Good Boy

jjk boys with a crush on you

pairings: yuuji, megumi, toge, satoru & sukuna x gn!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst

itadori yuuji

an absolute mess. this boy cannot contain himself around you. he probably thinks he’s being slick, but with the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, it’s no surprise that everyone knows about his little crush. including you. how could you possibly miss it when he’s always flashing you his overexcited grins and sputtering a greeting that’s either way too loud or not at all audible to the human ear.

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one last trip.

Rick Flag x F!Reader

SUMMARY: On a dark and quiet morning, you say goodbye to your husband as he leaves for his next assignment.

Melancholy Fluff. Dad!Rick. Mom!Reader. Possible ‘The Suicide Squad (2021)’ Spoilers. Slight Angst.

CLINTS-LUCKY-ARROW MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST BLOG: @clints-lucky-reblogs

Words: 1.2k

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated.

He stands silhouetted by the gentle light of the morning. It’s grey outside. The sky churns with the wound burden of storm, and an undercurrent of chill passes through everything. Leaning in the doorframe, you adjust your robe a little more firmly around your body, watching him in silence.

Rick doesn’t seem to feel the prickle of your eyes against the nape of his neck, nor the cold that the air holds. Your eyes trail down the tattoos on his back, admiring the lean lines of muscle that you’ve come to know so well. They lift when a fist - small and chubby and definitely not his own - rises past the set of his shoulders, and waves clumsily in the air. A soft coo breaks the silence, and your lips twist into a sad smile.

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stranded all in love

Pairing: Jake Lockleyx F!Reader Wordcount: 2.16K Warnings: Explicit AF. Rough smut. Gore. Public Sex. Oral. Marc has srs issues with him. squirting. Summary: And then he’s lunging for her, pinning her underneath him, tongue already in her mouth as he rips the blankets and sheets down and there is nothing between them. A/N: title from kings of leon's closer

Jake’s jealousy can be venomous at times. It can overwhelm him - shudder throughout his body while he tries to swallow the fact that Marc and Steven are the ones appropriate for the daylight. Jake does not do well with normalcy. He doesn’t fit into cafes or restaurants or long walks around a park. 

The jealous can be subtle. It can infect and nip and pierce. It grows until he unleashes on something or someone. Not her. Never her.

But, the people that Khonshu wants dead?

They’re fucked.

He doesn’t return to her often. He’s a moment - a flash of a man in between sleeps. Sometimes, she’ll wake up with him hovering over her. There will be the ripe smell of death. Jake's head is cocked to the side and the remnants of whatever fight he’d been in burns across his face. It’s like injury looks good on him. It’s like violence is his second skin. It belongs there.

“What is it?” she murmurs as she feels his hand on her. He pets her arms and shoulders. He squeezes her wrist. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you.”

When Jake says this, she knows he’s being truthful. Steven will pretend like he didn’t intend to disturb her sleep when he absolutely did. He doesn’t like to go under alone. Marc will just lie on top of her until she kicks him and then he’ll fuck her to exhaustion.

Jake enjoys the simplicity of watching her. He enjoys the quiet after whatever hurricane of violence he has doled out earlier that night. Of course, he’ll also bury himself inside her if he has the opportunity.

“It’s okay, Jake,” she says before he lunges forward.

He pins her underneath him, tongue already in her mouth as he rips the blankets and sheets down and then there is nothing between them. 

“Was it bad?” she asks against the bite of his teeth.

“Not now,” he growls. “Later.”

She knows that he will tell her. He will confess like she’s his priest though he is his own God’s servant.

He’ll probably go into detail. It is nothing for him to kill. He shrugs his shoulders and jokes about how he’s going to get the blood out of the roof of Marc’s car or remind her that they’re gonna need a lot of bleach for the downstairs bathroom. 

***

“He’s a fucking monster,” Marc declares one night. “He-He isn’t right in the head.”

It befuddles her. He can make peace with Steven and yet not with the darker side of himself - a piece of him that is as essential as anything else. His heart. His brain. His bones. 

Jake shares his body. Jake shares her. 

