letthatsinkin1

[letthatsinkin1]

In A Rut (Monster!Hawks x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Keigo “Hawks” Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: You haven't seen your boss around the office in a while ever since he started feeling "under the weather", but when you decide to visit him one day to cheer him up with some soup, you realize that this isn't a normal spring cold. Your boss is in heat and you, his good little assistant, are the only one who can help him cure it.

Warnings: Monsterfucking; Monsterfucker!Reader; Mild Power Play; Boss x Assistant; Mild BDSM; MDom/fsub; Marking; Heat Symptoms; Hawks Has a Big ol’ Dick; Deepthroat; Cunnilingus; Sloppy, Rough Sex; Scent Play; Overstimulation; Ownership; Multiple Orgasms; Multiple Creampies; Multiple Positions; Cum Play; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Happy spring, y'all!! 💐💐🌼🌼🌻🌻 Fucking FINALLY winter & the cold is gone! Now that the weather is heating up, I wanted to write something about my favorite birdman suffering from heat. Enjoy! -Jazz

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You’re worried about Mr. Takami. 

Or “Hawks” as he’s told several of his employees, staff, and interns to call him around his agency time and time again. But as his personal assistant for over a year, you take respect and professionalism very seriously. 

Hawks is one of the most laidback bosses you’ve had in your professional career. He doesn’t make you fetch coffee unless you’re getting some for yourself, he’s flexible with deadlines, he lets you go home early despite the workload, and has all of his employees take off on Fridays…which he also pays for. 

Though it’s a nice change, you also can’t help but be wary of Hawks. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy. He is considerably nice––always greeting you in the mornings; checking up on you in the afternoons; letting you use his office when he isn’t in it, etc.

But he is also extremely cocky. It comes with the territory of being pro hero #2, you suppose, but the way he saunters into the office every Monday through Thursday in his designer clothes and Rolex watch always rubs you the wrong way. 

Not to mention he’s a humongous flirt. Your friend calls it being “overly friendly”. She also says he doesn’t flirt with any other woman at his agency like he does you. He always gives you those charming smiles that seem to irk you to no end and puts that flirty lilt in his voice when he speaks to you. Not to mention the constant compliments on your outfits and work that stick with you until the end of your shifts. 

Last week on Monday, the last day you saw him, was no different. You were sitting with your friend at your desk that morning, sipping on your iced coffee before the 9 AM meeting. Your friend was giving you the latest gossip on two employees hooking up in the stairwell during lunch last week when you both saw Hawks sauntering into the office. 

“Shh, shh!” she hushes you even though you didn’t say anything. She straightened up and smiled at your boss, bowing. “Good morning, Mr. Takami,” she chirps. The blonde, in his navy blue suit and red bottoms, gave you each a smile that lingered on you for too long. “Ladies,” he greets. 

You looked away, busying yourself by checking your email. “I’ve got your schedule and plans for today’s meeting for you,” your friend said, passing him a folder. “And your coffee, made by yours truly.” She nudged you, making you narrow your eyes at her. 

“Ah, thank you!” Hawks happily sighed. “And I told you before: just call me Hawks. I don’t need all of that ‘Mr’ shit.” His golden eyes then trailed down to you, his stare making you feel uncomfortable in your long-sleeve blouse. “Thank you, Ms. L/N,” he purrs. “See you at the meeting?” 

He gave you a wink, a hint at his joking manner, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was always picking on you like this. “I’m required to be there as your assistant so, yes,” you replied, blandly so.

He didn’t think anything of it. “Good,” he hummed happily. “I’ll need my right hand when I get tired of talking or my coffee doesn’t kick in fast enough. Carry on.” 

He gave you a flitting wink before walking off to his office for some time alone. Once gone, your friend fanned herself. “Oh, my God, he’s so fucking fine!” she groaned. You shushed her, hitting her arm. “Come on, his office is right there!” you hissed. “He might hear you!” 

“But isn’t he so fine?” your friend went on, ignoring your warning. “You have to admit that he’s fine!” You chose your words carefully, stirring your straw around in your coffee. “He’s…okay,” you weakly replied. “But he’s our boss! Whatever I think of him doesn’t matter.” At least you told yourself that. 

The meeting was about new anti-discrimination policies in workplaces and merging with UA High and Indeed to create a special job website for aspiring pro heroes and those with quirks. 

You sat across from Hawks and Rumi, his friend and co-owner of the agency, who sipped on her coffee free of cream and sugar. “Took you long enough,” she grumbled to Hawks. “What, you forget to fluff your feathers this mornin’ or somethin’?” 

You giggled to yourself at her joke before the meeting started. You met with Principal Nezu who happily bowed in front of the laptop personally set up to meet his eye level. “Good morning, everyone!” he exclaimed. “I appreciate all of you for your time today, including the Indeed associates, and for Hawks for allowing me to take you away from work for a moment. Now, Hawks, if you would like to share your opinion first?” 

The pro sat back in his chair, legs crossed and glasses perched on his eyes. You secretly liked it when he wore glasses. “I think it’s a perfect idea,” he said with a shrug. “As I’m sure all of you know, my agency is open to all new talent, whether they graduated from UA or not. We don’t discriminate against anyone with a particular quirk or education. As long as they are willing to learn, respect our rules, and participate in training, we will hire them.” 

“But what if the public has concerns about who we hire and whether they will be able to effectively do their jobs with no UA education or license?” one of the Indeed associates asked. Hawks smiled. “I’m glad you asked that.” He nodded at you, smiling warmly. “Y/N, would you mind answering this question? After all, it’s your wonderful brain that came out with such a well-thought-out plan for this.” 

Though you flushed at the compliment, you pushed those butterflies away and stood. “This agency is not new to the scrutiny of the public,” you explain, poised and calm. “Hawks and Nezu-san are proposing the opening of a new pro hero license program for those who cannot afford UA or are over the age of 18. This program would include…” You continued just as you rehearsed, not looking at Hawks who looked dead at you, almost as if he was staring through your clothes. 

When you finally finished, you sat and Nezu thanked you for your well-spoken words. “What is your opinion on that, Hawks?” he asked. The pro didn’t answer, too busy staring at you. Now his eyes were hooded and looked slightly sharper than they were before. You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat, mostly because of how warm his stare made you. 

“Hawks!” Rumi hisses in his ear. The blonde blinked, snapping out of it. “Huh?” he dumbly asked, looking up at the screen. “Are you alright?” Nezu worriedly asked. Everyone was staring at him, including you. He had never acted like this before. “Yeah, just…” He paused, clearing his throat as a flush appeared on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” 

Nezu repeated himself, asking for Hawks’ opinion on the internship program and when he’d prefer to announce it. “It is the spring already, but I believe the summer is when most of my student body will be looking to do internships,” he explained. 

You watched as Hawks’ eyes grew wide at the mention of spring, but he did his best to keep it lowkey. But you noticed. “U-Uh, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll do it in April.” You also noticed his body language for the rest of the meeting: his knee bouncing anxiously; his eyes flicking from yours to back at the screen or down at his papers; his cheeks flushed red. 

Was he sick? Was it the coffee you made? After the meeting, Rumi confronted him on it, grabbing his elbow. “Hey, what the hell happened in there?” she asked. “You looked like you were about to deck Y/N!” 

“I…sorry,” he huffed. “I just…” He paused, seeing you and his eyes roamed over your lower body in your pencil skirt. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he quickly replied before rushing off to his office. You followed him. You don’t know why you did. Maybe you felt obligated to do so as if his assistant. Maybe you just needed to make sure he was okay. 

So you knocked on his door, tentatively so. “Come in,” he raggedly said. You opened the door and automatically closed it behind you. Hawks leaned against his desk, his back to you, breathing concerningly hard like he just got off the treadmill. 

“Mr. Takami?” you questioned. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you walked farther into his spacious, high-rise office. “Hawks, is everything alright?” Hawks didn’t look at you as he spoke: “Y-Yeah,” he replied, still sounding winded. “What’s up?” 

You stood two feet away from him, afraid to get near. You didn’t want to spook him or cross any boundaries. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be writing a ‘thank you’ email on your behalf to Nezu-san and the Indeed associates,” you lied though you were planning on doing that anyway.

But Hawks shook his head. “Don’t bother. You did a good job today, Y/N.” His voice sounded so off. It was usually light and syrupy, but now it sounded deep and raspy. It did things to you. 

“Did I do something wrong?” you blurted, confused at his strange behavior. The blonde quickly shook his head, turning slightly towards you. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms and the feather tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. “No, no, of course not!” he protested. “I’m just…not feeling well.” 

“Well, you know you can always go home,” you said. “We can hold down the fort here like we always do.” Finally, Hawks turned around and you saw how flushed he looked, his cheeks a rouge hue. He gave a smile that felt too intimate. Too adoring. “Thank you,” he sighed. “That’s so like you. Always so professional. Always so sweet.” 

He took a step toward you and instinctively, you took a step back. “M-Mr. Takami?” you weakly asked. He continued to walk to you until you finally stood with your back to the wall, unable to escape him. His cologne clouded your senses, the scent of sweet and spicy invading your nostrils as he stopped in front of you. 

“Y/N,” he began, his voice breathlessly and soft. “I…” He stopped, raising his hand to touch you. And then he stopped, dropping his hand and using it to cover his mouth instead. “I-I’m sorry,” he muffingly said. “You should go. I don’t wanna get you sick.” 

Quickly, he reached beside you with his free hand and opened the door. The sound of chatter, coffee machines, and ringing phones smacked you back to reality. “You should go,” he said, his eyes willing you to do so. So you did and he shut the door in your face, leaving you feeling breathlessly and hot. 

That was over a week ago. After the work day, Hawks headed home and sent out a staff meeting the next morning about being out because of a “spring cold”, but he’d be back soon. “Soon” hasn’t come yet. You haven’t heard anything from him in days! 

It’s starting to worry you. A spring cold can’t last this long. Is it the flu? Is it something else? Plus, no one can seem to get in contact with him. What if something bad happened to him? 

These worrying thoughts swim in your head all week every time you see Hawks’ empty office. 

Finally, you reach your breaking point. You’re not going to call, text, or email him. You’re going to be a good assistant and instead, bring him something to let him know that you’re checking on him. Something to make him feel better. So on Friday, you leave work after your shift and stop by your favorite cafe to buy a bowl of their best chicken noodle soup.

You then drive to Hawks’ penthouse on the Upper East side of the city having kept his address to deliver things from work to his house if need be. When you park your car, you walk to the front door and click a button to buzz to his room. At first, nothing happens, so you press it again. Finally, on the third buzz, someone answers. 

“Yeah?” a deep, raspy, growly voice barks. It startles you. “Uh…I’m sorry, do I have the wrong room?” you ask. “I’m looking for Keigo Takami.” The other end of the line pauses and you think that they left. “Y/N?” they ask, sounding shocked. “Why are you here?” 

