#????? do they not have juice there or something ?????

[luvrrszn]

behind closed doors

BROTHER'S BSF!THEO NOTT x FEM READER (18+)

summary you're his best friend's little sister—off-limits, right?

warnings smut, theo's mean, fluff, angst i guess, idk

a/n guysssssssssss new week new obsession......soz send help

masterlist

being your older brother's best friend, theo was at your house all the time.

that meant he'd see you almost every day. the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen, floating around. so close yet so far, always out of reach.

he knew he'd never be able to have you, no, your brother would never allow that. so he did the only other thing he could think of—be mean to you.

so he tormented you every day. called you names, even waited on your bed for you to come home so he could insult you about something new. you suspected it was just his way of getting to see you every day.

he acts like you're the biggest pain in the ass, just his best friend's annoying little sister. but the second nobody's looking? his hands are on you.

—

sleeping with him is casual, no strings attached. theo sneaks out of your brother's room at night after he's fast asleep, making sure that he never ever finds out what's going on.

when your brother is finally out of town for the weekend, theo still comes over. the two of you are watching a movie on the tv in your room, lying on your bed. his arm is wrapped around your shoulder, your head leaning against his chest. his other hand traces up and down your inner thigh under the blanket.

it's one of those rare moments in the in-between.

in-between fucking and being at each others' throats.

theo's hand slips lower, toying with the waistband of your pink lace panties. he traces over your wet cunt, chuckling under his breath, "amore mio, you're dripping, just for me, huh?"

"shut u—" you're immediately silenced when theo plunges two long fingers into your pussy.

a smug smile spreads across his face, “you’re squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna break my fingers aren’t ya? if your brother knew how much you think about me, he’d probably hex you himself.”

“t-theo, stop talking about my brother and start moving your damn fingers.” you pants, writhing against the palm of his hand, aching for some friction against your clit.

“as you wish, amore mio.”

—

one night, you’re sneaking back in after a party. your hair is disheveled, makeup smudged, slightly tipsy and boots in your hand as you try to close the front door as quietly as possible.

theo is the last person you expect to see. you curse under your breath. why is he always in your damn house?

the open kitchen layout gives him the perfect view of you sneaking back in at 3am. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, grey sweatpants hanging low, black tshirt hugging his biceps. he drinks from a glass of water, a dark look on his face.

you roll your eyes as you put your boots down on the floor, preparing yourself for what’s to come.

“a bit late, isn’t it, piccola?”

you roll your eyes and brush past him, opening the fridge to grab some orange juice. gulping down the juice, you reply, "it's really none of your business, nott."

wrong answer.

before you can react, he's in front of you, blocking your path. he's so much taller, broader than you. the amused glint in his eye is gone.

"see, that's where you're wrong," he murmurs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so you meet his gaze, "it is absolutely my business, because we wouldn't want you messing around with young, dumb, horny boys would we?"

his forearms rest on either side of your head, pinning you against the refrigerator.

"oh yeah? and what are you?" you scoff.

"oh, bella, you already know the answer to that."

and you do. he's stronger, older, perhaps even more mature (when it comes to anything other than you) than whatever company you're keeping.

"i swear, you'd better not tell my brother about this." you groan, ducking under his arms as you beeline for the sink.

"there's no such thing as a free lunch, piccola."

and that's how you end up on your knees in your bedroom, short skirt hiked up as you gag around his fucking massive cock. his hands are tangled in your hair, mercilessly forcing you to take in every inch of him. tears stream down your face, spit pooling at the corner of your mouth. you look like a mess, but at that moment as theo looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, he swears he's never seen a prettier girl than you.

you look up at theo and take in the sight before you. his head is thrown back, hair messy. his jaw is clenched, and he smirks at you. you run your hands over his chest and toned abs, clawing at his biceps.

he's perfect.

—

oh, and when he catches you at a party?

it's over.

he drags you out by your wrists, forcing you into his blacked-out mercedes. he's driving well over the speed limit, desperate to get off the road before he loses his shit.

he'd seen you dancing with some guy you knew from down the street, dress too short, too tight, too low-cut.

he has one hand on the steering wheel, another running through his hair as his jaw clenches.

"didn't take you for the easy type, but i guess i shouldn't be surprised. you're not special, you know. boys will say anything to get them what they want."

his words hit like a slap. your stomach twists, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted and heart pounding.

you want to ask what the hell he's talking about, but you already know.

he saw you dancing with that guy. saw the way his hands slid down your waist, how he leaned in close and whispered things in your ear. how you let out that sweet laugh, one that always made theo want to say "fuck it" and just kiss you in front of everyone. he saw the way you let it happen.

and he hated it.

and now he's punishing you for it.

when you remain silent, he continues, "you looked fucking ridiculous in there, you know that?"

and you feel so silly. to think that that evening, you'd picked out your favourite dress, made sure your makeup looked good, just in hopes that theo would notice you at that party.

"you're being cruel, theo. stop it." you murmur, turning to stare out of the window. you don't even notice that you've started crying.

when you finally notice, you wipe it away quickly. you hope that theo didn't notice, but of course he did. at that moment, he pulls into the driveway of your house, turning off the engine.

theodore nott has seen a lot of things—but he has never seen you cry like this. and definitely not because of him.

and it makes something in his chest clench.

"oh, for fuck’s sake—" his voice drops, no longer sharp but still frustrated. he drags a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly, like he’s angry at himself now, too.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, at the way you’re biting your lip, blinking rapidly, trying so hard to hold it in.

then? he moves.

his hand reaches for your thigh, fingers curling around it, grounding. not forceful, but firm.

"hey." his voice is softer now, rough but not cruel.

"don't do that. don't fucking cry over me."

you try to shift away, but theo's grip tightens. not rough—just enough to make you stay.

"i didn't mean—fuck." he sighs again, shaking his head.

his thumb brushes against your knee, almost like a reflex, and for the first time ever, he looks uncertain.

"look at me."

you don't. you can't.

so he makes you.

his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face towards him.

he isn't angry anymore. not at you. not really. his jaw is still clenched, his brows furrowed, but now? he looks almost desperate. like he wants to fix everything he's done, but he doesn't know how.

"i didn't mean it like that, bella."

you sniff, voice shaking slightly, "then how did you mean it?"

and that's when he just sighs. a weak, defeated sigh escapes the big bully of a man.

"i just—fuck, i don’t want to see you with other guys, alright?"

"why? we're not anything. you've made it clear, multiple times."

silence follows. his grip tightens.

then, he finally speaks. rough, low, honest.

"because i want you to be mine."

for a moment, you just stare at him.

his confession hangs in the air between the two of you. you're still hurt, still pissed. but something inside you shifts.

"say it again." your voice is quieter now, still laced with frustration but weaker.

theo's jaw clenches. he’s not used to being this vulnerable. but he doesn’t look away.

"I want you to be mine."

and then he moves. his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. he hesitates for just a second, like he’s giving you a chance to stop him.

but you don't.

so he kisses you.

it's not soft. not at first. it’s heated, desperate, full of all the tension that had been boiling between you. his grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but you don’t—you kiss him back just as fiercely, hands tugging at his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

it’s messy and overwhelming and everything you’ve both been pretending not to want.

when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless.

"we’re so fucked," you whisper.

theo smirks, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “yeah. but you like it.”

and the worst part?

you do.

[p0orbaby]

Like can we pls pls pls pls pls get a smut where Reader sees alexias new photos for nike (though she had shown to reader some they did had the edit the impact you know) reader getting all hot and bothered and jumps on alexia qhen she gets home like do it everything with me

it’s not smut because i’ve got to save some material for bitter sweet

shameless plug

-

The day is, for the most part, unremarkable.

You wake up at 07:26, which is two minutes before your alarm, which is irritating because you could have had those two minutes. You stare at the ceiling for a moment, assessing your bodily functions—slight stiffness in your neck from the way you slept, residual warmth from the duvet, a faint need to pee but not urgent enough to act on. Alexia is still asleep next to you, her breathing slow and deep. There’s a dent in the pillow from where she’s been lying, a strand of hair curling across her cheek. You could stay here, watch her, but then your alarm does go off, and reality intrudes.

You shower, make coffee, scroll absentmindedly through your phone, thumb moving in automatic, practised motions. You see the photos at exactly 08:02.

And that’s when everything changes.

At first, your brain doesn’t fully register what you’re looking at. There’s a moment of lag, like a buffering screen, a stutter in your synapses. Then the full weight of it hits, and it’s like being smacked in the face with a sledgehammer. A very attractive, well-lit sledgehammer.

It’s Alexia. Obviously, it’s Alexia. But it’s Nike Alexia.

Sweaty. Flexing. Half-naked.

Her abs look like they’ve been sculpted by the gods. Her arms—veins subtly pronounced, muscles taut, defined—are a work of art. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on her skin, catching the light in a way that feels almost… obscene. Her gaze is focused, intense, fixed down the lense, like she’s contemplating the meaning of life but also potentially about to fight someone.

You stare. Then you blink. Then you stare again.

Something warm pools low in your stomach, and your grip on your phone tightens. You have seen Alexia naked. Repeatedly. You live together. You have firsthand knowledge—intimate, detailed knowledge—of every inch of her body. And yet, somehow, these photos manage to feel like a personal attack.

Your first thought is: How dare she?

Your second thought is: I need to sit down.

Which you do, heavily, onto one of the kitchen stools. Your coffee is abandoned, cooling rapidly. The world outside continues as normal—birds chirping, distant traffic noise, the faint hum of the fridge—but your internal landscape has been irrevocably altered.

You should say something. React. But words fail you, so instead, you just keep staring, swiping through the photos in what can only be described as a state of near-religious awe. You don’t even realise you’re making a noise—somewhere between a sigh and a groan—until you hear movement behind you.

Then, her voice, still thick with sleep.

“What are you looking at?”

Your soul leaves your body.

You exit out of the app too quickly, fumbling with your phone like a guilty teenager caught watching something they shouldn’t be. Which is ridiculous. You are an adult. You are in a committed relationship with this woman. There is no reason for you to be acting like this.

And yet.

“Nothing,” you say, entirely unconvincing.

Alexia pads barefoot into the kitchen, wearing one of your T-shirts, her hair slightly messy. She yawns, stretching, and your eyes immediately zero in on the movement, the flex of muscle beneath skin. It is unfair that she looks this good first thing in the morning. Unethical, even.

She squints at you, then at your phone. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve seen God.”

You take a slow, steadying breath.

“Not God,” you say. “Just Nike’s new campaign.”

She blinks. Then, the smirk starts, slow and knowing. “Ah.”

“Don’t ah me,” you say, pointing accusingly. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” She moves to the fridge, retrieving the orange juice. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You posed.”

She laughs, pouring herself a glass. “I did.”

“You flexed.”

“I did.”

“You—” You gesture vaguely, helplessly. “You glistened.”

She tilts her head, amused. “That’s usually what happens when you’re sweating.”

“I don’t sweat like that,” you say, almost mournful. “I sweat like a normal person. You sweat like—like—” You pause, struggling to find the words. “Like a Nike advert.”

Alexia sips her juice, looking infuriatingly pleased with herself. “That’s convenient.”

You exhale sharply, dropping your head onto the counter. “I need help.”

“Probably.”

Silence stretches. You can feel her eyes on you, can hear the faint clink of her glass as she sets it down. Then, her voice, softer now, but with an unmistakable thread of amusement.

“Do you want me to sign one for you?”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

She gestures toward your phone. “A print. I can sign it for you. Make it personal.”

You gape at her, scandalised. “Do I look like the kind of person who would have a signed picture of their girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You have my old Barça jersey framed.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s—” You flounder. “It’s memorabilia. Historic.”

