: hello this was based off this lovely request so kisses to whoever submitted that! my inbox is always open if any of you have ideas for main!mark hehe. all that i say warning-wise is that while it isn't non-con, the reader does get so uncomfortable that she has to use the safeword. aside from that, enjoy xoxo MDNI PUHLEASEEE

( the scene )

Lemme get something straight first and say that you using the safeword HAS NEVERRRR HAPPENED. Mark is excellent when it comes to using his superpowers for an advantage in bed, never for abuse.

He loves how he can manhandle you so easily or keep you in place exactly where he needs you to be. And he ALWAYS makes sure he's being careful with you- making sure he's not crushing you, making sure your expression in your face shows everything of pleasure and nothing of pain.

But...there was this one particular night that he'd fucked up.

It was after a shitty, rough mission. What should have been a simple in-and-out job turned into something torturous: hundreds of aliens plaguing the city with their psychic abilities- using mind control and hallucinations to turn one person on another. And the Guardians of the Globe weren't shy from these powers either. One of the aliens had sent Mark into an endless mind loop, showing images of the death of his loved ones and...you. By the time Mark had snapped out of it, he'd killed the alien in a blind-rage.

So, when he finally came home- your bedroom, he was all raw, shaken and barely holding it together. He was so desperate to ground himself in you, eager to let go of the headspace he was now put in.

Mark opened your window with trembling fingers, and when you eyed him up and down, his body told you everything that it was a rough fight.

Split lip, messy hair, blood on his jaw and that wild look in his eyes...

"Oh, Mark," You whisper, sympathy furrowing your brows as you grabbed his hand with tenderness and softness- a simple reminder that you were here and safe, "Why don't I run you a bath? And then we can eat ice-cream?" He was motionless. You frowned, "Or we can just cuddle?"

But, your words served no purpose in this moment because he was already releasing your hand off him and, with efficiency, he unshed his suit. With every inch of bruised and cut skin exposed to your orbs, he lowered and lowered more until...

Oh.

"Oh."

He was hard.

It's not the first time Mark's needed to fuck you after a fight or mission. In fact, it's probably the best sex you get- with all the pent-up frustration and adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he's gotta release it somewhere…

You could say it's the perks that come with having a superhero boyfriend

So, with no further questions, you let him take you as he pleases.

But this time it's...it doesn't feel right. Sure, he kissed you passionately as he backed you until you were sitting on the edge of your bed, and his hands were roaming every inch of your precious, delicate skin like he needed to make sure all parts of you were intact.

But, it just...it felt rushed and rough- there was not an ounce of praise slipping off his lips as it so easily does and if there were any words, it was-

"-Need you- fuck," He grumbled against your neck- your skin already trailed with deep, maroon-kissed hickeys. He had already pulled your pyjamas off, and you couldn't help but whine when you heard the tear of your favourite undies as he so effortlessly ripped them in half. Of course, they weren't anything expensive, but comfort beats labels- does it not? "Need you now, baby."

You'd hope that rubbing your arms up and down his biceps that pulsated with raging muscles and veins would have encouraged Mark to slow him down, "Mark, can you just- Mark!" You were cut off with a gasp at the harsh bite of his teeth on your skin- your soft, smooth, delicate fucking skin.

He. Fucking. Bit. You.

Mark never bit you. And sure, it didn't hurt enough for you to stop him, but God, were you gonna have a word with him.

So you had let it go, only to then choke again when Mark suddenly flipped you over so your stomach was resting on your bed. His calloused, large hands that usually reminded you of a flower's petals, or the bridge of a baby's nose now felt rough, harsh...unfamiliar.

You tried to push the feeling of discomfort that was arising away to the back of your brain, and better yet, bringing forward the phantom breathy moans of Mark's voice telling you how pretty you are and how you're doing so, so well for him amongst your racing mind.

But it wasn't until Mark brought your ass closer to him and he pushed your head down into the bed roughly and you actually couldn't move against his force did your heart begin to race, though not out of the usual excitement and arousal.

No, this was...this was panic- discomfort.

His cock was just grazing the entrance to your hole when you realised that he wasn't even going to stretch you, to prepare your walls for him, to...to even fucking please you.

So with a sharp inhale, you said it.

"Red!"

Once the word left your lips, Mark had stopped everything.

Let's just say that you using the safeword was the slap back to reality he didn’t know he needed.

He froze.

"Wait- what?" And when he flickered his eyes down to your face, screaming of seriousness and panic, he immediately took his hands off of you, "Baby- fuck," And he watched as you silently - definitely from the shock, not to ignore him - manoeuvred yourself so you could stand up and away from the bed.