You blink at the speaker, shocked that this is your boss talking to you. Why does he sound like that? Is he that hoarse? “I came to give you some soup,” you say, suddenly shy. “I haven’t heard from you in days, so I bought this just to let up your spirits. That must be some cold.” 

You wait for a response, but when he never gives it to you, you begin to feel stupid. This was a mistake. “Well, I’m gonna go now, but I’ll give it to your doorman so he can–” 

“Don’t,” Hawks interrupts though he still sounds strained. “Come up.” You scowl in confusion, wondering if you misheard that, but then his doorman is meeting you at the front door to guide you to the elevator up to Hawks’ penthouse with the soup. 

You take the elevator up, your heart pounding and your hands shaking slightly as they hold the soup. You almost explode from your nerves when you finally make it upstairs and the doors open, revealing Hawks’ beautiful, luxurious, and empty penthouse with an included gameroom, private gym, balcony, pool, mini bar, and expensive-looking kitchen. But he is nowhere to be found. 

You walk further into the living room, your heels clicking across the hardwood floor. “Hawks?” you call. You don’t get any answer right away. The home is uncomfortably silent, making you feel paranoid. “Hawks!” you call again, louder this time. “Where are you?” 

“Upstairs!” he rasps from the staircase leading to the upper floor. “Don’t come up here!” He sounds so pained. In such agony. You place the soup on the counter, confused and worried. What’s going on? Why does he sound like he’s in trouble? 

Not listening at all to your boss’ warning, you slowly head up the steps, taking each tentative step further up in your heels. The hallway is dark when you finally make it upstairs, the only door open being the one at the end of the hallway. It is cracked and through it, you hear the sound of your boss’ soft pants and grunts of pain. Hawks’ bedroom. 

Though something inside of you is telling you to turn around, you persevere and walk towards the bedroom. Slowly, you push the door open, revealing a dark masterbedroom with drawn curtains blocking out the outside world. “Hawks?” you tentatively question. “It’s just me. I just came to–” 

“Go away!” he bellows from inside. “I told you not to come up here!” You jump, startled by the volume of his voice. He’s never yelled at you in such a way. You poke your head inside and gasp at the absolute mess of his bedroom: furniture askew; clothes and empty water bottles discarded on the floor; a rumbled mess of red sheets on the bed.

The smell in the air is thick with sweat and something else. Something tropical. Coconut oil? You look towards the king-sized bed where a heap sits hunched under the sheets which move up and down as it pants heavily. You thought it was just a pile of clothes at first, but no. There’s something under there. 

“Hawks?” you question, your voice wavering in fear. The strange heap stirs, reacting to your voice. It breathes raggedly, almost as if it can’t get enough air in its lungs. “Hawks, what’s going on?” you demand. “Tell me. I want to help you.” 

But he turns away, the sheets shifting as he does. “You can’t,” he whines. “You can’t.” Not being able to take how he sounds anymore, you storm over to the bed and snatch the sheets off of him. There, under the covers, you see your boss with your own two eyes. “H-Hawks?” you whisper. “Is that you?” 

You almost can’t believe it. He has gotten much bigger in the past couple of days since you’ve last seen him, his muscles almost bulging. His pecs are ridiculously big, his nipples hard and perky, and veins protrude from his forearms and hands. Speaking of hands, they barely resemble human hands anymore. Red feathers sprout from his skin and long, sharp talons have grown out of his fingernails like knives. 

When he looks at you, his face is flushed and his eyes are nothing more than red slits, those warm, golden irises gone. But all of those things aren’t even the most shocking to you. You are more shocked by the size of his wings. They have doubled in size, nearly taking up the entirety of the bed, and are red as the purest blood. His feathers shake and ruffle as if someone has run their fingers through them, disturbing their peace. 

He looks shocked to see you and then embarrassed. “I didn’t want you comin’ up here,” he pants. “Didn’t want you seein’ me like…this.” He shifts and sits up so the sheet falls off of him, revealing his naked body to you. He is flushed and coated in sweat all over his tan skin and toned muscles. Your eyes trail down his abs and V-line to his cock which is way too obvious to look away from. 

He is big and throbbing, the head a blush red and dripping in precum. One mouth-watering, angry vein trails from his shaft up to the head of his cock that twitches. Hawks winces, not looking like he is enjoying this at all. In fact, he looks like he’s in complete agony. You can’t be embarrassed or mortified by this when he looks so awful. “W-What happened to you?” you softly gasp. 

He covers his throbbing dick with the sheet, but it’s no use. You can still see it protruding from underneath it, creating an obvious tent. “I’m in heat,” he sighs. “It’s what us mammals go through around this time. A spring thing.”

He wipes the sweat off of his forehead, his blonde hair soaked in it. “That’s why I’ve been hiding,” he explains. “I’ve been here tryna get through this, but I just…can’t!” 

He grabs at his hair, running his hands through it. Now you understand it: his absence; the transformation; the smell of coconut oil in the air. You feel yourself blush, feeling hot in your clothes. All of this because he’s horny?

“How long does it last?” you curiously ask, but you’re not even sure you want to know. Hawks sighs, looking doomed. “Either a day or months depending on if my heat is satisfied.” 

“Months?” you gasp. “Are you in pain?” 

Hawks’ face screws up, triggering something in your core. “Terrible, baby,” he groans, wrapping a hand around his cock, his talons long enough to curl around the entire thing...and he’s at least 12 inches. “I can’t even sleep. I’ve been up for days, sweatin’ through my sheets and tryin’ to cum as many times as I can.” He releases himself and looks down at his hands, clenching them. “But my hands don’t do it for me anymore and I broke my fuckin’ toy.” 

He nods at the fleshlight you didn’t even notice lying near his nightstand, completely broken in half. He completely tore that pussy out the frame, you realize in shock. What the fuck could he do to a real one? “O-Oh,” you exhale. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, running his hand down his sweaty face. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N, really. I didn’t want anyone seein’ me like this.” He looks away from you, appearing so utterly humiliated and ashamed that it pains you. You find yourself not liking him like this: so utterly downtrodden and hopeless. “What can I do?” you blurt. 

He faces you, his slitted eyes widening. “What?” he gasps. “What do you–” 

“I wanna help you, Hawks,” you cut in, already taking off your cardigan to reveal your pretty, pink blouse underneath that you paired with a skirt. “What can I do to help you get through this?” 

He watches you, looking completely stunned and mortified, but his cock also twitches at the sight of your outfit. “No, no, baby, no,” he protests. “Y-You can’t…you don’t need to do this.” But you stand firm on your decision, refusing to leave him like this. “I know I don’t need to,” you firmly respond. “I want to. Just look at you! I can’t let you go on like this.” 

Hawks still doesn’t move, but his cock begins to leak pre for you, dripping down his thick thighs and onto the mattress. The sight is so lewd but so arousing, making your pussy throb indeciently in your panties. You shouldn’t be doing this. There are so many consequences you could face from this…but you also find that you don’t care right now. “Let me help you, Hawks,” you whisper. “Just tell me what I need to do to help you. I’m your assistant, after all.” 

A fire explodes behind Hawks’ eyes, lit with lust and need. A low growl leaves his chest and you find that he has fangs in his mouth. The sight scares and thrills you. “You wanna help me?” he asks in his low, deep voice. “Then take off your clothes.” 

You swallow hard, feeling like you just dry-swallowed a gigantic pill. You start with your blouse, your painted fingernails teasing the buttons before you begin to pop them open one by one. You expose your lacy bra to him, one of your favorites because of how it makes your breasts look: pretty, juicy, and appetizing with the lace trim of the cups adorning them. 

You peel off the blouse and let it fall to your feet. Hawks barely notices it, too busy staring dead at your chest. He slowly begins to pump his cock with his hand, lewd, wet sounds of his pre and coconut oil acting as lubricants drifting to your ears. Under his laser-eyed gaze, you feel like an animal being watched behind a cage. A specimen. It makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, but also hot and bothered to see that you’re affecting him so deeply. 

You then move to your skirt and begin to unzip it, but Hawks puts a hand out to stop you. “Slowly, mama,” he raggedly says. “Don’t rush this.” Biting your lip, you slowly drag the zipper down and then slide the skirt off of your waist, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. You go to take off your stockings and heels, but he stops you. “Leave ‘em on,” he demands. 

So you stand there, arms at your sides and trembling like a leaf. “Turn around,” he orders, his pink lips parted as he continues to fuck his hand nice and slow. You listen and turn, exposing your ass to him. “Ah, shit,” he hisses, soft pants leaving his lips. “I knew you had a nice ass.” 

You bite your lip, feeling your pussy flutter and throb impatiently. “Sit on the bed and bend over for me,” he orders. “I’m not gonna touch you. I just wanna see you rub that pussy for me, okay?” 

You turn around, staring down at your shoes. “Yes, sir,” you whisper and flush at your words. They just came out of you, as naturally as breathing. 

Hawks shudders, affected by your reply. “Such a good girl,” he sighs dreamily. “I’ll definitely take that over just ‘Hawks’ right now. But ‘Keigo’ works too.” Your face grows hot with a blush, having never referred to him by his first name before. Not wanting to waste his time, you slowly get on the bed and face away from him, your feet tucked under your butt. 

Then you bend over for him, your back arched. “Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, softly panting and the move bouncing slightly from his ministrations on himself. “Pull those panties to the side, baby. Let me see you.” Biting your lip so hard that you’re sure to draw blood, you pull the thin strip of cotton covering your sodden, wet, puffy pussy to the side and expose all of you to him. 

Hawks shudderingly moans at the sight of the wet strand of your arousal connected from your pussy lips to your panties. “God, mama,” he groans. “You have the prettiest pussy. Look how wet you are!” He growls once more, sounding so much like an animal. “You like what you’re doin’ to me?” You can tell he’s started to stroke himself harder, faster, his pants and heavy breaths becoming more intense. “Keigo,” you softly whimper. 

You’ve never been this horny before. Your pussy is about to slide off the bone with how wet it is. 

“That’s right, say my name,” he groans. “Play with your pussy, baby. Don’t let me do this alone.” 

So you do. You sneak your hand down your ass, teasing him before you begin to rub your cunt for him in time with his strokes. A weak moan leaves your lips as you rub your clit in tiny, firm circles, your ministrations impassioned by the sounds leaving Hawks’ lips. He sounds so desperate. So slutty as he pumps his cock, imagining that he’s doing so to your pretty, little pussy. “So fuckin’ cute,” he says, agonized at your beauty and sexiness. “How the fuck are you this adorable?” 

