RIKA ୨୧

you stir awake in the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, the warmth of denji's body pressed against yours under the tangled sheets. his arm is slung lazily over your waist, but as consciousness fully hits you, you notice his eyes—wide, unblinking, and already locked onto your form.

he's propped up on one elbow, staring at you like you've just invented the concept of perfection. you shift slightly, sitting up against the headboard, and that's when his gaze intensifies, tracing every curve exposed by the rumpled nightshirt riding up your thighs.

your stomach settles softly against the tops of your thick thighs as you sit, the gentle pouch forming a plush fold that squishes invitingly. denji's breath hitches audibly, his pupils dilating as he watches the way your thighs spread wider beneath you, growing even fuller and softer in this position, their meaty expanse spilling out like they're made for sinking into.

your hips flare out curvily, framing the scene perfectly, and your tits strain against the thin fabric of your shirt, heavy and prominent as they rise and fall with each breath.

you roll your eyes, catching his dumbstruck expression. "god, denji, stop staring. i'm all squishy and gross." you poke at it self-consciously, or maybe add, "you're so stupid. thighs just get bigger when you sit like this, it's natural." but he doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink. instead, a goofy, lovesick grin spreads across his face, his cheeks flushing as he shakes his head slowly.

"nah, you look… fuck, you look delicious," he murmurs, voice rough from sleep but thick with awe. he doesn't give a damn about your words; his eyes are glued to the way your body molds itself in the morning light, every soft inch calling to him like a feast.

before you can protest further, he scoots closer, his hands reaching out tentatively at first, then bolder, palms sliding over the curve of your hips. he grips them firmly, fingers digging into the plush flesh, kneading as if testing their give. "these hips… shit, they're perfect. so curvy, like they were made for me to hold onto."

you huff, but he ignores it, his touch growing more insistent. one hand ventures upward, cupping the underside of your tit through the shirt, squeezing the heavy weight as he lets out a low groan. "and these… big and soft, bouncin' just right. i could stare at you all day."

his other hand trails down, boldly palming the squish of your tummy against your thighs, thumbs pressing into the fold with reverence. he leans in, nuzzling his face against your side, inhaling deeply as his nose buries into the warm give of your pouch. "this? this is the best part. so fuckin' soft… makes me wanna devour you."

denji's hands roam freely now, groping your curves with unrestrained hunger—squeezing your thick thighs, feeling how they dimple under his fingers, spreading them slightly just to watch them jiggle back into place. he presses his cheek against one, rubbing his jaw along the smooth skin, then lifts his head to meet your eyes, his own burning with desperation.

"please… sit on my face. i need it. need to feel all this weight on me, your thighs crushin' my head, that perfect pussy grindin' down while i lick you clean."

he's begging now, voice cracking with want as he tugs at your hips, trying to guide you up. his face dives back in, burying fully into the crook of your neck and shoulder, lips brushing hot kisses along your collarbone while his hands keep groping—pinching your ass, tracing the swell of your hips, always returning to worship that squishy tummy he adores.

denji’s hands hover like they’re radioactive.

like your tits might burn him alive if he touches them wrong—which is ironic, because you’re the one on fire. laying back on his mattress—thin, stained, sheets a mess—but none of that matters when he’s staring down at you like you’re a fucking miracle. his cheeks are flushed, his breath shaky, eyes glued to your chest like he’s never seen tits before.

which, to be fair… he kinda hasn’t.

“y-you’re sure?” he asks, voice cracking halfway through like his throat can’t handle the thought.

you smile, slow and wicked, reaching for his wrists and guiding his trembling hands up.

“yeah, denji,” you murmur. “i’m sure. go ahead.”

the second he touches you—palms landing on the soft weight of your breasts through the thin fabric of your top—he freezes. doesn’t squeeze. doesn’t move. just breathes.

“holy shit,” he whispers. “they’re so… soft…”

you nod. “mhm.”

“i mean, softer than i imagined. like—like mochi or somethin’, but warm. real warm.”

you laugh, and his hands twitch. just a little squeeze. then another. then he’s cupping them, lifting the weight, wide-eyed and reverent like he’s holding something sacred. his thumbs drag across your nipples through the fabric, and you shiver.

his eyes snap up. “did i—did that feel good?”

“yeah,” you breathe, voice thick.

he grins—beams, like you just told him he won the lottery. and then he does it again. more confident now. more greedy. squeezing them tighter, rubbing his palms over the curves, watching the way they spill between his fingers.

“goddamn,” he mutters. “they’re like… huge. and heavy. and they bounce—holy shit, they bounce when i touch ‘em—”

“denji,” you giggle, squirming under him. “you’re talking like you’re reviewing them.”

