#tw:somnophilia

[semisgroupie]

wake up, darling

bachira meguru x fem. reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: somno (reader wakes up), sleepy sex, all characters are written 21+, fingering (f!receiving), male masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, finger sucking, clothes ripping, biting, needy bachi, reader is called “darling”, mentions of: oral sex (m and f!receiving)

synopsis: since your boyfriend can’t sleep, he might as well just toy with you until you wake up

a/n: HI BLUE LOCK NATION!!!! i write for blue lock now!!!! also i’ve had this idea in my lil horny brain and finally spit it out into somewhat coherent words!!

The thing that Bachira loved most about you was how much you loved to sleep.

Being someone that fell asleep at the most random and untimely moments, he needed to be with someone who understood him and wouldn’t get mad at him. Luckily for him, you were his perfect match.

But being that you two loved sleeping so much, you two had to establish other things for the relationship. The main thing was, what would happen if someone wanted to be intimate while the other was asleep? It was a normal question to ask and sex played an important role in your relationship.

So after a lot of discussion and figuring things out, you both settled on giving each other permission to get intimate whenever one of you was awake and the other was asleep. Once it was agreed upon it became a regular part of your daily routines.

There were many mornings, afternoons, and nights when you woke up to see his big, bright eyes staring up at you while he lapped at your cunt, his hips grinding and rutting against the mattress while he fucked you with his tongue. There were also many times where Bachira woke up from a midday nap to you bouncing on his cock, moaning wantonly while he kept his half lidded eyes on you. It was the perfect taboo. Anyone would be concerned that you two were basically free to use each other but it made your bond as lovers grow even stronger.

There were even times where it was turned into a little game. How much could you two get away with before the other woke up? Bachira was a heavy sleeper so you were able to get away with a lot, there were so many times where you could start with a handjob then move to a blowjob then move to riding him before he woke up. His moans and groans while he was asleep would just spur you on even more.

Bachira would sometimes get too excited for his own good, loudly moaning against your skin while he lapped and sucked on your nipples. Slurping lewdly against your pussy whenever he went down on you. Getting a little too rough whenever he put his cock inside you. He just couldn’t help himself with you, just so perfect when you slept.

Today was one of those mornings where you tended to sleep in while he was wide awake. A phone call from Isagi was what disrupted him from his peaceful slumber and no matter what he did to try to fall back asleep, he just couldn’t do so.

He adjusted the blanket a bit so he could fully take in your figure. You were sleeping in one of his shirts and it rode perfectly up your silky legs, just giving him a perfect peek of the curve of your ass. He moved his hand over slightly to pull the hem of the shirt up more, “no panties, perfect.” He wasn’t surprised to see you weren’t wearing panties, hell, he even insisted that you shouldn’t ever wear panties to bed. It would only be more of a hassle for him whenever he wanted to ravage you. There were many times in the beginning of this agreement where he ripped your panties off you and had to promise to take you on a shopping spree so he could replace them.

He traced your ass with his fingers, gently going over the smooth skin before dipping down to drag his fingers along your slit. You were wet like always, “must be having a good dream, darling, let me make it even better.” He really wanted to dive down and lap at your pussy, it was like his morning coffee. He could stay between your legs for hours and just drink you up with no complaints.

He moved his fingers away from your slit to bring them to his mouth and suck on them, to get them wet and to get a small taste of you. He released them from his mouth and turned to his side to face your back to make it easier for what he planned to do next. Once he was comfortable enough he brought his fingers back to your tempting slit, lightly spreading your lower lips so he could circle your clit with his digits then move down to your drooling hole.

“Ah, so wet for me darling. But so empty, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re full.” He slipped two of his slender digits inside you, pumping them slowly. His other hand moved down to his hardening cock, palming it over his pajamas before slipping it under the waistband to stroke it to full hardness. He pumped his fingers at a slow but steady pace, normally at this point he would have just moved his fingers quicker but he wanted to wait. He wanted this morning to be different so he wouldn’t wake you up so soon.

“Gonna make sure you wake up when I’m inside you, wanna wake you up with cock.” He groaned softly as his fingers grazed over the sensitive head of his cock and he curled his fingers to press the tips of them against your g spot, earning a sleepy whimper from you. “That’s it, even making the prettiest sounds when you’re asleep, lucky me.” He loves making you whine, whimper and moan, just any sound he could get out of you instantly became music to his ears. He continued pumping his fingers and stroking his cock at the same pace until it became too much for him to restrain himself.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you and slowly sat up to make sure he wouldn’t wake you. He slipped the fingers that were just inside you into his mouth then adjusted his position so he could kneel behind you. He sucked on his fingers, moaning happily while he pulled his cock out and lined it with your entrance with the other. He adjusted his position once more and slowly pushed his cock inside you, thankfully he still had his fingers in his mouth or the wanton moan that threatened to escape his throat would’ve probably woken you up.

He pushed his hips more inch by inch and rolled his head back once he bottomed out completely. He pulled his fingers from his mouth and held you gingerly with both hands. “So perfect, so reactive for me.” He rolled his hips against yours for a few moments before he started thrusting. The pace was slow, still he could watch how your tits bounced underneath the fabric of the shirt, his shirt you wore. It was like he was in a trance as he watched your body move and slowly react to him but it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough when you were asleep, he couldn’t hear your sounds to the fullest extent, he couldn’t see your pretty eyes staring into his, he couldn’t see your soft lips part, he couldn’t feel your hands grip at him while he rutted into you. “Fuck this.” He quickly moved his hands to your chest and pulled at the fabric of his shirt until it tore, revealing your chest to him. He leaned down so he could latch onto one of your pebbling buds and sucked harshly while his hips moved at a brutal pace. “Wakey wakey darling! Time to get up now.” He groaned against your nipple and teased the pert bud between his teeth, he knew exactly what would get you to wake up and he was doing it all.

Your eyebrows knit together before you slowly open them, looking down to see a blurry set of golden eyes. You blink a few times to try to process the scene in front of you but with a quick brush of his cock against your g spot gave you everything you needed to know. “B-baby, ‘s early.” Your voice was raspy as you whined but it just turned your boyfriend on even more. He reluctantly pulled off of your nipple with a wet pop as he kept thrusting into you. “No it’s not, you were just sleeping for so long and I couldn’t help myself.”

He moved one hand to grip the back of your head and pulled you in for a desperate and messy kiss. “Just wanted to make you feel good, that’s what my darling girl deserves.” He muttered against your lips as he angled his hips so his cock could hit your g spot repeatedly. You rolled your head back in his grip, giving him perfect access to litter your neck in kisses and bites. Moans and whines of his name tumbled beautifully from your lips and your hands fisted the sheets underneath you.

“Baby, baby I’m gonna cum.” Your words just meant that he had to speed up his movements, he groaned and moaned against your skin as his hips slapped against yours. He didn’t need to speak to you, you knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. After a few harsh thrusts you arched your back and cried out his name as you orgasmed. You pussy clenched his cock tightly in a vice grip and your orgasm instantly triggered his. He kept his hips pressed against yours as his cum coated your walls white.

He held you close as he rolled his hips against yours so he could get all his cum out then lifted his head to look at you, a bright smile on his face. “I was able to finger you before waking you up.” The statement made you laugh and you lifted your hand to caress his cheek. “That’s great baby, that’s a big improvement. I’m proud of you.” He slowly pulled out of you and slumped down on the bed next to you.

“Now I wanna sleep.” You rolled over so you could rest your head on his chest and nodded. “Get some rest, I’ll rest with you too.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and wrapped an arm around you. “I love you so much, darling.” His tone was laced with drowsiness, it would surprise you how fast he changed from eager puppy to sleepy but you were very used to it. “I love you more, baby.”

Maybe you would get the chance to wake up before him and return the favor.

#blue lock smut #bllk smut #bachira smut #bachira meguru smut #tw:somnophilia #tw:unprotected sex #tw:creampie

[inkykeiji]

character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader notes: a day or two ago teddy and i were daydreaming about sucking on our Daddies’ fingers and i genuinely haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since!!!! warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, hair pulling, oral fixation (finger sucking), somnophilia + minimal prep, mention of drugs words: 1.3k

If he’s being truthful, Mikey doesn’t really mind when you suck on his fingers—kind of likes it, actually; likes feeling useful, likes the way your tongue pulses and jumps just a bit as you draw him in a little further, suck around him a little harder, likes to pacify you—provided that it’s feasible.

You know when to ask, know that if Daddy’s busy cleaning his guns or cutting his drugs that he needs both hands, that his pretty girl can’t be greedy, now, just because she needs something to suck on. No, on those days you can usually be patient enough, can usually wait until Daddy’s finished with whatever important business he has to take care of. But sometimes, if you’re really needy, and you’ve been extra good, you might get lucky—he might let you stick his cock down your throat, let it sit all heavy and hard on your tongue as you kneel sloppily between his spread thighs, chin on the edge of his chair, hands planted between your folded knees and palms pressed flat to the floor, all conscious and intentional, since Daddy has a rule against touching during times like these, claims it distracts him, and we can’t have that, now, can we, sweetheart?

No, Daddy. Of course not, Daddy.

Daddy has a rule against sucking at times like these as well—this isn’t about getting him off or making him feel good, after all, he had told you. This is just about giving his whiny little baby something to fill her mouth with, something to fill her mouth up, to keep her occupied and quiet while Daddy works. If he feels your tongue start to curl around his shaft, if he feels your lips begin to pucker and your cheeks begin to hollow, he’ll be yanking you off his cock in one harsh, swift motion, with his knuckles rooted at your scalp and a growled curse spit through his teeth—and then you’ll be in real trouble, and you definitely don’t want that! 

But it’s when Daddy’s sifting through boring paperwork and poring over mind-numbing files and notes—full of gruesome photographs and disturbing details—that the perfect opportunity arises to lend you his hand, to let you wrap both palms around his slim wrist and take his fingers into your mouth.

He knows that’s exactly what you want when you curl up next to him on his plush office couch, gazing at him with glittering eyes and your bottom lip siphoned between your teeth, but he won’t give it to you; not until you say it, of course, not until you explicitly ask for it—because good girls ask for what they want, don't they?—keen stare veiled by feathery lashes and voice trembling with a desperate sort of humiliation. 

But he’s sweet as syrup when he nods and allows you to suck two of his fingers into your eager, waiting mouth, silky praises falling from between smirking lips. Because you’re so good for him, swallow so well for him, take his index and ring finger all the way in for him, right to the third knuckle, the edges of your teeth gently scraping the sharp protruding bones. 

The metal of his rings clacks against the back of your teeth, platinum and white gold warming in the heat of your mouth as your tongue coils and curves around the bony digits, laves over the bumps and ridges of each knuckle and joint. Foamy saliva pools in all of the dips and crevices of the jewellery, coats the surfaces all slick and slimy and leaves the gems encrusted in the metal gleaming. 

The underside of the rings feel smooth on your tongue, tip tracing around the arc of each one, slow and studious, almost as if committing them to memory. The metal has a slight tang to it, smearing the zest of sweat across your tastebuds, bitter and salty with a hint of the rusted blood still caked beneath his nails and lining his cuticles.

The pads of his fingers stroke your tongue in slow, rhythmic motions, petting the slippery little muscle in a tender caress—mindless, soothing, habitual—as tired onyx eyes skim the pages crumpled in his free hand. Delicate fingers hook around the bangles encircling his wrist and tug, begging for more and whimpering nonsensically around his flesh—more, Daddy, more, more, gimme more, pretty please.

And he does, of course, his sweet, greedy little girl, permits you to draw him further down your throat, copious amounts of drool oozing from the corners of your mouth as your lips tighten and your tongue squeezes—so much so that it’s trickling down your chin and dripping off your jaw in heavy, viscous cords, drizzling all over your chest and clavicle.  

It leaves behind the prettiest streaks of shimmering spit, and Mikey can’t help but press down on the back of your tongue, enraptured as another tiny torrent of saliva seeps past his fingers to spill down his hand and collect in the lines of his palms.

The action earns him a pitchy yelp, sound vibrating around the tips of his fingers, and he snorts a little, fingers rubbing your tongue in a crude sort of apology. 

Sorry, baby, sorry, he’s murmuring in response, though that smug, sadistic little smirk toying with the corners of his lips tells you that he’s not sorry at all. 

His fingertips are pruned by the time he’s finished shuffling through his documents, soaked and soggy with your saliva. Your mouth’s finally gone slack, a telltale indicator that you’ve fallen asleep, dribbles of drool rolling down the side of his hand and his wrist as you breathe, calm and even and soft, around the digits lodged down your throat. 

Your teeth have left cute little indents in his knuckles and the underside of his fingers, but he doesn’t mind, running the tip of his own tongue over the jagged little craters carved into his skin and humming softly to himself.

It always has his cock twitching in his trousers, straining against the thin material, and on the nights where he really needs it—when the day has been abundantly challenging, excruciatingly exhausting, full of collecting debts and deaths—he’ll rearrange your pliant body, push your head down and hips up and panties aside and use his already sopping hand to wet you just enough to comfortably take his cock, burying himself to the fucking hilt in one swift, sharp thrust and revelling in the gorgeous little gasp of surprise that claws its way past your sleepy lips. 

Stay sleeping, sweetheart, he always tells you, murmured into the skin behind your ear and punctuated with a chaste kiss. Just let Daddy take what he needs.

And so you do, every single time, ever his good girl, his best girl, nodding into the corduroy couch cushions and mumbling out some garbled sentiment of affirmation. 

It’s never graceful, always shameful, lacking his usual skill and subtlety as he pathetically ruts into your sweet cunt, flush hips grinding into your thighs gone sticky and slippery with desperation, humping away unevenly at you until his cock is pulsing viciously and he’s breathing out a curse against the damp nape of your neck, filling you with thick cream.

He always takes a moment to admire you after, too; to admire the mess he’s made of you, the masterpiece he’s made of you, calloused thumbs spreading your fucked-raw lips and watching as his cum cascades out of you slow and sticky, using the hardened pad to smear it across your cunt—glazing your clit and your slit and your inner thighs; painting you in him, pressing into the splotches of navy and grey those sharp hipbones carved into soft flesh—before he hoists you up, collects your boneless body in a heap in his arms and decides it’s time for bed, finally, for the both of you.

#mikey x reader #mikey smut #bonten mikey smut #bonten mikey x reader #bonten mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro smut #mikey sano x reader #mikey sano smut #mikey x you #tw:daddy kink #tw:drugs #tw:somnophilia #inky.mikey #inky.tr

[inkyajax]

only you

character: kamisato ayato

genre: smut + yakuza!au

notes: this piece is set within my feels like forever universe, but it works well as a stand alone piece and you absolutely do not need to read that piece to understand this one! it is a yakuza/crime family au meaning there are no visions etc. but either way the primary focus is the smut! as always, reader is female. enjoy and please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, somnophilia, dubcon, minimal prep, rough sex, size kink/size difference, implicit toxic relationship, daddy kink, yakuza boss!ayato, dacryphilia, praise

words: 2.7k

synopsis: 

It is only here, in the safety and comfort of your shared bedroom, buried balls deep in your body and shrouded in your love, that he gives himself permission to fall apart with yearning, to give into that voracity for you constantly roaring within him, safely buried beneath layers of nobility and integrity and chained tightly to his soul, bound by expectations and duties and responsibilities. 

It is only here, with you, where he can lose control completely, where he can be messy with it all, where he can abandon that tight meticulousness he rules over every aspect of his life with—in the only way he can, the only way he knows how. 

And you let him, every night.

“Shh baby, keep sleeping,” he’s murmuring as he slips into bed behind you. “Just let Daddy take what he needs.”  

This has become somewhat of a habit as of late; Ayato retires from his endless work at an ungodly hour to snuggle into bed—into his plush pillows and fluffy comforter and your sweet, sweet cunt—and rails the hell out of you before finally falling asleep. 

You can’t say you blame him, though. 

Your Daddy’s been under so much stress lately. Shipments gone wrong, product gone missing, men gone missing with it, disappearing into thin air as smoothly as a ghost, leaving mere wisps of their auras behind. 

But your Daddy is a smart man, a ruthless man, and he knows how to grasp those wisps and turn them into threads, braid them into ropes, tie them into nooses.   

Still, it’s exhausting work, and his favourite way to end his fourteen hour workdays, to relax and release all of the tension that’s been collecting in his muscles, is by fucking you into oblivion. 

Not that you mind, of course. You never mind. His pretty, perfect little princess, shining with your sterling obedience and your desperation to submit. 

It hurts every single night, Ayato consistently failing to prep you and stretch you out properly, opting instead to use two saliva-slicked fingers pumping in and out of your cunt until it’s just wet enough for his cock to slide in with minimal pain for him. 

His cock momentarily eradicates the thick haze of sleep as it stretches you open, stinging sparks shooting down your inner thighs as your delicate flesh tears itself wide for him, ready and eager to welcome him home. 