She raises an eyebrow. “So these pictures aren’t historic?”

“Not unless I drop dead from looking at them,” you mutter.

Alexia grins. “Want me to flex for you right now?”

You make a noise that is neither dignified nor human.

Alexia laughs. It’s light, teasing, but there’s something else behind it, something knowing. She closes the small distance between you, leans in, voice low.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not,” you lie.

Her hand brushes your arm, slow, deliberate. “You are.”

You swallow. Your mouth is dry. Your heart rate is—scientifically speaking—fucked.

This is fine. This is manageable.

Then, she actually flexes.

And you black out.

Metaphorically.

Mostly.

[cloudtransprncy]

Birthday Girl

Sakura Miyawaki x Male Reader | 4k words Tags: smut, pwp, closet sex, rough, dirty talk, public but private, spit play, facefucking, cock drunk, desperate, light daddy kink, birthday sex

Sakura’s birthday. A packed apartment. Her hands on you all night. The Closet. Lips crash. Yeah, you saw this coming.

AN: She posted this literally few hours ago, had to do it. Shes so hot. Also, not proofread so gg.

Sakura’s back thuds against the closet wall, coats rustling behind your head as you lift her up. Her breath stutters, legs locking around your waist, arms clutching your shoulders, nails digging in like she needs something to keep her grounded—like if she lets go, she might just float away.

Her yoga pants? Barely hanging off one of her legs, abandoned mid-chaos. Her panties? Pushed aside, not even a real obstacle. Your hands grip her thighs tight as you fuck into her, deep and relentless. Her top is slipping lower with every thrust, exposing more of her shoulder, her collarbone, skin begging to be bitten. And you’d do it too—if you weren’t so obsessed with the way she’s coming undone right now.

The coats behind her sway with every motion, hangers rattling above your heads like they’re judging you. Not that either of you care. She’s too far gone, and you? You’re right there with her.

Her hair’s a mess, wavy strands sticking to her damp forehead, fingers tangled in your shirt as she clings to you. Her breath is hot, coming in short, desperate bursts, moans barely muffled by your hand covering her mouth.

“Shh,” you murmur, voice slow, thick with amusement. “You don’t wanna be too loud, baby. Or do you?”

She whimpers, eyes glassy, head tilting back against the wall as she nods frantically.

You chuckle, lips ghosting over her cheek. “Of course you do.”

Your fingers trail up the back of her thigh, squeezing hard. “You act all sweet, but I know better. You love this shit.”

Her hips buck against you, fingers twisting in your shirt, her voice breaking against your palm.

Yeah. That’s what you thought.

Sakura’s birthday party was always gonna lead to this—you just didn’t know when she’d make her move.

It started in the middle of the party—packed apartment, music blasting from a half-broken speaker, bodies pressed together. The room carried the scent mix of sweat, overpriced cologne, and the sharp tang of jungle juice that had no business tasting that good. People were draped over furniture, laughing too loud, shouting over the music, spilling drinks like it was a sport. A night where everything was a little too much, but nobody cared.

And then there was her. Sakura wasn’t just another body in the crowd—she was the center of it.

Soft pink top slipping off her shoulder like an invitation, flared yoga pants hugging her just right, bangs framing her face like she walked straight out of a dream. Every time she moved, heads turned, but her attention? Locked on you. She knew exactly what she was doing, every glance, every smirk, every shift of her hips designed to pull you in, to remind you—she wasn’t just anyone. She was yours.

The tension had been bubbling under the surface all night, and she was stoking the fire.

She was all over you—brushing past you in the kitchen like she didn’t have a whole ass apartment to move in, fingers trailing over your chest when she laughed, leaning in to whisper absolute nonsense in your ear just to see you twitch.

At one point, she dropped onto your lap—casual, she was your girlfriend, she did this all the time. But the way her ass shifted against you? The way she pressed against that spot. Not casual at all.

Your hand slid up her thigh, slow, teasing, just enough to feel how warm she was, the buttery smooth fabric of her yoga pants gliding under your fingertips, just enough for her breath to hitch. And when she turned to look at you, eyes dark, lips parted, you knew exactly where this was going.

She didn’t even have to say anything. Just curled her fingers around your wrist, yanked you up from the couch, and pulled you through the sea of bodies like she was leading you somewhere important.

“Ten minutes. No one will notice.”

She barely got the closet door shut before she was on you, kissing you like she needed it, like she’d been thinking about it all damn night. And maybe she had.

Maybe you had too.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when she breaks the kiss.

Her top keeps slipping lower, the fabric barely clinging to her shoulder, exposing smooth skin, the curve of her collarbone. You don’t hesitate this time—you lean in, teeth grazing her skin before biting down just enough to make her gasp. She tenses, then melts, fingers twisting tighter into your shirt as you press her harder against the wall, groaning as you roll your hips into her.

“You knew exactly what you were doing, huh?” Your voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. “Sitting on my lap like that.”

She gasps, arching into you, hands tugging at your shirt, trying to pull you closer like there’s even space left between you.

“Oh my god, shut up—just fuck me.”

You chuckle, biting lightly at her jaw, dragging your teeth over her skin just because you can. "So bossy," you murmur, dragging your teeth over her before smirking. "I'll let it slide since it's your birthday."

Her yoga pants made it too easy—too smooth, too soft, gliding under your fingers before she kicks them off the one leg they’re still clinging to. Your eyes flick down just in time to watch her smooth, bald pussy stretch around you, glistening, tight, her arousal slicking your cock with every thrust. A wet strand drips down, sliding over your length, smearing against the base where you're buried deep inside her. Her lace panties slowly slide back into place, only to be stopped by your cock in the way, the fabric bunched against her swollen clit.

The air in the closet is thick—humid with heat, the scent of sweat, her perfume, the musky, intoxicating smell of sex. It clings to both of you, mixing with the sharp, clean bite of your cologne, the space so cramped you can feel every shaky breath she exhales against your neck.

Your hands slide to her hips, gripping, holding her in place, dragging her against you, the obscene squelch of her wetness making you groan. Each motion earns another breathless whimper from her lips, her body clenching tighter, greedier.

Her fingers twist in your hair, nails scratching against your scalp as her back arches, head tilting, mouth falling open. She’s wrecked, delirious, drowning in it. You know the moment you hit just the right spot—her entire body tenses, thighs trembling as she melts, a shaky exhale escaping as she chokes out a moan, her slick dripping down even more.

She’s falling apart, breathing heavy, voice all high and needy. “Oh my god—yes, yes, yes—”

You pull back just enough to grab her jaw, forcing her to look at you. "Open your mouth." The command is lazy, effortless, like you already know she’ll do it.

Her lashes flutter, gaze locked on yours as her lips part, tongue sliding out just enough—soft, pink, waiting. Her breath is shaky, pupils blown wide, cheeks already flushed. She looks so damn pretty like this.

You spit, slow and deliberate, watching the way it lands on her tongue, glistening under the dim lights spilling into the closet. She swallows without hesitation, a quiet, satisfied hum vibrating in her throat, her thighs clenching tighter around you like the act just turned her on even more.

"Good girl," you murmur, thumb dragging down her chin, smearing the wetness before you push back into her, rougher this time. Deeper. Your grip tightens on her hips, keeping her right where you want her, holding her still as you drive into her.

She whimpers, her nails biting into your shoulders, her whole-body trembling. She’s so wrecked, teetering on the edge, but she doesn’t want you to stop. Not really. Still, her hand taps against your shoulder, a quick signal, not to make you stop—just to give her a second to catch her breath.

And then she’s moving, pulling herself off you, breathless and desperate. She drops to her knees, looking up at you through messy lashes, eyes dark and eager.

"Fuck my face. Use my mouth. I wanna choke on that fat cock"

Your cock twitches at the words, and you don’t hesitate—grabbing the back of her head, tilting her face up so she’s looking at you. Her lips part instinctively, tongue slipping out in anticipation, and the sight alone nearly makes you groan.

She’s on her knees, perched on her ankles, fingers wrapping around the base of your cock, stroking slow, teasing, watching the way it twitches in her grip. She leans in, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the shaft, tongue flicking out to catch the drops of precum pooling at the tip.

She looks up at you through her lashes, eyes dark, lips parted as she lets a string of spit fall from her mouth, slicking you up before wrapping her fingers around you again, stroking with deliberate, lazy precision.

"Stretch my lips, daddy," she breathes, guiding you to her mouth. Her breath is hot, her lips plush, brushing against the tip before she takes you in, inch by inch, her tongue dragging along the underside, wet and insistent.

The second you push deeper, you feel the tight squeeze of her throat, her soft tongue flattening along the underside of your shaft, dragging over the sensitive ridge as she swallows around you. Her eyes flutter, lashes trembling, but she doesn’t look away, doesn’t break contact even as her throat tightens. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ take it.”

Her fingers wrap tighter around the base, stroking in time with her movements, keeping you slick and soaked in her spit. When she pulls back, a wet gasp leaves her lips, a thick strand of saliva connecting her mouth to the tip before she spits on it again, her fingers smearing the mess over your length.

She moans before taking you back in, lips stretching wider, her tongue teasing the slit before she pushes forward, faster, needier, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks. Her nails dig into your thighs for balance, her body shuddering as she gags, choking just enough for her throat to constrict tight around you. Drool pools at the corners of her lips, spilling down her chin, dripping onto her bare chest, messy and shameless as she takes you even deeper.

“Look at you,” you murmur, running a hand down the side of her face, thumb caressing her cheek as she hollows her cheeks around you. “Messy fucking girl. You love this, don’t you?”

She moans around you, a garbled sound vibrating against your cock, making your stomach tighten. You press her down further, forcing her to take more, feeling the spasms in her throat as she gags again, spit trailing down her chin.

Then, with a sharp pull, you yank her off you, her lips slick and swollen, a wet gasp tearing from her mouth as her tongue hangs out, glossy with drool. Her breath is ragged, eyes glazed over, a dazed, cock-drunk expression written all over her pretty face.

You don’t let her recover. You guide her back down, pushing your cock past her parted lips again, stretching them wide as she takes you deeper, hitting the back of her throat in one smooth motion. A choked gag vibrates against you, making your toes curl.

You do it again.

Off. A sharp inhale.

On. A desperate moan, her throat tightens around you.

Off. Her drool spills down her chin, thick and messy, strings of it connecting her lips to your tip.

On. Her throat spasms, her fingers digging into your thighs, her whole body trembling as she lets you use her.

"Fuck," you growl, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look up at you. "You’re so fucking hot, letting me use your pretty mouth like this."

She giggles, the sound breathy, wrecked, utterly cock drunk. A whimper follows, needy, desperate, like she wants more.

Outside, the party rages on—voices, laughter, music pounding through the walls. If someone walked into her room right now, would they hear what’s happening in the closet? Would they pause, listening to the muffled sounds of wet, filthy pleasure, debating whether to check? If they did, if they opened the door—they’d find her like this. On her knees, wrecked, taking everything you give her without hesitation.

Music pounds through the walls, bass rattling the closet door, but it’s almost drowned out by the wet, filthy sounds of her mouth working you over.

Almost.

Then, just when she’s gasping around you, you yank her back up, flipping the dynamic instantly. You drop onto the floor, back against the wall, legs spread.

"Come ride it, birthday girl."

She wastes no time, swinging a leg over you, holding her top up with one hand while the other reaches between you, fingers wrapping around your slick length, angling you towards her entrance. She drags the head of your cock along her soaked folds, teasing herself before finally sinking down with a desperate moan, stretching around you inch by inch. Her breath hitches, her walls pulsing, clenching down like she never wants to let go.