And as he observed your figure with worried eyes while you walked around the room and picked up your pyjamas, he couldn't help but feel like his stomach just got punched worse than any villain ever could.

His voice changed immediately- from that deep, breathless edge to a broken concern, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

( the aftermath )

The aftermath was hard at first because aftercare was Mark's favourite part of sex, but clearly you weren't in a good headspace for that.

While he wanted nothing more than to curl his body around you, cuddling you until you fell asleep as he whispered his sorries, it's more important that you collected your feelings first.

So, the first thing he did was let you have your space.

You made him have a shower so you could sit in your bedroom by yourself- the one room that was your safe space now felt...ugh, it felt dull. And you hated that because all you wanted to do was shake whatever negative thoughts you had out of your brain, but you couldn't do that when your eyes wouldn't stop staring at your teared underwear on the floor.

You're not mad, nor upset at him- just frazzled at how uncomfortable and weird it was for you. It didn't feel like your boyfriend, your Mark.

Mark had the quickest shower he's ever had. Ignoring the aches his cuts winced against the hot water and soap, and his muscles whining with how efficiently he cleaned his dirty body- Mark was in and fucking out, not wasting any more of a second being away from you.

But, even after Mark got out of the shower and he frantically stumbled into your room with only a towel wrapped around his hips, you didn't look up at him- didn't want to.

And fuck, did it break his heart.

His baby, his sweet girl was like this because of him.

But, after you walked past him and began showering yourself, you did come eventually around. And thankfully, Mark was right there for you.

( the aftercare )

Cue Mark's aftercare!!

You just finished having your shower. And as you walked back into your room with wet hair and new pyjamas, you immediately noticed the difference in atmosphere in your bedroom; it didn't feel so sickeningly odd anymore, instead, it was oozing back into that familiar sense of safety and comfortability.

Your bedsheets were neatly fixed, and your bedroom lights had been flicked off, only the individual-lit candles circulating your room with warmth were the only lights provided for your eyes. There's a couple of sweets and snacks on your bedside table, along with a freshly filled water bottle (yes, it's got lots of ice too).

And Mark, now in sweats and a shirt he usually left at your place for emergencies like this, was just standing there...nervously.

"Is…is this okay?" He asked, immediately scratching the back of his neck, and if you really looked close enough you probably would've noticed the rosy-kissed blush spreading just below his jawline.

You tilted your head a little, examining the room just one last time before you attached your gaze back onto his. And, with a little smile, you nodded, "This is a start."

Mark sighed in relief.

Good. That's all that he needed so far.

Mark knew your weakness. He knew one of the many things that made you melt, made you feel at peace...

Warm blankets that were just fresh out of the dryer.

So as Mark wrapped said blanket around your body, he then sat on your bed with his chest against the headboard- and pulled you into his lap gently. It's so reverent, so incredibly warm as you rested your cheek against his covered chest, while one of his hands cradled your head and the other stroked your back.

With your ear pressed up against his chest, your heart was able to beat to the same rhythm as Mark's, only helping to relax you more to the natural white noise provided just for you.

Then, the questions came.

Mark's the type of guy to do that- don't tell me otherwise.

He just was so nervous- and with anxiety comes the constant need to be reassured.

So, he asked them one at a time with a frequency so gentle yet so eagerly that you could feel the faint vibrations of his voice pulsating through his body.

"Do you need anything else right now?"

"What size are you in underwear?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

...

"Should I leave? Do you want me to leave?"

You sighed heavily, "Just stay with me," You ushered in a delicate whisper. And with that, Mark let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He clutched you tighter- though still careful.

You spent the new few hours like this, with your favourite show playing low on your laptop in the background and the occasional shift to your positions.

But, one thing never faltered during it all- Mark never let you go.

He's reassuring- maybe too reassuring. "I'm not gonna stop checking in now, okay? I don't care if we've done it a million times- I'm still gonna ask. I'd rather annoy you than hurt you again."

DID I MENTION HE'S SO WARM AND BIG AND UGH.

And he won't slide it under the rug either. He explained thoroughly to you what those aliens did, but even when your head started to feel heavy with sympathy as you listened to him, Mark hushed you. "No, what happened to me from those aliens should never have been your body's responsibility to snap me out of it. I should've had more self-control to just...get over it, rather than putting it all on you."

And even days later, he still was on about it.

Mark would keep reminding you how much he valued your trust, even when you forgave him and softly reminded him that: "Hey, that's what safewords are for, right?"

Mark kept his promise about constantly checking in on you, because now when you have sex, he is fucking relentless with how much he asks if you're okay.

