cyb3rpunk!

He’s smelled every combination- cloying florals and bright citruses and dark, earthy things.

And… he feels nothing. No itch under his skin. No pull in his chest. No instinct to knot an omega and fill them full of his pups

He handles his ruts alone, teeth sunk into his own forearm, fist working, mask never lifted even when he’s locked in his quarters with the lights off.

Until he smells you.

Tangerine, bright, sharp, almost sweet enough to make his mouth water. Black tea, dark and tannic. Stereotypical. Nothing worth noting. Until he smells the iron, metallic and thick. Catches a whiff of it and inhales until he’s dizzy with it.

His cock swells so fast it punches the air out of his lungs, thickens against the front of his fatigues until the fabric strains, the head already leaking like a faucet, knot at the base swelling fat. His rut scratches at the back of his head, claws raking, vicious, sudden, feral need that makes his vision tunnel and his hands shake.

It takes everything in him to not drop to his knees right then and there, nose between your thick thighs, lick you clean while you squirmed and bled for him. Iron and tangerine all over his tongue, his mask.

He wants to scent you so thoroughly no one else can smell anything but him. Wants to fuck you through it, knot you deep while you’re still bleeding, keep you plugged full until the cramping stops and the only thing you can feel is the stretch of his cock.

He has to brace a hand on the wall. Has to breathe through his mouth even though it doesn’t help, because the scent is everywhere now, in his nose, in his throat, in the low, involuntary rumble that starts in his chest. The thought of your soft belly and plush hips makes his knot throb again, another thick bead of precome soaking into the cotton.

He wonders if you’d let him. If a nervous little thing like you would let him put you on your back and spread you open, let him bury his face in that iron sweet mess until your thighs shake around his ears, or if you’d fuss and try to close your legs before his big hands pinned you wide and his tongue found the source of it.

Wonders if you’d cry when he finally fucks you, when the knot catches and locks and he keeps you there, breeding you through the blood like some feral thing that’s finally found the only scent worth crawling on his knees for.

you straddle sukuna’s broad torso, thighs already shaking as you hover over the jagged mouth splitting across his abdomen. his four eyes gleam with cruel hunger, watching every twitch of your body.

the stomach mouth opens slowly, hot breath fanning over your dripping folds before a thick, ridged tongue drags out, tasting you like he owns every inch.

“go on,” he growls, voice dripping with mockery. “ride it properly. show me how badly that greedy little cunt needs me.”

you sink down with a broken whimper as the tongue pushes inside you, thick and relentless, stretching you open while the mouth’s lips seal tight around your clit. the suction is immediate and vicious, pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves as the tongue curls deep, fucking into you with wet, obscene sounds. your hands brace on his chest, hips rolling desperately as pleasure slams through you.

it does not take long before your walls clenching hard around the invading muscle.

sukuna laughs, low and dark, the vibration making the tongue thrash even harder inside you. when you try to lift up cause it’s becoming too much, oversensitive and twitching, his massive hand snaps around your wrist like a vice.

sukuna yanks you back down forcefully, slamming your hips flush against his stomach so the mouth devours you completely again.

“where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he snarls, eyes narrowing. “you started this. now you finish it. keep riding.”

the tongue does not give you any mercy.

it pounds into you faster, twisting and dragging against every spot that makes your vision blur. the lips suck harder on your clit, relentless and wet, forcing another orgasm out of you before the first one even fades.

your thighs burn, body jerking wildly as you sob through the overstimulation, but sukuna’s grip on your wrist is iron. every time you try to pull away or rise even an inch, he drags you right back down, grinding you against the mouth.

“look at you,” he taunts, voice rough with satisfaction. “crying and shaking like a pathetic little toy. my stomach is soaked and you still can’t stop grinding on it.”

this is when a brutal wave hits you, your whole body convulsing as you cum, tears streaming down your face.

the overstimulation turns sharp and electric, every lick and thrust bordering on pain but so good you cannot stop moaning. sukuna’s free hand comes up to grip your hip, helping you move, forcing the rhythm faster and deeper.

you lose count of how many times you tired to get yourself off of him. your voice grows hoarse, legs trembling uncontrollably, slick pulling and sliding down onto his stomach as the mouth laps it all up greedily.