A lethargic hiss trickles through the gaps of your teeth, soft features crumpling in discomfort as dainty fingers curl in the lavish pillows, nails scraping against the Egyptian cotton, a tender hush dripping from your Daddy’s lips, sweet and silky as the most decadent syrup. 

He’s not often an impatient man, preferring to take his time when he fucks you, to appreciate each and every precious little detail—the hitch in your breath, the whiny mewls on your tongue, the way your nose oh-so-cutely scrunches up when his cockhead rams your cervix—and singe them into the pages of his memory. 

But lately, on these nights, it seems that he just can’t wait, that he just needs you immediately—needs to fuck his soul into you, to fuck your soul out of you, to pour all of his frustrations of the day into your cunt and watch them ooze out in thick dollops of glistening cream. 

It’s a nice change of pace, if you’re being honest. There is something so sexy, something so powerful, in watching a distinguished and elegant man such as your Daddy absolutely fall apart with desperate desire for you—to allow himself to melt into your body and become one, temporarily freed from the shackles of Yakuza Boss and Yashiro Commissioner and the heaviness such titles carry with them; to be wracked with this seemingly insatiable hunger that only you can cure, only you can fill, only you can fix, even if it’s only for but a moment, the insatiable sated until it resurfaces by the next night and you offer him that heavenly release all over again.

“Just let Daddy takes what he needs tonight,” he’s repeating as he bottoms out, cockhead pressed tightly against your sore cervix. 

“Daddy can take whatever he wants, whenever he wants it,” you mumble up at him, stars of worship in your eyes, their shine unhindered by the bleary glaze of sleep. “It’s all yours, Daddy, always.” 

You look so fucking beautiful, so fucking breathtaking when you get like this, staring at him like he’s some sort of god, as if he carved the moon and painted the constellations in the night sky himself, voice stuffed full of such sheer devotion, such unadulterated love for him that your words scald his skin, searing themselves into smooth flesh and burrowing deep into his tissues, never to be removed.

He pauses for a moment, gaze softening as his eyes glide gently across your face, overflowing with fondness. Lithe fingers brush hair back from your temples, Ayato leaning down to press his lips firmly to yours—a second for him to savour the moment, to suck it into his mouth and curl his tongue around it, protective as it presses it further and further, holds it tighter and tighter, then swallows it down. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your mouth, soft and warm. “I love you.”

Large hands skim along your thighs, molding your pliant body into whatever position he deems satisfactory tonight, legs folded up on either side of your torso as nimble fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, limbs limp and muscles malleable from sleep, yielding to the tender will of their master as he crafts you into a brand new masterpiece; something created only to be beautifully destroyed.

And then, he begins, the slow draw back as he drags his cock nearly entirely from your body a precursory wind up, gathering power and momentum before he slams back into you in a single, swift, fluid movement.

It’s hard, and rough, and fast, the ruthless snapping of his hips jostling your body with each plunge into you, his grip on your flesh the only thing preventing you from being shoved up the mattress.   

A sharp cry tears up your throat, his name and his title a tangled mess on your sloppy tongue, and he hushes you, the gentle sound juxtaposing his relentless fucking, his voice a pacifying lullaby as he tells you to Rest, angel, rest for Daddy. 

Ever compliant, you nod, heavy lids drooping with Daddy’s permission, eyes glassy with the prick of tears, shimmering droplets embellishing your thick lashes in their stubborn refusal to fall. 

“So pretty, my sweet girl,” Ayato’s breathing, a thumb swiping across your cheekbone, the tip of his finger grazing your lashes and collecting your tears, bringing them to his mouth as the point of his tongue licks the salt clean, the maneuver slowing his pace for no longer than a single instant. “So, so pretty for me.”

It’s only in these moments, in the dark of the night and the heat of your breathy sounds, that he can truly allow himself to let everything loose.

It is only here, in the safety and comfort of your shared bedroom, buried balls deep in your body and shrouded in your love, that he gives himself permission to fall apart with yearning, to give into that voracity for you constantly roaring within him, safely buried beneath layers of nobility and integrity and chained tightly to his soul, bound by expectations and duties and responsibilities. 

It is only here, with you, where he can lose control completely, where he can be messy with it all, where he can abandon that tight meticulousness he rules over every aspect of his life with—in the only way he can, the only way he knows how. 

And you let him, every night. 

Snarls rip from his chest, each one more vicious than the last, blunt nails biting his name into your skin in purple-tinged crescents, his hips gaining speed with each buck into you. 

Jutting hipbones carve a space for themselves in the supple flesh of your inner thighs, staining them with the most magnificent galaxies—brilliant blues and swirling violets and specks of crimson—microscopic worlds he creates for the two of you, a whole universe between your legs that will fade by morning. 

You can practically feel the stress melting out of him, leaking from his muscles and seeping from his pores, rigid and tense form becoming more languid and lax with the rough ruts of his hips. 

But despite his growing reprieve, his strength does not falter.

His pace is pounding, cockhead ramming against your cervix with each merciless piston, and that elegant, dignified man of high society melts away, fastidious nature consumed as he indulges himself in these hedonisms, drowns himself in the chaos and the uncontrollable and succumbs to what he needs, what only you can offer him. 

“Only you,” he pants out like he’s reaffirming a mantra, strands of blue drenched with sweat hanging in his eyes, swaying slightly with each brush of his eyelashes. “Only you, baby. You give it to me like no one else.” 

“Only me,” you mumble out, words slurred, delicate fingers curling weakly against his shoulders, nails collecting flesh beneath them as you cling to him. “Me, me, me.” 

And you can’t help but feel a thick swell of privilege, of pride, that no one else in the universe gets to see him like this—unhinged, rabid, desperate for you—that no one else allows him a space to be like this, that no one else in the would could ever make him like this, not the way you do.

Tilting his head downward, his forehead knocks against yours, tongue hanging limply from his mouth as uneven breaths waft across your face, soft moans pushed from his chest with each thrust, strands of saliva drizzling across your lips and your chin. 

His scent invades your body—potent notes of sandalwood and jasmine rushing down your throat and into your lungs, soaking through deep tissue and twining through your blood, making you one; irrevocable, irreversible. 

A pitchy whimper catches in your chest, fragmented by his rough hips, as your tongue sops up his spit, the taste a shot of spice to your senses, mouth instinctually falling open and begging for more.

“God,” he keens, eyes frantic as they sweep across your face, down your neck, to your tits, to where you are conjoined, a groan rattling his ribs. “You always know just how to help Daddy, don’t you, princess? Such a—ah—such a good girl for me, aren’t you,”

It isn’t phrased as a question—you both know you are, his good girl, his best girl—but you answer anyway, head nodding in wobbly movements, mewling out, “Always, Daddy, always wanna be good f’you,”

“Look at you, my perfect baby,” he nearly spits at you, words tapering off into a hoarse whine. “So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

His voice is ragged velvet, torn haphazardly with sharp sheers, his snarled out praises resonant and rumbly, his sweet sentiments paradoxed by a harsh tone. It evolves in time with the acceleration of his movements, morphing from that sophisticated, almost regal cadence to something much deeper, much darker, decadent as it spills from his lips.

Yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy, you’re babbling out with stupid little jerks of your head, words a sticky stream steadily flowing from your mouth, drenched in spit and lathered with tears. 

It’s admirable, how he still manages to retain such finesse, a rhythm that’s almost graceful in a way despite the brutal jackhammering of his hips, so hard, so forceful the rosewood of his headboard rocks against the wall, harmonious with the scrape of wood against wood beneath your bodies.

And even in the midst of all his growling and guttural words, all his vicious thrusts and gnashing teeth, he still stares at you with so much adoration it pours from his irises, thick and heady as it smothers your skin, cradles you in the warmest blanket, stitched together with appreciation.

The pain only works to amplify the pleasure, the heady concoction buzzing through your veins with every pump of his hips, leaving your blood tingling in its wake. Everything feels hazy, weighted with thick exhaustion, the veil of sleep diffusing your vision and turning the room into soft, blurred edges and lethargic, dreamy movements. 

But it feels good, the steady grind of your Daddy’s cock against that spot, the bouts of thorns it sends fizzing through your gut chased promptly by soothing flares, the comforting heat of his body—his sweat and his spit and his breath—blanketing yours.

It’s all so very blissful, and you’re merely enjoying the sensation when your orgasm shatters it suddenly, breaks the euphoria into sharp shards that slice through your skin and pierce through your organs, lidded eyes snapping open as your body goes rigid and your cunt convulses around your Daddy’s cock, a gushing warmth flooding the apex of your thighs.

Ayato’s murmuring something in that dark, sweet, smooth lilt as he continues to slam into you, but you’re too fucked out to comprehend it, everything muted by hedonistic languor.  

You barely feel him cum, senses gone blunt and numb by the time his hips are stuttering to a stop, his cock nothing more than a dull, faint throbbing against your cervix. 

You can feel his cum leaking out of you, though, dribbling out of your cute little hole and smearing across your thighs, a soft whine slipping from your parted lips as Ayato leans back, dispelling the warmth his body had provided.

“Beautiful,” he’s breathing out to himself, periwinkle eyes fixated on your cunt as his thumb swipes across it, a violent shiver rippling through your flesh. It seems as though he’s in some sort of trance, captivated by your body, your beauty, gaze scanning your skin for dollops of cream and smearing them across rapidly developing blotches of violet—the perfect canvas, painted with him.  

But then you’re whimpering, nonsensical little noises that slip from your lips as you make grabby hands at him, and he’s smiling, pulled from whatever spell your cunt and his cum had cast over him, fingers lacing with yours as he leans forward to press a kiss against your damp forehead before he’s gone again.  

You try to follow, but everything aches, muscles dense and heavy with the pleasure that has seeped into your tissues. Residual tears shield your eyes, rendering your gaze watery, belatedly watching as your Daddy moves around the room, his body nothing more than a collection of blurry, wavering lines. Blinking hard and with conviction, you dispel the bleariness from your vision, a pair of crystals rolling down your cheeks, Ayato suddenly crisp, clear. 

“Daddy?” 

An involuntary wince twists your features as the term leaves your lips, letters ragged and ruined, voice wrecked and raw. An attempt to clear your throat does nothing but make it worse, the noise spiky, stinging as it scrapes against the gummy walls. 

“Shh, baby,” Ayato’s saying as he hovers over you, a damp washcloth in his hand. “Daddy’s here, right here.”

He looks utterly spent, amethyst eyes dull and sunken, hair mussed with salt and sweat, voice soft but weighted with fatigue.

“Daddy,” you say again, a frown marring your face as large hands gently spread your cum splattered thighs, mindful of your sore muscles. “S’fine, just leave it,”

“No,” he responds with a singular shake of his head, voice simultaneously tender and firm. “Daddy has to clean it, sweetheart, or it’ll crust and stick, and that will hurt you.” 

“S’okay,” you mumble sleepily with a shrug. “I can jus’ clean it in th’morning.” 

“A Daddy isn’t a very good Daddy if he doesn’t clean up the mess he’s made, don’t you agree?” 

“But—But you’re exhausted, Daddy,” the protest comes out as a stringy whine, your frown morphing into a pout so deep it puckers your forehead. “You need’ta rest, too!”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he murmurs, ministrations paused to gaze upon you with stifling fondness, a palm caressing your cheek. His thumb skims across your lips, tracing the bow and the curve, a small but genuine grin spreading across his own. “You’re so cute. But you don’t need to worry about Daddy, okay? He’ll rest as soon as he’s finished with you, he promises. Now, go back to sleep, darling.” 

And although his voice is sweet and his actions are tender, there is an implicit order folded into them, firm and strong and indicating that this conversation is over; his word is final, and it’d be wise to obey, just like the good little girl you are. 

“Okay,” you whisper, eyes finally slipping shut again, dry and tacky as the salt-encrusted lids stick together. “G’night, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you, precious.” 

The satisfying warmth of happiness bubbles in your chest as you allow unconsciousness to finally envelop you, faded giggles tickling the back of your tongue while you drift further and further into its comforting embrace, those two little words swimming laps in your mind. Only you, only you, only you. 

Only you can offer him this solace, only you can grant him this reprieve, only you can fulfill his desires. 

Only you.

And whatever he wants, whatever he needs, it’s his to take, always. 

#kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato smut #kamisato ayato x you #ayato smut #eeee yay!!!! #tw:somnophilia

[dearbraus]

Starring; Jean Kirstein.

Warnings; 18+ only minors dni + afab reader + consensual somnophilia + oral + birthday sex + pre-established relationship.

Word count; 1.2k

Note; Repost from my old blog <3 enjoy <3

❝ Your boyfriend Jean decides to treat you to breakfast in bed ❞

You awoke to the feeling of hands pressing your hips, feeling up your curves and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as the warmth offered from your duvet is lost. Bleary eyes sought to make out the current state of your bedroom. It was your boyfriend, Jean, who’s body melded against yours, the scruff of his five o’clock shadow rubbing against your cheek as he cuddled you. A sliver of morning light cut through your curtains and the smell of freshly cooked breakfast wafted into your room. It couldn’t have been later than seven in the morning and yet he was planting wet, sloppy kisses against your neck.

“Jean,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, “What are you doing, it’s still early.”

You all but whined into his ear, a pout making it’s way onto your lips. The weekend was supposed to be your little slice of heaven, the one time you allowed yourself to sleep well into the day, a luxury not often afforded to you. So, you couldn’t help but wonder what had Jean all over you so early in the day, while it wasn’t often that you’d wake before him, he always toed quietly around the room to allow you a few more minutes of shut eye.

“It’s your birthday,” he hummed against the column of your neck, “So, I wanted to surprise you,” his hands sneak underneath the thin material of your tank top, “I made your favourite and now you get to have breakfast in bed.”

Stifling a yawn you placed a hand atop of his head, “That’s really sweet of you baby, but it’s early,” you huffed, “Couldn’t we sleep for a bit longer?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, “If we slept the day away we wouldn’t be able to celebrate!”

Rolling your eyes you pout at Jean, hoping if you gave him your best puppy eyes he’d give it up but it seemed useless. Once Jean had his mind set on something he wasn’t changing it, no matter how much you insisted you didn’t care much for your birthday, he promised he’d make it special no matter what. The tip of his nose brushed against yours as he shuffled forward, arms caging your head in.

“Don’t you want your first gift babe?”

His lips swallow any questions you may have tried to voice and you can feel him smirk against your lips as you let out a soft sigh. Jean always knew the best way to shut you up. His hands drifted down your body as he worked his way to lay comfortably between your legs. Strands of hair stuck up every which way, the sight made you giggle as he pulled down your underwear, the hem of your sleep shirt pushed over your belly. It was rare for his appearance to be dishevelled, you liked the sight and relished the moments but Jean still tried to show you the best side of himself, even if that meant acting as if he woke up with his hair fully styled.

“But what about breakfast?” you asked, turning over to look at the plate of food, “It’s gonna get cold, ah, I don’t want all your hard work to go to waste Jean.”

Pressing a balmy open mouthed kisse to the soft pillowy flesh of your inner thigh he shook his head, “I don’t give a shit about the food” his sweet brown eyes darted up to meet yours, “Tastes a bit funny, I’ll treat you to brunch when I’m done with my breakfast.”

Licking his lips, the corner of his mouth twitched up into a devilish smirk as he pressed your thighs flat against the mattress.

“You’re such a dork,” you muttered, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue flicked a stripe up your folds. His eyes didn’t leave your face as he gently kissed your throbbing clit, you could feel his gaze, intently watching each small expression that dared to form, “And h-here I was thinking… thinking I was the one getting a gift.”

Chuckling to yourself, you carded your fingers through his hair. Jean moaned into your cunt, ignoring your little quip, this was just one of the many gifts he had planned for you, just because he’d enjoyed it didn’t take away from the fact that this was your special day. You could tease all you want, your body would still sing like a canary because you’d never be able to deny the pleasure that stoked the flames which lived in your chest. Your body would always be honest with him and that was something he’d never tire of.

“You saying I don’t get to have a bit of fun myself babe?” Jean questions, the calloused palm of his hand smoothing across your thigh, “‘Cause you taste so sweet, can’t help but enjoy this,” he marvels at the slick coating his fingers as circles hole, watching it clench over nothing, “You know your pussy’s my favourite meal.”

Wrapping his lips around your clit he works two of his fingers into your hole, fighting back a grin as your thighs squirm under his hold, threatening to clamp around his head. A soft moan makes it’s way up the back of your throat, hitting Jean all at once. That’s what he likes to hear. You were always so quiet, only trickly eyes and tiny gasps to be rewarded, but when he managed to wretch even the smallest sounds from you, he’d feel accomplished. Curling his fingers upwards he brushed against that spot deep inside you, it always made stars dance across your eyes. Tugging a bit too hard on his hair you shuddered, heat washing over you accompanied by a familiar fog of haze hanging over your mind.