You want to look back and see him, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t want to be watched, so you instead close your eyes and drift away at the sounds of his moans and his lubed cock fucking his hand, making the bed bounce slightly underneath you. You imagine that he’s fucking you like that, his big hands gripping your ass and talons digging into the fleshy part of your ass cheeks. You can almost feel his cock stretching you out, pumping you full again and again as he uses you, doing his best to not break you like he did his fleshlight. 

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “K-Keigo!” you whine. “Fuck, I’m about to cum!” Hawks groans at your warning, happy to hear this. “Uh-huh,” he pants. “Do it for me, baby. Cum all over those fingers for me.” 

And you do. You rub and flick your clit until it can’t take any more stimulation and explodes all over your hand. Your sweet moans of release push Hawks over the edge. “Fuck!” he bellows, his voice bouncing off of the walls as he cums in his hand, shooting warm cum all over his thighs and stomach. Your moans and whines mix with one another, creating a symphony of pleasure as you both cum together. 

When the high of your orgasms finally fades, you both sit there for a moment, panting and sitting in the reality of your situation. “I…I’m sorry,” Hawks awkwardly huffs.

You don’t answer, unsure of what to say until you turn around and find that he’s still hard. “Keigo!” you gasp. “Y-You’re still–” 

“I know,” he sighs, frustration evident in his handsome face. “Like I said, my hands ain’t doin’ it for me at this point. I need more.”

His slitted eyes, red as crimson blood, narrow at you, a deeper meaning in his words. You gulp, weighing your options but only briefly. You realize you’re thinking more with your pussy than with your head, but the curiosity of feeling Hawks’ wings wrapped around you while he fucks you is too tempting. 

“Keigo, it’s okay,” you softly purr, putting a hand on his thigh. He flinches as if your touch burns him. “We can do more if you need it.” You then dip your fingers between your thighs and come back with them dripping in your cum. His cock twitches at the sight, but he doesn’t have to imagine how you taste for too long. 

You lean forward and put your fingers to his lips. “Use me,” you say, a plea in your voice. “I’m all yours.”

Right then, something in Hawks snaps the moment he wraps his lips around your fingers and greedily sucks your cum off of them. He is no longer entirely human, his animal instincts taking over. He snatches you up and places you in his lap, emitting a small gasp from you at being yanked up so forcefully. “Just tell me ‘no’ if you want me to stop,” he orders. “And tap my thigh three times if I got my cock in that mouth. Understand me?” 

Unable to reply, you wordlessly nod. That’s enough for him. Immediately, he’s on you, pressing a rough yet passionate kiss to your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip and swirling his tongue with yours. His kiss is brutal yet hot; forceful yet careful as he wraps you up in his arms and soft wings. It’s the best kiss you’ve had in your life. 

And the sex he gives you by far trumps all of the other bedroom adventures you’ve had. You’re so glad he gave you a non-verbal safety precaution because Hawks takes the “use” thing literally when he finally gets his dick down your throat. He is as big and thick as he looks, your fingers barely being able to wrap around his girty, throbbing shaft. 

You have to cover his cock in copious amounts of spit and coconut oil just to make it easier to stroke him, Hawks’ crimson, lustful eyes and soft moans encouraging you. “That’s it, baby bird,” he growls, one clawed hand in your hair. “Take me nice and easy.” Though he allows you to slowly take his cock down your throat, it doesn’t do much to ease the stretch of your jaw. 

Unfortunately for you, Hawks’ heat gets the best of him and his impatience rises, making your time to adjust to his size shorter. When he grabs your hair and begins to fuck your face, you have no choice but to take it. He shoves his cock so deep down your throat that your eyes burn with tears and embarrassing, wet gagging sounds leave your mouth as you gurgle around his cock that throbs and pulses in your mouth. 

“Thaaat’s my girl,” Hawks grunts, staring down at you throating his dick. “You’re takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird, y’know. You could make this a profession if workin’ as an assistant don’t work out.” He takes his cock out and taps it against your tongue, loving how slutty you look for him with your tongue hanging out and makeup a mess. 

“Or you could add this to your duties of bein’ my little assistant,” he hums, smearing his cockhead across your plump lips. “You could fetch my coffee and take this dick over my desk every workday. How would that sound?” He doesn’t allow you to answer as he grabs you again and forces you down onto his cock, groaning at how amazing your wet tongue and soft mouth feel. “God!” he groans. “I hope your pussy is this fuckin’ tight.” 

His curiosity gets the best of him. After a few minutes of fucking your throat like it’s a toy, he pulls out with a moan, giving you heart eyes at the image of your messy hair and sloppy mouth dripping in spit. He holds your face in his big hands, his talons gently caressing your cheeks. “On your back,” he orders. You must go too slow for him because he tosses you down onto your backside himself and quickly ducks between your thighs, his big, feathered hands parting them. 

“K-Keigo,” you stammer, but that’s all you can get out before he’s cutting the waistband of your panties off with his teeth and sliding his big, fat, wet tongue all over your slit.

All words cease to exist as pleasure washes over you which only builds the more his tongue swirls against your clit and inside of you. Your eyes widen and your hands dig into the skin of his muscular back that flexes as he dips his head low to eat you out. His soft wings caress your skin as they wrap around you, making you feel like you’re being pampered from all ends. 

Hawks knows how to run his mouth, but also knows how to work it. His tongue moves magically inside of you, slurping up your juices as his nose and soft lips bump against your clit. You grind your hips up into him, meeting his tongue thrusts while his talons dig into the fleshy parts of your ass.

You can’t keep quiet, too enveloped in the ecstasy you’re feeling. “God, yes, Keigo!” you whine, bucking your hips up. “That feels so fuckin’ good! Keep going, please, ooooh, shit!” 

Hawks gladly takes all of those lovely sounds, moaning into your cunt. He is a rapid, ravenous animal, slurping up your pussy like he’s yearning for it. “So good,” he whines into your clit. “So fuckin’ good.” 

Your orgasm comes rather quickly, that knot in your core threatening to snap as he continues to work his tongue in and out of you. “Fuck, Kei!” you sob. “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum! Please let me cum, sir please!” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Keigo hums, sucking gently on your pussy lips. “Do it for me, baby bird. Cum all over my fucking face.” He goes back to eating you out, moving his tongue against that little spot up and inside of you that makes you see stars. “Do it,” he growls in his deep, gravelly voice. “Fuckin’ cum for me. Give it to me now!” 

A scream erupts from you–”Oh, shit!”–as you explode all over Hawks’ tongue. He moans in release with you as he slurps and laps you up, drinking in all that give him while you buck and writhe under his hands. Even when the orgasm high fades, he doesn’t stop. He continues to eat you out even as your pussy and body twitches. “O-Okay, Hawks,” you stammer. “Please, ah, please stop. I-I can’t…oh, my God!” 

Tears prick your eyes as the agonizing pleasure continues, swallowing you whole. His crimson eyes stare up into yours between your thighs, loving how desperate and pathetically horny you look as you writhe against his tongue. But as good as you taste, he needs to know how you feel. So he hikes himself up on top of you, his big body covering your smaller one, and his wings creating a curtain around you. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you, baby,” he pants. “I need to fuck you now and when I do, I ain’t gonna be nice. I need to cum as many times as it takes to ease this heat and that could be hours. You sure you’re okay with that?” Despite his obvious need, he is holding back, his cock throbbing against your thigh. 

Knowing that, you nod and press a kiss to his lips. “Yes, Keigo,” you purr. “I want this too.” You give him a smile, pretty and seductive. “So fuck me.”

The pro doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts by fucking you on your back, your knees tucked up into your chest. You’re happy for the lubricant and orgasm because it is a stretch. His cock stretches your pussy out in a way it didn’t do to your jaw, making your mouth go slack and your eyes widen. “Relax, mama,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your face while he rubs your clit. “You’re doin’ so well takin’ me.” 

After a few minutes of adjusting and slow strokes, Hawks feels you relax around him and finally begins to pound you like he needs to. He fucks you into the mattress that shakes and bounces beneath you, making your tits bounce in time with his thrusts. Each pump of his thick cock sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body as your soft, spongy pussy walls stretch and mold into his shape. 

“O-Oh, my God!” you cry, grasping his shoulders as he takes you straight to poundtown. “Fuck, Keigo, yes, baby! Fuck me just like that!” 

The winged pro grips your thighs and pins them down to the bed, giving you a stretch that yoga couldn’t even do. “Just like that?” he teasingly asks, smirking down at you. “Look at you takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird. Bet you couldn’t wait for your boss to fuck you, huh?” 

You whine in response, earning a tongue shoved in your mouth as Hawks gives you a wet French kiss while he pounds into you. He nuzzles his nose into your neck next, covering himself in your scent and you in his.

You’re so deep in the pleasure that you don’t even realize that Hawks’ feathers, sharpened to the touch, cut off your bra until you feel the cool air on your nipples and then pleasure as he stimulates them with his feathers. 

When he begins to get closer, his crimson eyes glow red and the black rimming his eyes grows sharper like a hawk’s. You feel scared yet aroused at the same time, your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Gonna fill you up. Want you to fuckin’ cum with me too!” 

“Fuck, Hawks!” you whine, tossing your head back against the pillow. Your second orgasm erupts and sends you on a trip while Keigo fucks you like he’s trying to hit a home run. When he cums, he does so with an animalistic grunt and grips your hips so hard that they bruise. He tosses his blonde hair back, every muscle in his body tense from the pleasure. You gasp as he fills you up with his cum, feeling warmth flooding inside of you. It feels good to be full, you realize. 

But even when the orgasm fades and he has successfully filled you up, Hawks looks down at you with an increased level of need and lust that shakes you. “I ain’t done with you yet,” he growls. 

And he’s not. He fucks you in every single position imaginable. He fucks you doggy style, his cock pumping into you again and again while he yanks on your hair and dirty talks in your ear.

“You my little slut?” he pants, his hand grabbing and smacking your ass. “You love gettin’ fucked by me? You love this number 2 pro hero dick, don’t you, baby?” You can only whine in response, words and logical thoughts completely gone as he turns your pussy into mush. 

He fucks you on your side, his big body spooning yours and red wings wrapped around you as his throbbing cock drives inside of you. In this position, it’s easier to rub your clit and tilt your head back to kiss him, the two of you sharing breath as you hotly pant and moan into each other’s mouths. 

He fucks you with your head hanging off the bed and your leg pinned up to get a better angle at your G-spot and to drive himself deeper into you. 

He fucks you in mating press, his feet on the bed as he mounts you and drives himself inside of you like he’s trying hard to breed you. 

He fucks you in full nelson. 

In prone bone, his hands massaging your ass. 

While standing up, you bouncing like a cute little fuck bunny in his arms on his dick. 

From the bottom while you ride him, both from the front and the back, his hands groping your bouncing tits and jiggling ass. 

“Mine,” he growls to you in every position known to bed that he puts you in. “You’re fuckin’ mine, baby bird. Only mine.” 