"You always stretch me so good, daddy," she whimpers, her voice wrecked, shaking as she takes you deeper.

The slick sound of her taking you in fills the cramped space, loud, obscene, making your head fall back against the wall as you groan, feeling just how tight and soaked she is, how she struggles to adjust to every inch of you.

She exhales a shaky breath, biting her lip as she starts to move—slow at first, rolling her hips in deliberate circles, teasing. She wants to show off, to make you feel just how good she can be, but she’s already too far gone.

You let her have it for a second, watching her through heavy lids as she lifts her hips, sinking down again, taking every inch. The way she bites her lip, how her eyes flutter as she feels it all, the heat of her wrapped around you—it’s so fucking good.

"Look at you," you murmur, voice thick with amusement, hands lazily gripping her waist. "Tryna show off. You wanted this so bad, huh?"

"Yes—fuck—I need it, I need it." Her voice is a whimper, desperate, as her movements stutter for a second, her body betraying her.

You smirk, fingers pressing into her skin, steadying her. "Then take it, baby. Show me."

She gasps as you guide her down, forcing her to take you deeper, her thighs trembling as she grinds against you. Every drop down is louder, wetter, her arousal dripping between your thighs, making a mess of both of you. The stretch has her eyes rolling back, mouth falling open as she tries to keep up, but she’s spiraling fast.

You watch her fall apart, reveling in it. She’s not showing off anymore—her thighs are shaking, her rhythm faltering, every motion a struggle between holding on and giving in.

She tries to keep moving, but she’s too far gone. Her moans turn breathless, higher, edged with desperation.

Your hands glide over her waist, caressing the smooth curve of her abdomen, fingers pressing into the tightness of her frame. The pink ruffle top she’s still wearing hugs her figure perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve, the soft fabric molding to her body. She’s small, stretched impossibly around you, and she knows exactly how hot that is. Her back arches, one hand lifting to gather her hair, exposing the elegant line of her neck, the full length of her body—long, taut, trembling under your touch.

You groan, watching the way she takes you, how her pussy struggles to accommodate you, her wetness coating your length with every slow, agonizing drop down. She’s shaking, her rhythm faltering, moans getting breathier, higher, edged with desperation.

You grab her hips, slamming her down, forcing her to take it all. She gasps, body jolting as you fill her completely, her walls clenching down in shock, in pleasure, in everything all at once. The impact sends a fresh wave of wetness spilling between you, dripping down your length, making an obscene mess where your bodies meet.

Your hand moves up—palm flat against her stomach, pressing down, feeling yourself buried deep inside her. "Feel that, baby? Feel how deep I am?"

She whimpers, fingers clawing at your chest, gripping your wrists, needing something to hold onto as you thrust up into her, making her take more.

Her head tilts back, but you don’t let her escape. You wrap a hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes flutter open, forcing her to look at you. "Nah, baby. Don’t run from it. Take every inch."

She’s crying out, losing control, her body shaking as pleasure overtakes her. She’s getting close—you can feel it, the way her walls pulse around you, the way her breath catches, the way she’s barely hanging on. Just as she’s fully giving in, just as she’s about to break—there’s a knock. On the closet door? No, on the door to her bedroom.

“Yo, Sakura? You in there?”

She freezes, eyes wide, panic flickering across her face. The voice is familiar—it’s Chaewon, one of her girlies.

Your hand flies to her mouth, smothering the whimper that nearly escapes, feeling the way her entire body trembles against you. You both hold your breath, locked in place, but inside, you can feel how she grips you tighter, clenching like the sudden risk is turning her on even more.

Footsteps shuffle across her bedroom, the faint rustle of fabric as Chaewon rifles through her things. Her jacket. Right—Sakura had let all her girlies drop their stuff on her bed earlier. That’s what she’s here for. She’s just grabbing something.

Sakura, reckless and insatiable, starts moving again. Slow at first, rolling her hips against you, both of you biting your lips to keep quiet. The thrill of getting caught makes everything sharper—the squeeze of her walls, the way her nails press harder into your skin, the heat of her breath against your palm.

You slip two fingers between her lips, pressing them past her tongue. Without hesitation, she takes them in, sucking greedily, her eyes flickering up to yours, dazed and completely wrecked. Her tongue swirls around them, hot and slick, coating them in spit as she moans softly around the intrusion, hips never stopping, never slowing. Her mouth is a perfect mess, drool slipping down her chin, her lashes fluttering as she looks up at you, waiting, eager for more.

You lean in, lips brushing her ear, voice barely above a whisper. "Oh, you love this. Getting fucked while someone’s right outside."

She nods, desperate, shameless.

The door creaks as Chaewon steps out, closing it behind her.

The second she’s gone, you drop your hand from Sakura’s mouth and grab her hips, grinding her down onto you, slow and punishing, making her take it. She’s already there, teetering on the edge, her whole body trembling, thighs locked tight around you, her nails raking down your chest.

She tries to be quiet, but she’s shaking too hard, her breath coming in desperate little gasps as her pussy clamps down around you, gripping, pulsing, milking every inch.

"Please—fuck, please, let me cum—let me feel you—" her voice is barely there, shaking, breaking, whimpering between ragged breaths.

You murmur against her lips, teasing. "You need it that bad, baby?"

"Yes—yes, please, I c-can’t—" she stutters, her nails scraping down your chest, gripping onto you like she’ll fall apart if you stop. "I need it, need you to fill me up—please, daddy—please—wanna cum with you—"

Her voice is wrecked, moaning through the words, pleading, trembling in your hold. And fuck, you’re close too—you can feel it, your body tensing, the tight heat of her pulling you in, the way she’s clenching, desperate for it.

"Yeah? You wanna cum with me?" your voice is thick, strained, your grip tightening on her hips as you slam her down one more time. "Then take it, baby. Fucking take it—"

The moment snaps—her body stiffens, then unravels completely, her orgasm slamming into her all at once. Her thighs clamp around you, her walls fluttering in desperate pulses, squeezing, milking you for everything, her body demanding you spill inside her.

And you do. A deep groan rumbles from your chest as you push as far as you can go, holding her flush against you, buried deep, stretching her to the limit. She clenches around you, pulsing, gripping, her walls fluttering in erratic waves, milking every last drop from you. The heat of her, the wet, slick slide of it, has you seeing white, body locking up as pleasure rips through you.

Your fingers dig into her waist, holding her still as you spill inside her, your jaw clenched tight as your release crashes into you, sharp and overwhelming. Her name tumbles from your lips, breathless, lost in the haze of sensation.

She doesn’t stop moving, her hips rolling in slow, messy circles, dragging out every aftershock, refusing to let the moment end. Her breath stutters, caught between a whimper and a moan, her entire body shuddering in your arms. She’s wrecked, trembling, eyes heavy-lidded as she takes it all, lets it sink in, lets herself stay full.

You don’t let go. Not yet. You keep her there, pressing her down onto you, making sure she feels every throb, every last drop settling inside her. She clings to you, nails skimming over your skin, her breath coming in soft, uneven sighs as you both stay wrapped up in the mess you made of each other.

She sighs, stretching her body, still straddling you, then giggles, shaking her head.

"You look fucked out," she teases, voice hoarse.

You exhale a deep breath, still gripping her waist. "I am."

She kisses you lazily, smirking against your lips before leaning down to whisper, "We should get back before someone actually finds us."

"You’re a fucking bitch."

"Yours" She hums, smug, tilting her head as she drags her fingers down your chest, slow and lazy.

Then, she leans in again, licking up the side of your neck, her tongue hot against your skin, before she catches your lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

It’s unhurried, indulgent—nothing like the raw, desperate way she had been moaning for you just minutes ago. She kisses you like she owns you, like she knows she’s got you wrapped around her finger no matter how hard you fuck her. And the worst part? She’s right.

You groan into her mouth, your hands gripping her hips one last time, keeping her close even as she pulls back just enough to smirk against your lips. "Let’s go, lover boy. I’m not done making you obsessed with me tonight."

Your girlfriend is a freak, and you love it.

[notjustjavierpena]

Applied Physics

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Long awaited smutty piece with a planned sequel. I hope you enjoy, ya filthy animal 💅🎀💖

Summary: It’s the 60s, you’re three weeks behind on a deadline, and your professor, Doctor Reed Richards, makes you face the consequences. 

Pairing: Reed Richards x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: College student/teacher relationship, science talk, Reed has powers, dub con, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, implied dacryphilia, dirty talking, sub drop, aftercare, stern Reed 🥵

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62948440/chapters/161199763

Applied Physics

Dr. Reed N. Richards always wears a tweed jacket with elbow patches that show off his broad shoulders and give him an irresistible swagger. He teaches physics at your college part-time - when he is not out saving the world - and he is equally terrifying as he is warm, a combination of traits that you have learned can actually coexist but only after meeting him. 

You have been wanting him since he walked into the classroom that morning many months ago, carrying a black leather binder seemingly filled with little to nothing since everything appears to be stored in his brain. 

He has standards, you find, and traditional ways of doing things that somehow emphasize his love for the delicacy of science. For instance, he only grades papers with a fountain pen and therefore expects every assignment to be handwritten instead of done on a typewriter which is tedious and difficult for those who don’t possess a steady hand. The scary part of him comes out when he says he simply won’t grade the papers that aren’t turned in as he wants them to be. The warm part shows itself when he later makes a self-deprecating joke about knocking over whiskey during his grading. 

The idea of the paper smelling like his cologne or even, if you are lucky, has a stain of his favorite liquor, makes you hand in each assignment whilst the ink is still drying on the paper. Perhaps you will be the first one to receive notes and feedback from him if you turn in your work before its deadline.

You imagine him hunched over a desk, pen barely able to fit in his rough hand. He wears something casual, maybe even has taken off that jacket, scratching his beard and sipping his drink whilst smiling to himself as he reads words that come from your mind. Your mind makes him smile to himself, makes him single you out from the rest of your class because you are special and he knows this. It’s the image you imagine the first time you come whilst thinking about him, shower head between your thighs and legs against the tiled wall in the shared bathroom at the boarding house you reside in. 

When you do finally get your first essay back from him, you read all the comments in the margins during your lunch. You lick a drop of juice from an apple away from your lower lip as your eyes skim over a scribbled good or well done, trying to find an excuse to read more into the way he looks at you when you talk during class. You made him laugh once, that must mean something, right? He clearly has your sense of humor, the same ways of applying theory and reasoning. 

You know that it is hardly rational what you are doing, projecting all these things onto him when, in reality, you only know of him what you have seen during his lectures and office hours. Yet you have found yourself noticing the way he smiles faintly when you correct one of your fellow students during group work, and it has spurred you on to become even more insufferable to your classmates only to get his attention. His approval too, if you are lucky. 

Yet despite all this, here you are with an assignment running three weeks late, your procrastination having reached its limits and your excuses to your professor wearing thin. It’s a challenging state to be in when you’re so used to ranking your popularity with Dr. Richards higher than everyone else on this course. Sure, his attention is nice when it is rooted in praise but you don’t know if the kind that will follow this lecture, the deadline you’d agreed upon for your paper being yesterday, is the kind that will satisfy something in you like the small smiles have. 

You keep bouncing your leg beneath your desk as you wait for Dr. Richards to enter the lecture hall with that cool aura about him and let the fast-paced lecture begin. If anyone sees you, they will recognize it as an itching to suck up to him once more but in reality, it is the first time you’ve been in the room with a nervous tic. 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he greets as he finally arrives and you find yourself jolting with nerves at the fact that he is finally here and inevitable doom is just around the corner. It doesn’t make it better that his brown eyes sweep over the crowd in a hurry until he spots you, his gaze full of concentration until he gains eye contact with you for less than a second. You sit up straighter at the way he measures you and the subconscious movement of your leg stills completely. Frustratingly, the man keeps talking as if nothing happened. 