“He does what’s necessary,” she reminds, fingertips trailing over the hard line of Marc’s brow. “I know it’s so easy for you to love Steven because of his goodness, but Jake handles what you can’t.”

There’s a distinct twitch in Marc’s eye. A glimmer around the iris as he regards her with an unreadable expression. She frowns as he watches her, as a muscle in his jaw flexes. He looks as if he wants to say something - tell her she’s wrong - tell her she’s naive - but then it clears. 

It is nothing and everything at once. Marc’s face disappears completely to reveal Jake. 

“You’re really on my side, huh?” He leans back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Trying to convince big daddy that I play nice?”

She rolls her eyes and, in a flash - a pop of a second, Jake’s hands are on her waist. He spins her around until she knocks up against the edge of the table and forces her onto it. Her breasts are crushed into the wood, her cheek flat on the surface. An orange rolls from of the arrangement at its center. A lime bounces out and hits the floor with a thud. His fingers trail down the curve of her spine, skimming the width of her waist. 

“I’m going to fuck you now.”

Jake can be blunt. He barely speaks at all unless he finds his head too loud - too messy - then all of it bursts out of him: spilling, frothing, turning to spittle.

I can’t stop. 

It feels good. 

What day is it? Where am I? What’s on the docket? Where are the knives?

The sex is furious. It is rough and frantic because he never knows when the other two will rip him away. He kisses her with such aggression that she tastes blood. His teeth slip across her throat. He stares down between them as he fucks her, his gaze locked on the place he’s disappearing inside the slick of her cunt. 

He can be almost clinical about the act at times. He enjoys seeing how her body reacts to the things he does. It is the same feral look he gets when he’s murdering someone slow. Curiosity etched across his handsome face. His brows lifted in surprise when she whimpers or clenches just as they lift when whoever he’s breaking shudders or screams.

“That feel good, yeah? What if I add a third? Would you take it for me? C’mon, sweetheart….princess…lift your hips a bit higher.”

“No-no, Jack! Don’t fucking die on me too fast. We’re just getting started. Let me try and fit my fist in there.”

He is awful and he is not. He wraps himself around her as a dragon would with its mountain of treasure or its golden eggs. She has never seen anyone kill with the kind of precision he does. He has the same make-up of a shadow, flickering between spots of light, breaking apart into the dark corners of old rooms.

He comes to her with his hands still bloody. He cradles her cheeks - his dark, luminous eyes half-mad and still his. His lashes flutter as he drops his head to crash their mouths together like it’s the last thing left for him. 

This. This. This. Just this. Just you and me. 

***

There are times, she’s in danger and it’s not Marc or Steven who can handle what has to be done, but Jake. “Did he hurt you?” Jake asks as his gaze scrutinizes every part of her body. The hood and the mask are gone. His expression is contorted in a rage that she cannot reach or touch. She is the one thing he has and when someone touches her, then God help them. It is so much of Marc’s doubt and guilt that is locked in the fury that burns inside Jake. Jake takes it. Jakes absorbs it all and he shoves it back at the world tenfold. 

“I’m fine,” she reassures him. He always thinks the worst.

“You’re not,” he replies flatly before turning around, walking quickly toward the man in question and slicing through his jugular. The blood spurts on his hands, his wrists, it makes a fine mist across the white front of his armor. A quick job because he has other things on his mind. 

He doesn’t give the man a second look. He kicks his head away before returning to her. He advances, grabbing her firmly around the wrist and tugging her into the black cavernous space of the alley behind them.

“Jake,” she protests. “It’s too dark.”

He scoffs, flashing her a disarming grin. There’s blood on his lip. “Like I’d let anything touch you now…no….I wouldn’t….I”d never…” his words roll and tumble over each other as he begins to speak to himself. Her chest grows tight. Is this how he handles everything? There’s no Marc or Steven for him to vent to…they’re far too weary of him…there’s only her and she doubts even that is enough…

He’s got his gloved-hands on her shoulders as he pushes her back against the brick wall. She thinks he’s going to fuck her - ruin her - splither apart on his cock until things make sense for him, until everything returns to living-color. He doesn’t. He looms over her. The shadows make patterns across his sweat-damp face. A shock of a curl fall across his eyes. He grips the hinge of her jaw and lifts her mouth to his and he kisses her gently - tenderly - soft as the tickle of his lashes against her cheek.