And in every single position, he makes you and himself cum. He seems to always know how to trigger your orgasm so you cum again and again. He then uses your tight walls to chase his orgasms, cumming inside of you and filling up over and over again. He makes you sweat out your hair and your makeup, making you look like the sexiest Goddess to him as you take his cock like it’s your job. 

By the time he finally finishes, hours have passed and you are spent. Your body aches. You are wet with sweat and cum. Your pussy twitches and is sloppy with his and your cum mixed together, all of it dripping down your thighs and through the crack of your ass. 

Hawks, finally back to his normal self, lies down next to you and snuggles you into his chest. “Thank you for doin’ that,” he sighs, pecking you on the forehead. “You did so, so well for me, honey. I hope a dinner date can make up for that workout.” 

You only mewl tiredly in response, but you wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. He chuckles, the sound pleasant to your ear pressed against his heart. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighs.

And then you sleep, satisfied and comfortable finally. 

THE END. 

[letthatsinkin1]

Diavolo is a pervert, although no one dares say it out loud, nor do they actually believe their beloved future king is secretly hiding a human kink under the "exchange program" excuse. it's all lies to get close to the pretty human who just arrived, like a little prey before his eyes, you're just to cute for your own good. and Diavolo cant help but imagine how good you'll look bent over and taking his demon cock, he'll fill you up nice and good until all you think about is him.

[letthatsinkin1]

Jason Todd has a raging size kink. He tries not to make it too obvious in public, tries to pretend that he doesn't notice how standing next to you really highlights just how large he really is. But it's always on his mind, always front and center, even when he doesn't want it to be.

He'll have a hand on your back as he ushers you through crowded parts of Gotham, trying not to think about how large his hands are and how one of them can cup an entire asscheek when he's fucking you.

He grabs things off of tall shelves at grocery stores when you can't reach them. Comes up behind you and picks them up with ease while he's pressed into you from behind. He's peering down at you, a soft grin on his face as he thinks about you on your knees, struggling to take him in your mouth.

When you're playing twister at a Wayne family function, and you end up falling on each other during a wrong move, he watches you break out into a fit of laughs while he turns red in the face. Not from embarrassment, he couldn't care less about that, but because the first thought that popped into his head as you were pinned under him was how much he wished you could stay there.

For a split second, an image is projected into his mind of you squirming beneath him as he puts all of his weight on you. All 200+ pounds keeping you firmly in place as he fucks you good and deep just how you like.

He's scrambling to get off of you now; a shade of crimson akin to the one he dons at night colors the visible parts of his body, and he clears his throat awkwardly as he helps you to your feet.

"In hindsight, he should've played with one of us," Dick says from the couch. He's gesturing toward you when he continues, "he's just too big in comparison. Throw's everything off."

Jason doesn't hear the second part. His ears start ringing the moment he's reminded that everyone else is aware of how big he is next to you, and he's very quickly calculating how many more rounds of twister he has to go before the two of you can politely duck out and head home for a more...intimate version of the game.

[letthatsinkin1]

Wild flowers.

Part One.

monster!könig x reader.

The sun illuminated the quiet hillside like a stunning oil painting. You stirred awake as the beams of light slipped past your thin curtains. Yawning, you sat up in your bed. Waking up early was exciting today because it was finally time to harvest your crops. You quickly put on a floral sundress and a pair of sandals. Pulling on your gardening hat, you practically skipped outside, moving to the back of your quaint cabin. The wind nipped at your skin but the sun shooed it away with its warm rays. Your chest rose slowly as you took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air. You redirected your attention to the flourishing plants and a smile snuck onto your face.

You carefully tended to your crops, clipping off ripe fruits and veggies as you leaned over your developed plot. Gentle, melodic hums escaped your mouth as you tossed the produce into your woven basket, the birds singing with you. It was such a beautiful morning, but to König, you were the most beautiful.

In the camouflage of the woods he watched you through the foliage, panting. The sound of your soft music gave him goosebumps, his furred tail whacking against poor trees that concealed him. König was a victim of secret experiments when he was in the military. The underground organization subjected him to a series of operations, changing his DNA in a remarkable scientific feat. But what was supposed to be dog-like enhancements for battle, resulted in an uncontrollable lycan. König tore through the illegal facility shortly after he was deemed “ready” to be a weapon. Since that day he roamed the mountain side, hunting like an average wolf. Nothing resembling benignity was inside him, he was simply a wild beast. Until he found you. Humanity struck him the first time he spotted you foraging in the woods. In that moment his heart began to beat again, for you. Since then, he’s been keeping a watchful eye on you. Your life is peaceful and he likes to believe he is the cause of it.

Your focus on your activity was light until you heard a loud hiss. Startled, you look down to see an aggravated snake. You jump to your feet and wearily create space between you and the reptile. There was no way you were going to pick the thing up, but you also couldn't leave it here to eat your plants or mess up the roots. You kept your eyes on the snake until a shadow was casted upon you. From your left, a large hand comes down to grab the rowdy snake. It’s thrown deep into the woods and the threat is diminished. A small ping of relief fills in you until you realize. What the fuck just grabbed the snake?

Your neck cranes up to see a drooling König, his chest heaving. Your heart drops and you’re stuck in place. König stands at a firm 6'10”, dwarfing anyone's height. Wolf-like ears stick out from his short hair that was tangled with twigs and dirt. He wore a battered t-shirt, stained with what you believed to be blood and soil. He looked terrifying even as his tail swung behind him through his ripped up pants. He was delighted to finally be face to face with you. The way your face was illuminated as a gorgeous golden brown by the sun made his heart flutter like never before, even if you were also cowering in fear.

Your legs twitch as if begging you to run. So just then, you did. You turn and bolt into the forest, running faster than you knew you could. The beast was hot on your heels, easily catching up to your sprint. You kept up for as long as you could before your face harshly met the rough soil. König lingered above you, keeping your body pinned to the ground. Helpless whines escape your mouth as you assume this is your death day. You can hear his deep, shaky breaths as his body covers yours. At your side you catch a view of his huge hands and murderous claws. Your breath hitches and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the fatal blow. But it never came. Instead, König lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Filled with a burst of bravery, you beat on his back and screamed at him to let you go. Opening your eyes, you gulp as you see how high up you were from the woods’ floor. He carried you back to your cottage quickly, not responding to any of your protests. He followed your scent as he pushed your front door open, accidentally breaking a hinge. He gently places you on your bed, the action a stark contrast to his appearance. He stands at the foot of your bed and you notice how he barely fits into your house. He has to bend his neck to keep his head from hitting your ceiling.

When he catches the shimmer of your sweet tears, something wakes within him. Feelings along the lines of sympathy and lust. His eyes reflect what he is feeling too easily, he is truly an open book. You remain on your bed, trembling from being subject to his gaze that is desperately trying to undress you. The silence breaks when his hand twitches, reaching towards you. You whimper, still assuming the worst. As much as he enjoys the tempting sounds, he knows he doesn’t want you to feel this way. His large fur-covered frame lets out a low growl and with the same speed he used to catch you moments before, he leaves your house. The sun was still kind and warm as you were left breathless and stunned from the freakish encounter.

Hello! This is my first story, i hope you enjoy. I am open to constructive criticism. :)

[letthatsinkin1]

⤷‧₊˚ could you imagine having a wet dream about your hot neighbor?

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, written with black reader in mind, pet names (good girl), oral fixation, oral (f.receiving), dirty talk, biting kink, backshots/doggystyle position, spanking, anal play (i mean he put a thumb in it that's it), marking kink, profanity, i think we should write smut about men in explicit mangas some more, mentions of a wet dream, wet dream is in italics, slight pervert!reader, repost from old account, mdni

You couldn't help but stare at him when you saw him. You remembered how your eyes lit up with curiosity seeing him move into the apartment next to yours. An apartment with many tenants who moved in and soon quickly moved out. A rumor traveled around that a ghost resided in that apartment, but you never cared to gossip about said rumor. You just went to work and came home. It was a sad cycle that you’ve done Monday through Friday. Occasionally when you would be leaving for work, you'd see him. The bags under his eyes are as heavy as he’s taking his trash out to put into the apartment’s trash bin. His whole demeanor oozed sex appeal even though he would be the type of man your parents would usher you to stay away from. 

He was a handsome man, and when you laid down to sleep, you only seethed in jealousy, hearing faint moans through the thin walls. A regular neighbor would march over and bang on the door to tell their neighbor to keep it down—but with you, it felt like your body was stuck. You stared at the ceiling indulging in the sound of the way he pleasured this woman. That jealous pit twists in your stomach, realizing that you have most likely been crushing on a taken man this whole time. But it didn’t make sense, you hadn’t seen a woman enter or exit his place when you were around. Either or, you still thought that it should have been you to have the privilege of cooing out his name the way this woman was. 

You could do better. You know you can. 

You may have been in a significant drought, but you were positive your plush lips could kiss him better. Your mouth could wrap around his cock better. You could move your hips while riding him better. But then again, this woman had to have something you didn’t if he was making her feel like this every night. 

You took your pillow over your head to scream into it. The heated feeling between your thighs caused you to roll over on your side to force yourself to sleep. You were only torturing yourself by continuing to be a pervert and listening to him pleasure another woman. Before you could utter a string of complaints to yourself, your body finally relaxed for you to fall into a deep slumber—a poor attempt at ignoring the walls through the paper-thin walls. 

Your body stirred in your sleep as you felt something under the thin lilac-colored duvet that covered your body. You felt something wet upon your thighs as if somebody was nibbling on the flesh on the inside area of your thighs. You attempted to squirm tiredly, but the grip upon you grew tighter. With your hand rubbing the sleep out of your eye, you lifted the duvet, and your eyes nearly bulged out your head seeing him. His eyes filled with so much hunger it sent a chill down your spine. With the oversized t-shirt you usually sleep in pushed up to your waist, you watched as the flat of his tongue glided upward and downward on the clothed part of where your pussy lips were. Even though your underwear was blocking the pleasure feeling of his tongue—you still felt yourself grow wet at the feeling. 

Your next-door neighbor Totsumoto Yuushi didn’t waste any time dragging your fusion-colored panties down your smooth legs to get a taste of you. The flat of his tongue dragged across your puffy pussy lips just to finally relinquish in the taste of you. His darkened eyes met with yours through the little light that shimmered through the window from the moon. You relaxed in his touch as soon as you felt the first flicker on your clit. Your breathing hitches in your throat before you cough up moans and your fingers tangle into his black hair. Before your eyes lolly in the back of your head, the last glimpse you got was of Totsumoto’s eyes shifting close as he finally wanted to focus on his main task. 