He's also slower, more communicative, and soooo so gentle the first few times you're intimate again.

Everytime you encouraged him to be a little more rougher, Mark would double...triple check to make sure you were okay about it.

"Are you sure you want me to be rougher?"

"Yes, baby,"

"No but- are you...sure sure?"

You sighed, your knees and arms wearing thin with exhaustion in your current doggy position because Mark was not shutting up- even with his cock buried inside you. So, you turned your head, and directed his right hand that was on your waist down a little lower so it rested on your ass cheek. "Mark. Please slap my ass."

"Shit- fuck, okay-"

ily mark

~

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙙𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙭. note: posted on archive

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐝

There’s a gash on her knee, and her panting seems to get heavy every large step she takes. Her knee is tumbling out of exhaustion but she can’t stop. Her nose is bleeding and yet she can’t wipe it off with her dirty clothing. Her screams are running hoarse however she can’t stop to catch her breath. Not when it’s around. Not when he watches. Not in this game of prey and predator

“Please- please! Stop!” The creature falls deaf to her pleas. He continued to tower over the girl. Messing with her mind, and making her deathly sick. She could feel her brain ache, her stomach gurgling out of dizziness. Her eardrums are blanking with a noise so piercing and irritating that tears well up in her eyes. She’s at her limit. She can’t take it anymore, her body is running out every option. It’s impossible to exert with her weak flesh and bones, her weak lung and her loud thumping heart. It’s impossible to keep sprinting and sprinting in this crowded, dark forest. It’s impossible to find a way out of this maze of scratchy pines and damp dirt. It’s impossible to keep on going.

She had admit defeat. This slender figure with a faceless head and deathly white skeletal body, has powered over her. The monster didn’t to seem to feel any fatigue. The monsters clothing recognizable as a humans suit, is flawless and clean. She could feel her dignity ruined and reared up, facing the behemoth. She could feel her humanity slip away from this degrading position, parallel to a lion and a deer. She prepared herself to be met with a strangle from the tentacles attached within his back. Or perhaps her head being severed immediately as he takes a bite. She prepare to see the end of her life. Moments and flashbacks run to her mind as she faces the demise coming forth. The silence and tension of her waiting the monster to get it over with, felt suffocating. It felt hours. Days of anticipation. But it was just responded with silence.

Finally, he rose his tentacle up. She squeezed her eyes shut and hold her breath, saving at least some parts of her to be safe. Clenching the ground earth, and pushing back into the stump of a tree. In seconds she will die soon and be faced with- the tentacle was around her thigh.

“What?” She stuttered. It felt slippery. The tendrils just seem to grope her flesh even harder as she says it.The creature looked at her, she can’t pick up any expression or social cue from the blankness of his face. Pure white, and stoic mess. Although, his body seems to get closer and closer, and closer. The tentacle finally left his grip on her leg, rather, traced to her face. It was wet. Smooth and uncanny feel to it. Out of nowhere, his skeletal skinny fingers now held her chin. Forcing her to face up the tall creature as her cheeks were being squished. She respond by wrapping her hands around his strange arms. And her body slowly losing tension. There was heat around her face. Why? She can’t put it together, but somehow she feels slightly attracted to this being. Mysterious, cunning. All-powerful. She was interested. It was as if all her morals were slipped away when facing such a monster, knowing how much control he has over her.

Accidentally, her tongue opened up. She licked the finger of the tall creature. Even if he didn’t had a face, he was stunned. Although, intrigued. He pushed a finger into her mouth. She choked out of surprise. His hands being already long enough to reach the back of her throat, caused her to spill saliva around her lips. She whimpered. It was too much, it was too intoxicating. His scent was driving her insane, driving her to become so deranged. Driving her to rummage with nasty thoughts. God, she felt so unclean. However it just kept on going against her wishes, and he seems to enjoy this pleading. Playing with her teeth and tongue, as she suckles more and more.

“Mmhm!” She is running out breath, now in a different way. Her legs starts squirming, and she could feel more tendrils coming up on her. They slide upon her skin, and her stomach. So close to her behind, so close to her inner thighs. Her shorts now slobbered with inky goo, and her shirt slowly falling as he kept on going. Suddenly, the creature stopped. His fingers now traced out of the mouth with trails of spit. He stands tall once more.

Good girl.

He uttered. She didn’t know it could speak. And she didn’t knew he was this playful. He opened his mouth, showing rows of sharp teeth and large dark tongue. He towered down and punctured her mouth with his tongue. She responded with her lips collaborating within his. She whimpers even more. Clenching his suit in response, and she could feel him lifting her up. She sat on thigh as he crouched down, and as she goes in more into the creatures mouth, she grinds herself on his sleek pants. Her breath is getting haggard, she can’t barely get oxygen as she make out. The tongue took all the space within her mouth, and she felt so full.