“kuna…” when you go limp, too exhausted to keep moving, sukuna simply uses his strength to bounce you on the tongue himself, wrist still locked in his hold so you cannot escape.

“that’s right. keep cumming for me,” he commands, another dark laugh rumbling through him. “this mouth is not done with you yet. you’ve pissed me off today, no stopping until you’re a sobbing, broken mess who forgets every thought except how full you feel.”

In this Choose Your Own Adventure, Valko calls you a nuisance. You call him insufferable. But really, who are you trying to convince?

Valko x Reader Choose Your Own Adventure

(pairings: trueform!sukuna x wife!reader - 1.2k words)

"up."

sukuna's nose wrinkles, one of his many eyes opening to stare up at you from under thick, pink lashes, annoyed at your audacity. "no."

"ryomen."

"wife."

you glare down at him.

to any onlookers nearby (if they survived being within a couple miles of your husband, that is), the sight would have been somewhat peaceful - beautiful sunlight shining through rich, green leaves, dappling across the soft grass, the slightest breeze causing branches to sway, and you and sukuna, with his head on your lap, both pairs of his arms folded neatly over his toned stomach, long, thick legs hidden by the airy fabric of his gi.

even his second mouth was smiling, donning the smallest curve, relaxed for the first time in a long while.

he ignores your glowering, stubbornly keeping all four of his eyes shut, basking in the direct warmth of the sunlight - topless as always, black tattoos rippling over his tan skin, the occasional muscle twitching to ensure he doesn't fall asleep.

your noiselssness makes him uncomfortable, though - you are his wife, after all, and regardless of the fact that he shows spades of his love through silence, you weren't necessarily the same way.

one eye opens again - the singular, vermillion iris peering up at you, curious, cautious.

"speak." he huffs (more whine than grumble).

"you dare to command me?" you murmur.

"you dare to ask me to remove myself from you?" he snaps back, pouting now, and you're pleased to find that you'd annoyed him enough for both pairs of his eyes to be fixated on you, irritated (yet filled with adoration nonetheless).

he watches as your shoulders rise and fall in a dismissive shrug, unsure whether that twinkle in your eye was from the upcoming mischief you had planned or the sun (but, oh, you were so beautiful, glancing down at him like he was something worth looking at, worth putting up with - his chest bloomed with warmth that the sun itself couldn't make him feel, fingers twitching to reach up and trace the line of your jaw).

"your head is a heavy burden to bear," you explain, twirling a lock of his salmon-pink tresses around your delicate finger, tugging just enough to make him exhale quickly through his nose in amusement, "and my legs are tired."

"i am comfortable."

"you are selfish for not letting me move."

"selfish, you say." he raises an eyebrow (you see the slight tremble at the corner of his mouth - a subtle tell of his struggle not to erupt in that hearty laughter reserved only for you).

"incredibly. in fact," you tap the bridge of his nose, "i could even go as far as calling you lazy."

"lazy." he repeats, voice monotone, fighting to stay unamused. "i should have you punished for your insolence."

you snort, smirking, "being married to you is punishment enough. what sort of husband doesn't move for his wife? you do not love me."

"now, there's no use in false accusations, woman." sukuna hisses, propping himself up on one of his many elbows, nose crinkling at the sound of your relieved sigh when you're freed from the weight of his head on your lap, frowning further when the distance between you lengthens by a couple more inches as you shift to sit beside him. "what sort of wife doesn't watch her tongue?"

the sound of your quiet laughter has his gaze warming, regardless of his irritation, and sukuna absorbs the contentment emanating from you as though it's his just as much as it is yours.

"if my tongue wasn't as sharp, nor as…talented as it is, well," you catch the faint colour rising to the tips of his ears and smile wider, "you wouldn't have married me."

"you are horrendously mistaken." he grouches, his lower arms folding petulantly, all four eyes narrowing as you laugh and snuggle into his side, nuzzling your nose into his cheek, "i would have married you even if you were meek - you are mine."

"then, truly, i am fortunate" you pinch his cheek, your other hand running up his chest, tracing the black lines running over his shoulders, soothing him despite your teasing. "i am lucky to be loved so deeply."

"hmph."