After several attempts to regain your composure, you realize that you have completely missed his introduction to today’s lecture and while trying to ignore the thrill that is simmering beneath your anxiety, you scramble to start taking notes. It’s not to show him that you can go back to being his favorite student but rather a necessity to keep yourself from being three weeks further behind.

You power through the lecture even with your fuzzy mind, scribbling things down and making sure to appreciate the privilege it is to be taught by one of the greatest minds to ever live. This is even if he, multiple times, falls into the usual pattern of diving headfirst into multi-layered explanations of different phenomena and concepts, droning on as if none of you and the rest of your classmates exist to him anymore. 

You pretend to keep up when he does this but even you must admit that he loses you. However, you know for a fact that it is not out of disinterest that you stop listening but rather your mind focusing on something else when his words become too difficult to follow. Instead, you end up mapping out the length of his gorgeous neck, the beauty spot where his collar ends. It is enough to leave your mouth dry, but not enough to drag your mind off the scolding you’ll get soon.

When the lecture comes to an end, you have psyched yourself enough to stupidly get up and try to follow the rest of the students out. They trickle out hurriedly though and you find yourself at the back of the school of people heading for the door. 

“Hold it right there,” Reed’s voice travels through the room and hits you right in the back, making you falter in your step. Your last name rolls off his tongue with the same kind of confidence and composure that you’d tried to conjure up just an hour ago. 

“Sir, I was just—“ you rest your hand on the doorknob to signal that you are leaving but you know already that you have lost the fight to exit the room. 

You hear it before you see it; the faint and strange rustling of fabric as something wooshes closer. Suddenly, your teacher’s stretched-out arm moves past you like you have seen it do on television and then his hand attached to said arm splays flat on the door. He closes it with a soft click while you hold your breath. 

Slowly, it retracts back to normal and you follow it with your eyes by glancing over your shoulder. Time stands still for a moment at the sight because while Reed Richards has stretched his body multiple times in the past, without much thought behind it and much to his students' shock, he never puts anyone in the position to experience it firsthand. 

“Sir, I—“

“Come here,” he says quietly. 

You grab the strap of your bag tightly and make your way to the desk where he sits. You decide to beat him to his reprimand, talking even if your voice shakes at his disapproving stare, “I’m sorry I missed this week’s deadline.”

“This week? Try the last three,” he calmly corrects you, “You have done your research on force, impact, and energy transfer in non-elastic collisions, have you not?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you’ve still not turned anything in? Why?”

“I've been overwhelmed with coursework and–” You trail off when he raises a brow. He is still sitting down but even so, you feel like you are shrinking underneath his authority. You find it hard to believe that anything out your mouth right now will be taken seriously when you have let him down three times already but you try to reassure him anyway, “It won’t happen again, I promise,”

“No, it won’t,” he agrees as he pushes himself to stand. He drags the chair away from the table as if he thinks it is in his way, “You’re brighter than most, so I don’t believe I need to remind you what happens if you keep slacking.”

“No, sir, I’m aware.”

“I mean, we’ve already moved way past force dynamics and energy exchange on this year’s curriculum, so you’re wasting my time,” he goes on with an annoyed sigh that tells you he has better things to do, “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“I don’t know, sir,” you stare at the flooring.

“Come closer,” he orders calmly. He lets his gaze flick down to your hand clutching your bag of books, “Take out your book on core concepts.”

You follow his eyes and pull out the right book before gently letting the strap of your bag slide off your shoulder until the bag hits the floor with a soft thud. Something tells you that you’re not leaving anytime soon.

“Place it on the desk and find the pages on Newton’s Laws,” he continues and your heart slams against your ribs at the thought of an impromptu pop quiz instead of a handed-in paper. Yes, you know these pages but in the presence of him, you’re not so sure. 

Behind you, Reed has shrugged off his jacket while you were flipping through the book. He folds it neatly and hangs it over the back of the chair he was displeased with a moment ago, making sure not to crease the fabric. Then he reaches for the sleeves of the white shirt that he is wearing and rolls them up to his elbows, revealing the slightly visible veins of his forearms. Your head swims and you subtly press your thighs together, images of what you’d like him to do to you flooding your mind.

“Bend over,” he says suddenly, murmuring it almost as if he knows he shouldn’t have said it. 

Your eyes widen and you glance in the door’s direction. There are so many people on the outside of this room right now but the chances of someone walking in are slim since lectures are rarely started at this hour of the afternoon, “I don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to understand anything. I want you to put your palms on either side of the book and bend over,” he elaborates and clearly notices your hesitation, the direction of your eyes. His arm stretches out in front of you again, snaking its way past the rows of chairs until it reaches the door once more. He locks it, the soft click of it mixing with your unsteady breathing, and then he pulls down the curtain in the window at the top. 

When the arm smoothly retracts once more, you naturally think it will stop at his side but instead, you feel his palm on the back of your neck. His other hand joins to lay on the small of your back and then he pushes down gently to maneuver you into the position that he wants. 

You exhale shakily as you place your hands on the desk, feeling the smooth wood underneath your fingertips as a way to ground yourself in a moment so electric. Your body is way ahead of you, reacting to the anticipation of his next move by making a dull ache settle right between your legs. Your clit throbs, your walls flutter. 

“Your paper was supposed to use Newton’s Laws as a foundation, let me make sure you know them properly,” Reed says simply while removing his hand from your lower back. His other hand, the one on the back of your neck, slips down your spine to take the previous one’s spot, leaving fire in its wake, “Recite them.”

You swallow thickly, “Newton’s First Law states that a body at rest—”

Smack. 

A loud gasp leaves you at the surprise of Reed’s free hand coming down on your backside, heat spreading out underneath the fabric of your skirt where it has struck you. Your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief at what he has just done, your mouth hanging open in shock.

“Eyes on the book,” he commands sternly, curling his fingers slightly into the hem of your shirt, “Go on. Newton’s First Law.”

You count three whole breaths before you will yourself to face forward again, looking down at the text in front of you and trying to regain your ability to read. You swallow the lump in your throat, the letters jumbled on the page, “Uhh…”

“Concentrate,” he adds and gives you another blow, one that makes you jolt forward on the desk and send the book almost over the edge. You frantically reach for it, noticing the way your heart leaps into your throat when you consider what would have happened if it had fallen off. 

You drag the book back down and try to act cool but your voice tells on you as you start to read out loud, “A-a body at rest stays at rest, and a body in motion stays in motion—”

He spanks you again and elicits another gasp but you seem to have expected it since you don’t go flying forward. This is even if his palm leaves behind a much more painful sting this time and makes your toes curl in your shoes. 

“Until…” He sounds impatient. 

You act immediately like a dog who is learning about action and consequences, “Until acted upon by an external force.”

“Good girl,” he praises and you don’t know why the softness of his voice makes you tear up. His broad palm traces over the spot that is warming up already and you make a show out of sighing with content. 

However, the soothing touch is short-lived and you start struggling just slightly as Reed’s hand descends until he can grab the hem of your pencil skirt and roughly tug it up. He settles it just above the plumpness of your ass, swatting you to make you focus and stop squirming. 

“I’m not going to fuck you so stop moving around,” he scolds and surprises you with yet another smack. It feels different now that each slap is skin-on-skin contact, sounds different too as the noise echoes through the empty lecture hall. You whine in slight disappointment, even if you have inappropriately imagined his cock in you during circumstances so different so many times. 

“Second Law,” he murmurs, occupied briefly by the bruise forming on your cheek and scraping his nails across it. 

“W-what?” You let out a whimper, your thighs pressing together to soothe your pulsing clit. In theory, you know what he has said but it just isn’t registering since your mind is occupied by you knowing exactly what you will be doing back home if he won’t touch you. In fact, a thrill goes through you at the thought of another blow to recall in your bed with your hand stuffed into your underwear.

“Newton’s Second Law,” he repeats with a smaller swat following. You suck in a breath to calm yourself. 

“Newton’s Second Law states that the net force on an object is equal to its mass times its acceleration,” you say somewhat confidently, a sense of calm settling over you as you finally feel like you are getting a handle on the situation. 

“Apply it to the situation you’re in right now,” he tests you. You feel your face grow hot and hesitation seizes you for a second. It takes a moment too long for him and a much sharper smack lands right on the jiggliest part of your ass, the sharpness of the pain making you moan for the first time and the noise of the blow bouncing off the walls. You almost even swear in your professor’s presence, and you would have if it weren’t for the way tears in your eyes take off the edge.

“You’ll get one more if you don’t open your mouth soon,” he adds. You’re just about to speak, about to follow orders, when he takes a step closer and presses his cock into your hip. You freeze at the size of him, a sound that can only be described as pathetic leaving you. Reed huffs out a chuckle and smacks you once more albeit slightly less maliciously.

“Y–you’re applying a force to me. Your hand is the mass and the acceleration is essentially the swing of your arm. The shorter the time and the greater the velocity of the impact, the bigger the force I feel,” you try not to hiccup through the whole explanation but the words take a longer time to come to you and your backside is hypersensitive, warm, and sore. Your pulse rings in your ears too, and you swear you can almost taste the adrenaline in your mouth from how it is coursing through your body. It might just be salt from your tears though which you realize will simply give you an excuse as to why you stayed behind after class. If you really try, you might be able to conjure up an act of a student who got some terrible feedback.

“Still with me?” You hear him ask, feel him soothe your burning flesh. You wonder if his palm is imprinted on your cheek.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble with a sniffle, your palms sticking to the desk from how clammy they have become. 

“Speak up,” he corrects you and his palm leaves you long enough for you to start anticipating another strike. No hands on your body makes it harder to abstain from feeling his hard cock resting against your hip, the heaviness of it making you even wetter and oh God, aching to be filled.

“Yes, sir,” you enunciate without coming off as bratty. The next strike doesn’t come and relief washes over you, allowing you to relish in the cool air brushing your tingling and bruised skin.

“Last but not least. Newton’s Third Law?” 

“F-for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction,” you say and rest your forehead on the book that has absorbed a few teardrops, He doesn't give you praise or a soothing touch. It bewilders you, makes you question if your scatterbrained state has accidentally made you say something that is wrong. You go quiet except for your rapid breathing as you go over your answer in your head but nothing comes to mi–

The sudden smack instantly makes you realize where you went wrong, landing across the exact spot that’s already stinging and causing you to hiss and whine through your teeth. Quickly, you scramble to relate Newton to what Reed is doing to you, “If… if you strike me, my body exerts a force back on your hand.”

“Mhm, good,” he hums while your head swims, “And I bet you’re feeling that force right now.”

“It hurts,” you whimper feebly and turn your head to the side. Yes, it’s the truth but your body can’t tell if it’s supposed to register this as pain or pleasure, the sensations overlapping intensely.

“That’s part of the lesson,” Reed’s hand returns in a gentle touch, his large palm settling carefully over the same spot he has just mercilessly spanked, “Why does it hurt?”

You wish he’d move his hand down between your legs and make you come when he realizes how soaked-through your panties are, “B-because when you spank me your hand transfers kinetic energy into my skin. The force and the friction cause heat to build. The tissues and blood vessels react, and it—”

“Gives you that glow. Precisely,” he finishes your sentence and curls his hand around your hip firmly. He sounds enthralled by his work, “And I respond with arousal, meaning it makes me so goddamn hard. Now, hold still. These last three are for the three missed deadlines.”