Good, good girl. It said telepathically. His praises just kept on plaguing her mind. She enjoys this even more, and fasten her speed on his thigh. His tentacles kept on going closer to her breasts and ass, tightly boding on her to skin. It ripped up her shorts, leaving with her panties. Then tore her shirt, exposing her top to the cold autumn air. The tentacles fondled and groped on to her tits, so warm compared to her skin. And she could feel his hands slowly rubbing her panties, tracing back and forth between the cloth and her clit. Her body twitches in response, allowing her hand to clench even more on his tie. The man picked her up, putting a stop to their tongues colliding. The tentacles wrapped all around her body, and put up her in the air. He then starts playing with her slit, and his tongue slowly tracing with spit on her panties.. She threw her head in pleasure.

“Mhm! Please.”

Be patient. I usually don’t play with my food.

She knew it was a threat, but it got her even wetter. She started moaning louder and louder. She never felt so good. Never felt so great compared to all her past experiences with men. It made her full, it pushed to the edge never then before, all the while her panties are move to the side of her thighs. She started tearing up from how much stimulation there is. Her naked body slithered with tentacles and her pussy being plunged with a wide thick tongue. Her body spasming out of pure hormones, wanting him to get harder and harder within her pussy. Want him to slide up and down, and grip her harder.

I never knew you humans were this deranged.

He can read thoughts. She gasp in surprise as he even went harder. Starting to hold onto the tendrils as her body gets even more heated up, even more wet and sweaty.

You really do enjoy this. Don’t you? Don’t you darling.

“Yes! Yes I do.”

She came undone onto the monsters tongue. Her head wailed back in response as she let out a high pitch whimper. Her legs kept on shaking and she could feel her arms pathetically grab on the monsters body, for some sort of grip. But as much as her tears fell down on her face, the monster kept on going. The monster kept on flicking his tongue back and forth, sliding down her slit.

“Ha- Wait, wait!”

What little girl?.

As she was about to respond, she choked onto her words. It was cut off as he deepened his mouth into her pussy. Enjoying how weak and frail she was compared to his actions.

“Please please!”

What do you want? Spit your words out.

“Too much! Please- ha- stop!”

The monster chuckled. No please would make the monster drop what he was doing. Although, he did stop, instead, his tentacles put her in a position against the tree bark making the girl face him. Her head was too foggy from what was happening, but she could tell what was next from the heat between them. Tilting to the side and her eyes rolling back to rebound from her orgasm, the monster had to forcefully grab her face to look at him. A grip so harsh she could feel her cheeks bruising, and her arms holding onto the tree.

I’m not done with you yet.

She whimpers, slobber coming out of her mouth. As much as the stimulation hurts her body, she was throbbing. She needed more even as much she couldn’t handle it. She wanted the monster to destroy her. To claim her and use her up. After years of pent up hormones and fantasies, she couldn’t resist.

So needy. You waited so long for this? You humans never fail to amaze me.

She forgot again that he could read her mind. He probably saw all the disgusting perverted dreams that she stored in her mind. From the multiple times she tried to pleasure herself to the times she hope for some being to ram her. He even saw the moment he had chased her and read all the thoughts ridden with a sick wish that he could fulfil it. He even chuckled more to this reveal. He had never saw a human asking to be broken. And throughout all his thousands of years, he wanted to play. Play with his food, something so rare coming out of the entity.

With that, his tentacles slowly withered onto her thighs, shoving them to open up more. While two more nailed onto her hands against the bark. He positioned himself near her crotch. The entity could feel the slick dripping down out of her slit, all while his pants rub onto her pussy. She moaned in return, begging for him to do something about her throbbing pain. As he does it more and more, she became louder, with that he quickly shoved his tentacles into her mouth. Muffling her whines and groans.

Noisy girl.

Soon enough, he finally took it out. She gasped even if his tentacles were choking her mouth. With no warning, he thrusted it in. It was too much, and he was wrecking her more by playing with her clit as well. Fondling her breasts with his large hands, and pounding her back and forth which deepened her skins more into the branches bark, scratching her and staining her with dirt. He finally let her throat to rest, and her loud panting and cries can now be heard and echoed into the forests.

“So much! So much! Ha- mhm!”

Pathetic.

”I’m gonna- mhm- I’m gonna!”

What is it. Say it. All I hear is gibberish.