“Please, Jean baby, ‘m so c-close.”

Your chest heaved, back arching upwards as you ground your cunt against his face using him for all he was worth as your own selfish desires spurred you to chase a high you had always been guaranteed.

“C’mon, you can do it,” he hummed, his jaw falling open as he pumped his fingers into your sopping hole, “I know you can, cum for me baby. You always look so pretty when you come for me.”

A jumble of incoherent pleas leave your lips as you reach that peak, that haze clearing just for a moment as cum. Jean laps up your juices like a man starved, your body twitching each time his tongue flicks against your clit. His lips and chin shiny, coated with your slick but the smug look he wore made it clearly he pleased and wore this look with pride. You taste yourself on his lips as he leans down to kiss you, your hips bucking into the air for more.

“Thank you,” you say between kisses, “You’re too sweet to me.”

Cupping his cheek, you smooth your thumb across his stubble. Jean leans into your touch, “No need to thank me baby,” he his skirt down to the valley of your breasts, “I’ll always take care of you.”

Helping you tug your shirt over your head, Jean practically drools at the sight of your tits. You can feel his hard cock press against your hip and you realize that hungry glint in his eyes had yet to disappear and the second course was about to begin.

“I love you baby, happy birthday,” his teeth graze your shoulder as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, “Mind if I give you your second birthday gift?”

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

#jean kirschtein smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x you #aot smut #snk smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #tw:somnophilia

[loko4koko]

>fanart_credit: (l->r) ilameys, _3aem, nthndn (via_twitter)

>content_key: ✩=fluff | ꨄ=nsfw | ✟=angst | ⚠︎=dark content

> ꨄ prettiest girl in the world

>> x_insecure!f!reader

>> word_count: 4086

> ꨄ prenuptial_pretenders

>> x_f!reader

>> word_count: 7293

404 ERROR: PAGE NOT FOUND…

> ꨄ wake_up_and_we_touchin

>> x_f!reader *tw:somnophilia

>>word_count: 1152

404 ERROR: PAGE NOT FOUND…

> ꨄ best_ass_eater!

>> x_gn!reader

>> word_count: 1000

> ꨄ cowboy!toji_thirst

>> x_gn!reader

>> word_count: 1042

> ꨄ JJK_nsfw_visuals

>> x_gn!/f!reader

>> featuring: yuuji, gojo, toji, & nanami

#navigation #masterlist #jujutsu kaisen masterlist #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

[toots-senpai]

can you do more stuff with your somnophilia brain/hoodie?? i love they way you write his character <333

Authors response: oo bitch you got me there ughhhhhh

Author: @toots-senpai

Fandom: Creepypasta

Pairing: Hoodie/Brian Thomas x reader

Rating: R 18+

Word Count: short- 856

Warnings: smut, tw:somnophilia, kidnap mention

♡ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ♡

NSFW under the cut

At the end of the day Brian has always been a sweetheart, attentive to all your needs and quick on his toes to help you with whatever you needed down to the last detail, but everyone would know how stupid you must be to allow him into your life. He let you go like you asked and when you came back home it only took a few seconds to look at the floor before he began clean your missing papers that were left scattered across the kitchen and living room floors and tables from your poor grandmother. He consistently helps her with groceries now without your asking and does everything that you need done. He’s.. helpful, you can’t deny it. You can’t deny how much you’ve fallen in love with the murderous man, watching him through the windows of your childhood home while he does all of your errands for the day. Can’t deny how much you enjoy the lonely nights earning for him to come back to you just for the moon to dance off your eyelashes when you stir awake his hair moved up by your hands to keep his face in between your thighs and let his rough palms bruise your hips. His airy gasps of air over your shoulder will continuously be your weak point, his voice will keep you locked away in his tower of escape from the outer world forever if it means the princess treatment he gives you. The presents, the tender care, he’s different only for you because after all the world doesn’t need his love only you do.

Bending knee to you and Slender has been the easy thing he has done, it gives him sanity at the end of the day. He agrees that your grandmother deserves to peacefully live the rest of her life as you cried to him and he can stay undercover in a house like this anyway if it meant your submissiveness. No one truthfully cared when you came back into this town and this old american home is perfect for his space, hiding right under the noses of dirty cops in this small town. Tim isn’t around to snicker and the basement is all his with 4 ways out and on top of it all he has a beautiful reward upstairs who always sleeps so peacefully in this house compared to the cold cabin in the forest. He doesn’t fully like it here though, the townspeople are too informative and he misses when the forest quieted your screams and pounds of the headboard, he misses how rough he could be with you. Maybe that he could slam the door of your grandfather’s truck this late at night. He’s got a bag of clothes in the back and your neighbor turned on his porch light to the sound. He groans, he’s always hated noisy people, it’s what he enjoyed about you. You keep a safe distance with him, relationship wise and even while you two walk around each other. It’s different from the cool cabin nights spent snuggling and hot coffee and breakfast morning wrapping around each other. He’s doing this all for you, he can live his own life, no one actually cares anyways but you and him. It’s his reality that he’s made and he slips through the house so quietly that not even the stairs creak.

From the basement to the second floor and slipping into your childhood room. He’s aware of his need to forget about tonight when he pulls off the hoodie he wears and throws it by the mask thats left neglected next to his gun in the top drawer that hangs open. The bed slightly creaks when he sits on the back of your thighs and runs his hands up your pajama shorts while kissing up your spine and to your shoulder softly chuckling deeply and making your hair stand causing you to shiver at his ministrations. You shuffle underneath him as his lips latch onto your neck and two fingers push against your pussy lips through the cotton of your underwear and your whines slip even in your sleep with the delicious friction of him pushing to your clit and rubbing. He could never let these moments go, you’re too comfortable here and perfectly vulnerable just for him. He doesn’t wait to slip into your heat though after teasing you through your shorts, sliding the flimsy shorts and underwear to the side between the junction of his thumb as he grips your hips bottoming out. A few slow strokes is all he needs to think about what he wants to do next as he continues to tease you in your sleep. You tend to wake up when you’re unsatisfied. You’ll wake up whiny and bouncing your ass back on him and he'll reply with his hand letting go of your already ruined shorts and onto your throat shutting you up so grandma can get her full night of sleep. This is right where he wants you anyways, ready for him whenever he truly wants.

#hoodie x reader #hoodie x reader smut #brian thomas smut #hoodie smut #brian thomas x reader smut #creepypasta #creepypasta imagine #creepypasta smut #tw: somnophilia

[alannybunnue]

Runaway AU successful run away but caught later For 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 and 8

1 Daemon (was hard to escape, and you know why someone would try to escape most of all pregnant or similar)

2 Aemon and Naerys (tried to runaway foster Sister who left to return home after learning what the 2 did while she she slept in her room (TW:Somnophilia) and known no one would believe her)

3 Aegon the Uncrowned (AU daughter of Maegor, she did not even "run away" she wanted to visit her dad in his Exile. You gets her plan. The lie of meeting her half siblings Aegon won't believe her (most of all as Maegor would just try marry her to someone else))

Would be a interested AU

4 Arthur Dayne (she left him after the Lyanna fiasco, he is a insult to the Dornish for her)

5 Jace (since we have our Vaemond's daughter, why escape once when you can do it twice!)

6 Baelor the Blessed (the Queen escaped the Tower)

7 Baelor Breakspear (most of her family died in the conquest of Dorne, post war by the time Daeron I died under peace Banners. Daeron the Good thoughts it would help the realm heal and get her family House Tyrell to help him stabilize the Realm, I did the reverse very much of it.)

8 Cregan Stark ( it's too cold! She wants back to the Warm South!! Maybe she has Frigophobia or Cyrophobia. Her family wanted to marry her to the North but as a great house asked for her they had no choose. She did not even know who she married till she meet him. )

Ok, i will list the ones i liked and those i didn't and those i am neutral about.

1. (Neutral, like...ok? Makes sense, but it's not a story or nothing really relevant to judge)

2. (Dislike, like Naerys and Aemon being worse than Aegon is...weird, just don't, also she is still their sibling, even if it foster sibling)

3. (Dislike, It doesn't make sense with the story, if Maegor had a daughter or something before he was exiled, she would be a child when he exiled, which is weird to ship her with Aegon the uncrowded, so no)

4. (Neutral, not much to talk about)

5. (Like, that girl is stubborn as fuck x-x)

6. (Like, GO GIRL, She reminds me of Lady Greyjoy)

7. (Neutral, i love Baelor B, but....i don't understand your concept.)

8. (Like, the controversy in this story is hilarious 🤣)

#ask #a song of ice and fire #yandere concept #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #house of the dragon #blackfyre rebellion #robert's rebellion

[imayanderesimp]

I posted 36 times in 2022

26 posts created (72%)

10 posts reblogged (28%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@endlessmyth

@blorb0

@sketchnwhatevr

@peantbutter-honeycombs

@wizardpotions

I tagged 18 of my posts in 2022

Only 50% of my posts had no tags

#yandere mha - 10 posts

#platonic yandere - 9 posts

#yandere endeavor - 7 posts

#yandere todoroki clan - 7 posts

#yandere dabi - 6 posts

#yandere rei - 6 posts

#yandere natsou - 6 posts

#yandere todoroki - 6 posts

#yandere fuyumi - 6 posts

#yandere shigaraki - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#you dont say slurs you dont make death threats/kys comments and you dont misgender should be the main three and yet

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

How to the platonic yanderes feel abt reader getting into 1-A? Do you think that they would be okay with reader perusing hero life?

thx for the ask anon

Platonic todoroki fam has a really negative reaction because they don’t want you to get hurt they do everything and anything in their power to male you have the worst time so you will drop out and when u say anything i mean anything

platonic erasermic are happy for you but also worried about you i mean with all the crap that 1-A already gone through they have a right to. So they’ll let you pursue your dreams but you can be enrolled in the support course instead.

Platonic league of villains is pissed of to the max i mean who said you could betray them like that! There’s no way you’re getting to be a hero because you’re gonna be locked in a basement for a few months for a stunt like this.

platonic bakugo fam is actually ok with this. I mean you always a deadkugo to protect to you so you’ll be fine.

platonic midorya fam is definitely not ok with this. I mean izuku’s mom might as well have a heart attack because after all izuku went through shes not going through it again so you can stay home or find a new job with her instead.

221 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

#4

Tw:dubcon Tw:past noncon tw:past abuse tw:enji being a asshole tw:somnophilia

reader is implied to be female

felt like i should clarify this bc it just hit me puppygirl!reader isn’t an actual dog or a beastars type situation she’s like a human but with puppy dog ears and a tail.

MINORS BEWARE

pls pls put your age in your bio so i can tell your not i minor because i will block you if i can’t find any proof your an adult

Just imagine endeavor with a small little puppy girl like he’s this big 6ft figure and then you’ve got a little 4ft puppy girl next to him. The public would be all over it trying to get pictures of puppy girl reader and endeavor together. Of course enji and puppy!girls relationship wasn’t always this way…

Pre redemption enji : he treated puppygirl!reader so badly. He’d yell at her and pull on her little dog ears sentence her to her cage. Honestly if enji was really being serious he just wanted to use you from breeding purposes. Sometimes puppy reader couldn’t keep up with enji half the time she would end up passing out during their sessions. But he keep going he wanted you to have a baby so bad, but it never worked. And endeavor could never figure out why, but all your puppy brain remember is getting a pill everyday from the white haired woman.

Soon enough enji forgot about you and only focused on train shoot and becoming number 1 dropping you in a little room that was kinda like a dog house. He forgot to feed you so his children and Rei would do it a lot soon enough it seemed only fuyumi and natsou would feed you and that was a rare chance.

Post redemption enji -

I’m the family dinner scene between endeavor and natsou he reminds him that he left you in a room alone for years now. And endeavor just sits they’re like “huh”because he forgot about you so natsou sitting there wants to slap his father in the face but just take ps a piece of paper and writes directions and says follow it.

Enji find the room and sees you. You look so tired like you haven’t seen the light of life in days. Enji tilts up your head and sees you look super sleepy but all you do in turn over and sleep. So he grabs you and takes you to his room you’ve been in that room for to long. In the morning enji finds it so cute when your pawing at his window at the sunlight your little tail wagging at the sight.

Enji had never seen you this happy before you just felt empty looked empty. So he decided to get a cute little dog bed for you in his office and leave you some nice food to make up for his past actions. He playing catch with you the other day of course you were catching the ball with your mouth. Wouldn’t you know in a few months you were the happiest dog alive in the household.

Now a certain time came along the enji wasn’t expecting. Fuyumi has told him you weren’t feeling well so enji went to check on you, only find that your humping the floor and all the pillows look soaked. Poor little puppy girl, just was so horny without him. You started pawing on his leg you craved him right now you needed him right now.

So now enji is here fucking your tight little cunt. You’ve gone for 3 organisms now and every time his cock gets deeper and deeper in your hole. You were drunk off his cock right now and if enji stops for a tiny break then you’ll do the job yourself.

So you continued for idk the rest of the night until you finally passed out

See the full post

237 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

#3

- Random things the platonic yandere erasermic fam has put up with -

(They adopted when you were a baby after your mother (who was Aizawa's coworker) “accidentally” died in a car crash)

Baby reader: multiple mustache and hair tugs on Aizawa's,hizashi’s, and (rarely) eri’s hair. You like to pull when you aren't just sleeping and eating this is why shinsou has his hair up all the time.

Baby reader: all you do is sleep and eat and occasionally scream into a very loud karaoke machine, you a very lazy baby who sees their in a playpen just looks at the gate pushes it open as then rolls out then falls asleep while escaping.

Baby reader: remember that karaoke machine? Yeah well you found it while escaping and somehow mustered up the energy and idc that you went down and found a karaoke machine. After two minutes of your parents and sibling crying over the fact that they lost you. then they hear a very loud and aggressive BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH come from the basement. Of course, they send Aizawa and he finds you screaming in the karaoke machine at the cat.

Baby reader: of course as a baby you go into a lot of accidents now when Aizawa told Hizashi not to worry about you when you come home with them they didn't expect you to be that troublesome. But for such a lazy baby you had no sense in what to do so you grabbed things pulled off the outlet covers pulled out the baby door looks opened all the cabinets and stuff you were too smart for them. Soon Aizawa let mic over baby proof the house and you were safe.

Baby reader: even though you are a danger your family loves and adores you and would never let you go. (that's why they have the baby leash)

238 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

#2

Let’s be honest did you really think I was done with the baby thing?

Todoroki Family

They love you but your just to dang rowdy sometimes

Listen you are the exact opposite of the baby mic and Aizawa your a little shit filled with rage. They cannot control you at all restrain you do anything you will run your way out of it.

The amount of times dabi has found holes in his shirts because they smell like him and he smells like bacon so you wanted to eat the shirt.

And of course you being the little fire hazard you are you would beg enji to light things on fire even going at it to purposely anger him just to see flames.

And of course the cons of being a very young arsonist is that you have a family with ice users in it to put out the fire. But that doesn’t mean you don’t beg shoto to make snow in the house just for you to throw snowballs at Dabi or try to make a snowman as big as enji.

But your least favorite part is when Rei comes around. Because that means your gonna have to get in actual clothes instead of running around in a diaper and one of dabi’s burnt hand me downs he gifted you for your birthday.m

But it’s all worth it at the end of the day to watch you sleeping so peacefully with your thumb in your mouth

Because it reminds them you’ll be theirs forever no matter what

Don’t mind me just clearing out my drafts

254 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A reader who is terrifying and pops put of nowhere

Yandere todoroki fam-

You scare the shit out of dabi half the time just popping out of nowhere

One time you popped out of nowhere and scared dabi and he accidentally punched you in the face

Yeah your family has to get you bell after that but you still scared dabi

They probably think they’ve forgotten you at one on family trips and they turn around and see nothing turn back to the road to drive back and then look back again to see you in the backseat

“We left y/n at home!”

“Ah great 1hr into this drive and we forgot y/n”

“Turn around again to make sure their back there”

“I promise you their not back there”

“Hi mom hi dad”

Platonic yandere erasermic fam

This house is not safe for you

The amount of times you scare mic making him yell out loud and then him causing a hole in the roof is soon not gonna be enough with their teacher salary

So aizawa suggests putting a bell on you so every time you pop from nowhere you hear a little ring

Jokes on him because him and mic watched a scary movie ( they wouldn’t let you watch because they think your too innocent) and mic got scared again whenever he heard the bell

So aizawa just put tape over mics mouth

It worked because it was flex tape

But it almost ripped off mics mustache

426 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[inkyclive]

⇀ tags + warnings!

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬

#𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬  ⋆ me chattering on to myself ehehe

#𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 ⋆ any ask i answer!

#𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲.𝐛𝐛 ⋆ anon asks!

#𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⋆ any post that updates you on what i’ve been doing!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

common triggering topics you may come across on my blog include (but are not limited to):

—𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

dubcon/noncon ⋆ #tw:dubcon, tw:noncon

somnophilia ⋆ #tw:somnophilia

dacryphilia ⋆ #tw:dacryphilia

degradation/dumbification ⋆ #tw:degradation, #tw:dumbification

daddy kink (sometimes with a ddlg type dynamic (aka a condescending caregiver type vibe) ⋆ #tw:daddy kink

spanking ⋆ #tw:spanking

marking (bruises, hickeys, scratches, bites) ⋆ #tw:marking

size kink/size difference ⋆ #tw:size kink

rough sex ⋆ #tw:rough sex

minimal prep ⋆ #tw:minimal prep

—𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

murder ⋆ #tw:murder

yandere ⋆ #tw:yandere

toxic relationships (manipulation, possessiveness, jealousy, patronization/condescension, extreme control, etc) ⋆ #tw:toxic relationship

age gaps between consenting adults ⋆ #tw:age gap

pseudocest (aka incest between adopted siblings, big brother x little sister ONLY) ⋆ #tw:pseudocest

organized crime ⋆ #tw:organized crime

drugs/drug addiction ⋆ #tw:drugs

cheating ⋆ #tw:cheating

blood ⋆ #tw:blood

if any of the topics mentioned above make you uncomfortable or upset, please filter the appropriate tags or block me! your safety and enjoyment should be of utmost concern, and it is your responsibility to curate your online space and online experience accordingly. stay safe <3

with that being said, here is a list of 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞:

anal | pegging | ass eating

femdom | mommy kink | dom reader

pedophilia | underage

beastiality

pet play | hybrids

age play

lactation

water sports | scat | vomit

eating disorders

vore

full blood incest | any incest that isn’t big bro x lil sis (dad x daughter, uncle x niece, etc)

[semisgroupie]

pushed to the edge

pervy roommate!grimmjow jaegerjaquez x fem. reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: heavy noncon elements, noncon touching, creampie, unprotected sex, grimmjow is OBSESSED with you, fingering (f!receiving), mentions of sweat, masturbation (both male and female), reader is a heavy sleeper, cum eating

synopsis: what you don’t know won’t hurt you

a/n: this is for my “perverts make the world go ‘round” event! thank you @darlingsanzu for requesting this delicious man

He hated feeling this way about you. He hated the way you plagued his mind every single second of the day and there was nothing he could do about it.

He thought about all the possible things he could do and each thought out scenario ended with you rejecting him and asking him to find a new roommate.

He should’ve listened to Ulqiorra when he brought you up as being his roommate. But in true Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez fashion, he went with his gut instinct.

You two have been roommates for a little less than a year now and everything was perfect. He enjoyed having you around, your bubbly personality, your gentle mannerisms, your laughter that filled up a room, the way your soft skin showed when you walked around in a tank top and shorts when the AC was getting fixed in the apartment, the way sweat dripped down your cleavage as you tried to cool yourself off. God how he desperately wanted to lean over and lick it away, just so he could get a taste of you.

He had to control himself every single time he saw you and even when you were sitting right next to him on the couch or sitting across from him while you two ate dinner, the fantasies couldn’t come to an end. He tried everything he could think of to get you off his mind, he jerked off, he worked out, he went for runs, he tried to hookup with people but always flaked on them because they could never be you. No one could compare to you and he knew that.

Every single time he jerked off he just thought about you. Wondering how you would look on top of him, bouncing on his cock to your heart's content. Wondering how you would look and sound underneath him while he rutted into you like an animal. Wondering what you tasted like, if you tasted as sweet as the strawberry perfume you wore. Wondering all the sounds you’d make as he traced his tongue along every inch of your body. You drove him insane.

Sometimes he would just take advantage of the thin walls that separate your bedrooms. He would just press his ear to it and listen to your low pants and whimpers paired with the whirring of your vibrator or the slick sounds of what he assumed was your fingers or a dildo pumping in and out of your pussy. He would reach a hand down and stroke his cock to match your pace, imagining what you looked like in the moment. Imagining your cute face scrunched up in pleasure, imagining your soft lips parting slightly as you reached your orgasm, imagining how you looked as the waves of pleasure washed over you. Sometimes he could even swear he heard you moan his name as your orgasm washed over you but maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

He needed you and he needed you bad.

He needed you so badly he didn’t know what his craving for you could do to him. He didn’t know how far he would go. And he didn’t know if he could hold himself back when given the slightest opportunity to have you.

Today was another day where he was just thinking about you. Every hour, every minute and every second was just passed with a new thought of you. He couldn’t wait until you went to your room to sleep. Maybe he would be lucky again to hear you masturbate, even though his imagination would serve as more than enough fuel for him to masturbate.

You were both on the couch, your head resting against his arm as the movie you chose played on the TV. He couldn’t even focus on what was going on, all he could think about was you. His eyes lingered on you for longer periods of time each time he looked down at you. He only tore his gaze from you when the credits rolled on the screen. You moved off his arm to stretch then turned to him with a slightly nervous smile on your face.

“What is it? Did something happen today?” He raised an eyebrow and you shook your head. “Nothing happened today but I was thinking about something. Remember when we first moved in together and it was the dead of winter? And remember when our heater was busted so we had to sleep in the same bed to keep warm?” He nodded slowly at your questions. God, how could he forget? He was sure that was when he started this little obsession with you.

“Well, I was wondering if we could do that again tonight? I know it’s been a while and you can say—”

“Yes.” He was sure he was too eager to respond, hell, he couldn’t even let you finish your sentence before he gave you an answer. A smile broke out on your face and you leaned over to hug him tightly, pressing your perfect tits against him. “Perfect! I’ll go shower and change into my pajamas then I’ll meet you in your room.” You squeezed him once more then hopped off the couch.

All Grimmjow could do was thank his lucky stars. He couldn’t believe that he would have you so close to him.

Everything passed in a blur and the next thing he knew, you were laying in bed next to him. Then as the time passed he could hear soft even breaths coming from you, signaling to him that you were sound asleep. He, on the other hand, was wide awake. How could he sleep when you were right there?

You wore one of the shirts you stole from him, you called it “compensation” for doing laundry. With how you were laying on the bed, he could see a peek of the curve of your ass. Maybe he could just sneak another peek to see the panties you wore to bed. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly moved his hand to the hem of the shirt you wore. He gripped it with two fingers and slowly pulled it up, his eyes widening when he saw your lack of panties. “Oh fuck.” He whispered to himself.

Were you doing this on purpose? No panties when you were sleeping next to him? Maybe it just slipped your mind, maybe you were just too caught up in your own bedtime routine to remember putting on panties. Whatever it was, it kept his lucky streak going. He sucked in a breath as you stretched out one of your legs and stuck your ass out a little more. If he were to put his hand between your legs he was sure he could get full access to your pussy.

But he wouldn’t take that risk…right?

He did exactly that, leaning in a little more so his fingers could very lightly graze your thigh before moving up to your slit. He let out a low groan as he felt how wet you were already, practically just inviting him to indulge in you more. He took his index finger and middle finger and gently pressed against your slit so he could rub against you more. “Shit you’re soaked.” He groaned again and gently pushed one of his long fingers inside your entrance, feeling your pussy just take him in with ease. His cock throbbed as he slowly started pumping his finger in and out of you.

He moved his free hand down to free his cock and started pumping it in time with his finger inside your cunt. He froze when he heard a small whimper fall from your lips, fear and reality hitting him all at once. He waited a few moments and nothing happened, you didn’t wake up to confront him, you didn’t do anything.

He didn’t even have time to think about his next actions because your pussy started clenching around his finger, like your body was just begging him for more. “I’ll give it to you, don’t worry. Just be patient.” He started pumping his finger and cock in tandem, listening to any and all sounds that came out of you. He couldn’t believe he was doing this but deep down he knew that if he was given this opportunity sooner then he would’ve reacted the same way.

He slowly slipped a second finger inside and felt how you sucked it in greedily. If he didn’t want more, he would’ve been fine with just this but he’s a greedy man. If he could get what he truly desired then maybe he would be satisfied.

Or maybe he would just want more.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you and used your juices to lube up his cock. He was by no means small and he didn’t want you to wake up from the sheer stretch of his cock finally entering you. He angled himself a bit so he was spooning you and traced the head of his cock along your soaking entrance. He just wanted to slam into you but he didn’t want to wake you when you were sleeping so peacefully. For now he’ll let you enjoy dreamland, make you believe that you’re just having a wet dream when in reality he’s using your body for his pleasure.

He slowly pushed the head of his cock inside you and shut his eyes. Waves of sheer ecstasy coursed through his body and he had to hold himself back from just shoving the rest of his length inside you. With shallow thrusts he pushed more of himself inside you and waited with bated breath as each inch entered you.

What would he do if you woke up? How could he explain himself? Would you even believe any lie he tried to create? He just had to pray to whatever god was out there to keep you asleep until he was finished.

Once he was inside you completely he had to bite his lip hard to restrain himself. He wanted to just go to town on you, wanted to see and feel your body shake in his hold while you cried out for him. He kept a slow pace, not wanting to shake the bed too much and not wanting to wake you. He let out low groans and grunts while he listened to the slick sounds of your cunt and the low moans and whimpers that came from your slightly parted lips. “So perfect, the prettiest and tightest cunt for me. I’m the luckiest bastard ever.”

Even with a slow pace he felt himself edging closer and closer to an orgasm. He moved his hand down to find your clit and rubbed it slowly to match the pace of his hips. Your cunt reacted beautifully with each movement, clenching and coiling around his cock. You got tighter and tighter and he knew you were growing closer and closer to your orgasm. “Cum for me, please baby cum for me.” It was like you could hear him even in your unconscious state because as the words met your ears you did exactly as he pleaded.

“Grimm…” his eyes widened and one more push of his hips led to him spilling his cum inside you in seemingly endless ropes. He could hear you as clear as day now as you whimpered his name, still very much asleep as you didn’t even move a muscle.

So in his mind it just meant that you were dreaming of him. Dreaming of him fucking you while he was actually doing it. He covered his mouth with his free hand as he panted heavily. His cock softened inside you so he could pull out of you. He wanted to see your cum filled pussy but he knew he had to clean you up too. There was no way he could explain why you were pumped full of cum. He moved slowly so he could have his face near your messy pussy and lifted his hand so he could use two fingers to scoop his cum out.

He couldn’t let the mixture of his cum and yours go to waste on a tissue so he brought his fingers to his mouth, cleaning them off before he pushed them right back inside you. He was on cloud nine, loving the way you two tasted together. Once there was no more cum leaking out of you he moved back in his place beside you and let out a sigh of relief. You rolled over so instead of your back facing him, you nuzzled against him and draped one of your arms over his toned body.

As he fell asleep he replayed the events that just happened in his mind. He finally got you. He finally felt you around him. While he hoped that one day you two could get to enjoy each other properly, he couldn’t help but wish for more nights like this.

Now that he’s had a taste of you, he couldn’t get enough of you. He could feel himself turning into an insatiable beast, he could never get his fill of you.

#venushits4k #grimmjow smut #bleach smut #tw:noncon element #tw:noncon #tw:somnophilia #tw:unprotected sex #tw:creampie

[kingkatsuki]

Cockwarming | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝-𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 - 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Kinktober masterlist.

Summary: You come home from work to find your boyfriend sleeping off a long, tiring work shift and you can’t help but seize the opportunity to get close to him.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, slight somnophilia (Bakugou, not reader), cockwarming, pussy grinding, 

Word Count: 1.7k.

Bakugou always looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, a serene aura captivating him as his normal rough expression softened. His brows no longer furrowed together as he slept, lips parted as gentle breaths left his lungs. A large, muscular arm thrown over his hairy chest as you watched the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Thick thighs bulging out of tight boxer-briefs that had risen up during his slumber, emphasising the bulge that lay beneath the grey fabric. Biting your lip as you saw just how large he looked even when he was completely soft, your thighs instinctively rubbing together as your thoughts flowed towards how he looked when he was hard and weeping for you.

It was becoming far more difficult to spend time together outside conflicting work schedules. The more you tried to synchronise your days off, the more society seemed to need the Number Two Pro-Hero. Bakugou would always give you an apologetic look before he kissed you goodbye, your eyes trained on the television as you watched your husband save another civilian life and catch the bad guys.

This time, however, you were going to seize the opportunity as it lay invitingly in front of you. Your hands were quick to slip out of your clothes, leaving them where they fell on the cool hardwood floor of your bedroom as you stepped towards your husband, leaving you clad in your bra and panties as you climbed onto the soft mattress. The material quaking as you shifted to straddle the sleeping man, legs spread wide over his thick thighs as you carefully tugged the sheet away from his torso before slipping your fingers into his boxer-briefs, eyes trained on his face as you watched for any signs of him waking up as you tugged the fabric down. His cock was soft as it lay flat pointing towards his hips, instinctively licking your lips as you lowered your face towards it.

Pressing a chaste kiss against the soft skin as you felt him slowly begin to twitch to life. Your tongue slipping out to lap at the softness of him as he began to grow in girth and length. Your tongue grazed along the skin as you slowly moved your fingers to wrap around him, jerking him gently as your tongue swiped against the fat tip. Watching as glistening pre began to leak from his slit, a hoarse grunt leaving his lips as he stood to attention for you. The meaty weight of his cock was too heavy to stay upright as it bobbed towards one of his thick thighs. Pouting your lips as you spat down onto his cock, smoothing the moisture along his length as you stroked him languidly. Your other hand moving to tease his heavy balls, massaging them beneath your fingers as you watched his adam’s apple bob.

Bakugou’s breathing remained even as you slowly sat upright, leaning your body forward to press your clothed slit against the underside of his cock. A breathless whine leaving your lips as his hardness caught your clit, your inner walls clenching around nothing as you began to grind yourself against him. Feeling yourself already dripping from the sight of your husband laid out invitingly for you on your return home, a body that was surely sculpted by the gods. Moving your panties to the side as you stroked your slick against his length, leaving silvery lines of you against his skin as you watched fresh pre continue to dribble from his thick tip. Each roll of your hips had your clit grazing the prominent veins that scattered along his length as you selfishly worked yourself towards your climax.

Raising your hips as you stroked the wet head of his cock through your messy slick, feeling it catch against your tight entrance as you let out an airy gasp, pressing yourself down on him as his thickness began to stretch you out around him. Rocking into Bakugou gently as you slowly began to drop yourself down on his length, even after so many years he still managed to give you a pleasurable ache whenever he breached your walls.

“Fuck, baby.” You gasped as you began to roll your hips, moving your hands to his chest as you felt the steady rise and fall of it as you began to ride him to try and allow more of his meaty cock inside you. Biting down onto your lower lip to stop yourself crying out in pleasure as you felt him bottom out inside you, his trimmed pubes grazing against your clit as you rocked yourself against him. Cherishing the sensation of him deep inside your quivering walls, being completely full as you clenched around him. Throwing your head back as you focused on the sensation, every single inch of your velvety walls stretched around his fat cock.

“Oi, Princess.” Bakugou’s rasped, his voice laced with sleep as thick muscular hands moved to your hips. Fingertips digging into the soft skin as he held you, making no attempt to try and get you to move on him as you remained still. Both of you enjoying the feeling of being completely connected, your bodies melded together perfectly.

“Hey,” You whispered softly, feeling Bakugou’s hands slowly begin to trace against your curves, thumbs stroking along the underside of your bra. Tracing along the swell of your breasts before palming them through the sheer fabric.

The movement causing you to arch your back into his touch, his cock scraping against the spongy spot inside you as you let out a low whine. Bakugou’s half-lidded eyes watching you quietly as his lips curled into a smirk, tugging down the straps of your bra as your breasts spilt out. Immediately moving his fingers to tweak and tug at your pebbling nipples. Pulling more sweet sounds from between your lips as your inner walls clenched around his cock.

“Must be my lucky fuckin’ day.” Bakugou groaned, trying to rut his hips up into you but your palms on his chest stayed firm. Stopping him from fucking into you as he let out a raspy growl, feeling it vibrate from deep in his chest.

“Mmm, been thinkin’ bout you today.” You murmured, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your body at the admission.

“Yeah?” Bakugou smirked, thumbs flicking your hard nipples, “This what you been thinkin’ about?”

You hummed as you nodded your head in affirmation, the dull ache from the stretch still brewing inside you as Bakugou continued to try and get you to move on top of him.

You clenched your thighs on either side of his hips, trying to keep him still as you continued to cockwarm him, your walls twitching around him as you pulled more pretty noises from his lips. Bakugou’s large calloused palms stroking along your exposed back and down towards your ass as goosebumps began to appear on your skin. Humming gently as you relaxed into his touch, nuzzling his collarbone as you pressed chaste kisses against the scar that marred his chest.

“Could get used to this, Princess.” He rasped, giving your ass the softest smack as he felt your walls clench around his cock. Lashes fluttering as he squeezed the soft mound, fingertips digging into the fat of your ass, “Waking up to being buried in your angel fuckin’ cunt.”