You know he means business when his finger slips underneath the waistband of your panties. He pulls them down just enough to settle them underneath the globes of your ass without exposing your needy cunt, the elastic of them digging slightly into sore skin. His other hand lifts and you brace yourself even if you know that any human can suffer through even uncontrollable pain if they know there’s an end to it. 

The first of three strikes lands right on the curve of your backside, harder than any of the several ones before it and making your entire body seize up. He isn’t playing around this time, your skin immediately blooming with newfound heat and fiery pain. It makes you moan out loud and squeeze your eyes shut until fireworks go off behind your eyelids.

“Count,” he says calmly. 

“O-one,” you manage to say in a voice that makes it sound like an apology instead. 

The second one makes it feel like there’s a clap of thunder going through your bones. You jolt forward on the desk enough to finally send the damn book flying off the edge to the floor. Reed tightens his grip on your hip to steady you, dragging you back to him again as if to remind you that despite everything he’s got you. 

“Two,” you say shakily, “I’m sorry, Professor Richards.”

He rubs the spot to soothe your burning flesh and by now, a part of you wants to crawl into his lap and be held. He coos softly at you and gently squeezes the roundness of your ass, making you bite down on your bottom lip and exhale a needy whine through your nose. 

“No need to bring me apologies,” he tells you, “We’ll see if you’ve learned your lesson. Last one.”

He lets you wait for the final smack, but when his hand lands on your skin, a sharp cry rips from your throat. Tears start flowing freely from your eyes now - even if you’re still not fully crying as emotions have not caught up with you yet - but it’s not solely from the pain, but also from the swirl of adrenaline and arousal that tightens below your belly button. You wonder if you should reach up to wipe your eyes but you can’t make yourself let go of the desk underneath you, clutching it in an iron grip because of how wobbly your legs are.

“Three,” you hiccup as Reed loosens his grip on you. You feel the ache of your behind with every heartbeat and want to sob now that it is over. You’re hyper-aware of what is happening in your body which is the adrenaline starting to crash, and the emotions, coming in like a wave, are just about to overwhelm you when—

“Sit up on the desk for me,” Reed says gently. 

“But the book,” you glance toward the textbook that you sent flying not long ago. It is a silly thing to cling onto but there’s an emotional wavering in your voice as you say it which Reed seems to catch onto. 

“Leave it,” he murmurs, an order but not like the previous ones, “Sit. I need to make sure you’re alright.”

The task seems impossible. You barely manage to push yourself fully upright, your shaking legs nearly not able to hold you up, and when you turn around to lift yourself onto the desk, you feel the edge dig into your sore behind in a way that forces a hiss out of you. A tear that you have no control over rolls slowly down your cheek.

“Easy,” Reed is beside you, catching onto your motive when you get ready to jump up onto the surface in a hurry due to his earlier lack of patience. He has previously had a hovering hand nearby but now, he grabs a hold of you to still you, “Do it carefully.”

When you’re finally perched on the desk, you’re not sure if the calming cool sensation of the wood beneath your thighs outweighs the pressure against your smarting skin. What you are sure of though is the storm of emotions inside your chest, a raging one made up of an overwhelming mix of new pain, embarrassment, and vulnerability, all of which makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage. 

“I’m okay,” you lie but you hear yourself and know it isn’t very convincing. He gives you a raised eyebrow. 

“Seems like you’re experiencing what is known as a drop. Come on, deep breaths,” he guides you gently when he spots the way your bottom lip wobbles, “If you have to cry, let it out. No one’s going to see you.”

From his words, you realize that your breathing has become unsteady and hitched in very little time. Your shoulders shake and your chest has a ball of unleashed feelings in it that nearly makes you feel sick. It unravels when the tears that you hoped would subside resurface at the permission to let them flow. You feel them brimming at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing,” you say shakily when they finally spill over even if the tension in your torso slowly ebbs away as you let go. 

“You’re alright. Just breathe for me,” he says softly. He brings his hands to your thighs and rubs them in an attempt to soothe and ground you, “Slow and steady in through the nose and out the mouth. Right now, you don’t have to do anything but calm down, and then I can take a look at you.”

The room around you seems distant as you try to breathe more steadily but you’re lightheaded, feeling almost as if you’re wrapped in a woolen, fuzzy blanket that blocks everything out besides him. You aren’t sure if it is the adrenaline crash anymore or the way that your whole body is so tightly wound for pleasure that won’t come but you crave his touch, crave him taking care of you.

“You’re okay,” he says over and over, drowning out the static in your ears, “No more crying, sweet angel. I’d rather not see you leave here like this.”

The nickname makes you snap out of it. Angel? Did he just call you an angel? Your tears go on hold when you continuously blink up at him from your seat on the desk, pawing at his chest without knowing what to do with all your longing. He makes you feel all the things you have felt since you met him all at once now, a dizzying flurry of thoughts and feelings. 

“That’s better,” he smiles genuinely for the first time and you melt right then and there. He looks so damn handsome when he does it that you go ridiculously doe-eyed at the sight. 

“Thank you,” you mumble while playing with the buttons on his white shirt. The butterflies in your belly have nearly made the pulsing ache of your backside disappear. 

“Stand up,” he says and removes your hands from his chest which you probably make a much bigger deal out of than him, “I need to take a look at you.” 

You stand on wobbly legs. Slowly and carefully, he skims his fingers over the inflamed skin and notes out loud that it is warm. It’s not a soothing caress for the sake of tenderness, but rather a deliberate check-in to take note of how much damage he’s done. He works methodically, like a man who daily works with scientific research and experiments, going over each part of you while humming at his discoveries. 

“Right. Cool compress when you get home for the swelling, ten-fifteen minutes on and off. Frozen peas will do,” he instructs in the exact same tone as when he gives out science homework, “The skin is still intact but you’ll be sore if you don’t treat yourself with a little kindness. Lotion if it is too much to bear and loose clothing. Not a pencil skirt like this one, we clear?” 

You nod with the hint of a pout.

“And,” he adds and grabs lightly at your chin, his tone suddenly playful, “Try not to miss any more deadlines.”

It’s a joke, you realize, something to lighten the atmosphere in the lecture hall and you barely register it from the way his fingers hold your head in place. Despite your watery eyes and racing heartbeat, you huff out a little laugh.

“There we go,” he coos at the sound of your chuckle, “Not so gloomy anymore.”

With gentle hands, he reaches just below your hips to pull your underwear up over the curve of your ass again, careful not to let the waistband tug at the sensitive skin. He does the same with your skirt, tugging the hem down over your thighs until you look decent once more. 

Your lips part slightly as your eyes slide up to look at his face, feeling dumbstruck by his brown intelligent eyes and his aquiline nose straight out of the statues from Ancient Rome. You admire the column of his neck, the mentioned beauty mark just above his collar, and the dip that you want to kiss. 

After a moment, you realize that you have gone quiet and when you look back at his eyes, you are dizzyingly meeting his suddenly intense gaze. It is as if he has calculated that you are back with him, lingering with desire albeit still a little shaken by your tears. His eyes are burning into yours and you can feel the restraint behind them. It is as if you can sense the electricity in the air, the warmth that prickles in your cheeks, and the heat that radiates from him. 

Without a word, he reaches to tuck your shirt into your skirt until it hugs your figure tightly, a fashion choice different from how you had arrived in his classroom earlier. The dominance of styling your clothes as he prefers it makes you press your thighs together, the dull ache returning between your legs. 

“I’ve noticed, seen it all. That’s why I did it,” he says cryptically as he stuffs your shirt down at the back, fingertips brushing the dip of your spine until heat racks up it. 

“Noticed what?” You ask foolishly but had you stopped to think, you would have figured it out already. 

“All the energy you’ve put into getting me to notice you and getting my undivided attention. Congratulations, you’ve finally got it,” he clarifies and lets both his hands rest on the small of your back for the briefest of moments. When he lets go of you, you follow his touch by leaning in to close the distance with a kiss. 

He places a hand on your chest, holding you back just when you are pressing the ghost of a kiss to his lips. He has given you so much by now. Why not this? A ball of frustration settles in your chest and comes out as a little whine of impatience, “Why can’t we?”

He doesn’t pull away, simply speaks less than an inch from your face so you can feel his breath on your mouth, “Because you need to learn restraint, sweet angel. I can’t have you missing your deadlines three weeks in a row - or at all really - due to some little crush.”

You want to defend yourself, say that it has nothing to do with him but deep down, you know it would be a lie straight to his face. So instead, you swallow thickly, “I want you. I’ve wanted you since I saw you.”

“And you will have me,” he kisses you so softly that you want to sink to your knees, “Just not until I say so, and certainly not before you’ve been a good girl and turned in that paper.”

“Sir,” you try one last time.

“I’ll teach you to be patient, to have restraint,” he tells you and makes you realize your attempt was to no avail, “Whether you like it or not.”

You give in, buzzing with the need for more, “I can turn my paper in on Monday. Would that suffice?” 

“I’ll hold you to that, but no late nights and last-minute scrambling. If I find you’ve rushed through it…” he lets the sentence drift off, letting your imagination figure out the consequence, “And it best be your best work yet.”

“Yes, sir,” you reluctantly pull back when nothing seems to work, “Whatever you want.”

“Hand it to me during office hours before class,” he instructs to which you nod.

“But what now?” You ask with a tiny impatient noise, letting him know just how much you’ve got against his reluctance to touch you. 

His hand flexes by his side, “Now you go home. You lock your door and you touch that pretty thing between your thighs just how you like it most. I want you to come for me until you’re hoarse. Three times for three weeks but no more than that, not until we see each other again.”

It is Wednesday and you won’t see him until Monday. How on Earth are you going to survive on only three orgasms after this? Your mind races with protests but you don’t get to voice your concern about the limit he has set because he has already stepped back to pick up his jacket from his desk chair. 

You decide to circle the table to pick up your book and stuff it into your bag. Behind you, Reed’s eyes are definitely on you as you lean forward with a hand on the desk. He is fixing the cuffs of his sleeves and putting on his tweed jacket, trying to come off as if letting you have a private moment to compose yourself.

“Monday,” he reminds you when you stand upright again. His arm stretches out between the rows of chairs and tables once more so he can unlock the door for you. 

“Yes, sir,” you answer obediently. 

You swing your bag over your shoulder and then you leave.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[fleuriion]

✦ Season of Love

ノ When the flowers started blooming back as the scent of spring slithers back into our body, whereas the season of love has just begun.

♡ What I think the current Chrysos Heirs' love languages are ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 957

✦ Note ; beware of spelling mistakes and grammar error due to english not being my first language T_T ⸝⸝ while this writing was meant to be romantic, you can take it however you like! (platonic or romantic.) ⸝⸝ I won't write for Tribbios in this one! ⸝⸝ I apologize if they're ooc because this is my first time writing them

♡ Phainon, The Hero ノ Words of Affirmation ⸝⸝ Acts of Service (Physical Touch might work for him too,,)

For whatever reason it is, I see Phainon as the kind of guy to shower you with compliments that you totally deserve while carrying all the stuff you were struggling to carry with ease. Would always get down on one knee and kiss your knuckles like they're a treasure for him (Like you yourself isn't a treasure he holds dear already), if not that then bridal carries you.

Phainon is protective of you; you could trip and get a scar that is barely a scratch on your being and he would get into a teary-eyed dramatic frenzy panic. You can many times assure him that you are very much okay and he will still worry dead for you.

"Are you okay?! Do you need me to carry you up?! Should we go see a doctor?!?-" "Phainon, it's just a scratch."