“I’m gonna cum soon!”

Her pussy tightened around his inhumane dick. Her head bobbing up and down like an animal, and her eyes crossing up in the air. All she could muster out was whimpers and cries for more and more. All she could do was feel his thrust that were ramming her into a speed no human can take. And her breasts were covered in handprints that turned her skin into a different colour. All while her puffy clit sending waves of pleasure within her pussy. So much at once. So much to handle and feel. She was about to come all over the monster, a thousand year old entity that could kill her in a second if he wanted to.

You’re close.

”I am! Please let me!”

Go ahead darling.

She spasmed around his dick. Letting out a loud wail that scratched her throat, as her hands fuddled around every part of the monsters suit. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop thrusting her and playing with her clit. He didn’t stop gripping her tits and biting on them.

“What- no no! Too much! Please no more-“

You will be done with this when I’m done.

All she could do was let her saliva drool down on her neck and breasts. All she could is whimper out pleases and moans. All she could do is let him thrust more and more even with how much stimulation ride out her body. It was painful, but so, so good.

And she could feel his dick throb inside of her, with his guttural groans coming out of the monster. He was close as well. As much as she question whether or not if it was humanely possible, it didn’t matter to her. She wanted to be filled. She wanted his fluids to come out of her pussy when he was done. She wanted to be bred in ways that she fantasize for years.

You want me to fill you up huh?

“Please! Hm- Please!”

Pathetic, pathetic little girl. Begging for a monster to breed you? Don’t you have a little shame?

“No! no! I’m a pathetic bitch!”

That’s what I wanted to hear. Adorable precious little bitch.

The monster thrusts hard and harder as she grips even more onto his suit. She could feel her ears ringing with how much movement was on her. She could feel her tongue panting out to the monster, asking him to kiss her. The entity agreed, and he shoved his inky tongue into her throat making her unable to breathe.

Mine. You’re mine you got that?

“Uh huh- mhm!”

My human slave. You serve me. You’re going to serve me now.

“Yes! Yes sir!”

She cried out into the forests. Unwillingly knowing that she just signed a contract to the demon. Holding up a future for her to be someone to a boss of many, a leader of monsters, and a manipulative entity. But she didn’t care, all she wanted was her pussy to leak out the cum he was about to spill into her hole. She didn’t care, she just wanted his tongue to puncture the back of her throat even more. She didn’t care, she just wanted to be fucked so hard to the point where she was left shaking. She just didn’t care.

My good little girl.

And he finally thrusted into her for a last time. Cum filling up to the brim where it leaked out. Her legs twitched as she moan into a needy whine. Forever captive by this entity. Forever a food to play with and teased at.

“Thank- thank you for sir.”

Simon Riley who has a Daddy kink 🤧

Tags; Daddy kink/Rough sex/Afab

Imagine being in bed with this man, fucked so hard on the mattress you sleep that you can feel it up your very spine. All you can do is whine and whimper underneath Simon, who molds you into every position he loves you in. Never on your stomach, he needs to see that pretty face, has to hear you babble on about how he's too deep, how you're so close.

"Say my name, princess." Simon grunts, his balls slapping against the soft skin of your ass, his hands wrapped tightly around your knees as his cock buries itself deep inside your cunt.

"Mmmf–fuck, Daddy!" You squeal out when the head of his cock nudges a particular spongy spot that sends you shivering from your head, down to your curled up toes. Tears pricked the side of your eyes, threatening to roll down your flushed cheeks. You closed them only for a second, just a second.

"Good girl, taught ya well." Simon hissed, a dark edge to his voice as he plunged into you with near brutality, showing you no mercy but the mercy of pleasure. The wet sound of bodies clashing filled the air, mingling with your moans and the distant roll of thunder.

Your little whimpers and pleads were like music to his ears, fueling his carnal instincts. His large hands, rough from combat, yet delicate in their craft, maintained an iron grip on your knees as he moved—his eyes locked on the sight where you were joined—a sight that turned his blood into liquid fire.

"You can take it. I know you can." He demanded, his words heavy and hot against your feverish skin. "Open those eyes for me, now." Simon towers of over you, lips curling with dark delight.

ᴄᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ, ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʚ♡ɞ

Pairing: Lenless [No Goggles]!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Fucking fiiiilth, smut bitches!!!