“What are y-?”

“Shh,” he warns before his tongue traces the seam of her mouth, caresses her own tongue in something that should feel dirty, but is not. He draws away from her, peppering kisses across her chin and throat before stepping backward. He appears bigger with the suit - the broadness of it - the packed chest. 

He smirks before lowering himself to his knees. He grabs her by the ankle and hitches her knee over his shoulder and then shoves her skirt up and wedges his face between her legs. 

She can feel him. He inhales her crudely, his nose nudging against the lace of her underwear before he uses his fingers to tug it aside so he can access the wet flesh of her cunt. “Does seeing me save you get you soaked?” he chuckles, though it’s muffled against her skin. He uses the tip of his nose to trace the seam of her sex, up and down and down and up before he latches to the nub of her clit with his talented mouth. 

“Jesus,” she blurts out as she curls inward, as she fists his hair in surprise. He smacks her thigh - a hushed tut tut tut against the swell of her pussy. Each warm breath against her  sends sparks driving up her belly.

“Stay open for me,” he mutters before he licks into her. The muscle of his tongue splits her. He thrusts it deep before easing back so that he can lap through the fever-hot slit of her folds. She jerks, shudders, and he loves it. He groans and grunts like an animal in heat. He eats her for what feels like hours - the lewd noises of his mouth working on her, his enjoyment of the whole act.

He finally pulls himself away just enough so that she can see that the lower half of his face is coated in a glossy sheen of her. 

His gaze is hungry - unsettling, even - and he takes two of his fingers and plunges them into his mouth, wetting them with his own saliva before sinking them into her. He sits back on his heels as he does it. He studies her face as he pushes them inside with the same brute force he does with his cock. He twists his hand so that his thumb can reach her clit. He circles it tightly while his fingers rock into her - massaging her - stretching her apart. 

“Fuck my hand a little, princess,” he taunts. “C’mon - it’ll feel good.”

She does. She can’t help it. Her hips chase his stupid thick fingers that are pumping into her. It’s all too fucking much. His handsome face alight with that slightly maniacal adoration he has for her. There’s blood on his suit. There’s blood in his hair. It makes his teeth white as the coin-silver circle of the moon above them.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs more to himself than to her. His eyes are directed at her cunt and his fingers moving inside it. Her dress is rucked up around his hand so he’s the only one who can see. She can feel it though. He’s making her too slippery - too fucking scorched. She can feel heat behind her nose. Her chest stutters - grows tight. Pressure building building building too damn high as he begins to fuck her faster - fingertips brushing the furthest part of her that’s its own knot of sensation. 

“I’m - I’m gonna -”

She can’t breathe. She can’t swallow right. He stares at her, his lips twitching into a half-smile. His eyes so big and round as they jump from her stuffed pussy to her blissed-out, edged-out expression.

“Get it all wet,” he rumbles - his voice deeper than she’s ever heard it - as if it’s coming from the bottom of him. “Do it for me.”

He’s thrusting thrusting thrusting before he rips his fingers free, forcing a slip of liquid from her. She doesn’t scream; she makes a sort of choked-off noise because her tongue has gone numb. She hears it though. The sound of her bursting like an over-ripe fruit, her skin burning with a shame that Jake no doubt finds exquisite.

Don’t you dare look away from me. I wanted you to come like that. I wanted it and you did it like the good girl you are.

“Fucking Christ,” she whimpers - slightly embarrassed and slightly desperate for it again. He strokes her leg that is still hitched over his shoulder. He turns his head to press a kiss to the inside of her knee. 

“Poor baby,” he husks. “Was that too much?”

She glares at him. She knows that he did it a bit out of spite. 

Does Steven make you squirt like that? I highly doubt it. 

Marc’s too stiff - too locked up. 

You can let go with me. You can let go because I’m already gone. 

Jake inches forward, lifting the skirt of her dress to savor the quivering, puffy flesh between her legs. His slippery tongue is like a lighter zapping her skin with tiny flicks of flame.