Totsumoto’s tongue glides around the entrance of your drooling cunt, and he even could feel you clench, feeling him teasing you. Your thighs were seizing close due to the intense feeling of him between your thighs, but he just pinned them back open. You even heard him moan as he continued to eat his meal. He didn’t leave a drop of slick for him not to savor. The blood rushing to his cock with each kitten lick he’s making on your pussy or each flicker and suck on your sensitive bud. Your juices stained his face, but he could care less when it was a mouthwatering meal right before him. 

Your body arched off the mattress as you failed to run away from your pending orgasm. Your stomach began to form the most satisfying knots for Totsumoto to untie, but he pulled it away. He shortly let his lips drag kisses and bites on the inside of your thighs. He removed himself away from your pussy with a satisfying pop. 

“I want you to cum on this dick, Y/N.” His voice rasps. “I know you want the same thing, right?” Totsumoto tilts his head to the side slightly as if he’s letting his head rest on your bite marks-covered thigh, and his eyes never stop looking at you. 

Totsumoto’s words hit you like a truck with each continued kiss and bite. Your brain felt like complete mush as you realized he snatched your orgasm away from you in the blink of an eye. With his cock on hard, he kisses up your body until his face is just inches away from yours. Him being on top of you but also sure not to squash you. You could feel his cock on the inside of your thigh. Just by how it felt—you could tell it was fat. You’ve had your perverted thoughts during a hot morning imagining how his cock looked. Was it long? Was it girthy? Was he circumcised? How pretty was the tip? You’ve asked yourself that constantly. 

He’ll inch closer to your lips. Through your stare of desperation for him, you watched him lick his lips—savoring in the aftertaste of your pussy before he spoke once more, “How’d you want it? Since you’ve been a good girl while I was between your thighs….” 

Teasingly, he’s letting his teeth nibble on your plump lower lip instead of giving you the satisfaction of a heated kiss. 

“I’ll let you choose.” He adds. 

And that’s how you whine up on all fours with a perfect arch and your cunt eager to swallow Totsumoto’s cock. You figured that if you were to do missionary, you’d become cock drunk for the gentleman immediately. His callous hands grabbed at your waist, dragging you closer to him; you could feel the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. “Just relax, pretty, sure you fit around me perfectly,” Totsumoto assured.

He’s collecting saliva in his hand to coat his girthy cock with, even though he could see how wet you were for him through his dark locs that fell in his face. His hand gripped your waist, similar to how a person would with some bike handles. He completely braced himself for the waterfall he was about to experience. First, he’s shoving his tip in—slowly, just so you can get used to it, savor it. A wonderful feeling he could get used to. Second, he’s gradually shoving move of his cock inside you. This time he’s taking note of how your manicured fingers grasped at the sheets. 

“I thought you could take my cock, hm?” He’ll teasingly ask. 

You couldn’t even answer his question before he’s immediately plowing forward. No regard for getting used to his size when the wet cunt in between your thighs was enthusiastic for more. You’ll moan out his name like a song you knew from heart. The lewd sound of heated skin slapping against each other adding on to your tune of moans. It created a sweet melody that Totsumoto enjoyed hearing. It motivated him to fuck just a little better, a little harder. 

Your pillow was beginning to stain with your salty tears with each ram of his hips. You only had the opportunity to let out broken moans that bounced upon the thin walls of your bedroom. Your hand went back behind you to slow down his abrupt thrusting, but that only led to him swatting your hand away as if it were a fruit fly flying around a garbage can. At this point, you had lost count of how many times the two of you had cum. The sticky mess that imprinted your thighs didn’t stop Totsumoto from continuing what he was doing. The white ring that decorated his cock only turned him on even more. His eyes lazily droop to gaze at your pussy, swallowing his cock. It was an intoxicating feeling how you were clutching around him. Which each pull back on his cock—he could feel you tremble. Hurriedly, wanting to run away from his jabs but ever so eager for him to fill you up some more. 

“You were waiting to feel my cock weren’t you?” He growled lowly. He noticed you didn’t answer his question, only purring out desperate moans. The dark-haired male took that as a challenge. His large hands that once were on your plush love handles would press down your back, ensuring that you wouldn’t break the perfect arch. 

Totsumoto’s fingertips trace alongside the flesh of your ass. His hand slaps at it, and his actions' ripple effect causes his cock to twitch inside you. His body felt like he was running a fever so hot that he could most likely faint. His jet-black strands of hair were sticking to his sweat-coated forward, but even if his hair drooped low in front of his intoxicating deadpan eyes—he still couldn’t take them away from the mess between the two of your bodies. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy as his body finally overheated due to his lewd actions. 

You knew that the older gentleman was so close to cumming. His grip on your waist tightens, completely entrapping you from running away from his brash thrusting. It took you by shock feeling his thumb insert instantly into your asshole. Your body tensed up, and he leaned down to place the sloppiest set of kisses on your back. “It’s just a thumb unless you want it to be something else.” He hungrily said. 

His words sent a frightening yet exhilarating chill down your spine. Your fingers grasped the crumpled sheets on your mattress as you met his thrusting halfway until the both of you were a cumming mess. You’ve had your fair share of sleeping with men. From horrible hookups to the best lovemaking, no one ever made you feel like this when you were orgasming. You felt like you were on the highest cloud attempting to climb down all by yourself. Your limbs quivered with each sloppy cum coated slam upon your ass, and your moans became so frantic that someone would have thought you were speaking in tongue. The messy mess that imprinted the two of your skin wasn’t as bad as the mess when his cock hesitantly removed itself from you. Totsumoto’s thick cum dripped out of your cunt as he let your body collapse on the mattress below you like a personal used fleshlight. You could hear his breathing returning to normal as he let his fingertips drag alongside your sweat-coated body parts. 

“Sleep tight. You’re going to need it for when I return.” His words came out like a whisper.

When his fingertips left your body, you felt cold without his touch. You were utterly addicted to his touch, and you needed more. However, your shaken limbs and depleted body said otherwise.

Exhaustion overcame your body as the only thing that could be heard in the room was the sound of you trying to control your breathing. Your eyes became droopy, and you realized that he just gave you the best dick you could imagine, that you instantly fell into a deep slumber.

The annoying sound of your alarm caused your eyes to open instantly. Your phone was practically yelling at you to get up to start your day. When you pressed the snooze button on your phone, you glanced at the time. You still have a couple more minutes—perhaps you can attempt to fall asleep to continue the dream. Your panties already were damp, and your nipples hardened in anticipation due to it, but no matter how comfortable you got or how tightly squeezed shut your eyes were—you couldn’t fall back into that deep slumber. There you were, staring at the ceiling, thinking about him, and once again, the horrible feeling of him not being able to pleasure you outside of your perverted wet dreams swirled around in your mind. 

A knock could be heard from your front door, causing your thoughts to disappear— just like the dream you had last night. You climbed out of bed to answer the door, mumbling coherent words about who could be visiting you so early. It was most likely another salesman that wanted to sell something. You opened your front door, and all the annoyance in your body disappeared. There, your neighbor Totsumoto Yuushi stood at your door holding a box. 

Your words were stuck in your throat as your fingers toyed with the ends of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. Totsumoto’s eyes traveled down your body, staring at your boobs, and he took a mental note of how your nipples poked through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing. He cleared his throat to clear out the tension in the air. 

“The delivery guy put this outside my door, and it belongs to you.” Totsumoto’s deep voice croaked out. 

“Thank you.” Your arms extended for him to drop the package in your arms.

Instead, he wiggled past the small gap between you and your cracked door and directly placed your package in your house. He walked out of your apartment and glanced down at you. The scent of him went by you, and you could feel your knees weaken. 

“I’m going to get going now. If you need anything, just knock on my door.” His lips form a sly smile before he walks down to his apartment. 

You closed the door when he was no longer in your eyesight. Your back pressed upon the door as you slowly slid down it—if only he could get you the one thing you wanted the most. 

And that was for your wet dream to come true vividly. 

[letthatsinkin1]

Not Later

summary: you manage to evade your boss for four days . . . way longer than you’d expected.

cw: chubby!black!reader, dubcon, abuse of authority, power imbalance, groping, choking, spanking, (vaginal) fingering, slut-shaming, sex talk, manhandling, nipple play, reader has hair & saggy tits, references to child abuse, my attempt at degradation, and a sprinkling of praise kink cuz i’mma baby.

word count: 3.6k+

“Girl.”

For a drunkard, Shinjuro was unsettlingly light on his feet.

Not enough to be a problem. The man hardly left his room on most days. And when he bothered to venter out, it was to lay down at his roost inside the cloister, dozing off in the sun or barking for someone to serve him. 

Still, you cursed the Slayer Corps to high heaven whenever he did.

The number of times you’ve had to usher Senjuro into the closest empty room because one of you heard a board creaking, frankly, were one too many.

Poor thing never failed to contest it either.

It broke your heart to see him fuss over you like it was his job to protect you. So used to being failed by adults that he’d forgotten how to be a kid.

Priding yourself on not dropping the plate, you set it aside to dry your hands and add a few extra steps to try prolonging this inevitable interaction.

You turn around eventually, head bowed to the floor.

“Yes, sir?”

Tatami groans miserably under the weight of his footsteps, each thud staking a knife through your chest as they grow louder and heavier until you see his feet halt right in front of yours.

It’s like you’re standing next to an open flame, too close to be comfortable yet far preferable to freezing to death.

You wonder if this was how it felt to be a rabbit. Staring into the vast, reeking maw of a wolf, pitiful heart running to the point of total exhaustion.

A hairy paw breaks your line of sight and yanks you by the jaw, digging its claws into the caramel apples of your cheeks - forcing you to bear witness to the stubble covered sneer you’d spent the past four days trying to avoid.

Which was no easy feat, practically impossible with how little he left the house, but you managed to some success.

No conversations. No dawdling about for instruction. No close proximity and certainly, nothing so much as chancing carnality.

Days later, you still couldn’t believe it.

Being laid out like a celebratory spread. Too scared to move a muscle.

During sparse bouts of quiet, typically when the boy was napping or long after you’d tucked him into bed, your body would have flashbacks to heavy breaths cooling your lips. Or the soft ache of his teeth as they lazily pulled at your inner thighs.

Stings like a fresh wound. The indignity, the utter lack of charity, the intimacy—

“You really love testin’ my patience, don’t ya?” Shinjuro raps a finger against your face, a testament to just how much he’s holding back.

You want nothing but to finish the dishes, perhaps pretend you heard something out back, but the logical part of you knows the longer this unbalanced tug-of-war drags on, the angrier he’ll get.

“Apologies, sir.”

“Keep’m. I wanna know where your ditzy ass’s been— ain’t seen ya in days.” The intensity raging within his glower makes you wilt, demanding even though it’s drunken haze.

You hold back a wince when it tightens, reminding yourself to breathe steady as he leans down and growls. “Better not be fuckin’ around on my dime.”