Tags: Threats of violence including self harm, absolutely toxic behavior, reader matching his freak in the worst way

Word Count: 2,814

Inspiration: “None of Ur Friends Business” – Ginuwine

Synopsis: Your dangerously unhinged not-boyfriend threatens to “take care” of the friends of yours that keep trying to pull you away from him, and you are having none of it. literally a crazy stand-off

a/n: you know i had to jump on it after this anon message!! god he’s such a damn psychopath, need that 🤪

His hands are warm—too warm—palming your waist like he owns it. The soft press of his mouth against yours is hungry but practiced, like he’s done this in his head a thousand times and tonight he’s just filling in the details.

You’re trying to stay focused. Trying not to melt into him completely. But his knee is nudged between your thighs and your hands are fisted in his shirt and—God—he smells like the night. Wind and sweat and danger.

And he feels it. The shift.

Mark pulls back just barely, his breath brushing against your lips. “What?”

You blink up at him, chest rising and falling too fast. “I… I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He laughs—low, sharp, a little breathless. “You say that with your hands still on me.”

You pull back further, guilt blooming under your skin. “It’s not me. My friends… they don’t think I should be around you.”

Mark’s eyes flicker, and something inside them cracks. Not anger. Not surprise. Something worse. That slow, dangerous amusement he gets when he’s too far gone to care.

“Ohhh,” he says, sitting back on his heels, still straddling your legs. “Them.”

You shift, tugging the hem of your shirt down, suddenly too aware of how vulnerable you are underneath him.

“They think you’re… I don’t know, unstable,” you murmur. “That I’m not thinking straight when I’m with you.”

He tilts his head, watching you like you’re some kind of puzzle he’s already solved. “And are they wrong?” You hesitate. His grin widens. “Didn’t think so.”

“Mark…”

He leans down again, slower this time, arms caging you in as his voice drops to a whisper. “You think they know what this is? What we are?”

Your heart stutters. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your jaw. “They don’t get a say.”

“You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can.” His eyes meet yours. Calm. Controlled. Unsettling. “Because I don’t care what they think. And you don’t either, not really.”

You shake your head, but it’s weak. Your resistance is paper-thin and he knows it.

“They don’t know what it’s like when you look at me like that,” Mark mutters, voice velvet-dark, “like you want me and hate yourself for it.” You swallow hard, trying to find your footing in a conversation that’s already sinking fast.

“They’re just looking out for me,” you say, weaker than you mean to.

Mark hums, dragging his fingers up your thigh like he’s barely paying attention—which only makes it worse.

“Yeah? Then maybe they should spend less time worrying about you and more time fixing their own messes.” His tone is too casual. Too cutting.

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looks at you like it’s obvious. Like he’s been holding back and is just now getting bored of pretending.

“Let’s start with Lauren,” he says, like he’s choosing a weapon. “She’s real concerned about your well-being for someone who’s still sleeping with her ex behind her current boyfriend’s back.”

You freeze.

“And Maya?” He laughs under his breath. “She’s got a lot to say about how ‘toxic’ I am for a girl who gets blackout drunk just to forget she texts her therapist at 3am.”

“Mark—”

He leans in, grinning, like he’s telling you a secret. “They don’t care about you. They just don’t want you to have something they don’t have.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, voice dropping low and dangerous.

“Especially your girl Sadie.” His eyes are locked on yours now, completely still. “The way she looks at me?”

Your breath catches.

Mark's lips curve into something that’s almost a smirk, but there's something sharp underneath. “So obvious. Like she wants me to look at her the way I look at you. Like she’d lose her mind if I touched her the way I touch you.”

Your skin prickles. “You’re imagining things.”

He chuckles, and the sound is mean. “You really think I don’t notice? She doesn’t even breathe when I walk into a room. Like she’s hoping I’ll slip and touch her by accident.”

His fingers trail up your arm, slow and lazy. “But I won’t. You know why?”

You’re quiet.

He leans in, mouth just brushing your ear. “Because she’s not you.”

You shove at his chest—not hard, but sharp enough to get the message across. “You’re such an asshole.”

Mark barely moves. Just blinks, lazy and slow, like a cat watching its prey squirm.

“Yeah,” he says. “And?”

You sit up, untangling yourself from under him, heart pounding. “You don’t get to talk about them like that. They’re my friends, Mark.”

He watches you now, eyes darkening. The grin slips, just slightly.

“They’re hypocrites,” he says coolly. “They don’t like me because I don’t kiss ass and pretend I’m something I’m not. And you—” He leans in before you can react, voice low and dangerous. “—you like that about me.”

You flinch back. “You don’t know what I like.”

He scoffs. “Don’t I?”

His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist—not hard, not painful, but firm. Controlled. You freeze.

“That little act you pull?” he says, head tilting. “Like you’re just so confused, like you don’t know if this is right?” His thumb brushes your pulse. “It’s bullshit. You keep coming back. You let me touch you. You want me here.”