"come now," you chuckle, "do not be so childish. look at me."

he lifts his chin up higher, determined in his plight to refuse your attempts at gaining his forgiveness. instead, he finds himself glaring at the rest of the temple gardens - cared for at your request. sukuna's glowering deepens further - could he not look anywhere and not be reminded of his beautiful wife? even the cherry blossoms paled in your comparison.

"oh?" you make a big show of trying to catch his eye (a considerably difficult task, even despite of the fact that he had twice as many pairs as the average man), weaving your head around his, all to no avail.

he was as stubborn as you were.

"i see." you huff, brows furrowing delicately. "how cruel of you."

that seems to finally get him.

with a low snarl, he tackles you to the floor, until your back is flat against the lush grass, and your chest is pressed flush against his. "cruel?" he spits. "you think me cruel for avoiding your gaze?"

you reply with a shrug, internally smug at how easily it is to rile him up. "you'd dispute me on the matter?"

"thousands have died at my hands," he growls, "i have massacred whole armies with a flick of my wrist, have had hundreds of kings kneel before my feet and you-" sukuna catches your smile, so pretty, the sunlight following the outline of your lips like a lover's caress, your hair splayed out around your head like a halo.

he was a strong man - but even the strongest would falter at the sight of you.

"and i….?" you urge, completely unbothered by his ranting.

he sighs and leans down, capturing your soft lips with his, humming with pleasure at your heady taste before pulling back, expression free from any faux agitation he'd felt prior.

"you stay by my side anyway." he murmurs. "what a fool you are."

"ah, but you married me." you push at his shoulder gently, playful, chuckling against his mouth as he steals another kiss, "that makes you the bigger idiot."

"it makes me weak," he scoffs, and completely melts into you as your fingers slide into his hair, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, "but i could never be named a fool for loving you."

his words are spoken soft - a quiet whisper of a man who'd only known blood and grotesque violence, but feared the forgiving retribution of your hands, of the grief you might cause should he ever lose you.

you press your mouth to his temple - a promise. there would be nothing to fear from you.

nothing, save sunny days and your lighthearted teasing.

sukuna kisses your neck in response, pink lashes fluttering against your skin as he breathes in deeply, glad to soak in a silence that cleanses him.

he knows you'll give him nothing to hurt about.

sukuna knows, because he'd rather fall than let anything happen to you. and nothing will.

he is the strongest, after all.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ (a/n): hi everyone! i'm back again from my silly little hiatus - exam season was balls but i got through it lol - anyway, now that it's summer hopefully i can get back to doing some much needed writing - weekly posts here i come!

──── ୨୧ ────

It had slipped out before you can think better of it. In the throes of pleasure, struck by the heat of it and with drool beginning to dribble out from the corner of your parted lips you’d said it - “daddy”.

Before you could even consider how odd it really was, how jarring and out of place it might have sounded to someone so removed from the modern age as Sukuna. But with him moving above you, all rippling skin and thick firm muscle, that lewd honorific was all you could think to utter - to cry out in a strangled moan when he sunk back inside so deep that a sizzle of little stars danced in your vision.

“Daddy?” He echoes the word with a flourishing scoff, though it’s not judgement that laces his tone, to your dulled surprise you find that it’s interest.

“Well you’re -hn-…” you begin to reply, only to swallow down another choked moan when his hips roll in a particularly well placed thrust, “you’re gonna take care of me aren’t you?”

“How archaic,” he replies plainly, and though he offers nothing further you can tell by his sudden silence that the great cogs of his mind are turning.

Typically he would be teasing you, cruel taunts snuck between deceptively sweet little slips of praise. Not that you can find it in yourself to really concern yourself with his lack of banter, or with what he’s thinking about. Not with the way each steady pump is knocking all sense of coherency loose from your brain, adding a fine layer of dreamy fuzz over your vision.

simon ghost riley x female reader, 18+

Ghost had never planned to act on the filthy images that flooded his mind whenever you were near. He'd buried those thoughts beneath layers of discipline, telling himself you were off-limits; too young, too bright, with a life stretching ahead of you.

He could be your friend. Or better — your LT.

He could ignore the way you reacted when he caught you staring, the way your laughter danced in the air when you found his deadpan humor unexpectedly funny, and the goddamn wet, rhythmic sounds that seeped through the thin wall each night when you thought no one was listening.