He smirked at the way your walls gripped him at his words, the prettiest whine leaving your lips as he brushed his lips against your temple. Evidentially bored from the lack of movement as he curled his palms around your body, grabbing for you as he pulled you down on top of him. Pressing your naked chests together as both his muscular arms tightened around your back.

His lips met yours in a slow, sensual kiss that was all tongue and teeth. Your fingertips tracing along the darkened stubble that scattered along his jaw as he moved his feet to sit flat on the mattress, legs bent at the knee as he held you tight. Catching you off guard as he began to rut into your slick cunt, keeping a harsh pace as the sound of skin against skin sounded around your quiet bedroom.

“Katsu-“ You gasped in surprise as each thrust had his cock dragging against your inner walls perfectly, your mouth open in a constant moan as Bakugou bounced you on his lap.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby.” Bakugou murmured, watching the blissful expression on your face as he continued his pace, “Could wake up like this every damn day.”

His balls slapped up against the curve of your ass with his frantic movements, greedily searching for his release as he felt your inner walls beginning to clamp down around him. Arms keeping tight around you to prevent you from moving away as he worked you both towards your release.

“Come on, Princess. Cum for me.” Bakugou growled, deliberately focusing his thrusts to the same spot inside you, the coil inside you dangerously close to breaking, “Cum for me- that’s it. That’s my good girl.”

You gasped as you felt your climax surge through you, your thighs clenching against Bakugou’s hips as your body shook above him. His arms remained tight around you as he continued to fuck you through your climax, his lips pressed against your ear as you buried your face in his neck.

Bakugou smirked as he continued pounding into your quivering body, ruthlessly chasing his own release, “Gonna fill this tight little pussy with cum. Make you nice and full, you like that?”

Your inner walls squeezed his cock hard at his words, a sensation that didn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou as he smirked against your cheek, “Course you’d like that, my dirty girl.”

You cried out as you felt Bakugou thrust into your quivering walls, eagerly chasing his own release as his cock began to twitch inside you. Your name spilling from his lips with a grunt as he came inside you, coating your inner walls with white-hot spurts of his cum. His breath scorching against your skin, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing.

Moving your palms to try and push yourself up and off him as you felt his arms tighten around your back, keeping your body pressed against his own, a light sheen of sweat making your skin stick together.

You settled back down against Bakugou’s chest, the steady rise and fall of his chest slowly rocking you to sleep as he began to trace absentminded patterns along your back with blunt nails. The sensation relaxing your body as his cock began to soften inside you, keeping you stuffed full of his cum as he tried to lure you into slumber.

#Bakugou x reader #Bakugou smut #Bakugou Katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugou x reader #Katsuki Bakugou smut #Bakugou Katsuki smut #Bnha x reader #Bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #tw:somnophilia #trigger:somnophilia #kinktober #kinktober 2021

[inkyajax]

*°:⋆ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 + 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⋆:°*

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬

#𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬  ⋆ me chattering on to myself ehehe

#𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 ⋆ any ask i answer!

#𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲.𝐛𝐛 ⋆ anon asks!

#𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⋆ any post that updates you on what i’ve been doing!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

common triggering topics you may come across on my blog include (but are not limited to):

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

dubcon ⋆ #tw:dubcon

somnophilia ⋆ #tw:somnophilia

dacryphilia ⋆ #tw:dacryphilia

degradation/dumbification ⋆ #tw:degradation, #tw:dumbification

daddy kink (sometimes with a ddlg type dynamic (aka a condescending caregiver type vibe) ⋆ #tw:daddy kink

spanking ⋆ #tw:spanking

marking (bruises, hickeys, scratches, bites) ⋆ #tw:marking

size kink/size difference ⋆ #tw:size kink

rough sex ⋆ #tw:rough sex

minimal prep ⋆ #tw:minimal prep

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

murder ⋆ #tw:murder

slight yandere ⋆ #tw:yandere

toxic relationships (manipulation, possessiveness, jealousy, patronization/condescension, extreme control, etc) ⋆ #tw:toxic relationship

age gaps between consenting adults ⋆ #tw:age gap

pseudocest (aka incest between adopted siblings, big brother x little sister ONLY) ⋆ #tw:pseudocest

organized crime ⋆ #tw:organized crime

drugs/drug addiction ⋆ #tw:drugs

cheating ⋆ #tw:cheating

blood ⋆ #tw:blood

if any of the topics mentioned above make you uncomfortable or upset, please filter the appropriate tags or block me! your safety and enjoyment should be of utmost concern, and it is your responsibility to curate your online space and online experience accordingly. stay safe <3

with that being said, here is a list of 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞:

anal/pegging

femdom | mommy kink

pedophilia

beastiality

pet play | hybrids

age play

lactation

water sports | scat | vomit

eating disorders

full blood incest | any incest that isn’t big bro x lil sis (dad x daughter, uncle x niece, etc)

#inky.tag index

[marqmywordsx]

I Won’t Stop Loving You

Yandere!Inumaki x Reader

Warnings: Somnophilia, non con/ dub con (use of cursed speech), possessive tendencies, a touch of stalking, a lil blood, (character has been aged up-5 years after high school)

WC: 1.6K

a/n: Welcome to my very first Jjk fic ever. I… I don’t know what came over me except for the fact that I found out my new kink is Somnophilia and it just WORKS for Inumaki. I honestly don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore but I hope y’all enjoy it.

Love me.

It doesn’t work that way.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he stands over your slumbering body. You’d tiptoed to his room in the dead of night eager for sleep. Your luscious lips curled into a desperate pout to ask him a favor.

“Please Toge, I haven’t had a good sleep in ages,” you whine, or more so beg him.

Toge doesn’t like using his cursed speech on friends, especially not on you. And when he orders people to sleep, it’s deep, almost like death. But the way you’re looking at him now, big giant pleading eyes, long lashes, dark circles staining the many creases folded beneath your bottom lashes, there’s no way he can refuse you.

Tonight is different. Tonight he’s made up his mind.

He nods once, unzips his jacket to expose his delicate pink lips. He flicks his tongue over them, staring into your eyes as he holds your face between his large hands and commands, “Sleep.”

You fall limp in his arms and he pushes your hair away from your face. You’re so beautiful. You’re at peace and Toge’s the perfect friend as he lays you in bed.

Toge’s been in love with you since high school. And 5 years later, when you’re both skilled sorcerers purging evil from the world, his adoration for you stays embedded deep in his heart. There’s just something about the way you read his body language and know exactly what it is he’s thinking—or perhaps not exactly. If only he could communicate just how much he craves you.

How irritating it was to witness other men peer at you, your perfect body, your plump lips, the way your pants fit around the curve of your ass. None of them knew you were his. Your wandering eye didn’t help either. He saw the way you looked at Fushiguro.

It’s Toge’s love for you that spurs his final decision. He watches your chest rise and fall softly, the wrinkles in the large sleep shirt you’re wearing rippling in the pale moonlight. There’s a bruise on your upper thigh, half hidden by the hem of fabric drowning you but Toge can see it. He knows exactly where it came from even though you were unsure.

He’d tapped it a few days ago, eyes wide and worried, inquiring about the source. Beside him, you flipped the page of your book nonchalantly before flicking your eyes down to the contusion and furrowing your brow.

“Hmm? Oh that. I… I actually don’t remember. Maybe I ran into a table or something. You know how clumsy I am.”

How he bathed in the beauty that was your soft smile, and reconciled the twitter pated beats of his out of control heartbeat at your gentle chuckle when he flashed you a disapproving glare. It almost made him lose focus, like the night he gave you that bruise.

He couldn’t help it, you’d felt so nice. Deep wonderful breaths as you laid dreaming of a wonderland where you were the queen and all your subjects existed to please you. Of course he can’t know for sure what you were dreaming, but he can imagine it had to be something of that nature if he took your unconscious moans into consideration.

His fingers dug too deeply into your thighs when you blessed him with your dribbling cunt in the wee hours of the night. He’d buried his face down below, licked gently at the little bud nestled in the nest of coily hair. Plunged his tongue inside you to fuck and feast on your pussy as a delicacy. You laid above him dreaming, blissfully unaware of his presence as whimpers dripped from your lips like a leaky faucet in the night.

How could he have kept control when the very idea of you not knowing it was he who made you feel this good, his tongue you pushed yourself further onto for more of the delicious ecstasy you encountered? He’d let a few groans of his own slip through, and a few times you almost woke. The bruise was the only evidence of his nightly activities and he was pleased to know you hadn’t remembered it when he inquired about it.

Tonight that wouldn’t be an issue. Tonight you’d sleep well and deep. But tonight he would have you and make you his.

“Love me.” He whispers the command in the dark. Already he can feel the painful itch in his throat. His brow darkens in frustration. Perhaps cursed speech doesn’t work on a sleeping person?

“Open your legs.”

Your legs part like the gates barring heaven and Toge’s eyes widen in shock. Perhaps you would love him when you woke up. For now, he’ll let you sleep. He knows how exhausted you are.

I’ll take good care of you, he thinks, running a finger down your tender cheek. He sheds his clothes, swiftly and quietly. His cock thumps eagerly against his toned abs and he climbs over your motionless frame. He pulls your sleep shirt over your head and is pleased to see you don’t don a bra.

He watches your nipples in the cool air of the room, a delectable sight he’s only ever dreamed of. Your long curly lashes flutter when he bends down to flick his tongue against one. Nimble fingers skate across your smooth skin, tracing every scar and beauty mark to commit them to memory.

He moves down to your hair swept lips, now dribbling with slick from his eager but sensual touch. You were made for him, and this is all the evidence he needs. He slowly draws a finger down between them, fingers the entrance to your heated heaven—his main course.

Then he pulls his finger away to examine the way it glistens in the moonlight before putting it to his lips and tasting you. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he savors you and he decides he can no longer wait.

He positions himself between your thighs, lining his thick cock head up with your entrance. He rubs it tenderly over your clothed clit, eliciting a sweet little squeak and breathy gasp from your lovely plump lips. Rolling your underwear slowly down your thighs, he sighs at the marvelous view before him.

The precious seconds of euphoria Toge experiences when he eases into your pussy for the first time are the most precious gift he could ever be bestowed. He’d pray to any god that would listen to have the experience played on loop over and over. His love is finally cemented when he bottoms out inside you, a grateful moan escaping him.

“Love me.”

He pulls out of your cunt and instantly misses the way you feel around him. He looks down on you, insatiable desire gnawing in his belly. He drags his hips slowly, cock stuttering as it pushes back into your tight heat. He can tell from your clenching, you like the way he feels too. It’s involuntary, so why, why won’t you love him?

“Love me.”

He pulls back out again so he can see the tip of his cock stretch you wider than your cunt is used to and push deeper inside to spread your walls and take all of him. This is a sight he wants branded into every fold and crease of his brain, a sight he’ll never forget.

“Love me!”

Your whimpers have become moans now, long gasping moans as he sets a pace that he’s no longer able to keep slow and gentle. He pounds into you, grunting with every slap of his balls against your slick covered thighs. You’re so compliant and obedient, arching your back off the bed in order to feel more of him despite your deep slumber. His fingers leave indentations in the sides of your hips, soon to be dark bruises as he clenches his teeth and drags along your velvety walls.

“Love me, please.”

He hardly recognizes his own voice, trembling from ecstasy or maybe the swelling emotion of believing the more he commands you, the more you’ll adore him. His throat is raw now, the salty copper taste of blood coating his damaged throat. He ignores it, coughing between the chorus of your high pitched moans and squeals, the pap pap pap of your hips meeting his balls; a symphony of sounds detailing the most intense love story anyone could ever witness.

Toge continues climbing the euphoric mountain, quickly reaching the peak to plunge willingly over the other side. Blood oozes from his mouth and onto your naked body as he pants like an injured animal over you. He can tell you’re about to come and he’s amazed you’re still seemingly asleep. Your legs start to tremble, you clench so hard around him he almost bites a chunk of his tongue off.

He doesn’t just fuck you, he ravages you, repeating over and over “Love me, Love me, Love me, Love me! Fuck!”

The ghostly reverb of his activated curse hollows away at your mind, yet you stay asleep and dreaming. He’s intent on pouring all his love into you. It’s the only way, he’s sure of it.

His hips stutter, and then he stops, cum spilling inside you in waves of creamy white heat. He tucks his head into your neck, blood stained kisses oozing down the planes of your body. And before his mind goes blank from the pleasure he whispers to you.

“Cum.”

Your body convulses, back arching up as your cunt tightens, and your eyes shoot open, screeching in what he hopes is pleasure and not betrayal or terror. You milk him dry as you flop back down on the bed and amazingly fall back into a quiet slumber.

All good things must come to an end. It’s a saying Toge’s familiar with. It’s what he tells himself every night he visits you. He looks down at your ruined body, smothered in bruises quickly darkening on your skin, blood, sweat, and copious amounts of white milky cum he’s pumped into your cunt.

It’s finally done. You’re his. And for now it's enough for it to be an unspoken secret. One day you'll come around to the inevitable conclusion that you love him too. One day you'll beg for him, and you'll be awake and needy, adoration pooling in your eyes and core.

But until then...

He closes his eyes, reaching for a bottle of cough syrup he stashed in the side table drawer. He spends the next few minutes cleaning you and putting your clothes back on. And when you look almost as normal as you did when the night began, he kisses your forehead and mutters the last command of the night.

“Forget.”

--

#Inumaki x reader #toge inumaki x reader #Inumaki #tw:somnophilia #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: yandere #🌻.Toge Inumaki #🌻.marquie writes

[inkykeiji]

i don’t know where, but she sends me there

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + fluff

notes: aaaaah okay this piece is actually based off of a dream i had in july (lmao)!! this fic is set within my touya-nii au, after the christmas series has taken place. as always, please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title cred: good vibrations by the beach boys

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, stepcest, toxic relationship, extreme codependency, very clingy + needy, mentions of yakuza related activity (torture and drugs), minimal prep, marking (biting, scratching, bruising), blood, size difference, a hint of overstimulation, somnophilia (kinda; reader gives him permission), dacryphilia, a bit of choking, a hint of dumbification, degradation, praise, infantilization

words: 5k

synopsis:

And then he’s practically running to you, nearly tripping over his own ankles and stubbing his own toes on the hardwood in his haste to reach you—and you’re crawling, scrambling, to the edge of the bed to meet him, heart-shattering half-whimpers of his honorific spilling from your lips, broken and jagged, not even able to exhale the full word, hiccups cutting you off each and every time, as he falls to his knees in front of you.

The stench of dirt and blood, grime and death, saturates his skin, clinging to him in a fine layer of filth, stinging your nose as you throw your arms around his neck. But you don’t care, inhaling all of the decay and destruction and letting it fill your chest, your lungs, your heart—because as revolting as it is, it’s him.

It’s him, and he’s here. With you. Finally.

Touya can still smell it—smell him—on his clothes, on his skin, in his hair. It’s all he can smell, every time he breathes, sharp intakes of air mimicking, echoing, the screams of the kid; an eighteen-year-old who had been bold enough, brave enough, stupid enough to steal from the Shigarakis. And not just something small, no, but four pounds of pure cocaine.  

Senseless, reckless, thoughtless kid.

He isn’t usually one to sympathize, isn’t usually one to feel anything negative at all when he kills—enjoys it sometimes, even—but this one had been…different. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t want to ruminate on it, deathly afraid of the answers he might find, burrowed away deep in his soul.

But Touya was pissed at the kid, too—not for stealing, of course, the Shigarakis have more money than they know what to do with, and four pounds is measly, moot, compared to the cocaine kingdom they rule—but for wasting his fucking time; for making them chase his dumb ass and kidnap his twin sister as bait, and for forcing them to torture him until he revealed the hiding location of the stolen product—boss’ orders, of course. Torture first, then kill. As always.

But the idiot was surprisingly resilient, managing to withstand torture most people wouldn’t, all for the sake of his family, he had said, when spewing sob story after sob story, each one grating on Touya’s nerves more than the last, taking the thief a full nineteen fucking hours before he finally gave in, gave up.

Touya’s almost positive it was more torturous for him than it was for anyone else. Because, thanks to the dumb kid’s unrelenting stubbornness, he is now coming home a full twenty-four hours later than he promised you he would.

And that, well, that is absolute fucking hell.

It’s just past noon when he finally returns to the flat. You appear to be in some sort of trance, coiled in a small ball on your shared bed, eyes glassy and bloodshot as you stare unblinkingly into nothingness—as if sleeping with your eyes open, almost—clutching some stupid stuffed animal to your chest, thumb rhythmically petting its head. It’s cheap, and old, something he had won for you the last time the circus had been in town, but you cherished it dearly—so much so that it has begun to fall apart, uneven patches of fur matted and missing, limbs limp and sagging, tiny clouds of white stuffing seeping through worn stitching.

And yet, you loved it all the same.