“I can’t,” she murmurs - flinching - trembling to pieces and she should know better. Jake fucking loves that - loves when she’s docile and pushed to the edge and brought to a climax that vibrates throughout her hull.

“You can,” he encourages as he licks her again - the tip of his tongue flicking her clit and making her twitch. “You can take it. You can always handle me.” 

There’s still a dead man at the corner of her eye - a man he’d brutally murdered for her. All acts that he would do on repeat because it’s what he knows. Sex and death and her. He nuzzles into her thigh - his mouth making soft, coaxing noises. 

“Let me, princess,” he croons. “Let Jake help you feel good.”

“I want to be the last person who ever kisses you… That sounds bad, like a death threat or something. What I’m trying to say is, you’re it. This is it for me.”

—

Rainbow Rowell

Like for long hair

Reblog for short hair

imma keep it real with you chief, i have no idea what the fuck is going on

Upping the Ante

Rick Flag (DCEU) x Reader

Summary: Rick keeps his promise. Follow-up to A Betting Man.

Word count: 2,129

A/N: This fic is dedicated to one of my beta readers, good friends, and fellow CEO of Simps, Inc. whose birthday is tomorrow. Happy birthday!

Warnings: Vaginal sex, rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, masturbation (male), overstimulation, dirty talk, a bit o’ praise kink

While you adjust your dress, Rick tosses the condom into the nearest dumpster and refastens his pants. He grabs you by the hips and pulls your pelvis flush against his. “Wanna make another bet?” he asks.

You narrow your stare at him, intrigued. “Depends on the bet.”

He tightens his grasp. “Come home with me tonight and I’ll fuck you ‘til you can’t see straight.”

“That’s not a bet, Rick.”

“No,” he drawls, stroking his thumbs over the dip of your waist. “But it is a promise.”

You stumble over the threshold and into Rick’s apartment, tongues twisting, breaths exchanging, and hands a blur as you tear at each other’s clothes. It’s a flurry of fabric, garment after garment dropping unceremoniously to the ground.

The front door slams. The lock automatically slides home as it shuts. Rick flicks on the light switch to the left of the door, and a standing lamp posted at the opposite side of the door frame blinks on.

“I swear, I never do this,” you mumble against Rick’s lips, walking backward as he leads you deeper into the apartment. You kick off your shoes and unzip your dress as you go. “I’m not usually the sleeping-with-strangers type.”

“Me neither,” he says. “Tell me something about you.”

Your words fall into his mouth as you prattle off a few facts about yourself: your last name, where you’re from, what you do, and so on. Rick unbuttons his shirt and strips it off his broad shoulders while he tells you a similar set of facts about himself.

“Flag,” he says. “Actually, Colonel Richard Flag, Jr., if you wanna get specific. Born in D.C., but I spend most of my time in Louisiana these days. Don’t ask me what I’m doing there, though, because if I told ya, I’d have to kill ya, and that’d be a real fucking shame because you are so fucking hot.”

“You flatter me,” you snicker.

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.”

Rick brands the shape of his mouth across your neck, his lips hot and wanton on your skin. He bends slightly at the knee to tug off his jeans and boxer briefs, then straightens to his full, towering height and punts the clothes across the room.

He stalls and breaks the kiss.

Rick’s movements are slow as he grazes his short fingernails over your back, following the V-shape of the open zipper cascading down your spine. He hooks the tips of his fingers under the parted seam and drags the dress down over your shoulders, middle, and hips so it falls in a heap around your bare feet.

The light from the standing lamp near the door washes tantalizingly over your nearly naked figure. You reach behind your back, flick open the clasp tight against your upper back, and drop your bra to the floor.

You take a staggering step backward.

You salaciously scan Rick’s body: sculpted, carved, chiseled. He gleams under the warm lamplight, his skin kissed by sunset. Shadows shade the defined ridges of his muscles. Shoulders pulled back and chin raised, he holds himself with confidence, with strength, with power. His toned stomach shudders as he sucks in a breath.

His pupils expand the longer he stares at you. He trails his eyes over every curve, every edge, and every dimple of your body. He stares and stares and stares, until he can’t resist it any longer. He charges toward you, cups your cheeks, and draws you into another passionate kiss.