It began innocently enough. Almost. One night, drifting toward sleep, the first soft mewls reached him. Your fingers working that tight little cunt, the sound of your desperate whimpers piercing the darkness. He'd pressed his pillow over his ears, trying to drown you out, but the wet squelching sounds and your soft whines painted vivid pictures in his mind. You, naked and writhing, legs spread wide, your slick glistening on your fingers as you plunged them deeper.

His cock had thickened against his thigh, demanding attention. He kicked off the blankets, palming himself through the thin fabric of his boxers. The more you moaned, the harder he gripped, the wet sounds from next door driving him mad. You cried out — a high, broken sound— and his control shattered. He came hard and fast, soaking his boxers like a fucking teenager. He'd had to sneak to the bathroom to clean up before sleep could claim him.

pairing: John Price x afab!reader cw: nsfw, spanking, oral (f receiving), piv!sex, dom!John Price, teasing, porn without plot wc: 1193 an: please send me your dirtiest requests I am begging, I need to write more smut but I have NOOOOO inspiration. enjoy!!

Price had built wall after wall when it came to you. He’d buried every feeling, pretending he didn’t care—pretending his gaze didn’t linger whenever you walked into the room, that his heart didn’t leap to his throat at the slightest brush of contact. He tried—he really did—to feign a nonchalance that simply wasn’t real. Not with you.

He’d been warned by countless people not to get involved with anyone he worked with. Mixing love and duty, they said, would never swing in his favour. Rank came at a cost, and sooner or later he’d find himself entangled in a power dynamic that would strain everything.

And, to his dismay, they’d been right.

Whenever you were in the picture, it was near impossible for the captain to think straight. He dreaded missions where your name appeared on the briefing file. He hated having to play the role of your commanding officer and nothing more. He hated the look on your face whenever he had to put his foot down—when duty demanded he reprimand you, not protect you.

It had been taxing on the two of you—until John found a way to correct you without letting it bleed into the relationship. 

“John,” you moaned against the pillow, voice muffled and strained. “Please—fuck. Please, John.”

simon riley fucking you for the first time knowing he shouldn’t. it’s forbidden. it’s wrong. you’re the captain’s daughter.

having ryomen sukuna as your boyfriend is like having your own six foot four two hundred thirty pound body guard and you absolutely love it.

“seatbelt.” he’ll say when you hop into the passenger seat of his truck and immediately go to fix your mascara in the mirror instead of ensuring your own safety.

“is your location on?” he’ll ask as you’re actively using his forearm as a support beam to hurriedly slip on a pair of dangerously high heels so you can meet your friends waiting outside.

“when i call ‘n check up on you, you answer, got it? y’know i’ll come find you if you don’t.” he’ll kiss into the crook of your fragrance oiled neck before you leave.

and whenever you’re in public with him you can literally just turn your brain off, because why would you need to think when your boyfriend can do it for you?

like when you’re strolling outside on a summer day, features illuminated gorgeously by the sun’s golden rays. lips freshly glossed and phone held out in front of your face as you try to get the angle right for your selfies. just as you go to snap the picture you distractedly take a step towards the asphalt to cross the street without looking, only to get photobombed by a large hand reaching out, palming your forehead like a basketball and pulling you back onto the sidewalk.

or how about when you’re tugging him through the mall and on your way to your seventh store, your shopping bags laddered up his left arm and your arm looped around his right, dainty finger tips brushing against the slightly raised lines of his tattoos as he follows your lead and listens to you go on and on about whatever the fuck.

and you’re just strutting beside him without a worry in the world in one of those skimpy little skirts he absolutely fucking despises (but paid for anyway) when your lip gloss accidentally slips from between your manicured hands and clatters onto the ground.

as soon as sukuna hears you go ‘oops!’ he’s already stepping behind you to shield your backside from view with his body because you’re bending right over to pick it up without even thinking about who you might flash, or who’s ass he might have to beat for looking too hard. and as the ever yearning man he hates to admit he is, he can’t help but let his head weigh down a bit to selfishly steal a glance at those pretty pink panties you’re wearing and lick his lips at how deliciously they cling to your cunt.

he’s suddenly grateful for your shopping addiction, as he can now use one of your many bags to hide the bulge tightening within his pants as the two of you continue walking. maybe that skirt isn’t so bad, he thinks.

.

.

.

Then he sees you.