Overall a massive head over heels sweetheart that is afraid of losing his loved one and would give his life away to protect you <3

♡ Aglaea, The Weaver ノ Gifts Giving ⸝⸝ Quality Time Okay I know this might not sound like it makes sense, but imagine juuust imagine Aglaea making clothes and/or accessories that reminds her of you and then gifting them to you. She will come across a fabric and then once it reminds her of you, even for the tiniest things ever, she will start sewing and sewing and then boom, an entire set for you just the next day standing at the corner of your room.

Aside from bathing together, Aglaea loves hearing your voice. As a demigod with a duty to protect Okhema, she will obviously be busy and that's no doubt, but she will somehow always leave a room in her busy schedule for you. For you, she will even endure the stupidest of the stupidest questions ever.

"Aglaea, what if the golden blood in the Chrysos Heir's bath is actually piss?" "Yes, My Dear."

You might be an idiot, but you're her idiot <3

♡ Mydeimos, The Undying ノ Acts of Service ⸝⸝ Gifts Giving It's no doubt that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos prefers to let his actions speak for him because words have failed him multiple times already. While he may not verbally express his love for you much, Mydei would slay a god for you and hand you their heart as a gift. I'm just kidding, he's not just a hot headed brute. But, still, he will give you gifts that reminds him of you, or just things you like generally. Oh you were walking together and he heard you gushing over something of your interest? You will find that same said thing the next day you wake up placed on your nightstand.

Mydei will remember things about you, even ones that are tiny and useless. He will remember the precise number of the plushies in your room and your breakfast routine if you tell him. Would tag you along to have a bite at the restaurant that serves his favourite pancake, and would let you know that he actually likes the pink in his pomegranate juice. While Mydei becomes more gentle with you around, he also gets extra protective of you, by nature. Nobody really mess with you unless they have a death wish because of this.

"What? No no! Mydei is actually super nice! You just need to get to know him to see that side." *radiates passively agressive aura*

By the end, Mydei softens around you like a lion turning into a house-cat. His sarcastic remarks stays though! <3 /hj

♡ Castorice, Servant of Death ノ Quality Time ⸝⸝ Words of Affirmation Due to her curse, Castorice has been deprived of physical contacts for so long throughout her life. She is well aware of this, and because of it too, makes sure you physically keep your distance away from her at least a little. Not because she has any grudges against you obviously! The Servant, in fact, loves you very very much and deeply wishes she could hold you and vice versa. When it comes to this, Castorice makes a plushie resembling you for her to hold at hard times.

While she's incapable of touching you in fear of sending you to the not-so-sweet embrace of death, Castorice loves spending time with you. You two could sit under the white gazebo nestled at the garden of Marmoreal Palace, and she would tell you all sorts of story revolving around the history of the Titans and more. If not that, then she will make accessories together with you. Aside from that, Castorice showers you with sweet words that she wishes you know of too.

"[Name], I sincerely hope you are aware of just how blessed I am to be in your presence.." "I love you too, Castorice."

Castorice might be cursed with the touch of death, but just by your existence had the burden on her shoulders be lifted off slightly and The Servant is very grateful of it <3

[nightmaretour]

If you have to drink a gross tasting medication (like the Plenvu I just had to drink before my colonoscopy) break it up with sips of something savoury, not sweet! It'll cut through the bad taste more effectively. Stock, soup, anything savoury and a little salty!

Most "unhealthy" forms of fruits and vegetables are still nutritious! If you can't eat fresh fruit and veg, whether that's because of difficulty eating, sensory issues, low energy... any way to get those nutrients is better than not getting them at all. Smoothies, juice, chocolate coated nuts, fruit and nut bars, dried and canned fruit... all still contain nutrients! Just be aware of moderation.

Electric hot water bottles are infinitely better and safer than ones you fill with hot water yourself, especially if you have trouble with hand coordination/strength. They're also surprisingly inexpensive.

If you have hypersomnia or otherwise suffer with sleep issues that make waking up difficult, ALWAYS set multiple alarms in a row, I'd suggest every five minutes or so for at least half an hour. Do not rely on the snooze button, you'd be surprised what you can do while half asleep, and if you fall back asleep after turning it off you're screwed.

Stretch your joints often if you can, especially if you have arthritis. Being in one position all day will make stiffness and pain worse. Take a moment every now and then to have a good stretch.

I've been disabled for almost 29 years. Here's what I've learned.

Tablets sink and capsules float. Separate out your tablets and capsules when you go to take them. Tip your head down when taking capsules and up when taking tablets. Liquigels don't matter, they kinda stay in the middle of whatever liquid is in your mouth.

If your pill tastes bad, coat it with a bit of butter or margarine. I learned this from my mom, who learned it from a pharmacist.

Being in pain every day isn't normal. Average people experience pain during exceptional moments, like when they stub their toe or jam their finger in a door, not when they sit cross-legged.

Make a medical binder. Make multiple medical binders. I have a small one that comes with me to appointments and two big ones that stay at home, one with old stuff and one with more recent stuff.

Find your icons. Some of mine include Daya Betty (drag queen with diabetes), Stef Sanjati (influencer with Waardenburg syndrome and ADHD), and Hank Green (guy with ulcerative colitis who... does a bunch of stuff). They don't have to be disabled in the same way as you. They don't even have to be real people. Put their pictures up somewhere if you want; I've been meaning to decorate my medical binders with pictures of my icons.

Take a bin, box, bag, basket, whatever and fill it with items to cope with. This can be stuff for mentally coping like colouring books or play clay or stuff for physically coping like pain medicine or physio tape.

Decorate your shit! My cane for at home has a plushie backpack clip hanging from the end of the handle and my cane for going places is covered in stickers. All of my medical binders have fun scrapbooking paper on the outside. Sometimes, I put stickers and washi tape on my inhalers and pill bottles. I used my Cricut to decorate my coping bin with quotes from my icons, like "I've seen enough of Ba Sing Se" and "I need you to be angrier with that bell".

If a flare-up is making you unable to eat or keep food down, consider going to the ER. A pharmacist once told me that since my eye flares can make me so nauseous that I cannot eat, then I need to go to the hospital when that happens.

Cola works wonders for nausea. I have mini cans of Diet Pepsi in my coping bin.

Shortbread is one of the only things I can eat when nauseous. Giant Tiger sells individually-wrapped servings of shortbread around Christmas or the British import store sells them year-round. I also keep these in my coping bin.

Unless it violates a pain contract or something, don't be afraid to go behind your doctor's back to get something they are refusing you. I got my cardiologist referral by getting in with a different NP at my primary care clinic than who I usually saw. I switched from Seroquel to Abilify by visiting a walk-in.

If you have a condition affecting your abdomen in some way (GI issues, reproductive problems, y'know) then invest in track pants that are too big. I bought some for my laparoscopy over a year ago and they've been handy for pelvic pain days, too. I've also heard loose pants are good for after colonoscopies.

Do whatever works, even if it's weird. I've sat on the floor of the Eaton Centre to take my pills. I've shoved heating pads down my front waistband to reach my uterus.

High-top Converse are good for weak ankles. I almost exclusively wear them.

You can reuse your pill bottles for stuff. I use my jumbo ones to store makeup sponges and my long skinny ones to hold a travel-size amount of Q-Tips.

Just because your diagnostics come back with nothing, it doesn't mean nothing is wrong. Maybe you were checking the wrong thing, or the diagnostic tool wasn't sensitive enough. I have bradycardia episodes even though multiple cardiac tests caught nothing. I probably have endometriosis even though my gynecologist didn't see anything.

You can bring your comfort item to appointments, and it's generally a green flag when someone talks to you about it. I brought a Squishmallow turkey (named Ulana) to my laparoscopy and they had her wearing my mask when I woke up. I brought a Build-A-Bear cat (named Blinx) to another procedure and a nurse told me that everyone in the hall on the way to the procedure room saw him and were talking about how cute he was. Both of those ended up being positive experiences and every person who talked to me about my plushies was nice to me. If you don't feel comfortable having it visible to your provider during the appointment, you can hide it in your bag and just know it's there, or if you're in a video appointment, you can hold it below frame in your lap.

Get a small bucket, fill it with stuff, and stick it in your bed (if you have room for it). I filled a bucket with Ensure, juice boxes, oatmeal bars, lotion, my rescue inhaler, etc. in October 2023 in anticipation of my laparoscopy and I still have it in my bed as of January 2025.

If your disability impacts your impulse control (e.g. ADHD, bipolar disorder), you should consider setting limits around your spending -- no more than X dollars at a time, nothing online unless it's absolutely necessary, and so on. Or, run these purchases by someone you trust before committing to them; I use my BFF groupchat to help talk sense into myself when I buy stuff.

Feel free to add on what you've learned about disability!

[crystallinestars]

NSFW Alphabet - Mydeimos

Mydei won the poll so here is the promised alphabet. I hope I got him decently in-character. This was written prior to 3.1 so some things may not be accurate. If the upcoming story quest reveals information that goes against what I have written or gives me a different perspective on Mydei's character, I will go back and change things. I really hope I won't have to, though ;_;

Mydei x Fem!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After the initial passion of sex passes, the blanket of lust lifts from his mind and Mydei is left with intense feelings of protectiveness and tenderness towards you. He wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around you, bury his nose in your hair or the crook of your neck and never let go. During moments like these, Mydei’s softer side comes out and you might hear him murmur praise about how well you did, how good you felt, or feel him leave a soft kiss on your lips or temple. He also enjoys draping you across his chest and idly rubbing his hand along your back as you both bask in the sweet afterglow of your lovemaking. If you melt under his touch, his chest swells with pride at seeing you so sated and relaxed because of him.

Though he tries to keep his strength in check, Mydei can sometimes get absorbed in the moment and fuck you fast and rough which is why he tries to soothe and take care of you afterwards the best he knows how. Aside from the soothing back rubs, he also gets you some pomegranate juice as refreshment and asks if you’re feeling okay. A twinge of guilt will go through him if you complain about feeling sore or being too weak to walk, and to atone for being so rough on you, Mydei will volunteer to fetch you anything you might need and carry you wherever you need to go until you’re strong enough to walk on your own. He may come off as a brute, but he does genuinely care about your wellbeing.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Mydei hates his immortal body, but he does take pride in his physique which he honed over countless years of training and fierce battles. He is unashamed about his appearance and has no qualms about walking around practically shirtless. He doesn’t do this to for some conceited desire to be admired, though he would be a liar if he said he didn’t like your appreciative stares. Mydei’s ego soars whenever he catches you checking him out, and he smirks and teases you about it with something like “Like what you see?” Or “You’ll burn holes into my body if you stare that much.”

On you, Mydei is fond of many parts of your body, but he likes your breasts, hips, lower belly, butt, and thighs in particular. Basically, the parts of you that are soft and easy to grab. The sight of your ass jiggling or breasts bouncing every time he thrusts into you greatly appeals to him, but even outside of sex, his hands often gravitate towards your thighs or stomach just because he likes how they feel. His body is all hard planes and firm muscle, but yours is soft and pliant. He enjoys that contrast.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Mydei likes seeing his cum decorate your skin, and if you let him, he’ll paint your chest, lower belly, or ass in his seed. He’s also a fan of cumming inside because the sight of his cum dripping out of your pussy sends a surge of primal satisfaction through him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Lovemaking with Mydei can get passionate and a little rough sometimes, resulting in him sporting scratch marks along his shoulders and back courtesy of your nails. The prince is so used to tolerating pain and his injuries healing quickly, that he usually doesn’t even notice the scratches. He made the mistake of walking out in public in his usual shirtless manner with his back all scratched up, only to get a few knowing looks from his soldiers and a few concerned questions about whether he got into a scuffle with a manticore.