Distress is evident on your face; puffy cheeks stained with streaks of dried salt that has crusted to your flesh, features tense and twisted, screwed up in worry, in anxiety, in need, and crumpled so tightly they form creases in your skin. His hoodie—worn and faded and much too big—is wound around your body, engulfing you entirely, cocooning you in his scent, and your phone lies only a few inches from your bowed head, facing upwards, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Something sharp cracks in his chest, vicious in its suddenness, and he curls in on himself, a palm reflexively pressed to his sternum in an ill attempt to quell the throbbing twinge it’s left in its wake.

He wasn’t supposed to be gone this long. He’s never supposed to be gone this long. Forty-eight hours—that’s the most he’s ever had to leave you alone in the flat, that’s the most he’s ever been able to handle. But something had come up, something he couldn’t tell you, something he couldn’t wiggle his way out of, resulting in his prolonged absence for an additional twenty-four hours.

It was fucking terrible. It was the worst ache either of you had ever felt; a pain so deep, so heavy, it was nearly suffocating; and yet, hollow and void, as if something vital had been stolen.  

And he swears he nearly went mad, having spent that extra day away from you with parasitic notions worming their way through the tissues of his brain, burrowing within the folds and gnawing away at his sanity, filling his mind with thoughts about how small and incapable you are when it comes to taking care of yourself without his guiding supervision; how he knows you haven’t slept more than a handful of hours since he left—he knows, because he hasn’t, either, no longer able to sleep without the other’s presence close.

He’s barely made a sound, was sure to take extra care when he kicked his crimson splattered boots off at the front door, kept his footsteps light—all in an effort not to disturb you, in case you were napping.

Yet despite this, you rouse moments before he even steps foot in your shared bedroom, before he’s even finished pushing the ajar door open, like you have a sixth sense, a penchant for detecting his presence almost immediately, pushing yourself up into a sitting position, suddenly awake, alert, now that he’s here.

And then he’s practically running to you, nearly tripping over his own ankles and stubbing his own toes on the hardwood in his haste to reach you—and you’re crawling, scrambling, to the edge of the bed to meet him, heart-shattering half-whimpers of his honorific spilling from your lips, broken and jagged, not even able to exhale the full word, hiccups cutting you off each and every time, as he falls to his knees in front of you.

The stench of dirt and blood, grime and death, saturates his skin, clinging to him in a fine layer of filth, stinging your nose as you throw your arms around his neck. But you don’t care, inhaling all of the decay and destruction and letting it fill your chest, your lungs, your heart—because as revolting as it is, it’s him.

It’s him, and he’s here. With you. Finally.

Fingers curl in his soiled t-shirt, knotting firmly in the material as you try to pull yourself closer, desperate with desire. He has to shower, he tells you gently, in that soothing lilt that only reveals itself in the comfort of your homey flat, when he’s sure the world outside the crystal windows won’t hear, when he’s alone with you.

Your head shakes, face smushed against his chest, mumbling incoherent refusals as you clutch him tighter, tugging on the thin cotton. A hushed chuckle vibrates in his chest, sending little sparks shooting through your veins, and you snuggle into him.

Touya sighs, large hands running up and down your back in rhythmic motions. “Niichan can’t just stand around dirty and disgusting all day, though, can he?”

No, you suppose he can’t. But still—

“Don’t want you to leave again.”

He pauses, body gone rigid—he would never, you know that now, don’t you?—your own form beginning to shake and quiver as the surprise of his return wears off, cracked sniffles catching in your chest and soaking into his, flooding his veins with potent remorse, limbs gone limp as they melt in the raging fire you never fail to strike to life in his chest, oozing into yours and becoming one again, right again, perfect again.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks, straining under the weight of culpability and reproach, clearing his throat roughly.

“I know, princess. But niichan feels icky. It’ll only be for a second, I promise—” he begins to pull away, your arms tightening their grip, a fond little laugh escaping his lips as he allows you to tug him back with no resistance. “Though niichan can’t shower with you hanging onto him like a little koala,”

“Why not?”

The question is uttered plainly, simply, as if you truly don’t understand why that’s inconvenient, why that’s impractical. Maybe in your dreamy state, with your brain gone dazed and dumb with yearning, with craving, you can’t. He sighs out his nose, huffing out another chuckle, and shakes his head.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he’s murmuring, voice void of derision as knuckles stroke your head. “You know that?”

“Mhmm,” you’re nodding, a little belatedly now that fatigue is beginning to settle into your bones again, now that you can relax, now that he’s really, truly, actually here.

Strong arms heft you up, cradling you to his chest, soft flesh and hard muscle vibrating with a low coo as your legs lock around his waist, clingy and covetous, before carrying you towards the en-suite.

“Can we take a bath?” you mumble into the skin of his neck, lips forming a half-hearted kiss at the end of your sentence.

Touya glances warily at the gleaming jacuzzi nestled in the corner. “But showers are so much quicker—”

“Please, niichan?”

That’s all it takes this time, not even necessitating your precious puppy-dog eyes or your prettiest pout; only one simple please, and you’ve gotten exactly what you wanted, settling into the steaming water, bubbles and all.

The water turns from crystal to pink, tarnishing the white bubbles as he cleans the blood from his body—always someone else’s, never his own. It should disgust you, probably, as you watch faded scarlet droplets streak his body—his neck and face and arms—that delicately curl into wisps of nothing after they rejoin the water, blossoming into grotesque roses for a moment, like a second life, of sorts, before dying their ultimate death.

Yes, it should disgust you, most likely, to be lounging in a tub full of water tainted by dead, dried blood, water infused with what used to flow through another person’s veins, with what used to keep someone living and breathing, vibrant and vital.

It should. But it doesn’t.

It doesn’t, because he’s here with you, softly humming some bouncy tune—something by The Beach Boys, you’re almost positive—as he lathers soap along the smooth planes of his body, sapphire eyes flicking up to catch yours, a little grin materializing on his lips.

But he doesn’t permit you to enjoy the show for long, because before you know it he’s stepping from the tub, shagging a towel through ivory strands then wrapping it haphazardly around his waist. A patronizing little smirk decorates his lips as he catches your disappointed pout, shaking his head a little as he stalks towards you, pulling you from the waters warm embrace in one swift movement and sheathing you in the fluffiest pink towel.

You’re so tired you can barely stand, swaying between his strong arms as he pats you down delicately, speaking to you in that supercilious voice he uses when he’s delegating. But your ears only catch certain words, hearing stifled with sleep.

“...Okay?...Niichan will...and then...favourite nighty...”

“No,” you sulk with a lethargic shake of your head, unable to keep the whine from leaking into your tone. “Don’wanna,”

“What do you mean, you don’t want to?” and although there’s a frown on his face and a furrow in his brow, his voice is gentle, laced with the purest adoration, eyes shining with so much love it’s nearly suffocating.

“No nighty,” you say. “Your shirt,”

Blowing a sigh out his mouth, Touya levels you with an unimpressed look, large hands wrapped around your biceps keeping you still as he leans back, assessing you. “Baby,” he begins, and you try to keep your features from souring—he’s using his Scolding Tone. “Niichan spoils you with all of these beautiful, expensive, sexy nightgowns, and you can’t even be bothered to wear them for him? Would rather wear one of his ratty old t-shirts instead? How’s that supposed to make him feel, when his baby is so ungrateful?”

He’s right. You know he’s right. He buys you the most stunning and luxurious pieces of sleepwear, so pretty they’re almost pieces of art in their own right, so pretty you’re not sure you ever want to sleep in them, because as lavish as they are, they’re nothing compared to your niichan’s shirts and sweaters, soft and cozy and doused with him—his scent; expensive cologne and hickory campfire and spicy marlboros, his presence; warm and comforting and protective.

“I just—I like your stuff,” you mumble through your pout with a halfhearted shrug, and he smirks.

“That’s sweet, princess,” he throws the words over his shoulder as he walks towards the bedroom, dismissive and indifferent, as if you’re nothing more than a child with an opinion that doesn’t hold any weight, before instructing that you stay put, alright?

In the end, he wins—because he always wins—slipping the sweetest silk babydoll over your naked body, dusty rose and trimmed with glittering lace, before carrying you back to bed.

It’s only four thirty in the afternoon, but Touya tucks you into your shared bed anyway, seeking solace in the arms of one another, safe and secure in your own precious universe conjured up under the protection of your fluffy blankets.

The idea had been to sleep—you need sleep, you both need sleep—but apparently, that isn’t what you want.

“Want you inside me,” you’re murmuring out in a whine, wiggling against him mere moments after you’ve been cocooned in the blankets, incessant squirming resulting in your dainty little nightgown bunching around your waist.

Admittedly, he’s surprised—you do? Even in your exhausted state, with your lids so heavy, so weighted you can barely lift them more than a sliver, with your words slurred together and stuffed full of heavy sleep, bleeding into each other and flowing fluidly as one past your lips, you still want him?

Another little whine—urgent, eager, desperate—claws it’s way up your throat, acting as confirmation, accompanied by the lazy lolling of your head, a poor imitation of a nod.

And, well, who is he to deny his princess?

It starts slow. Or, at least, he tries to start slow, tries to keep in mind how tired his poor little baby is, body so saturated with fatigue that you can barely move, flopping like a rag doll and pliable in his large, calloused hands as he rearranges you, folds and twists and molds you into exactly how he wants, just as he always has, just as he always does, just as he always will.

Just as you’ll always let him. What a good, good girl he’s got himself.

“So obedient,” he’s murmuring as rough palms run across the supple skin of your thigh, almost as if he’s in awe. “Eager to please her niichan even in her sleep, huh,”

Yes, yes, you’re nodding your head with pathetic little sounds spilling from your throat, full of urgency, little hands groping around in the dark.

Knees bump against your chest as he forces you into a curled ball on your side, hands pressing and pushing at your legs, up and up and up until they reveal your cunt to him. A precious whimper pries it’s way past your lips and he hushes you, two fingers prodding at your tiny, fluttering hole.

“Please niichan,” you’re mumbling into the pillow, viscous strings of drool that coat your lips and connect them to the cushion glittering in the faint sunlight spilling through the windows as they move. “Please, cock, please,”

He growls, delivers a light slap with the back of his hand to the bare flesh of your ass, but you merely mewl, hips pushing down towards him, yearning pathetically.

Always so impatient, his little slut, he’s nearly panting out as he pushes into you, a sharp hiss sucked between your clenched teeth as your flesh yields to him, ripping and stretching and tearing, procuring tiny fissures of stinging pain.

But it’s welcomed, because it’s familiar, because it’s him, a satisfied sigh of contentment slipping past your lips as he bottoms out, little hole already pulsing around him as it adjusts, as if it’s trying to suck him in further, deeper, better.

A heaved sigh escapes his lips, too, all of the tension and stress and trepidation sagging from his body as he finds solace in yours, flowing out of his mouth, floating on the deep breath exhaled.

Because you—you feel like home; you feel like salvation, his own personal paradise, always ready to welcome him back, to soothe his injuries and silence his mind, a heaven better than any God could ever create.

Hips pressed flush against your ass, he stills, cockhead snug against your cervix, and revels in the way your cute little cunt throbs, in the way your hips wiggle and push downwards, in the way pathetic mewls of his honorific pry past your lips, garbled and thick with spit, bleary eyes blinking up at him with desperate want, with urgent desire.

He thinks about making you work for it, beg for it, but he doesn’t have the patience tonight.

No, tonight, he needs you just as desperately, just as urgently, craves you cumming on his cock just as badly as you do.

Drawing his hips back slowly, he pulls nearly all the way out, waits until that telltale, bratty whine of ‘niichan!’ is huffed past your lips—always accompanied with those knitted brows and scrunched up nose—and slams back into you.

It’s so sudden, so rough it has your tired eyes springing open, paired with a sharp gasp that scrapes against your throat.

And he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow at all after that, delivering thrust after relentless thrust at a pace so quick the headboard doesn’t knock or bang against the wall, it trembles and quivers, vibrates and shivers, such a tempo causing the entire frame to move so fast it feels like it’s shuddering.

But he barely even notices, not with the way you’re positively sobbing beneath him, throat filled with half coughed out honorifics, words shredded to pieces before they can fully reach your tongue, slashed clean in half by each piston of his hips.

Even in such a state, he’s so fucking beautiful, ivory tufts with still-damp tips painted gold by the sharply saturated rays of the waning winter sun, beams of sunshine collecting in his irises as he stares at you, glittering sapphire searing into your face, his gaze leaving an indescribable scorching across your skin.

And you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to properly express the myriad of feelings he inspires—not through words, nor through actions—because his stare alone has your heart absolutely bursting, imbued with the sapphire fire blazing in his eyes, a flame that keeps the voracious creature in your chest warm and alive, with its razor teeth and sharp claws and insatiable desire, that devours everything in its path, greedy and selfish and always craving more.

That flame is more than warm—it’s scalding, so hot it stings your lungs with each ragged intake of stammered breath. It’s nearly painful, this all-consuming love, forged from obsession and infatuation, from desperate need and disgusting want; a ruthless blaze that feeds on your kerosene-drenched organs, flaring higher and higher as it’s passed between the two of you, imbued in your messy spit and breathless words.

He’s all you can see, your vision tinged with fierce azure as it glows over your body in the dusky light, dewdrops of sweat embellishing his temples, desperately clinging to half-dry clumps of alabaster. He’s all you can hear, his voice swathing your body in the sweetest silk, lulling you like the sweetest lullaby despite the tone, the words, sentiments fractured with the sweetest moans. He’s all you can feel, smell, think; a goddamn infection rotting your brain and filling your veins and eroding your heart, and you love it, you love it, you love it.

It’s all so much, all so fast, a raging inferno building in your tummy, flames of pure sapphire licking up your throat and tickling the back of your tongue, spreading through your veins and incinerating your blood, charring your muscles and bubbling your skin until it’s engulfed you in its fiery embrace, until everything finally shatters and melts and fuses again, his honorific escaping your throat as nothing more but huffs of smoke, cute cunt clenching around his cock with such force it sends thorns shooting through your abdomen and down your thighs.

He chokes on a curse as violent tremors course through your folded form, whole body quivering beneath him as your chest heaves with half-gasps of his name, embellished with tears and spit, sweet little cunt throbbing with each sob that stutters down your spine.

But he doesn’t slow his pace, not even for a second, each slam of his cock knocking another mutilated cry from your chest, each one a perfect mosaic his honorific, cracked with tears and welded by moans, each one a precious piece of artwork he’s fucked out of you.

And it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, he’s positive of it.  

It’s sick and perverse and so fucking hot, the way you weep his name like he’s your Goddamn saviour, saliva staining the ivory sheets as tears seep past your clenched eyes, lashes spiked and spidery as they catch and consume them.

It’s sick and perverse and so fucking breathtaking, how gorgeous you look with those salt-stained cheeks and that glistening gaze, staring up at him through that hazy mist that seems to be enveloping you, enticing you, deeper and deeper and deeper with each snap of his hips.

But you’re clinging to him, nails gnawing the prettiest periwinkle bites into his smooth skin, begging him to protect you from it, to not allow it to engulf you just yet, pried open eyes desperately resisting the caress of sleep, all in an effort to to catch one more glimpse of him.

A long tongue unfurls from his mouth, slick and sticky and shining in the dim sunlight, leaning down to lap, rough and ravenous, at the tears adorning your cheeks, laving over your entire face. He absolutely devours them, swallows them down to hold safe and sacred in the pit of his belly and the depths of his heart, protected by hard muscle and guarded by a cage of bone.

Each swipe of his pubic bone against your clit sends sparks of electricity buzzing through your veins, procuring rhythmic ripples of tremors through your form, gentle quivers forcing chills to skitter across your flesh. It hurts, every ram of his cockhead against your cervix, inducing a dull ache in the pit of your stomach, each thrust sharper than the last.

 “Such a good girl,” he spits through gritted teeth, tail end of the sentence disintegrating on his harsh exhale. “Niichan’s good, good girl, taking his cock so well,”

And despite the fact that sleep is clawing at your mind and pain is clutching at your body, your chest can’t help but swell with the praise, babbling out mangled words of thanks, words too tangled with sobs to be legible.

Sweet breath grazes your face, gentle and gauzy despite his harsh movements, remnants of the rough pants he exhales in time with every pound into you. Your tongue writhes from between your chapped lips and laps lazily at the air, desperate to savour every last bit of him.

Everything’s getting hazy now, vision wavering with water and casting him a blur of sapphire and ivory. Unconscious begins to drain your muscles, arms going lax around his shoulders, wrists draped across the back of his neck, saturated with his sweat and tickled by tufts of damp hair.

Stubbornly, you blink drowsiness from your eyes, forcing it to roll down your cheeks in glistening pairs—tiny crystals that leave the faintest trail of shimmer in their wake.

And, honestly, it’s a marvel how—regardless of your exhaustion—you still manage to paw and claw at him, to pull and cling to him, needing him closer, needing his chest pressed against your hip, his mouth on yours, his tongue down your throat.