“i am,” he says, wide-eyed and dead serious. “five stars. ten outta ten. best thing i’ve ever touched. better than toast. better than rice with soy sauce. better than porn.”

you snort, biting your lip as his thumbs flick over your nipples again, harder now. you moan, hips shifting, and his cock twitches against your thigh.

“oh fuck,” he groans. “i wanna put my face in ‘em.”

you arch your back. “so do it.”

he dives in without hesitation.

mouth open, tongue dragging hot and messy over your nipple through the fabric, then under your shirt, pushing it up, desperate to get at bare skin. his lips close around your nipple and he moans—full-body, low and needy—like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

his hands knead at the other breast, squeezing and groping, pressing them together, obsessed with the way they spill out between his fingers. your hands thread through his hair, tugging, holding him close as he licks and sucks and mutters little broken things between breaths.

“they’re so soft—so fucking soft—why didn’t anybody tell me tits were this good—”

you’re panting now, sensitive, cunt dripping, his mouth making a mess of your chest, and he’s rutting against your thigh without even realizing it, hips jerking with every groan.

you grip his face and tilt his chin up.

“you can fuck ‘em next time,” you whisper, smirking. “if you’re good.”

he whimpers.

pls don't roast my request bc I'm vanilla af 😭 feel free to change anything if needed <3 anyways, I've had this nsfw idea where akaza/hakuji is spooning the reader but just can't keep his hands off her, so he decides to murmur the filthiest things into her ear while fondling her breasts under her shirt and fingering her. mm I think what I'm thinking of is body worshipping? basically just akaza focusing on the reader's pleasure over his. umm you probably can't write much abt this lmao so I think a short one-shot would be best. thank you! <3

n/a: hi, sure, you can call me Leah <3 well, it seems like you read my thought, cause I was thinking of writing something like this, and I was so excited that I created lots scenes in my head lmao. but,,,, passed a few words from the limit of 1k heh

modern!au - Akaza & fem!reader

"papi, I'm your woman" you've been dating a secular demon, who lived on rent in your basement. but over time, your relationship stabilized so much that you spent hours watching movies and making out on the couch. finger fucking, worship body (reader being praised), make out, nipple play, implied unprotect sex, dirty talk 1082 words

note: her calling him papi was inspired by "Woman" from Doja Cat. ps: he has his human features in here (eyes color, at least)

“wake up, princess”, your boyfriend's husky voice along with his cold lips sliding from your earlobe to your neck made you open your eyes right away. the cuddling session had given way to hotter and less innocent touches and you could already feel a bulge forming in his crotch against your ass fitted perfectly there. you couldn't hold the grin that formed on your lips for the ease he reacted to you, without you having done absolutely nothing. 

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

๑ Warning: Pregnancy, creampie, vaginal, dirty talk

── .✦

Daddy Toby oh my heavens.

He doesn’t look like a traditional “dad,” but don’t get it twisted—he’s got the dad bod. Not in the beer-gut sense, but in the thick arms, broader belly, heavy thighs, and soft places that come from comfort, not laziness. He’s still strong—solid from years of surviving hell—but now his body tells a story of slower mornings, shared meals, and quiet evenings with his family. And the longer he’s settled into fatherhood, the better he gets at it.

He loves seeing you with the kid—loves watching you walk around the house in those little sleep shorts, the subtle softness from pregnancy still lingering in your hips, the way you bend to pick the baby up. It drives him insane.

He’s always touching you now—resting his hand on your belly, your ass, your thighs. Having your kid resting on his shoulder while his other hand pulls your legs over his lap, rubbing your thighs so softly with rough hands. Coming up behind you to whisper filth through gritted teeth, like it’s physically hard to contain, “You lo-looked so fuckin’ go-good swollen with my kid. W-Wanna see it again…”

He says it so casually, like he’s thinking about what to get for dinner. But there’s hunger in it—need. The kind that boils over when you’re finally alone for the night and he crawls into bed behind you, all heavy limbs and slow-breathing lust. He palms your belly while he grinds up against your back, already rock hard, already panting, “L-Let’s try again… just one m-more. You can take it, ca-can’t you?”

He’s rougher than he used to be—not cruel, just desperate. Desperate to mark you, to breed you, to keep that part of your life alive. He pulls your panties aside, presses in with practiced ease, and once he’s seated deep inside, he groans like the pressure of you might break him, “S-Shit—shit, you still feel so good. Gonna fi-fill you up again.”