Your stomach flips, anger warring with the way your skin burns under his touch.

“I want you gone,” you whisper. He laughs again, and this time it’s ugly. Sharp and disbelieving.

“No, you don’t.” He shifts closer, crowding into your space again. “You’re mad because I said what you’re too scared to admit. That your friends aren’t saints. That Sadie wants me. That deep down, you love the fact that she can’t have me.”

“Mark—”

“You want me all to yourself. And you hate that you do.”

You yank your arm back. “You’re insane.”

He smiles. There’s no denial. No apology.

“You knew that when you let me in your bed.”

You stare at him, heart pounding, jaw clenched so tight it hurts.

“You’re sick,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You think this is normal?”

Mark doesn’t even blink.

“No,” he says easily. “But I think it’s honest.”

You push at him again, harder this time. He lets you—for now. You scramble off the bed, putting distance between you like that could somehow make this safer. Make him safer.

“I’m done,” you say, trying to sound stronger than you feel. “This was a mistake.” He tilts his head, eyes tracking your every move like he’s amused by the performance.

“I really don’t like how much they distract you,” he says, tone casual—too casual. “Your friends.” You go still. Mark’s gaze sharpens. “Always in your ear. Telling you what to think. What to feel. Pulling you away from me.”

“Don’t,” you say, voice rising. “Don’t go there—”

“I’m just saying,” he cuts in, standing now, slow and unbothered. “Maybe it’d be easier if they were gone.”

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Mark shrugs. “Just a thought. Clean slate. No distractions. Just you and me.”

Your mouth opens—no sound comes out. You swallow, steady yourself, and find your voice. “You don’t mean that,” you whisper. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

His smile is all teeth. “Why would I want to scare you?” He starts to cross the room toward you and you instinctively step back. “I like you,” he says softly. “I don’t want to scare you. I want to protect you. And if that means getting rid of people who are bad for you…”

He trails off, as if he’s genuinely thinking it over. “…then maybe it’s not that crazy.”

“If you touch a single hair on their heads,” you hiss, “I swear to God, you will never get to touch me again.”

Mark goes still for a second, like he’s processing that, weighing it. Then he scoffs. Loud. Dismissive. Cruel. “You think you can stop me?” he says, stepping forward with that wolfish grin. “If I want you—” His voice drops an octave, sickly sweet, almost a purr. “—I’ll just take you.”

And in one motion, without flinching, without breaking eye contact, your hand shoots out to your desk. The cold metal of the scissors hits your palm.

Mark’s smile falters as you lift them up, pressing the tip against your own throat. Just hard enough to leave a mark. Just long enough to make your point.

“I will literally end it right here,” you hiss, voice shaking with fury—not fear. “Do not fuck with me.”

Silence.

Heavy. Dense.

Mark stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize you. Like you just flipped some internal switch he didn’t know existed.

His chest rises, then falls—slow. Controlled.

“…Whoa,” he breathes.

You press the blade in just slightly deeper, enough to make his jaw clench.

“I’m not your little toy,” you snap. “You don’t own me. You don’t get to hurt the people I care about just because you’re obsessed with me.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” you spit. “You are absolutely obsessed. And I’ve let you get away with it because you’re hot and you kiss like you invented sin, but I swear to God, Mark—”

You jab the scissors toward him now, and he flinches. The grin is gone. He’s listening.

“You pull one more psycho stunt, and I’m gone. Not just gone—I will erase myself from your life so fast, it’ll make that little broken brain of yours crack in half.”

He blinks. Then runs a hand through his hair, pacing a little like he doesn’t know whether to be angry, aroused, or in awe.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

You lower the scissors, your voice cool and even.

“Takes one to know one.”

Mark just stares at you. Breathing hard. Jaw clenched. That frayed little thread of control he was holding onto? It’s gone. Burned up in the fire between you.

And you—you’re still gripping the scissors. Chest rising and falling like you just ran a marathon straight through hell.

“You are,” he says finally, voice low, wrecked. “So out of your fucking mind.”

You toss the scissors onto the desk with a loud clatter.

“Guess you finally met your match.”

He takes one slow, deliberate step toward you. Then another. Eyes locked on yours like he’s looking at the only thing in the world that makes sense anymore.

“You’d really do it,” he mutters, half-laughing. “You’d die just to spite me.”

You blink once. “And you’d kill for me.”

He stops right in front of you now, inches away. His smile is wild. Reverent.

“I’d kill for you,” he echoes, voice rough and quiet, “and you’d die just to spite me.”