Crouched in the corner behind a stack of crates, knees drawn up, eyes wide and shining in th low light. Civilian. Wrong place, worse timing. Which is unfortunate for you. His orders were clear: no witnesses and no loose ends.

Ghost starts toward you with that slow, rolling prowl, boots heavy on the concrete, thighs flexing under blood spattered gear.

He expects you to flinch. To run. To beg.

Except… you don’t.

You don’t even flinch when he stops right in front of you, towering, blood still dripping from his gloved fingers onto the concrete near your shoes. He raises his gun slightly, angled toward your head, ready to end it quick.

That’s when it happens.

Your gaze drops.

Straight down his chest, over the blood spattered vest, and locks onto the thick, heavy print of his cock on the front of his pants. Your lips part. Your breath hitches. And something in your eyes… shifts. Goes dark and heated, pupils blowing wide with want instead of fear.

Ghost freezes.

The gun lowers an inch. He tilts his head, staring down at you like you’re some glitch in reality. He’s covered in other men’s blood, fresh kill still warm on his hands, and you’re looking at his dick like you want it down your throat right here in the slaughterhouse.

It throws him completely. Throws off the soldier part of him that is cold and clinical. His cock twitches hard at the realization, thickening further under your stare, and he knows you see it. You don’t look away. If anything, your thighs press tighter together, cheeks flushing despite the corpses behind him.

A beat of silence stretches.

“Bloody hell,” he rumbles, stepping closer until his boot nudges your leg. One massive hand reaches down, gripping your chin roughly with blood smeared gloves, forcing your head up. “Did’t expect a filthy lil’ thing like you t’cream your knickers watching me work. Got a death wish, have ya? Or’ve you just got a thing for monsters?”

You’re still staring. Still heated. Ghost’s thumb drags across your lower lip, smearing a faint streak of red, considering the dilemma.

Price won’t like it if there’s loose ends…

a/n: this is such a boring fic but whatever idc

youve been following him around the house for almost an hour.

soft little footsteps behind him while he moves from room to room, arms sneaking around his waist the second he stops moving long enough, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades while hes trying to do literally anything.

toji notices immediately.

hed noticed every extra second youve spent touching him today, every shy look, every time you open your mouth like youre gonna say something and then dont.

right now hes standing at the kitchen counter trying to pour himself a drink while you cling to his back like a sleepy cat, arms wrapped around his middle.

his hand settles over yours automatically.

"…you need somethin?" he mutters.

you shake your head against him.

"yeah?" he says, rough and unconvinced. "baby. then why you stuck t'me like glue?"

your grip tightens a little at that, face warming instantly when he glances back over his shoulder at you. you just go quiet again.

he sighs softly through his nose, setting the glass down before turning around fully, hands landing on your waist as he looks down at you properly.

"cmon," he mutters. "spit it out."

you hesitate so long he almost thinks you changed your mind, eyes dropping away from his while your fingers curl into the front of his shirt.

"…dont get mad" you mumble

his brows pull together immediately. "the hell would I get mad for?"

you dont answer, just stand there all shy and sweet, practically folded into his chest, and he can physically see you trying to work up the courage to say whatevers been sitting in your head.

"…can we have a baby?"

toji goes quiet, the question catches him off guard harder than he expected. his hands stay warm on your waist while he looks down at you, brows pulling together slightly as he thinks about it, thumb rubbing slow against your side without him realizing.

"..baby." he mutters after a second, voice gentler now. "thats a real big question."

you immediately look nervous after that, eyes dropping away while your fingers twist lightly in his shirt.

"..i know.." you say quietly.

the way you say it all shy and careful, like youre worried he will shut you down completely, like youve been holding this in your chest all night.

then you look back up at him with big eyes, a soft expression on your face. hopeful in that sweet little way that always gets him. toji exhales hard through his nose, one hand sliding from your waist up your back before he pulls you closer against him.

"…cmere," he mutters, almost like hes buying himself time.

you melt right into him immediately, arms tightening around his middle, and he rests his chin briefly against the top of your head while he thinks.

"…maybe." he says finally, low and rough.

your whole face brightens so fast it nearly makes him laugh. "maybe?" you ask softly. he glances down at you, already losing the fight seeing that look on your face.

"…yea." he mutters, thumb brushing along your waist. "maybe, sweet girl."

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