“N-not at all, sir! My duties always come first, I swear it!” You ramble without a second thought. “Why, surely, Senjuro would—“

“Like I’d trust shit outta that brat’s mouth.” While you don’t appreciate his words, you’re grateful his hold weakens to a tolerable level.

You wish he’d back off though. It’s impossible to ground yourself around someone so unmanned, irregular breaths knocking your lashes to and fro.

Fixed, squinted eyes stare daggers into your soul, glowing between the shadowed mountains of his shoulders, each fashioned with rivers of blood and gold.

It’s . . . quite transfixing.

There’s nothing “majestic” about Shinjuro, especially at this angle. All haggard and ornery.

His hand is warm on your skin, wiry hairs tickling your throat and the silver of collarbone exposed by your partially ruffled kimono. The hardened skin on his fingers scratches beneath your ears, the kind gained through years of well-kept discipline and hard labor, and you curse yourself for leaning into his rough touch.

“I’m sorry to have caused you such strife.” You whisper into the quiet, shirking from his draconic form and towards the still-glistening dishes.

“Though, i-if I may return to my duties?”

He stares for some moments, says nothing for even longer. You feel like an ant beneath a glass, scrutinized, concentrated burns flourishing like a poppy field all over your body.

He retracts himself without protest.

You offer the man a grateful smile, making sure to bow your head as well.

Even with this show of grace, your heart races like a hare stuck in the belly of a beast, lost to the threat of his barren eyes.

Against your better judgment, you turn your back to him.

Residual nerves make it hard to grab the washcloth floating aimlessly in the basin but you manage, ringing it out and setting it aside for you to later hang on the clothesline.

You lose yourself in the motions, grabbing a drying cloth to wipe off any leftover streaks.

There’s a particularly stubborn tea stain on the cusp of the yunomi, standing firm in spite of your vigorous scrubbing.

You’re grumbling, honestly ready to swear up a storm although the words seem to fall dead on arrival.

Eclipsed by the sauna at your back.

There’s no time to brace yourself as your hips are suddenly captured in an oppressive grip, easily nullifying the shock sparking through your body.

“Sir?“ It’s embarrassing but you can’t help but squeak as it tightens-

“Go on.”

Timorous hands struggle to keep hold of the cloth as he continues pressing against the arch of your spine, forcing you to stand stock straight to try and maintain some form of distance. 

He stays in that position for what feels like hours. Ignoring, or relishing the feel of you trembling under him.

His touch is nothing short of electrifying, switching between soft squeezes and thumbing light circles. The weight of his broad hands takes you back to that night, feeling them clutch at your sides as he breathed life into you.

His tongue sat firm in his mouth up until the moment he passed out.

He had skirted your outer lips at one point. Likely to moisten his own.

Your abdominal muscles twitch at the memory of that soft, wet mass. The sting of his stubble on the bottom of your pussy and oh, you’re dripping.

You bite your lip when his hands finally snake forward. One resting under your tummy, cupping it in an oddly gentle manner, fingertips tickling your mound through the fabric. The other kneads your pursy sides, no doubt leaving bruises.

It reaches the silk of your chest and your teeth miss the gasp straining past its gaps. The washcloth falls to the floor in quiet fanfare while you push at his wrists.

His chortle tickles your curls.

“Remember the last time I got my hands on one o’ these.”

“We . . you can’t.“ You breathe, trying to reign yourself in.

He throws your hands off with a meager flick of his arms and in your panic, you misspeak. “Shinjuro, sir, you must—“

Here, he shreds any space remaining between you, cramming into your back and knocking the air out your lungs.

“Tryna order me around?” he intones, faux composure static against your skin. Static turned sparklers, and soon needles, the longer his hands inch towards the curtains of your homongi; wrinkled and slightly ajar from all his heavy petting.

You’d shake your head if he weren’t lodged in the crook of your shoulder, unkempt hairs irritating your neck.

“N-no,” instead you bleat. In fear or traitorous arousal, you don’t want to know. “’m not- would never—“

Your legs clamp themselves shut when he finally breaches the inside of your kimono, shoving past your nagajuban, wandering hands undeterred by your attempt as one slinks over your lower half.

“Cheeky bitch thinks she can call me out my name,” he grumbles under his breath.

You bite back a squeal as he grabs you by the chest. Bareness held hostage by careless squeezes and pinches that only grow worse the more he gets comfortable.

Shinjuro . . . takes his time.

Brusquely switching from one breast to the other and rolling them in his palm, tweaking their browned tips— sloppy movements aggravating your raw skin.

Cursing under his breath, he wrenches them out and starts to tug on one, fingers overlapping as he’s encircling it. Then drags his hand down until you inevitably fall out of his grasp.

This goes on for several minutes. Squashing. Pulling. Pinching. Twisting.

Through the growing haze, you feel the glare of those blazing suns in the corner of your eye, monitoring every shift in your face. The sharp scent of saké rustles the coils along your hairline, igniting your senses further.

A maiden entangled within the hazardous jaws of a dragon. Fiery pants like fireballs, singeing you with every breath.

He pulls them again and you’re reeling when you realize he’s milking you.

God, now you’re heaving. Arching into the disgraced hashira with each breath and each time he lets go, those calluses scratch your nipples just ri—

“Like that, do ya?”

Short nails dig into the apex of your thigh and you hiss, hurling an arm over his shoulder to return the favor.

He gruffs. “‘Course you do.”

You feel his claws retract yet he continues trekking downwards, greedy mittens scraping the top of your knee then trudging back up, caressing your outer thigh.

It’s . . surreal. You didn’t think it’d get to this point.

It hasn’t even been a week since the initial encounter, what changed? Is this out of spite? To soothe some cruel need to humiliate you even further? Put you back in your place?

A smaller, hardened part of you fixates on the lines in your breasts, how far they stretch. The way your nipples point to your stomach rather then forwards.

You wonder if he notices. If he’ll say anything.

A body-wide jerk takes you by surprise when he bullies himself between your thighs. Your blood’s running molten once he finally rounds your mound, cupping the thick patch of curls.

His touch is nothing short of domineering in nearly every sense of the word.

A man's hand.

With a parting squeeze, Shinjuro leaves your chest to maneuver you by the chin, damn near giving you whiplash as he locks your gaze with his.

You’re standing in smoldering ruins, hot winds scratching your face, watching smoke and ash settle into the blackened earth. Illuminated by embers and encroaching lava pools.

There’s fear there, you think, looming faintly behind the dusky flurry of emotions.

The suns in his eyes seem to search for something. Thin amber rings eclipsed by darkness, igniting a match under your skin.

Crack!

For the first time since his onslaught, your voice transcends a whisper. Eyes wide yet unseeing as you let out a startled yelp.

Crack!

The impact sings just as loud as before. Frenzied “rhythms” waning into softer, more intimate notes, thanks to the cushioning fur on your mons.

You’re not used to this tune, mainly heard it from women throughout the village; wives reminiscing over their younger days with distant eyes, bottle in hand, young ladies playfully giggling and slapping one another whenever there’s time to spare.

Pleas form on the tip of your tongue, only to fall flat amid the clamor of honeyed pangs and wheezes.

Crack!

He hits the bottom of your tummy this time, a particularly sensitive area, and you frantically flutter your lashes to keep the creeping  moisture at bay.

He grips you by the handful; pulling, watching the loose skin bounce back then peppering it with lighter slaps as he grumbles obscenities to no one in particular.

Chalk it up to heatstroke but you think he likes it - how malleable it is.

Shakily, and perhaps foolishly, you envelop his wrist at a snail’s pace and tighten your grip, as if it’ll have any substantial impact on a monster like him.

At least he doesn’t knock you off this time.

His hand brushing down to your throbbing womanhood makes you wince, the plush skin still in the throes of recovery.

For a moment he just sits there and the lull in excitement allows you to reconnect with your senses, piece by piece.

Blinking the haze from your eyes, a little jarred from the brightness, you take in slow gulps of air, leveling the uneven rise and fall of your chest. The walls of your throat scrape against themselves like sandpaper.

Languid strokes brush down your curls. They don’t necessarily soothe the irritation, but it’s a welcomed gesture nonetheless.

There’s some give on your chin, which you take full advantage of by falling back into his chest.

Before long, his . . . petting takes an aggressive turn. Faster, more insistent movements loosen some of the wetness trapped between your folds, most of which gets caught in your curls.

Thunder lunges up his lungs and you’re mortified at how your pussy twitches.

“Fuckin’ knew it, this slutty little—“

His thumb and index spread apart, effectively peeling you open. Cold air dusts your sensitive hole, kissing your exposed clit, wrenching a low moan from your lips.

He smacks his lips and you tuck into his neck, ears burning.

“Pruning my fingers, girl.“

Awe shapes his voice and you can’t find it in you to be ashamed as your hips start. Hefty, textured digits take them in stride, decades worth of hard, manual labor showing with every swipe through your slip.

He doesn’t press, mostly rubs around. Making sure nothing is left sapless.

Hushed sighs and whimpers trickle into his collarbone. You can feel your walls squeezing him, enraptured by the strange sensation of tendons moving beneath your fingers. 

You snap your thighs around his wrist when he bumps into your nub and, without missing a beat, he lays a chiding smack right on your open pussy.

“Keep’m apart.” He barks.

So fucking mean—

You mewl and squirrel about in his hands, pussy still very much sore.

One goes over your head and you feel the color in your face drain at what had to be someone spitting, the sordid sound causing you to teeter in his arms. The pounding is further amplified when he returns to your pussy— drenched fingers scouring your silken folds, pulling them apart.

Blood churning inside your ears makes it difficult to focus on anything other than the soft clicks of him playing in your slick. 

One finger travels farther than the rest and just barely presses at your entrance.

You squash your lips together until they turn pale, not wanting him to hear such abasement when his hand suddenly comes back to life and, using his thumb, pushes your bottom lip down with . . uncharacteristic consideration.

“Sluts don’t get to play coy.” He states.

Feels like you’re standing at the sun’s core while a flame laps at your hole, nudging just enough for your walls to notch, but not enough to take the plunge— take what it wants.

Somewhere in the muddied depths of your conscience, you pray this is the extent of his turpitude. That he doesn’t demand you beg or do something far more humiliating like pulling your asshole apart.

You wouldn’t put it past him.

“You look good like that . .” It’s heady. The flow of his confession.

You can’t help but preen at the rare show of praise. Pushing into him and huffing when his finger continuously falls short.

He snatches your ass up in a hearty squeeze, a small clap joining your thrilled squeak.

“Fat cunt ’s just begging for it, fucks sake— listen t’ her suck me in like a pro.” Your cheek growing numb from him digging into the fat and for once, you hope he keeps talking, rambles whatever comes to his salacious mind.

“You that desperate for attention?” He croons.

Your choked gasp goes straight to his dick when he finally penetrates your walls, hitching into a warbling whimper.

”Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about fuckin’ my face, could ya?”

His palm smothers your gaping folds, submerging his middle finger down to the last knuckle.

Those velvet walls catch on each knob deliciously and muscle memory takes over in seconds; entrapment, curling around him, bucking to try and shove him deeper.

Had it not been for his strong grasp, you surely would have crumpled to the floor.

His touch stays the same, rough and overtaking. All knowledge of “easing” is lost as gaudy squelches start to filter out from your legs.

“God.” You rasp, eyes fluttering from embarrassment.

You couldn’t recall the last time you delved in another’s flesh (too little time and fewer prospects) and it shows in the way you stomp your feet like some antsy mare.

It’s just. He’s so forceful with it.

Hitting the flat of your pussy so hard, you basically bounce on his palm. The fat of your mound clapping raunchily in the small space, shaking your soft belly with his brawn. Through it all, you let out cries so wet and devastating that you send your blessings to Senjuro’s weekly tutor.

At first, you shuffle your hips to angle away from him as his touch crosses into uncomfortable territory, punishing thrusts constantly flooding your vision in white.

A hellish roar at your throat, torn from the inferno itself, is ample discouragement to cease your efforts.

Knots begin to crop up. Your body aching and trembling from the budding intensity, on the cusp of a full bloom.

A fit of broken sobs jostles your chest— bounding free from your vandalized garments.

You clutch his sinewy forearm; shoving, leaving scarlet crescents in your wake while your free hand blindly scrambles for a solid fingerhold. Your neck grows weaker with every sloppy smack until you’re folding, dead weight in Shinjuro’s strapping arms.

“Sl’wer,” Begging is a struggle. Every attempt coming out slurred or completely incoherent. “Please go slo-o—ohh sh-“

Then without warning, his fingers start curling with every thrust; coupled soon after with his paw twisting and pulling on your nipples. His movements are crude yet dexterous. You can’t help but liken it to a master dipping back into their craft, decades after their retirement.

You’re hysterical. The room’s spinning, your lower half is beginning to lock up, and the only thing your brain can focus on is the impending tsunami in your gut. That familiar pull on your muscles, quivering, drawing back like tides on the shore as viscid, foot-long waves smash together cacophonously.

Your knees begin to buckle and knock into him, your toes twist and skid haplessly across the floor. Plush lips cracked and dry from your ragged breaths and barely bitten-back howls. 

Although your senses are overcome in a steamy fog, the thought of yanking a Pillar by the hair is a daunting one, so your restless claws settle for his hip.

”Can’t . . . I c’n’t hold it.” Your snivels are soaked through— meek little things shriveling into thin air. “‘s too good sir, I’m . .”

“Gonna clean my hand when you’re done.”

You hum weakly.

“Yeah? With what?”

Instantly, you draw a blank. Never one to be put on the spot.

Shinjuro drops a hand from your chest. However, the chill of his absence is promptly overlooked by his sudden command over your lungs. Heavy, sweltering fingers haul you up by the column of your neck until he wrestles your spine upright.

Undeterred by the thin coat of sweat, the edges of your vision tinge black as he tightens his grip around the base.

”You’re gonna do more than cry if I gotta repeat myself again.”

No threat should sound that good, fuck—

You’re blubbering, flubbing about like a fish out of water but you manage to squeak, “Mouth! Use my—“

Pulling your neck into his shoulder, he unceremoniously pummels that precious cavity into a gooey pulp. Stirring your insides effortlessly while you strain to clamp around his fingers.

Tears (or spittle, who knows at this point) spill off your chin, leaving a damp spot on the man’s collar.

“Pathetic. Where were those waterworks last week, huh?” he spits, going for the kill and parting his fingers while they rummage through your walls. “So eager f’r me to tongue this sloppy pussy—”

There’s no waves. No successive bursts of pleasure ravaging your worn frame.

Instead it’s a singular, world-shattering experience prolonged for the ages. A hedonistic supernova of endorphins and stimuli, underlined with a smidge of pain.

Later when your soul plummets back to Earth, you realize with restless intestines that those scandalous, high-pitched screams reverberating across the walls were in fact, the ghosts of your fierce orgasm.

For now or whatever eternity feels like, all you can process are colors and the persistent wetness on your skin. On your ankles, on your cheeks, on your—

“‘ere ya go.” The sun-kissed menace intones, reverence bordering on condescension sending aftershocks to the tune of your speeding heartbeat.

Shit-shit— you’ve barely breached the murky surface and he’s pulling you back under, still nudging that soft little-

”Messy and a screamer.“

You hear the roaring bowels of Tartarus, harsh and captivating in the most agonizing ways.

“God, I love sluts like you. You posture around town like some starchy prude. All modest and sweet, giving those fake smiles— bitching and moanin’ that self-righteous shit ‘til the right man comes along ’n sits your little ass down—“

Labored breaths pile into the crook of his neck when his thumb presses against the skin above your hood, needing little force to expose your clit thanks to how swollen it’s grown.

Lightning strikes your core nonstop as he kneads the fattened nub, gestures firm yet teasing.

Like he turned a tap, wispy “ah”s start to trickle out in droves. Fuck— you’re torn between rutting into his touch or throwing yourself to the ground.

“ . . make you take it like a proper whore.”

{this is a sequel to this}

[letthatsinkin1]

Long haired cm punk save me

[letthatsinkin1]

#ive been blessed #yk how rare it is to find wwe fics for black readers??

piercer!cm punk who unintentionally talks you through your appointments. “breathe” he’ll say before the needle shoots through your skin. your body wincing.

your industrial was a bitch of a process but his raspy voice made it ok. maybe even better than ok. “need you to actually take care of this one”, breath warm. slipping over your ear gentle. “so youre not back and forth, havin to see my little old face all the time”. his teeth and the tip of his tongue playing with the labret on his lip. and you swore he was doing it on purpose. to make you squirm. the piercing in his lip shining as he gives you a little smile.

“its a nice face to look” you say. too busy checking your ear out in a handle held mirror.

he snorts. “yea right”, swatting your leg playful like. and you want to melt. his hands warm. fingers long. strong feeling. they must do other things, besides pierce needles.

you’re wincing again when its time for your labret. something you decide to get because you “like how his looks”. and he cant help but to think about how good it’d look on you. hooked over such a cute bottom lip. possibly tasting like metal and whatever lip balm you spread over it.

your lip twitches just before he can apply the antiseptic. his eyes rolling a little. for someone so afraid of the pain, youre constantly putting yourself through it. he may have a little masochist on his hands “relax”, he gives. deep and soothing. the tip of his hand patting your knee. because youre both comfortable enough for that to happen. this isnt your first piercing. youre a regular of sorts. a bothersome regular with poor pain intolerance and a bad habit of letting your piercings close.

he did your ears months ago, and before that a few months prior too. re-pierced your nose multiple times as well as your eye brow. he didnt mind it though. not if it meant seeing you.

he liked your little squirming and the fidget of your impatience. he liked regulating it. getting you to relax for him.

it’s pain when the needle goes through your lip. a whimper escaping that makes him hum. something short and acknowledging of your pain. his hair slicked back and his gaze rolling over the fleshy way of your lip. he cant even help it really. whether hes caught or not. youre just something worth grabbing his attention. something worth a double take. a second or third thought even. temptation.

and he does this thing after he puts the ring through your lip. “atta girl”, a pat-rub combination against your leg. just above your knee, where an intricate tattoo design colors your skin.

you like the way praise slips off his tongue. a little too much.

[letthatsinkin1]

More Farmer Clark

Farmer!Clark who gets a little jealous when people try to flirt with his wife at the farmer's market. She's wearing just the cutest sundress and picking out fruits and vegetables while he's sizing up the vendor.

Farmer!Clark who eats everything his wife makes. Even if it comes out poorly, he's eating it up and she places a kiss on his beard before walking away. He does feed the rest of it to Krypto, "It's great, honey,".

Farmer!Clark who keeps his hands firmly attatched to his wife's ass or hips at all times. Okay, he is not letting her go for shit. Same goes for when they're having sex because he doesn't not care if she's bouncing on his dick, or if he's slamming into her from behind, trust his hands will be gripping something.

Farmer!Clark who likes to watch his wife tend to her garden while he's wrestling with the haybales and feeding the livestock. She always has a glass of cool lemonade waiting for him when he's done.

Farmer!Clark who notices how his wife always looks a little sad when the school bus drives by their house without stopping. "One kid wouldn't hurt," he thought as he neglected to pull out one night.

Farmer!Clark who dotes on his pregnant wife and makes her stay hydrated in the Kansas sun. He reads up on various pregnancy trends and even listens to the old women of the community about what the different cravings mean.

[letthatsinkin1]

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

[letthatsinkin1]

hey ash, i’ve been doing patio work all day. sweeping, mopping, rinsing, moving stuff around, under the sun. it sucked.

i felt so cool doing it though, my hair was fine as fuck and my outfit was awesome, and i had cute shades on.

the entire time i was just like ‘damn i could send the bros swooning with me working my ass off cleaning like this’.

satan being unable to really focus on his book, trying to be subtle while he watches me. azzy is fawning over me shdhdhsh and stealing photos. mammon keeps denying checking me out when others accuse him of it.

i think the heat is getting to me help.

I BET YOU LOOK SO SLAY BRO LETS FUCKING GOOOO

fuck yeah the bros would immediately start checking you out, theyre down bad

[letthatsinkin1]

Satan would love goodreads.

He sees you one day, reviewing a book on your phone in the living room of HOL. He stands behind where you're sitting on the couch, peering over your shoulder, watching your finger press the four stars on the book you just read.

“What’s that?” he asks. You look back and smile at him, showing him your D.D.D. He leans down curiously, resting his hands on the back of the sofa while reading the words on your screen.

“It’s an app where I can rate the books I read,” you say. He reaches for your phone and looks at you for approval which you give with a nod.

He scrolls the app, checking the books you’ve read. “Isn’t it smart? You can give the books start and write reviews and then you can look back on what you’ve read!” you exclaim, gesturing excitedly with your hands. Satan's gaze flickers from his phone to you and a light blush grazes his cheeks when he catches your excitement over books. “Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” he says, giving you back your phone while clearing his throat.

Now, Satan doesn’t really think he needs Goodreads. Demons have an excellent memory and most of the books on the app are human books, so he’d have to write in Devildom books manually, but he figures it wouldn’t be all that bad to download the app just so he can see your reviews. Plus, he does read a lot of books…

And boy, does he write the most scalding reviews. Everytime you see him rate a new book, you get genuinely concerned for the authors well being if Satan didn’t like the book.

I have lived for thousands of years and will live for thousands more and yet I wish I could regain the six hours I wasted on this horrible book.

I would rather spend a decade chained to Lucifer himself than read this horrible pile of shite again.