Your hands mirror the other’s as you skim your fingertips lightly down each other’s abdomens to the apex of your respective thighs. Rick dips his fingers between your folds and you wrap your palm around his stiff cock.

You exchange sighs, mimicking movements. You pump your fist in time with the steady pace of Rick’s fingers furling and unfurling in your pussy. Then, his thumb brushes against your clit. Your head tips back. You moan.

“Oh, fuck, Rick.” You bring your head back to center. “Will you please fuck me already?”

“Ma’am,” he drawls, “it’d be my pleasure.”

Rick coils his palms around the backs of your thighs and lifts you into his arms. As he carries you toward his bedroom, you claw at his shoulders. You rake your fingernails across his scalp and nip at his neck. A growl thunders in his chest as he kicks open his bedroom door and sits on the side of his bed, straddling you across his lap.

Rick turns on the lamp and blindly rifles through the drawer in the bedside table beside him. He pulls out an unopened box of condoms. He yanks open the box, rips one from the chain, tosses the box back into the bedside table, and shuts the drawer. His nimble fingers move quickly as he opens the wrapper and rolls the condom down his shaft. His eyes meet yours.

“Ride me, sweetheart,” he says.

With one hand, Rick lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, and with the other, he guides you up onto your kneecaps, then down onto his shaft. You groan in unison as he bottoms out.

You start slowly, allowing yourself to feel every inch of the man inside of you—rock hard and demanding attention. You link your arms firmly around his neck and pin yourself even closer to him, welding your bodies together with the sheen of sweat dampening your chests.

Rick helps you ride him. His hand stays anchored at your waist while the other roves over your shoulder and around to your collar, his thumb brushing across your clavicle. He braids his fingers in your hair and pushes it out of your face so he can see you.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says.

Fucking hell.

You slam your lips against his and knot your fingers in the mop of sandy hair at the back of his skull. You hasten the drop of your hips.

“Oh, fuck,” Rick groans as you clench around him. “Jesus fucking Christ. You gotta… You gotta stop that, sweetheart, or I’m gonna come too soon.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you tease.

“Yeah, but I told you I’d fuck you ‘til you can’t see straight,” he says. “Can’t do that if I come before you do. At least…” He pauses, a sly smirk gracing his face. “The first time.”

Your lighthearted laugh rings through the thick air around you. “Well, you sure seem like a man with a plan. So, why don’t you show me what you got in mind, Boy Scout?”

Grinning, Rick snaps upright and pivots. He lands you on your hands and knees at the edge of the mattress. You feel his calloused palm smooth over your ass and ghost down the ladder of your spine. You shiver under his surprisingly light touch, and cry out at the contrast to the harsh thrust he delivers seconds later.

His skin slaps loudly against yours as he rails into you. The obscene, percussive sound mixes with your high-pitched whines and chiming whimpers, in harmony with Rick’s guttural groans. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls it taut at the root, adding just a little bit of delicious pain to your overwhelming pleasure.

Rick snakes his other hand around your hip and between your legs. Still plowing into you, he strums your clit feverishly. You feel your orgasm stir in your core. Burning bright, hot, and insistent, it grows as Rick maintains his frantic pace. He can tell you’re nearing the edge, on the cusp of release, and he speeds the motion of his fingers on the center of your pleasure to get you there.

The orgasm crashes through you in tidal waves of ecstasy, a monsoon of bliss. It floods your senses, washes away all tension, and cleanses you of the worry and anxiety that you usually carry in your muscles.

Your cunt flutters around Rick and he comes moments after you do, emptying himself into the condom. He lays his chest over your back. You listen to the heavy sound of his panting breath in your ear.

He inks a soft kiss into your shoulder, straightens his spine again, and pulls his softening cock from your pussy. You expect him to collapse onto the bed next to you, but instead, you feel his palm running down your calf to your ankle.

He yanks your leg out from under you and flips you onto your back. In shock at the magnitude of his bodily power, you meet his ravenous stare.

Rick slides down your body, eyes shining with hunger. He stamps winding kisses into your abdomen as he goes. Then, he lowers to his knees, spreads your thighs, and brings his face to your cunt.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to gawk at the head of the man buried between your legs. His shoulder blades roll, ropes of muscle sliding over the harsh angles of his bones that comprise his rugged frame: a rippling sea of raw masculinity.