A beat passes. Then another.

And it snaps.

He grabs your face with both hands like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, crashing his mouth into yours with zero hesitation—hungry, desperate, possessive. Like he’s been waiting forever to kiss you like this and now he’s afraid someone might take it away.

You kiss him back just as hard.

There’s no hesitation left. No doubts. Just teeth and hands and ragged breath, both of you pulling like you’ll tear the other apart. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, fisting in your shirt like he’s anchoring himself.

You gasp into his mouth, tugging at his hair, and he groans like it’s killing him.

“I need this,” he pants against your lips. “Right now.”

You nod, forehead against his, eyes burning.

“Then take it.”

That’s all he needs.

Mark doesn’t hesitate—his mouth crashes back onto yours like gravity just stopped working and you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. One hand fists in your hair while the other slides down, grabs the back of your thigh and lifts, walking you backward like he owns the floor you’re stepping on.

You’re on the bed in seconds. Breathless. Legs parting before you can think, just to feel him there, all heat and muscle and sharp, chaotic want.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, dragging his mouth down your throat. “You threaten me with scissors and then tell me to fuck you—what the hell is wrong with you?”

Your hands claw at his shirt, yanking it up over his head.

“I learned it from you, asshole.”

He laughs—dark and low, mouth brushing your collarbone. “Guess I’m a good influence after all.”

And then he’s everywhere.

His hands are rough, impatient, sliding under your shirt, dragging it up like he can’t get to your skin fast enough. Lips on your chest, your stomach, leaving bruises he wants you to see later. Mark is marking you—no pun intended—like it’s instinct, like he needs people to know whose you are the second they see you.

Your touching him back, his skin is hot under your hands—like he’s burning from the inside out, like if you peeled him open you’d find wildfire and want. His mouth doesn’t just kiss—it consumes, dragging over your skin like he’s trying to eat the memory of your friends, your doubts, your resistance. Like he wants to own every piece of you you’ve ever tried to keep from him.

You feel his smirk when you gasp, when your legs wrap tighter around his waist, dragging him closer. You’re not even sure who started it anymore. You can’t remember who kissed who first. Just that it was inevitable.

“You like this,” he growls against your throat, lips brushing just under your jaw as his fingers trail lower, dragging over your ribs like he’s memorizing them.

You try to sound strong. You try to bite it back.

But the sound you make when his hand slides between your legs? It’s not strong. It’s needy.

Mark fucking shudders.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re soaked.”

“Shut up,” you snap, flushed and breathless. He laughs, and the sound vibrates through you.

His mouth ghosts over your nipple, tongue flicking, teasing. He pulls your underwear down slow, smirking when you arch into him.

His teeth sink into your thigh, just enough to leave a mark, and he groans like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear you say that. And when he finally slides into you, it’s with a low, rough growl—like it takes everything in him not to lose it then and there.

You’re so full, so tight, so perfectly wrong for each other it makes your eyes roll back.

His hips grind deep, hard, like he’s trying to bury himself somewhere beneath your skin. He’s panting in your ear, messy and raw, fingers tangled in your hair while yours scratch down his spine hard enough to leave tracks.

He likes it. You can feel it in the way his pace stutters, the way he moans—raw and low and real.

“I could ruin you,” he gasps against your lips. “You know that?”

“You already did,” you breathe.

And that’s it. That’s when he snaps.

He grabs your thigh, hikes it higher, and slams into you with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The headboard cracks against the wall, but neither of you care. The room is nothing. The world is nothing.

Just this.

Just him.

Just you.

Your moans turn to sobs, his name ripped from your throat like a confession. “Harder,” you whisper against his neck.

He doesn’t hold back.

Your bodies move like war and worship—teeth clashing, breath tangling, sweat slicking your skin. Every thrust is a promise and a threat.

You moan his name and he mutters, “Say it again.”

“Mark—”

“Louder.”

“Mark—”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine.”

You don’t disagree.

He’s everywhere.

He’s everything.

And when you cum—shaking, gasping, half-crying—he watches you like he’s witnessing something holy. Like he’s the one being touched by God.

“Mine,” he pants, grinding deeper, chasing his own release. “You’re mine, you’re fucking mine—”

And when he finishes, it’s with a broken, desperate groan, spilling into you like he’s giving you a piece of his soul and doesn’t care what you do with it.

Breathless silence.

Only the sound of your heaving chests, sweaty limbs tangled, skin burning.

Mark buries his face in your neck. His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. “…You scare the shit out of me.”

You grin weakly, fingers threading through his hair. “Good.”

-------------

Part Two - Brunch Edition!