The plot was bland as fuck and the language barely did anything to make up for it, what a sad excuse for literature.

You come to look forward to these reviews, giggling whenever he gets particularly brutal. It’s a side of him you hardly ever see.

One day you recommend him a bad book on purpose, just to see what he’ll do. It’s quite easy to blind side him because Satan hardly ever checks on what’s new in the human literature world.

When you get to notification that he’s read it, you immediately press it, excited to see what he’s said, only to find the review relatively… tame?

Your brows furrow as you read the half-assed text, complimenting the plot twist at the end. “Didn’t see it coming.” It reads and you shake your head. That plot twist had been some of the absolute worst you’ve ever read. You’d been excited to see Satan tear it apart and call on the lazy ending.

You recommend him another book that you’re sure he’ll hate. Once again, the review is fine. Even the small following Satan has gained on the app seems confused.

This book is fucking horrible, why did he give it three stars?

Yeah, I followed him for his brutally honest reviews, but this is just weird.

You recommend him a bad book for the third time, just for good measure. “There’s no way he’ll be able to pretend to like this one,” you think as you innocently bat your eyes lashes at him and give him the book. Satan hesitates for a bit, looking down at the book. Then he sends you a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

You’re lying in bed when Satan barges into your room. “Satan, what are you-“ he plops the book down in front of you on the bed and crosses his arms. “Are you doing this on purpose?” A smile tugs at your lips before you think better of it and quickly fake a confused expression.

“What? I would never!” you say and he rolls his eyes and begin pacing your room. His fists are rolled into tight balls, knuckles turning white. He’s kind of hot like this you realize.

“Did you not like the book?” you ask and he stops pacing to just stare at you for a few seconds. “Are you serious? It made me want to rip my fucking eyes out!” he shouts and you giggle.

Satan feels like he’s going insane. Are you toying with him or something?

“What’s going on?” he asks and you shrug, sending him a mischievous smile. “I didn’t mean to tease you…” you say. “I just liked your reviews on bad books, so I thought I’d recommend you a bad book on purpose,” you begin to explain. Satan's mouth slightly opens and his brows raise at you.

“But then your reviews were so nice all of a sudden so I just kept recommending-“ You’re interrupted by Satan's manic laughter. He’s glaring at the ceiling, looking kind of insane in all honesty and you begin to wonder if you’ve maybe pushed him a bit too far this time.

You wrap your arms around your knees as your bed creaks with Satan's weight as he sits down next to you. “Are you even aware of how much I had to hold back-“ Satan grumbles, while he draws closer to you. His brows are pinched and his eyes are flashing green.

“Wait what?” you interrupt. “You held back because you didn’t want to upset me?”

“No!” Satan huffs and scratches his head. “I mean I thought you liked those books,” he says and pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut, while letting out a long breath.

“Oh, you big softie!” You chuckle as realisation dawns upon you.

“I am not a softie!” Satan's eyes snap open again. “You so are!” You squeal when Satan is on you, so you’re pressed against the bed, trapped between Satan's hands on either side of your head. Much to your surprise he begins tickling you. “Satan, no!” you yelp and try to get away from him, with no prevail.

“Take your punishment, human!” The demon howls. You’re gasping for air, lightly slapping his chest, in a fit of laughter. The side of Satan’s mouth quirks up. “This is the next best thing to eating you!”

[letthatsinkin1]

I need Roman Reigns and 2008 CM Punk carnally 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

[letthatsinkin1]

I honestly feel like some people forget Jason Todd is a straight hood nigga like HE MET BRUCE FROM STEALING HIS TIRES OFF THE BATMOBILE and he’s from the hood part of Gotham this MAN IS SEASONED AND HE KNOWS SHIT you can’t tell me this man didn’t have black friends, his first crush wasn’t black or Latina and his favorite food isn’t soul food from his friends mommas…and don’t get me started on that slang he prolly has like when he see you “what’s good mama” or “how my princess feeling give daddy a kiss fa me” and how he has “black” mannerisms Jason is the white boy who should’ve been black in the friend group……all I’m saying is Jason Todd is a seasoned white man not Jack Harlow white but eminem type white or something…case closed

btw I LOVE YOUR WORK sending you all my love 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🫰🏾🫰🏾🫰🏾🫰🏾🫰🏾🫰🏾

THANK YOU MWAH

Jason can also code switch like a motherfucker too. When he first got adopted by Bruce, he had to learn how to get along with all of those rich kids. Now, he's more chill and relaxed that he only slips up in private moments where he's either angry, excited or upset.... or during sex.

I can imagine him like absolutely dogging you out and just groaning in your ear "You like that mama," or " Is my princess gonna give me another one". He likes to pretend that it never happened.

[letthatsinkin1]

Just imagine… Roman Reigns

Just imagine… Roman Reigns flashing his beautiful smile across from you, while you’re clutching onto the table for dear life. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” Of course he already knew the answer, pressing the button on the small remote engulfed by his large hands. The vibration between your legs got stronger, breaking your poker face. “Feels good?” You’re swallowing all of your moans and shifting in your chair, still gripping at the expensive table cloth. You tried your best to keep your composure together, but you were unwinding by the second. You were sure your words and sentences were turned into moans if you tried to talk back to him. Half of you regrets ever agreeing to this, but the other part of you loves the riskiness of this. And the way he was looking tonight didn’t help. Slicked back bun, all black suit, thighs straining his slacks. God, he looked so good.

“Fix your face baby, we got people next to us.” And by people next to us, he meant a booth with two people far away from yours. “R-roman, can we g-go home?” He looks at you with a pretend confused expression. “Home? We just got our food though,” he responds. You hid your face from the lurking eyes around you and looked him straight in the eyes. He knew what that meant. “You finna cum, aren’t you sweetheart?” You nod your head furiously while biting your lip to prevent moans from escaping. His hands grab yours and interlock, looking around at all the people in your proximity before he gives the command, “No one’s looking, go ‘head and cum for me, baby.” You squeezed his hand tightly and your mouth opened wide as you came on the small toy. Thank god you had already placed a couple of napkins under you at the beginning of the date. He studied you, watching your face contort out of pleasure with heavy breaths replacing your moans. “There we go baby, you look so beautiful when you cum.” The vibration suddenly stops while you’re still recovering, taking a deep breath while sinking into your seat. To anyone passing by, you two look like a lovely couple holding hands. If only they knew what was going on. But they didn’t, that’s the fun part about it.

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

[letthatsinkin1]

Hi! How about hc of mc getting pursued by another demon to be with them instead since the demon brothers ignores them and doesn't treat them that well connected to their avatar (like how belphie ignores you 24/7 for sleep) I just wanna see possessive demon brothers please! 🥺

ahhh i remember the guy who i was _just_ talking to on tinder say i needed to have his name painted on my nails... what a funny guy he was

also i'm having this in several parts, it's gonna be that long.

Possessive.

Prolouge;

You supposed you and him had a special chemistry between the two of you. It is hard to describe what it was like but you felt it everytime you looked into his eyes, heard their voice, felt their touch. To your best knowledge the feeling was mutual, he did ask you out on a couple of dates. Until he stopped texting you (if you texted him he didn’t even open your messages) and sometimes you didn’t even see him for a day or two despite living in the same house. You didn’t want to make the situation more awkward than it already was , so from your point of view you made the most realistic decision. Catching another fish from the sea seem like a great idea.

Lucifer: He saw you from a distance as you were having a chat with Lord Diavolo himself. At the time he preferred not to think much of it. Not that the idea of you falling madly in love with the prince didn’t cross his mind; of course he did consider that a possibility. He knows Diavolo the best and he also knows he’d adore you if he got a chance to. The next day you and Diavolo walk by, completely unnoticing him. He didn’t eavesdrop; what would be the point of that? But he, or to be more specific, this side of the RAD building could hear Diavolo joking about and laughing with you. It was most unusual! Especially in public like this, Diavolo would normally keep it lowkey, it would be too risky to let anyone know he enjoys your company.

That’s when The Avatar of Pride had the idea to check the message you sent him ….. almost 3 weeks ago.

Was telling you he was busy be good enough? Would you buy that? Most likely not. It was a shame he let the situation escalate like this, however it’s been decades or maybe even a century since he felt chemistry with anyone the way he did with you. Of course he can’t tell you like it is, otherwise he wouldn’t be the Avatar if Pride but the Avatar of Bluntness.

As much as it hurt his ego to admit it, he did grow fond of you.

„Meet me in my office, 3PM today.”

As you read his message your little human heart almost skipped a beat. It’s going to be awkward assisting him after you started growing feelings for him, feelings which he pretty clearly never reciprocated. You don’t really feel like meeting him, quite honestly.

So you didn’t meet him. He could call you if it was so urgent anyway.

The next day he made sure to run into you when you weren’t in the company of his friend.

„We must talk. Are you free now?”

„I am, for now. I have a class in 20 minutes.”

„I am sorry I did not talk to you about it sooner. Our last date was everything I could ask for. It would be a shame if you were seeing anyone else now. Are you free this afternoon?”

„Oh…um…how should I put this… if you really enjoyed it that much how come you were avoiding me for weeks?”

„I will tell you everything later. I promise.”

• It is up to you to accept or decline him now, however his possessivenes will get the best of him in the following days. He’ll be waiting for you after classes just to talk to you. Sometimes he even gives you a rose. Why is he being so desperate now? Thankfully his pride doesn’t allow him to talk to Diavolo about the situation.

Mammon:

There you are, in his favourite pub, playing pool with two attractive demons plus a duo who appears to be a couple. He knows you can’t play pool very well; it was most definitely not your idea to come here and play. Then who’s? Are you on a date? That cannot be happening.

Yes, he stopped spending time with you but it hasn’t been that long, has it??

He checked your message which you sent about 4 days ago. Surely not much time has passed since!

He ordered himself AND YOU a drink and didn’t hesitate to go up to you.

„Heyy, watcha up to? This ones for ya.”

„Thanks Mammon-„

„So who’re ya here with?”

„I’m with my friend” you look at one of the members of the couple.

„And who’re these losers? Lemme join ya!” he said as he put his arm around your waist.

„Well actually we don’t know them. They were just here, playing.”

The night went by, Mammon did provide you support in the game, although he is not much of a pro himself either. He did his best.

„Sorry I didn’t text ya. I was hustlin at Hell’s Kitchen ya know, givin me sweet money for working nightshift.”

You didn’t really reply as it was still a bit hard to believe him.

„And I also got me a second hustle for the day. I needa get more money! I wanna take ya on some nice ass dates, not a stupid coffe from the machine again.”

• Even if you tell him so he won’t leave you alone for the night. • Which is nice as the unknown demons left already! Now you are for sure for him only!

Part 1.

Tumblr is out there making me fight for my life as I'm trying to edit this post

[letthatsinkin1]

The best kind of bad boy