The bedside lamp’s yellowish glow casts over Rick’s head, dyeing his brownish-blond strands pure gold. You comb your fingers through it and let the shimmering locks tickle your knuckles. Rick hums pleasantly against you, enjoying your touch as much as you’re enjoying his.

Rick takes his time, unrushed in the privacy of his own home. He moves his tongue languidly, savoring the taste of you and the sweet noises flowing past your lips. Your elbows buckle beneath you when he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you crash flat on your back into the mattress again.

You’re unaware of the words coming from your mouth, ignorant to everything other than the unwavering heat of Rick’s tongue on your pussy.

“So good,” you pant. “Rick… so… so good.”

“I know, baby. I know,” he says.

Rick urges the orgasm from you with the slide of his tongue and urgency of his mouth. He doesn’t subside after the first; he continues, just as he had earlier that evening outside the bar.

Arms spread wide—a sacrificial pose—your fists tighten in the sheets. Your head lolls from side to side. Your eyes flutter shut and your jaw drops. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure, white-hot and unrelenting. It consumes you, controls you, crushes you. You are at its will, and the will of the man delivering it.

With each lap and lick, feeling wanes from your limbs. It starts in your fingertips, a noticeable tingling, then moves up your legs, leaving them gelatinous, useless, and weak.

“Rick,” you slur, “I can’t. I… It’s too much.”

Rick glimpses up at your slackened face.

“I made you a promise,” he says, “and I intend to keep it.”

Gone is his lethargy. He returns with an insistent vigor that strikes through your limbs like an electric shock, and rips one last climax from your boneless body.

White flashes across your vision, then black, before Rick’s ceiling comes back into focus.

“Holy shit,” you wheeze. “Holy shit, Rick.”

Rick stands, one palm pumping his cock, hard again. He wipes the back of his other hand across his wet mouth.

“How was that, sweetheart?” he asks. You wheeze a laugh and bob your chin lazily in response. Rick speeds the pace of his fist around his shaft and takes a step toward you.

His eyes flash. “Tell me how good I made you feel.”

“You made me feel so good, Rick,” you say. “Never felt that good before.”

Rick’s chest heaves as the praises tumble freely off your tongue.

“You made me come so hard. God, you’re so good.”

His hand hastens. His abdomen contracts. His breath shortens. You watch his cock pulse under his grip.

He comes with a loud grunt, splattering streaks of cum across your tits.

Wracked by his orgasm, Rick keels forward, but catches himself with his palm, rooted to the mattress beside your head. His panting breath wafts over your face. He smears his fingertip through the warm lines and brings it to your lips. You taste him, hot and bitter, on your tongue.

With his gaze glued yours, Rick curls his free hand around the nape of your neck, tilts your head, and kisses you once more.

+ + +

On Sunday, you’re greeted at brunch with a squealing chorus of your name and a round of bone-crushing hugs from your friends. As you settle into the remaining vacant seat, someone thrusts a mimosa into your hand.

The former birthday girl says, “We missed you after we left the bar.”

“I know,” you apologize. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come over.”

“Tell me you had a good rest of your night at least,” she says.

You smirk against the lip of your glass.

“Don’t worry,” you assure her, “I did.”

+

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Recommended: Unlikely Heroes, Part 1 (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader)

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Sweet Child

sweet child,

never forget where you came from and show your parents true love and devotion.

sweet child,

tell those how you truly feel and show them who you truly are.

sweet child,

continue to follow your dreams and let no one tell you they aren’t possible to achieve.

sweet child,

experience the beautiful world for all its glory and let nothing hold you back.

sweet child,

take the worst situations in your life and turn them into the best moments of your life.

my younger self, hang in there.

ease into it;

pairing: rick flag x female reader warnings: sexually explicit lang (oral sex, female and male receiving, fingering) swearing, ummmm, it’s smut<3  wc: 3.4k

an: He’s got you in his bed now, might as well do something to pass the time! (this acts as a part two to easy does it, but can be read separately!) 

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