Mydei just brushed the questions off and let his men think whatever they liked about the origin of these marks, though internally he wanted to disappear on the spot. He would not tell the truth, because as far as Mydei was concerned, it was none of their business. His private life was not something his men needed to know about.

After this incident, Mydei made sure to wait a while for the scratches to heal before heading out to avoid encountering such awkward questions again. You didn’t get off scott-free for this, however, and Mydei got his little revenge by marking up your neck in hickeys and not acting the least bit remorseful when you scolded him for it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mydei has had one sexual encounter with a one-night stand in the past to indulge his curiosity about sex, but he didn’t explore beyond that. Something about using each other’s bodies to get off while not really caring about one another left a sour taste in his mouth, so he preferred to wait until he got a long-term partner. Plus, his statuses as the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos and the face of the Kremnoan detachment meant he couldn’t afford having a reputation as a playboy by sleeping around. Any negative image he accrued would cascade down onto his people and potentially subject them to more harassment than they already faced in Okhema.

Mydei sees no shame in being sexually inexperienced and will outright tell you he’s not the most knowledgeable about sex. Similarly, he won’t judge you for your amount of experience, be it larger or smaller than his. It’s not a big deal to him because he knows it can be easily changed with some time and the right partner.

Despite his inexperience, Mydei approaches sex with confidence. He may not know everything, but he is willing to learn and adapt to your preferences and hopes you return the favor in kind. Tell him what you like and how you like it, and he’ll adjust his technique accordingly. If you’re also unsure about what you like, then Mydei will experiment to see what gets the best reactions out of you. Do you like a rougher or gentler touch? Do you like dirty talk? What if he teases your nipples just so? Don’t be shy to communicate what feels good to you or not, he wants to know how he can best please you. When it’s your turn to explore his body, Mydei will similarly give you feedback about what feels good to him or how you could adjust your technique to make it better. He may be taciturn, but he understands the importance of communication during such moments.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mydei has a lot of positions he likes. One of his absolute favorites is doggystyle because it gives him a nice view of your back and a tighter squeeze around his cock. It’s not rare for Mydei to become mesmerized by the way your ass jiggles each time his hips snap to yours, and sometimes he can’t resist the urge to lightly spank your butt. Doggystyle is also nice because he can cover your body with his and mark your shoulders/neck, giving him the primal sense you’re entirely his.

He also enjoys cowgirl and reverse cowgirl. Letting you set the pace and take pleasure from his body gets Mydei going, not to mention he has a delicious view of your figure and easy access to all your curves. His hands grip your hips to help you bounce on his cock or trace the curve of your ribs to your breasts, feeling the softness of your flesh. The sight of you riding him like that can sometimes be too arousing for Mydei to handle and he struggles to hold back from thrusting upwards into you and taking over the pace. He’s a fan of reverse cowgirl for similar reasons as above, with the added bonus of watching your ass bounce on his lap. He frequently squeezes your butt when you ride him in reverse.

Additionally, Mydei enjoys sex against the wall. It can be with you facing the wall with your arms braced against it while he pounds into you from behind, or with your back against the wall and a leg hitched around his hip. He is also strong enough to support your entire weight with his arms, so there are times where fucks you while standing by holding you up by your thighs with your arms and legs wrapped around him.

If doing missionary, Mydei prefers hiking your legs up onto his shoulders or lifting your hips up for a deeper penetration and likes watching your expression melt in bliss when he hits just the right spot inside you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Mydei is a straightforward and serious person, and that aspect of him is also present in the bedroom. He approaches sex with seriousness and honesty, so he means everything he says. If he says he’ll fuck you until you’re completely spent, believe him because that’s exactly what he’ll do to you. In the same vein, Mydei will take whatever you say seriously unless it’s an obvious joke, though if you have the energy to joke around then it means he’s not fucking you good enough.

Though he’s not one to act silly, Mydei isn’t without a sense of humor. It’s not rare for him to send sarcastic jabs or teasing quips to poke fun at you in a lighthearted manner all the while smirking like a handsome bastard.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t fuss over his pubic hair and mostly leaves it alone but does occasionally trim it if he thinks it’s grown too long. His bush has the same ombre as the hair on his head—blond at the roots and reddish at the tips. Also has a bit of a happy trail but can shave it off if you ask.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Mydei isn’t the type to shower you with sweet nothings during intercourse, but he does show his love through touch. His caresses can range from tender to passionate depending on the mood. If the mood is sweet and loving, Mydei will touch you with a rare gentleness. Things like cradling your cheek in his palm, holding you close against his body, and long kisses as well as eye contact are some of the ways he expresses his feelings for you. His eyes convey more than any words he says because there is no mistaking the love and affection in his golden depths.

If the mood is passionate and carnal, Mydei’s touches are rougher. They’re imbued with his desire to possess and protect you, as well as his lust for you. These manifest in the form of hot kisses along your neck, nibbling of his teeth against your skin, the firm grasp of hands at your hips, and the hard press of his chest against your back. Mydei also has a tendency to growl “Mine” because he wants to make you his.

The prince rarely says “I love you” even during sex, but whenever you say it to him, his heart melts. He won’t show it outright, but those words hit him deep and dredge up soft and warm feelings that make him want to embrace you and never let go. So, he settles for slowing his thrusts and holding you close while pressing his mouth to yours to keep you quiet lest your words dredge up something else within him. After the blissful high of orgasm, he nuzzles into your neck and murmurs a quiet “I love you too” back.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As the last prince of Kremnos and leader of the detachment army, Mydei carries heavy burdens on his shoulders. While he can unwind with a friendly spar or some delicious food, sometimes sexual gratification is just what his mind needs to momentarily forget his duties.

Mydei masturbates to relax and quiet his mind, so he prefers to do it either in the bath or before bed. He only masturbates in the privacy of his bedchambers where he won’t be disturbed easily, and even then, he keeps his voice down. The most one would hear from his jack off sessions are quiet grunts and breathless pants.

He typically doesn’t think about anything specific when masturbating, but after he developed feelings for you, his thoughts would sometimes drift to you and imagine what it would feel like if it was your hand wrapped around his length instead, how your body would feel under his hands, or how you would moan and writhe under him while coupling. Thoughts of you excite him and get him off quicker than usual, but he always felt ashamed for thinking of you in such an inappropriate manner. The following day he would struggle to look you in the eye because of the guilt he felt, though once you became a couple, such feelings of guilt vanished.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Mydei leans more dominant and prefers to be in charge in the bedroom. He’s open to you taking the lead and asking him to do specific things like eating you out or letting you explore his body, but he will not give up control entirely. If you lack the assertiveness to lead properly or test his patience too much, he will take back control.

One of Mydei’s biggest kinks is marking. He loves to nip and suck at your skin to leave dark hickeys on your neck, chest, and inner thighs. When he gets particularly riled up, he also bites at your shoulder. It’s never hard enough to draw blood, but it does leave a mark in the shape of his teeth and may bruise. He admires his marks after the fact, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you have physical proof of being his, but will apologize if you scold him for it. He’ll buy you a garment that covers your neck and shoulders if it becomes a problem.

Mydei also likes it when you mark him in return. Feeling your hands and mouth on his skin claiming him as yours makes him feel desired, which is a huge turn-on. The best places to mark are his neck and back because they can get a groan of pleasure out of him when you find those sensitive spots to bite down on. Due to the fast regenerative abilities of his body, your marks don’t last long on his skin, though Mydei won’t be opposed if you want to renew them. Just be prepared for him to return the favor.

He's also into light spanking. It’s nothing hardcore like a full-on spanking session with crops and paddles but rather an occasional smack on your ass with his palm while he takes you from behind. He just enjoys seeing the way your butt jiggles and can’t resist the urge to spank it. If you’re not into it, Mydei will stop without question.

If you’re not against it, Mydei is open to trying anal sex for something novel. He will need some guidance and education on how to do it safely but he’s willing to take things slow and prep you properly to avoid injury.

The prince loves it when you wrap your arms and legs around him. Grip the backs of his thighs, lock your legs behind his back, gab his butt, or loop your arms around his neck and tug him towards you. It makes him feel like you desire him and are welcoming him into your body which he finds hot.

If you’re into it, Mydei will pin you down against the bed or wall. Things such as pinning your wrists above your head or pressing you down into the mattress with his weight are his favorite ways to immobilize you if you’ve been teasing him too much. He won’t do this if you’re uncomfortable with it, though.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

For the most part, Mydei prefers to have sex in the privacy of your home. Any room and surface is fine, though he does like the bed a little more because it makes for a comfortable place to rest and bask in the afterglow afterwards.

Though not his preferred choice, Mydei can also fuck you in more risky places. He’s brush off your advances and tell you to wait until you get home to get frisky, but his patience is not infinite. If you tease and provoke him enough, his patience will snap and he’ll drag you over to a secluded corner with a growl that if you want to be fucked so bad then fine, you’ll get what you want but you had best keep your voice down if you don’t want to be caught. If an unfortunate soul happens to see you getting steamy, the deadly glare Mydei gives them will be a silent threat for them to keep quiet and pretend they never saw anything or else.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mydei is a simple man that prefers a straightforward approach. He’s not good at playing elaborate mind games and chasing after you in a game of cat-and-mouse as it will leave him frustrated. Just tell him you want him. Press your boobs or rub your ass against him, run your hands along his body in a suggestive manner, grinding your hips against him, whisper dirty things in his ear—whatever method you employ, just make your desire for him clear. As long as your interest is genuine and you make him feel wanted, Mydei will take the bait.

Heated make-out sessions also work to arouse him. When the kiss turns hot and heavy, it ignites his lust and makes him want to feel more of you. If you trail your lips down his throat and bite at the pulse point or lightly scratch down his back, it is game over for him. You’ll be hoisted into his arms and carried to the bed.

Other things you can try is dressing up. Wearing sexy and flattering lingerie or a cute and sexy cat outfit complete with a cat ear headband can work to turn Mydei on. Wearing just a towel or nothing at all also works.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As mentioned previously, Mydei doesn’t like giving up complete control. He lets you experiment with kinks and take the lead if you express an interest in doing so but don’t think you can toy with him for your own amusement. The crown prince complies with your whims out of respect and a desire to indulge you but if you push his buttons too much that compliance will fly out the window.

Mydei hates being edged and teased. A little bit is fine, but he lacks the patience to put up with it for long periods of time. It quickly goes from being arousing to being annoying. He also dislikes being made to beg. Mydei is far too prideful to debase himself like that and will grow irritated if you pressure him to beg you to let him cum or anything similar. In both scenarios, he’s far more likely to break out of any restraints you have on him and turn the tables on you. You’ll be the one begging him, darling.

The crown prince is also not into roleplay. He would find it difficult to get into a role since he’s not the best actor and just finds the whole ordeal too cumbersome and cringey. He’d much rather skip the acting and get straight to the good part where he gets to have his hands on you and his face between your legs.

Additionally, Mydei won’t go out of his way to hurt you. He can wrap a hand around your throat but won’t squeeze in fear of actually choking you, neither will he harshly pull at your hair or hit you. He can manhandle you to display his strength but only if he knows you’re into it. Otherwise, he will never force you into anything against your will.

Finally, Mydei hates the idea of sharing you with someone else. Watching you touch another person so intimately and seeing you being pleasured by someone that isn’t him sparks feelings of intense jealously and resentment in him. He would see red and feel sick to his stomach, so threesomes are a huge turnoff for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Mydei has a slight preference for receiving but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like giving. Quite the opposite, in fact. Burying his face between your legs and watching you come undone from just his mouth? It turns him on and inflates his ego. Mydei loves watching you moan and writhe while he eats you out, and he easily holds your hips still so you can’t get away while he firmly sucks on your clit. He also feels encouraged by you tugging at his hair when something he does feels good for you.