And it only gets worse the longer you go without another kid. Every time he pulls out and sees his cum dripping down your thighs, he gets pissed—like his body can’t understand why you’re not already pregnant again. He’ll push it back in with his fingers, fuck it deeper with a filthy smirk, “Gonna k-keep fuckin’ you ‘til I see th-that belly swell again.”

He’s obsessed with it. With the domesticity, the ownership, the comfort and filth all tangled together. And he doesn’t just want another baby—he wants you to want it. Wants to see your lips fall open and hear you beg for it. So when he’s really in the mood, he’ll press you down into the mattress and growl, “Tell me you w-wanna be full again. I’ll give it t-to you. I’ll give you as many as y-you want…”

And when you do—when you beg for him, when you gasp out “Please, Toby—” he loses it. He’ll fuck you through the mattress, hips snapping into yours, jaw clenched tight as he pants and moans, “That’s it. There y-you go. Gonna fuckin’ breed you ti-till you’re too full to walk…”

Toby as a dad isn’t just sweet and protective. He’s an animal in love. A man who never thought he’d be soft enough to hold a baby, and now he’s insatiable for the the person who gave him that life. And he’s not stopping at one. Not if he can help it.

And he’s never letting you go. Not when you still feel so good. Not when your body remembers him like that.

You're a virgin, and he knows it. Not because you told him—please, you think Ben needs you to say it? He reads it on you. The way you squirm when he leans too close. The way you flinch when his hand brushes your thigh, like you’re short-circuiting from just that. The way your lips part, ready to sass him—then fall silent when he catches your gaze a second too long.

“Hah. You’ve never done this before, have you?” You freeze. “Thought so. You’re already falling apart and I haven’t even touched you properly.”

He grins, sharp and wicked. And he does not let up.

Ben is cruel about it—playful, smug, and so patient it’s maddening. He draws it out like it’s a game. Like the longer he can make you blush and stammer, the sweeter the win will be. He’ll ghost his fingers over your waistband, watching your whole body twitch. Press kisses to your throat without ever letting them drift lower.

“This is fun,” he murmurs against your neck. “Torture,” you breathe. “Aw. Don’t worry. You’ll beg for it soon.”

And you will. Because Ben doesn’t just tease—he studies. Watches every shift in your expression like he’s memorizing it. He learns exactly where to touch. When to pause. When to not give in.

“God, the way you look at me… I bet you’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” “N-no—” “Liar. You’re already soaked.”

He loves how shy you are. And he’s mean about it. The more flustered you get, the meaner he becomes. Not in a malicious way—but in that cocky more experienced guy who knows he’s got you way. He’ll say things that make your soul leave your body and act like it’s nothing.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice smug against your skin. “That scared… or just that desperate?” You suck in a shaky breath, too flustered to answer. He chuckles. Low. Close. Too close. “Yeah,” he hums, dragging his lips along your neck, “I thought so. You’re kind of adorable when you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Smirks when you cover your face. Moves your hands away. Forces you to look at him.

“Nah. I wanna see you when I make you fall apart.”

He doesn’t rush. Not once. Ben takes his time. Every kiss is slow and purposeful. His fingers don’t explore—they map. And when he finally touches you—really touches you—it’s like he’s been waiting forever.

“Shit… you’re so wet. Just from a kiss?” “I—I can’t help it—” “Didn’t say stop. Just wanna hear you admit it.”

He makes you feel everything. Makes sure you notice his hands. His mouth. The way he grinds against you just right until your hips jerk like instinct.

And he laughs, low and breathless.

“You’re so sensitive. Can’t wait to see what you look like when I actually fuck you.”

The first time is intense—and all about you. As much as he teases, Ben doesn’t half-ass this. He wants you to remember it. Wants to absolutely ruin any expectations you’ve ever had.

He whispers in your ear the whole time. Groans when he pushes in slowly. Still teases, but there’s heat in it now—less mocking, more possessive.

“Tight as hell. No one’s touched you like this before, huh?” “Ben—” “Say it. I wanna hear it.”

He grips your waist. Pushes deeper. Watches your face twist in overwhelmed pleasure and smiles like he won.

“You're mine .”

—

(but don’t tire yourself out, okay? ♡

you deserve a break every once in a while !!)

DOGDAY NSFW ALPHABET

a Dogday x reader list. {an: thank you sm for your kind words, i appreciate the support! happy to write for my fellow readers.}

warnings!: not too much for this one, dogday is a sweet boy. nsfw is a big one though! he is very vanilla, {ironic} and its just basic sex. this takes place BEFORE you and him escape. so yes, yall are still in the factory. {if you want me to do one from after the factory or something than send in the request and ill redo it} both amab and afab choices for reader!

<3