Little fingers feast on the flesh of his shoulders as you lick and nip and suck, tongue painting strokes of shimmering saliva along the column of his throat, spit collecting in the dips of his collarbone as your lips stamp brilliant blooms of blue across his smooth skin. Sharp incisors sink into his neck suddenly, his cock twitching as your teeth tug the most glorious sounds from deep within his chest.

Another bite strangles a moan from his throat, the noise tapering off into a rancorous growl as a large hand finds your throat, lithe fingers collaring your neck and pushing, dislodging your teeth from his flesh in an instant and forcing your head back on the mattress.

It’s absolutely crushing, the weight of his hand on your windpipe, vision wavering as he dives forward and mashes his lips to yours, sucking your bottom lip between gleaming teeth and clasping down until you scream—nothing more than pitiful little squeaks and squeals, really, remnants of sounds that escaped his murderous palm—until metal floods his mouth and stains his tongue and coats his teeth, crimson smile shimmering in the setting sun.

And it’s good, it’s so good, you’re so good, little cunt fluttering around his cock and he laughs, breathless and stuttered, because God, you’re such a perfect little whore for him, such a pretty little girl for him, with blood smeared across your chin and tears streaking your cheeks and sweat saturating your hair.

“So fucking needy for you niichan, aren’t you?” The words waft across your face, hot and sticky, panted out in time with his vicious thrusts. “Stupid baby can’t do anything without her niichan, can she? Can’t even think without her big brother, huh?”

No, you’re shaking your head in agreement. No, no, no, no, no, you can’t, you need him, always, you need—

“Fill me,” the request is gasped out, words fighting to break through your incessant, incoherent chattering of affirmation. “Please, niichan, please, please,”

And it sounds as if you might start wailing, shining eyes beseeching him as your nails embed themselves in his flesh, fingers flexing with the sheer craving, eyes sweeping across his face in a manner that’s almost rabid.

“Please, need your cum, need it in me, all of it Touya-nii, need you to fill my belly with it, f-fill my brain with it, everywhere, everywhere, please, I—I—”

A vicious growl, a confirmation, rattles his ribs, and you swear you can feel it vibrating through his body—coursing through his veins and eating through his bones until it enters you, brutal as your body absorbs the aftershocks. His hips gain speed, thrusts turned absolutely ruthless as he pounds into you, so hard it has your entire body jostling up the mattress, sheets bunched beneath your curled up form, sharp hipbones carving the prettiest splotches of navy and violet into the plush flesh of your ass.

You’re still begging, you’re sure of it, can feel the pleads vibrating in the recesses of your chest, but it all sounds muffled to you, indistinct pitched wails, white noise cut clean in two with a fractured moan of your name as his hips still and his cock throbs, and throbs, and throbs, filling you to the brim with burning, thick cum.

And, oh, it’s so good, it’s fucking heavenly, being stuffed full of his cum, of him, so much so that you can feel it oozing past his cock and dribbling out of you, coating your ass and his balls.

It takes him a moment to pull out, collapsing on your worn body instead, and part of you wishes he never would, legs wound around his waist and locked at the ankles, heels digging into the dips cushioning the base of his spine.

Because one time isn’t enough, one taste isn’t enough; because it never is.

“Use me,” the jumbled words leak out from your mouth, half soaked up by your pillow. “Use me however you wanna, niichan. S’okay,”

He pulls back then, azure eyes assessing your profile, slow and careful as they sweep across your features, pausing for a moment before a brilliant smile splits his face.

Because, God, he loves you. He loves you so fucking much; so fucking much that it’s stifling, a poisonous gas that bleeds from his heart, pumped out with each beat, and fills the cavity of his chest, so much, so much, so much, until it feels as if his ribs are going to splinter, until it crawls up his throat and sinks into his stomach, until it infects his brain and invaded his veins, whole body set ablaze by his love for you.

Precious, delicate, needy thing that you are, you pass out only a few moments after he acknowledges your permission, a hushed affirmative and a gentle sleep, princess, pressed against your temple.

And you’re his greatest creation, he swears to the good Lord himself; you’re his most cherished possession, he’s absolutely sure of it, as he molds and models you, shapes and sculpts you into exactly what he wants, exactly what he needs, perfect body yielding to his every whim and wish.

It’s astonishing, how you manage to obey him, how you manage to stay asleep throughout his ravishing, only slipping from unconsciousness’ iron grip to whimper out affirmations of love.

Because he fucks you until he’s sheathed in a sheen layer of sweat, droplets of salt kissing his lips and catching in his lashes, hands and hips so slippery it’s hard to get a solid grasp on your abused body.

He fucks you until his muscles disintegrate into nothing, until his skin is red and raw and wrecked, arms trembling and hips twitching with each weak rut against you.

He fucks you until you’re a whole galaxy of him, swirling blotches of grey and navy and violet stamped across your skin, millions of periwinkle moons gouged into your flesh, ribbons of red supernovas twined around your body.

And as sleep begins to seep into his skull, into his brain and blood and bones, he’s sure there’s no greater heaven he could be sent to—no greater nirvana, arcadia, utopia—than the one he’s sent to by you, safe and secure in your shared flat, sleeping soundly against his neck, stuffed full and sopping with his cum.

There’s nothing like it, the place you take him to; his own sacred afterlife, forged from your love, your sex, your ardour. There’s nothing better than it, a space that is completely indescribable, entirely undefinable, absolutely undestroyable.

It’s you and him; always, forever, eternal.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi smut #bnha smut #tw:stepcest #tw:drugs #tw:blood #tw:dacryphilia #tw:somnophilia #tw:infantilization #i am SO flippin tired #why do i always do this to myself lmao

[janshu]

Inu!Bakugo...for @ultimate-astridwriting's Hybrid collab!

Summary: My part of the hybrid collab. I had so much fun writing an angry Pomeranian Bakugo. 10/10 would do again. I'm not completely happy with it but who ever is? I'm still proud of myself!

Word count: 2.2k.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Bakugo being an ass, sexual content, somnophilia, collars, choking, humping, creampie, name calling (bitch, slut, whore etc.), use of the word cunt.

You sigh as you rummage around in your pocket to produce the key to your home. After a long day's work all you want to do is get some dinner, take a bath and go to bed but none of those things would be possible would they?

No, not after the spur of the moment decision to adopt a hybrid of all things. The week earlier was one of torrential downpours and near freezing temperatures, the roads making a slushy substance of half-melted ice and salt to prevent the very thing it was being mixed in with. People stayed indoors the best they could when they weren't at work but life had to shit on you and make your car breakdown in the parking garage. Umbrella rested on your shoulder, rain boots on your feet with your spare in your bag and you trudged through cold, mushy hell back home. The streets were barren as a Walmart on a weekday at 4am, no life passing by you until you crossed an alley between two businesses. A pathetic whimper had caught your attention and your gaze drifted down to a soaked cardboard box. What was in that box you weren't sure if you should curse or love. A hybrid.

Narrow red eyes stared at you in suspicion, fangs bared at you but the creature didn't make any attempts to nip at your fingers when they neared to ruffle the spikey head of hair. The hybrid had leaned into your touch before recoiling away as if you had smacked him. The black and orange collar had seen better days, the charm that dangled on the hollow of his neck read "Dynamite" but he didn't give any indication that was his name when you repeated it outloud. He was barely dressed in anything, a thin t-shirt, shorts with ragged Converse that had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truthfully he looked a few days away from starvation and how could you keep that on your conscience if you left him there? After laying your warm coat over his shoulders you somehow, someway, managed to get him back to your place. Everything went downhill from there in the blink of an eye.

The weak puppy persona was gone the moment warm food settled in his belly and within the hour he acted as if you had crowned him king of the house. Beginning his rambles of curses, demands and biting at your fingers. The worst of it happened when you tried to take his collar off for a new one, one that wasn't frayed and barely hanging on. "Katsuki" as he spat out his name with enough venom to put a Black Mamba to shame had flipped over a coffee table, ripped up every couch cushion and went so far to chew on the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

No doubt you'd be greeted with the same sight as always. Messy, dirty, unknown stains everywhere and dishes still in the sink waiting to be moved to the washer. Maybe if he wasn't such a loud ass you could train him but your frazzled nerves were at their wits end. You didn't know what to do, you were about to throw in the towel and put him up for adoption. Yep, you were disappointed to be proven right. Katsuki reclining on the couch lengthwise, remote in his hand with the most bored expression on his face while idly flipping through channels.

"Fucking finally, you're home! I've been waitin' for fucking hours for your ass to get back! I'm hungry, get your shitty ass in the kitchen and make dinner." He barked. Barely giving you any time to hang up your coat and slip off your shoes before his orders began.

"Katsuki...I can't, not tonight." Could your voice portray anymore pleading? Apparently not because he didn't seem to notice, or care.

The fluffy ear at the top of his head only flicked in response, the top lip curling into his signature snarl. "Then what the fuck are you good for? Get your fucking ass in that god damn kitchen and fucking make dinner already."

All that you were good for? All that you were good for? How dare he! He's been freeloading off you for a week now without so much as a thanks for saving him from the streets, feeding him, clothing him, keeping him warm and dealing with his bullshit and this is how he repays you?

"I've fucking had it with you!" Your voice rose higher than you meant to but at this point you didn't care, a line had been crossed. "You fucking sit there and ruin my shit and yet I'm the useless one? I have half a mind to kick you out! You can make your own fucking dinner, I've had it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!"

Despite not having any clunky shoes on your feet still managed to resonate in the small living room while you stormed past the couch. You had expected anything, anything at all. A slap, a punch, a groan, literally anything but you were met with only silence and that somehow pissed out off even more. How could silence be so infuriating?! You didn't even notice the terror that washed over his face as you screamed at him or the way his chest heaved with the sob or how he trembled underneath your wrathful gaze as you walked away. The bedroom door slamming made short work of that.

"Fuck I'm such an ass.." You mused to yourself already regretting blowing up at him but what would an apology do that wasn't already broken? So better yet why not send yourself to bed without dinner as some kind of punishment? He'd linger at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you with those intense eyes if you made dinner anyways so why let him win? He could his own shit for fucks sake!

After a quick shower to dethaw your bones and warm up what was left of your dead soul the softness of your pajamas helped ease the guilt gnawing away like a puppy on its first bone. Laying in bed until sleep eventually overcame you and when he knew it was safe to slip in and sneak over towards your bedside.

Rustling was what woke you. The rustling of clothes and the jingle of something metallic in the darkness of the bedroom. Whatever grogginess you normally suffered when waking up was vanishing the more details were dissected and understood by your half-asleep brain, a process that took an embarrassingly long time. Clothes rustling, the bedsheets moving, heavy pants and something incredibly warm nudging up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Naturally your brain assumed the worst and your eyelids flew open to show nothing; at first. As your eyes adjusted to the pitch black room they found the blazing stare of those vermillion eyes, the bared fangs that belonged to your hybrid.

What the hell was Katsuki doing on top of you?

Noticing that you were awake the snarl turned into a smirk as he huffed, his large chest expanding with each desperate pant. Why did your folds feel so good just as you were waking up?

"Feel that?" How could you not? The feel of a scorching cock bumping up your folds and sensitive clit, wet from the pre leaking from the tip. There was so much of it from what you could feel, too sticky to be your own. His hips had yet to cease moving, no word from your shocked form to still his rutting hips.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Was the most logical question your brain could come up with in the moment.

"Humping...fucking dumbass." His warm breath created goosebumps on your cool skin, his head must've been so close to yours by the hair tickling your forehead. "Tryin'ta...help ya. Shitty woman.."

"Help? How the fuck is this helping?"

"You've been working so hard so I thought maybe...a good fuck would calm ya down, relax ya." Katsuki's voice was so desperate, so needy, the humping of his cock on your labia increasing.

He was trying to help? He was going to fuck the frustration out of you? Is that was he was offering? Having sex with a hybrid was common enough to not be considered taboo but you couldn't help but feel he was trying to worm his way into your good graces. Unless your words had struck some kind of cord with him. "Okay, alright, I'll let you help."

"Fuck yeah!"

With that the head of his cock nudged against your cunt, already spread and waiting for him. How long had he been doing this for? The burn of the stretch was delicious, he was just big enough to fill you up but not hurt. Settling right up to kiss the tip of your cervix when he bottomed out. His hands grip at your thigh and hip, pulling his back to slam his cock right back into you. Over and over, over and over, over and over. Practically using you as a fleshlight to get himself off but damn if it didn't feel good, him bouncing you on his cock so roughly each thrust was sending the headboard against the wall.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Katsuki!" Your hands pat around and eventually find his biceps and you cling on for dear life, your nails digging crescent shaped markings into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah...you like this form of stress relief, don'tcha you dirty slut?" Undoing the collar around his neck the frayed cloth of the strap is tied around your neck, the buckle clamping down tightly to constrict your airflow while two fingers slip under it to pull and tug. "You're my dirty fucking slut! Mine...mine...mine...mine, fucking mine!"

Your fingers trailed down the tiny amount of space between your bodies down to the precious, neglected nub between your legs. Barely able to wiggle your index and middle finger down there from the rabid fucking you were receiving to circle the bundle of nerves and send yourself over the edge. Each clap of your thighs smacking against each other forcing your hate for his behavior ebbing away. If he was going to act like this all the time how could you kick him out?

"F-fuck! Gonna cum...fucking cum..cum for me. Cum with me!" Katsuki snarled as the pressure around your throat increased. Your hand was smacked away from your clit and was replaced with the large pad of his thumb, frantic circles sending your body into a writhing mess of flails and kicks.

The orgasm that had been steadily building from your ministrations had been ripped away and replaced with one quickly approaching to push you over the edge. The white hot pleasure-coil that formed underneath your belly button snapped and all of it coursed through your system in one go. Paralyzing your body for a split second as you squirted all over the hybrids cock, his still rubbing hand sending the liquid everywhere. Coating his thighs, your thighs and the bed underneath you.

"Fucking fuck! Such a whore, such a dirty girl for me! Oh my fucking g-god!" One last slam of his hips and his own body stilled, burying his cock deep inside your cunt to shoot his cum deep in your womb. He stuttered before his body collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his sweaty muscles.

Bathing in the afterglow, coming down from your high you could've sworn you heard something. Mumbling, soft mumbling too indistinct to understand. Katsuki's head laying on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone and was he laying kisses here and there? No, you must've been seeing things. Still buried to the hilt he turned his head to speak, his fluffy ears perked and his tail gently swishing behind him. The sudden light from your phone illuminated the room, casting light on Katsuki's face and the sight made your breath hitch in your throat. Clearly he had been crying. Tear stains streaked down his cheeks, brows knitted together and the same lost look he had plastered on his face appeared again.

"Please, please don't kick me out. I'll do anything, please...please don't abandon me. Not again." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he hid his face in your neck. Voice breaking, shoulders trembling, the verge of crying all over again quickly approaching.

Your heart broke and you returned the favor by hugging him around the shoulders, a hand carding through his hair to soothe him. Had he been abandoned? Did his previous owners not like him? Was all his aggressiveness some kind of defense mechanism? Was he giving you a reason to kick him out to keep himself from experiencing that kind of pain again? Oh, poor baby. "Never again...just don't destroy things anymore, okay? Help me around the place a little more will ya?"

"Yes." Katsuki snuggled on top of you. Finally believing he had a real home with you, a place where he could belong. "....Master."

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #inu bakugo #hybrid bakugo #hybrid au #bakugo katsuki x reader #x reader #tw:nsfw #tw:hybrid #tw:humping #tw:creampie #tw:collar #tw:choking #tw:naughty words #tw:name calling #tw:somnophilia

[ironstarker]

Whumptober 11: Body Modification

notes: i want everyone to know that i do have day 9 ready to go, but i forgot to post it because i’m dumb. so! here’s the prompt for day 11, and i had great ideas for the other days that hopefully i actually, you know, finish. yikes. this is an alpha turning fic! that’s the only sort of “modification” — there’s no mutilation or anything like that, i promise. daddy tony is just sick of his son’s bad attitude.

warning(s): abo dynamics, dirty talk, humiliation, incest, rape/noncon, somnophilia, non-consensual drug use

AO3 Link ______________________________________________________________

The sound of music blaring overhead made Tony frown. He raised his eyes towards the ceiling, bringing a mug of coffee to his lips. It was Halloween night, and there was a big bowl of candy sitting by the door. He’d asked Peter to pass it out with him and had received a wave of the boy’s hand and a, “Whatever, Dad,” in response.

Peter had never been like this before his presentation as an alpha.

Before, he and Tony were almost joined at the hip. He was a polite boy. Always asked for permission before going out, and he got excited about stupid, arbitrary things like passing out candy and watching old horror movies with his Dad on Halloween. He’d never been much of a partier, but all that was changing this year. As soon as he’d presented as an alpha over the summer, Peter had copped an attitude with Tony every chance he got. Tony’s therapist told him that maybe Peter was testing boundaries, and it was healthy.

Tony didn’t give a damn if it was healthy. It pissed him off.

He exhaled, relieved, when he heard the music turn off upstairs. He polished off the last of his coffee (designed to help him make it through midnight because, much as he hated admitting it, Tony was getting old) and was washing the mug in the sink when he heard footsteps. “Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, throwing a glance at Peter over his shoulder.

The boy picked at the bowl of candy by the door, rummaging until he found a Snickers bar. He was in the middle of pulling back the wrapper when Tony snapped, “Pete,” and got his attention.

“Oh. Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

Tony fought the urge to sigh as he refocused on the mug he was washing. “Save a few pieces for the kids, pal. There’ll be plenty left over that you can snack on when we’re done.”

“Done what?” He heard his son walking closer, a barstool scraping against the kitchen floor as he pulled it back and sank down.

“Passing out candy.” Tony said it like it was obvious, and he turned, grabbing a nearby towel to dry his hands. It was black and had dancing skeletons on it. What could Tony say? He liked his holidays, and before this alpha nonsense, so had his boy.

Peter scoffed around his mouthful of Snickers. “Uh, Dad, I’m sixteen. I’m going to a party, not passing out candy with you like some loser.”

Tony blinked, his grip tightening on the towel. “Is that so? And who said you could go to this party? Sure as hell wasn’t me, kid.”

Peter’s nose crinkled. “I’m not a kid.”

“Right. Look, Pete, I think it would be nice if we – ”

“Dad, come on. MJ’s going, Ned’s going – the whole school is going to Flash’s party. I’m not going to be stuck here with you all night passing out candy to toddlers in fucking superhero costumes and dumb Paw Patrol outfits. Not again. Not after last year.”

Peter’s tone was making it hard for Tony to let go. Frankly, Peter’s “boundary testing,” or whatever it was, was enough to enrage the older alpha. “You’re not going,” he said, his tone curt. “Not with that attitude.”

There was a beat of silence between them. “Fuck you,” he heard, and Tony’s head snapped up. His eyebrows rose as he stared at the teenager, scowling sullenly down at the Snickers wrapper he’d been twisting in his fingers. Peter tossed the wrapper on the counter and shoved away from it, stomping towards the stairs.

“Peter Stark get your ass back here,” Tony growled, stalking after his son, throwing the damp towel against the island where Peter had been sitting.

“No!”

A door slammed.

Tony sat down at the island, rubbing his temples, listening to Peter’s music grow progressively louder until the alpha had a headache. He heard him shouting on the phone to his friends, and Tony drummed his fingers on the countertop in thought. He stroked his goatee, his eyes going to his coffee machine. After a moment, the alpha got to his feet and turned off the lights to the front porch, and then he went to the refrigerator. Tony grabbed the milk and powdered chocolate from the pantry, and he began to make Peter a nice, steaming mug of hot chocolate.

If there was one thing his son couldn’t deny, it was sweets.

Tony broke a couple Ambien (he’d had insomnia ever since he was a kid, but had given in to taking them at his therapist’s recommendation) into the mug, making sure they dissolved. Then, Tony topped the hot chocolate with marshmallows and carried it upstairs. He knocked on Peter’s door once, but the music was so loud he had to call out for his son.

“What?” Peter snapped once he’d yanked open the door.

The music was blaring behind him, and the sound of it made Tony grit his teeth. “I made you hot chocolate,” he said. Privately, the alpha added, because I’m sick of this. He wanted his boy back. His cute, perfect baby boy who would never dare talk back to him the way that this little terror was.

Peter eyed it with a scowl, but he accepted the mug with a grumbled, “Thanks.” The door was promptly shut.

Tony turned and walked away, sinking down onto the couch in the living room to watch scary movies alone. He had a headache, but he was hoping this would help. The alpha was at his wit’s end with his son, and he’d heard that there were ways to fix it. It wasn’t legal now, of course, changing his son’s gender since he’d presented. Forcing another alpha to take an alpha’s knot and his cum was an archaic way of handling this, but Tony was convinced he was in therapy because of Peter and his attitude at this point. He didn’t have another choice. Peter would understand, once he’d had enough cum.

It didn’t take thirty minutes for the music upstairs to quiet. He waited a few minutes after that, and when he knocked on Peter’s door and didn’t get a response, Tony pushed it open. The boy was sprawled across his bed, his blue Midtown hoodie having ridden up his chest, his lips parted. He was drooling onto his pillow. He almost looked like the boy that Tony remembered. There were no angry lines on his face, no trace of contempt. He walked up to his sleeping son and brushed Peter’s curls from his face, watching his nose crinkle in his sleep. He was smiling.

God, how long had it been since he’d seen Peter smile?

Convinced that he was doing the right thing for his boy, Tony didn’t waste time. He shut Peter’s laptop to drown out the music completely, and the silence settled over him as he unbuttoned Peter’s jeans and worked them over his hips. Peter’s ass was so shapely and perfect he should’ve been an omega anyway. No alpha would have an ass like that. Tony folded Peter’s jeans and set them aside on the boy’s wardrobe. His son was clad in his hoodie and boxers. Tony was quick to rid him of the latter.

Once he’d placed Peter’s boxers with his jeans, Tony rummaged through his son’s drawers. He got in his nightstand next to the bed and found a lube bottle that was more than half empty, but it would be plenty for him to get started. Soon enough, Peter’s body would start to handle that for him.

He squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers, coating two of them so he could open Peter up. Alphas weren’t meant to take a cock, let alone a knot, and he knew his son would be tight. He set the tip of his finger to Peter’s hole, feeling the way that it fluttered, and when he pushed inside, even in his sleep Peter resisted. The boy’s face pinched and he squirmed in his sleep, turning his head into his pillow like he was meant to escape the feeling. Tony pushed inside until he was buried to his knuckle, and he pumped his finger slowly, until Peter’s ass had relaxed enough that he could add a second.

Peter’s hole wasn’t greedy like an omega’s just yet. It was hard to penetrate him, to push his fingers inside. He resisted it, his walls squeezing and his muscles spasming. Tony stilled his fingers once he had two buried into Peter. He didn’t move his hand. He waited until Peter’s muscles went slack again, and then he started fucking the boy on them. He couldn’t wait for the moment that Peter found the sense to do it himself. Soon enough he’d be eager for it, begging the alpha for his cock.

But for now, Tony worked him open. He scissored his fingers and got Peter’s walls coated in lube. The alpha even rubbed his son’s prostate. That got his boy whining, and when Tony reached beneath him with his other hand, he felt his son’s knot nice and swollen between his legs. He left it alone. To Tony, Peter’s knot didn’t warrant any stimulation. He wouldn’t be needing it soon anyway.

After the third finger, Tony found himself growing impatient. He barely moved it inside before he pulled them all out. Tony kneeled behind his son, his cock already stiff in his jeans as he thought about what he was going to do. He felt excited, and maybe that should’ve been his first clue he was doing something awful, but it wasn’t. Tony wasn’t thinking straight. He repeated to himself in a mantra in his head that this was what Peter needed, what was best for his son before he was too far gone. Tony unbuttoned his jeans and slathered lube over his cock, stroking himself from tip to base. He could already feel the gentle swell around the base of his cock from his knot.

When he set the tip of his cock against Peter’s hole, his son made a noise in his sleep. It was a little whine, like the alpha knew, instinctually, what was about to happen to him. “Hush, baby boy. Daddy’s got you. Daddy’s going to fix everything,” Tony whispered, and he pushed the tip of his cock inside of Peter.

Despite the preparation, Peter was tight. His walls clamped and resisted Tony’s tip, trying to keep him from pushing it in. The alpha grunted as his hands went to Peter’s ass, spreading his cheeks open wide and holding him down against the bed simultaneously. He drew his hips back, and instead of trying to take it slow, the alpha gave a sharp jerk and buried himself inside of his son all at once.

Peter keened, the pain enough to have his eyes opening. “Whassgoingon?” he slurred, and Tony leaned over his son, kissing his cheek.

“It’s okay, baby boy. Just a dream,” he whispered. Peter mumbled something unintelligible, his glazed eyes staring up at his Dad. Tony watched them slide shut, and his son’s breathing evened out again, his muscles going slack.

Satisfied, Tony drew himself up over the boy, kneeling into Peter’s mattress and gripping his hips tight as he began to fuck him. The lube made Peter’s hole wet and sloppy, and it didn’t take long for the sounds of a slick fuck to echo throughout Peter’s childhood bedroom.

When Peter woke, all he felt was pressure. Something was hurting his gut, making him feel like he was cramping. He whimpered and then moaned, his hand flying down to his belly. But as he went to curl in on himself he felt a hand stopping him, and it was his Dad who whispered into his ear, “Don’t move, baby. Daddy’s got you, it’s almost over.”

Over? Peter thought the word to himself, feeling more than a little dazed. His mouth felt thick, like it had been stuffed full of cotton balls. He moaned a little, but when he tried lifting his head he felt disoriented. The room spun. Peter’s head dropped back against the pillow. It was too heavy for his neck. Peter stared at his desk, where his laptop was shut. He was still in his room. That thought might have relaxed him, if his belly hadn’t chosen that exact moment to cramp all over again.

“Ah!” he gasped, his muscles seizing, and he heard his Dad groaning over his shoulder. The spasm that rocked through Peter alerted him to something, something that wasn’t right. There was something inside of him, something so big and painful. Oh, no. “Dad?” Peter whispered, a tinge of fear to his voice. “Daddy? Daddy, I’m scared, what are you doing?” His voice hitched up an octave, and the boy sounded borderline hysterical.

“What I should’ve done a long time ago, baby boy,” Tony said. “You didn’t give me any other choice. This was the only way to do it.”

Peter let out a pathetic whine, trying to squirm away. His rim stretched against something, and he realized oh, it was his Dad’s knot, oh god, his Dad’s knot was inside him. Was he cumming? “Daddy, Daddy — please take it out, take it out,” Peter pleaded with the man, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. “Daddy, did you — did you cum inside? Daddy, please take me to the bathroom, let me clean it out. Please, please — "

“You need this, Peter. We both do.” His Dad sounded strange and distant, like he wasn’t the same man who had brought Peter hot chocolate before. How long ago had that been? How long had he been like this?

“But I don’t wanna be an omega!” Peter wailed, sobbing into his pillow. “What’s MJ going to think? Daddy, please!” Normally, if he called Tony Daddy, the man would give in. He didn’t think it was working this time.

“You need to learn how to listen to your Daddy, Peter. I can’t have you going around the house thinking you can talk to me like that. Now be quiet. My knot’s almost done.”

Peter cried harder, sobbing into his pillow when he felt the knot dislodged. His Dad pulled free, and he felt cum oozing out of his hole. Peter took a gasping breath, reaching around behind himself, trying to push fingers inside to scoop the cum out. His hands were shaking, and a sharp grip on his wrist stopped him.

“No,” Tony growled, his words echoing with the command of an alpha.

Peter’s fingers went lax in his father’s grip, but that only exacerbated his panic. “Daddy,” he whispered, such a pitiful sound. “Leave me alone.”

“That was the first one, sweetheart. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Peter shivered. He knew an alpha could produce quite a few knots a night, even older ones like his Dad. He snapped out of the daze from the alpha’s command and started struggling again, trying to rip his hand free.

A sharp slap echoed through the room, making Peter jolt and squeak out a noise that an alpha definitely wouldn’t make.

“Don’t make me spank you again,” Tony warned. Peter could hear the disappointment in his Dad’s voice. “God, how many knots are you going to need? I thought one might help, but you’re so disobedient.”

“I’m not, I’m good, Daddy! I promise I’m good. Please, please let me go —” Peter felt like his babbling was nonsensical.

He wasn’t prepared for the sound of his own lube cape unsnapping. His eyes went wide and he pulled his wrist out of his Dad’s grasp, squirming against his sheets. He kept crying, moaning out, “No, no, no, no —” as he tried to get away from his Dad. But the alpha, after having slathered more lube on his cock, grabbed him by his thigh and hauled him back into the spot he’d been in.

Peter blacked out with the force of his Dad’s thrust.

He woke again, unmercifully, in the middle of his Dad pounding into his ass. Peter’s body was jerking into the bed, his face squashed into his pillow from where his Dad held him down. He gasped, whimpering as the thrusting picked up, and his walls clamped down around the cock. Peter felt shame in his belly as he realized it was beginning to feel good.

His Dad let his head up and Peter gasped a breath, turning his head to the side. His pillow was damp with tears. He stared at the mug of hot chocolate. He’d only had half of it. Peter was starting to wish that he’d had it all, because then maybe he would’ve never woken up during this ordeal.

“God, baby. I can’t wait to feel your pussy. You’re gonna learn how to milk my knot. Daddy’s gonna teach you.” Peter shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck raising. His Dad’s voice was a consistent growl now. There was no hint of caring or nurturing in it. He sounded like an alpha in a rut.

The more that his Dad fucked him, the less his insides ached. For whatever reason, Peter’s mind started to grow dazed, and he began to sag into his sheets. Maybe it was the idea that he’d never get away from the alpha like this, stuck on his cock. A part of him was starting to think it couldn’t be so bad. His Dad was good to him. His Dad would take care of him. Peter hadn’t even realized he was making soft, punched out moaning sounds until Tony started praising him for it, telling him he was a good little omega.

Omega.

The word snapped Peter out of his haze, his eyes flying open wider than they had been. “No!” he protested, and he started his squirming. “ ‘m an alpha,” Peter said, but on the next drive of his Dad’s hips, he felt the knot. It pushed into him, spreading his hole open wide. Peter’s neck jerked up and his lips parted in a breathless gasp, and then the pressure ease as the knot pushed inside.

He felt it, too, when the alpha came inside of him. Hot ropes of cum flooded into his tummy, and Peter let out a high-pitched whine. His Dad’s hand came around to rub his belly and he said, “Won’t be long now.”

Peter didn’t have the energy to feel panicked, but he knew what his Dad meant. Peter couldn’t feel his own knot anymore. Soon enough, the thick alpha cum inside of him would change his biology, and he’d have a womb to give an alpha pups.

The thought made his head swim. Exhausted as he was, Peter let his head drop back down onto the pillow and he took the alpha’s knot.

For the rest of the night, it continued like that.

It was a long process, forcing an alpha to become an omega. His Dad tired out after his third knot, which seemed to be the most that he could do in a row. Peter thought he might get away, then. But when his Dad said that they should take a bath together and sleep in his room, all Peter could do was nod, feeling a little confused. There was cum leaking out of his hole and down his thigh, and it was a shame. He didn’t want to waste the alpha’s cum. Peter absently swiped between his legs as he got to his feet, and he sucked on his cum-coated fingers as his Dad led him down the hall.

The young alpha (was he an alpha anymore?) felt like he was watching his life through the lens of a camera. His Dad guided him around, here and there, and Peter didn’t even realize he’d been bathed until he was sitting on the edge of his Dad’s bed. He blinked at the alpha, who parted his robe and said that he had a Halloween treat just for his son.

“I don’t understand,” Peter said, looking up at his Dad’s face.

“Suck my cock, baby.”

“But why, Dad?”

Tony’s expression changed, then. He scowled, shaking his head after making a frustrated noise in his throat. “Do it.”

Scared, Peter opened his mouth and let the alpha push himself onto his tongue. Peter licked at his Dad’s cock and sucked at the head, making a sloppy mess of it because he didn’t know what else to do. His Dad’s cock didn’t get hard enough for him to produce a knot, but he dripped precum into his son’s mouth, and that was Tony’s only goal. When he pushed Peter away, the boy whined and tried to nuzzle into the alpha’s crotch.

That was a good sign.

Tony convinced Peter to get into bed, curling up with his son. He felt between Peter’s legs, which the boy parted willingly without protest, and tried to see if his son was producing slick yet.

His son’s hole was stretched open and sloppy, but Tony couldn’t tell if the wetness inside of him was from the alpha’s cum or if his body was producing slick yet. So he let Peter curl up against him, like he used to when he was scared from a nightmare, and it didn’t take long before his son was back off to sleep.

When Tony woke up, Peter was gone.

He panicked, but he saw a light on in his bathroom, and the alpha rushed in. He found Peter on the floor, his legs spread, his fingers pushed inside of his sloppy, wet cunt. Peter’s face was pinched like he was in pain, and he looked up at the alpha with wide, brown eyes. “Daddy,” he whimpered, “Daddy, make it stop.” He was producing slick. There was so much of it smeared between his thighs, making them glisten. His scent was sweeter, not at all like the typical alpha musk Tony had come to associate with his son.

“Oh, baby,” he said, and he crouched down to gather Peter into his arms. “Daddy’s going to take good care of you.”

Peter’s arms wound around his neck and he let out a choked sob into his Dad’s shoulder. Tony smiled. This was how it was meant to be.

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