Watching and hearing you unravel under his tongue is one of the hottest things for Mydei, and he’ll crawl up your limp and sated body with his face smeared in your slick and a feral, lustful glint in his eye because eating you out made him painfully hard.

When it comes to receiving, Mydei tries to be careful. He knows he’s big so he’s not expecting you to deepthroat him or anything (though it would drive him wild if you managed to) and does his best to hold still while you take him in your mouth. He’s more vocal when you suck him off, letting out low moans that gradually grow louder the closer you bring him to orgasm. When he gets closer to his peak, he starts to shallowly thrust into your mouth but tries to be careful to not thrust too deep and accidentally hurt you.

He tends to keep a hand on your head while you go down on him. Not pushing or pulling but just resting it there. If your hair is long enough, he’ll gather it up into a ponytail to keep it out of your face so it wouldn’t get in your way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Mydei’s pace can vary from fast to slow depending on what you’re both in the mood for, but he consistently goes deep. If you’re in the mood for something passionate and carnal, Mydei’s happy to let loose and take you fast and rough until you’re crying out in pleasure and your eyes are rolling back while raking your nails down his shoulders. If you want something less rough but still passionate, he can go slow and deep and gradually build up to a more moderate pace. The latter is usually his go-to pace though he tends to quicken his thrusts when he’s near orgasm.

Though slow and sensual is not his typical style, when you evoke soft and warm feelings in Mydei’s chest (usually by saying you love him or being the one to make love to him) he gentles his approach. It’s not quite sensual, but it is loving coming from him. His sharp thrusts slow down to languid roll of his hips and he gives you more kisses and gentler nips.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind quickies and sometimes resorts to them when you’re both pent up and need to destress but don’t have the time to take things slow. During quickies, Mydei’s pace is fast but not rough since the aim is to get both of you to climax quickly and then go about your day. They’re regular but not frequent, probably once a week or so.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

It will take some coaxing on your part, but Mydei can be convinced to experiment with new things if the idea intrigues him or it makes you happy. However, if it’s anything from the No section then he will stubbornly shut down the suggestion. You also can’t suddenly spring something hardcore on him like BDSM. Mydei needs to be eased into new things. You can start out with something like a session experimenting with restraints, and another time playing around with blindfolds or toys, etc… Otherwise, he may experiment with a few things himself like sex positions and restraining you with his hands.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man has stamina for days. He’ll outlast you any day of the week, it’s not even a competition. Mydei’s endurance comes not only from his physical fitness, but also from how used to pain and suffering he is. His immortal body allows him to easily ignore signs of fatigue or discomfort and push him past his limits. That said, his body does have a limit to how many times he can cum, so he can last up until he shoots blanks. It’s unlikely you will ever get to that point with him, though.

In general, Mydei prefers going for 2-3 rounds so you’re both left thoroughly satisfied, but if you ever want to go for more then he’ll indulge you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

While Mydei isn’t against sex toys, he’s not eager to use them. He strongly believes that direct physical touch feels better than some cold plastic or silicone toy. He’d much rather please you directly with his body, be it his hands, mouth, or penis because it’s more gratifying to watch you react to his touch than to some tool. Mydei prefers you to please him using your hands or mouth, as well. You could try the sex toys on him, but he will quickly lose interest and toss them away in favor of feeling your skin against his.

Mydei is okay with you using toys on yourself when he’s not available to satisfy your needs, but if he is, he will be hurt if you don’t come to him and satisfy yourself with a toy instead. It will make him think you don’t find him satisfactory in bed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Mydei is a straightforward person, so playing unfair is not his style. At most he can let fly a teasing comment about how badly you want him but otherwise he doesn’t tease or edge you. He doesn’t have the patience for it because seeing you get worked up riles him up too and makes him want nothing else except to sink into your cunt.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The prince is good at keeping his voice down. He usually lets out grunts and groans while making love to you, and an occasional low moan if you do something that makes him feel good. Mydei would much rather hear your moans over his own because they let him know he’s making you feel good which is an ego boost for him. If you try to stifle your sounds, Mydei tells you to let your voice out so he can hear how good he’s making you feel and does his best to get you to moan louder, provided you’re somewhere private.

He's also a huge sucker for hearing you moan his name or begging him. It drives him wild and makes him want to give you even more pleasure.

Mydei indulges in a bit of dirty talk. It’s not derogatory but rather praising, saying things like “Look at how soaked your panties are. You must be so desperate to feel my dick inside you.” or “You’re so wet and tight, your pussy feels so good around me.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Mydei can get competitive in the bedroom. Once he grows familiar with sex and what you like, he challenges himself to get you to climax more times compared to previous sessions. If you came twice last time, he’ll set a goal to make you orgasm three or more times the next session.

If you’re the type to challenge him in the bedroom, Mydei will play along. You want to bet you’ll make him cum first? Sure, why not test it out in the 69 position so he can eat you out while you suck him off and see who will make the other finish first?

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

(A reminder than girth is circumference and not diameter)

Length is 15 cm (5.9 inches) and girth is 11 cm (4.3 inches). Has a few veins on the underside and a dark red tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Mydei has a healthy sexual appetite and craves sex about 3-5 times a week. If you sex drive is higher than his then he could go more often.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Mydeimos doesn’t fall asleep quickly afterwards unless he’s pushed himself past his limit (but that’s extremely rare). You’re usually the one to fall asleep first since intercourse with him leaves you weak and tired, so Mydei spends that free time making sure you’re properly tucked in and comfortable. He scoops your limp form into his arms in a protective embrace and tucks your head under his chin, holding you close while you succumb to sleep.

During nighttime, Mydei’s thoughts are usually occupied by his duties or his past, but the relaxation that comes after sex helps to push those troublesome thoughts aside and allows him fall asleep easier than usual. It also takes him a bit of time to get used to sleeping beside you, but he finds it nice to share a bed with someone he loves and hold them in his arms. He likes mornings in which he wakes up to see your naked sleeping figure beside him. Your hair is mussed and there are marks from his teeth on your skin, but god does the sight of you under the soft rays of Okhema’s sun warm his scarred heart.

[manmuncher777]

Nanami basically has two personalities when it comes to your sex life. Sometimes you might behave certain ways to ensure you get the… treatement you want

Nanami is always a gentle and loving partner, his first priority being you and you well being. This is his soft dom side, pleasure dom even. He loves to worship you, and has no problem doing so. So on those evening where you’ve been so sweet for him, he cant help but lay you out on your shared bed, and give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Let me have you darling” he whispers against your neck, kissing the word into your sensetive skin. He’s memorised your skin like a map, permanently burned into his mind. He knows every little spot that makes you shiver and whine. Nipping gently on the spot just against your collarbone that has you quivering under his touch.

“You have me ken.” Your hands clinging onto his skin, trying to tug the shirt off of his toned body, needing to feel him.

“Eager darling?” He chuckles at your rushed hands, pulling the shirt over his head. He’ll let you do that, but other than that, he does all of the work. All for his pretty girl

Stripping you down, laying you on the bed. Eyes trailing over you like it was the last time he was going to see you like this. Savouring every inch of perfect skin he could see.

Wasting no time in kissing his way up you legs, never taking his eyes off of your beatific face, loving to see how he was making you feel. Making his way to where he needed to be.

Planting gentle kisses over your dripping pussy as you mewl beneath him.

“More ken~ please.”

Oh how well mannered you were, who was he to deny such a polite request?

No need to say anything, no wasting time. His tongue quickly finding its way through your folds, slurping up your juices.

Pretty nose bumping against your clit as he fucked you on his tongue, letting you buck your hops and tug on his hair in any way you needed

However, you soon found that Nanami had the ability to change, like the flick of a switch. Of course you were an angel in his eyes, but there were certain occasions where you would push your luck, and he needed to remind you that you were meant to be his well mannered wife, not a little brat.

“Ken~ m’ sorry” you cried out, begging. You had been begging him for hours now, the was no room for you to worry about how pathetic you were being, you didnt care. You just needed him.

“Too late for that my love.” That stern look forcing you into silence.

You had gotten a little bit too spoilt today, and Kento wasnt going to put up with your attitude. So here you were pathetically grinding against his thigh while he had his hands on your hips, stopping you from cumming every time you came close

You were quivering from the overstimulation of being brought to the edge so many times, tears streaming down you pretty face as you husband cooed at you. You had no idea he could be so … harsh. But there was something about his unforgiving attitude that had you craving him even more

“Please ken, m’so sorry. Please- let me cum” You cry out, hips rolling again and again, those waves of pleasure never stopping. The faint build of your orgasm once again.

You couldn’t keep up any more, pausing your hips to give your soaked cunt a moment to recover.

“I don’t recall telling you to stop darling.”

[liquorflower]

cw: semi-public sex, cheating (?), kento with big, BIG HANDS, size difference, sex in photocopier.

thinking about private investigator nanami and how it was hired by your boyfriend to keep an eye on you. he does his job sooo well he pretends to be one of your co-workers.

everytime your boyfriend asked why he was taking so long to get information, he would answer: “she’s a really private person, sir. this is the first time I face something like this.” and he knows is pure bullshit.

how’s this poor thing (you) has to have such an asshole boyfriend?

as the sweetest person you are, you excuse him and tell he’s that way and you can’t change that...

but there’s discomfort in the fact your boyfriend may not be as good as you thought.

and you could realize that by the way nanami cared about every single thing of you. information he would keep away from your jealous boyfriend,

just one touch to your puffy clit and he already knew how to drive you insane, you shudder at the contact of his fingers — thick and large... well, now you notice how imposing it is. you don’t know if it’s because of the small size of the room you’re in, but god... he’s gigantic compared to you.

“shh... we don’t want anyone lurking around here, do we?” he coos at your ear and your moans drown at the palm of his hand.

your face, all flustered, leaving his hand full of saliva with each whine you try to suppress while he’s teasing your sensitive clit and you can feel the aching cock pulsating, fluttering between his pants.

when he places your leg on the edge of the photocopier, he sees your pussy, all exposed, damped in your juices, and then, letting out his length, he fits it perfectly into your sloppy pussy. you open your eyes wide big and immediately placing your tiny hand in your mouth, but fuck, he replaces it with his hand and whilst the other hand is clasping your ass, the other one plays inside your mouth and in the most obscene way, you suck at his fingers with every thrust.

“yeah, you like that, sweetheart.” he also stammers, almost wanting to fall apart.“we’ll keep this secret soo well.”

[unnervinglyferal]

Yeah, that's been the plan, we're teaching her to argue and talk back instead of shutting up and obeying. If she can negotiate why she should be allowed to do something, and she makes a valid enough point, she's allowed. She's going to be very beautiful and very clever and we have to teach her terms of when she's allowed to have anything she wants just because she wants it.

Unfortunately the things she wants right now consist 90% of climbing to places where she'll fall to her death, touch surfaces that'll take her skin off, pouring food and juice in places they don't go, and chewing on things she should not chew on.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[starpoweredv1b]

have you ever thought of muscular MC

Like... Something about claymore wielding airheaded MC does things to me.

I'm sure it'd scratch something in the LL's brains too. Maybe Zayne's mommy issue having ass would dream of just being choked to literal death by the boobies. Sylus would probably love to wrestle and end up in physics breaking positions and end up gasping for air between MC's gargantuan muscular thighs.

Anywaysss, not as 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, but my brain juice is dry and my thighs happens to be thick with nothing to lay upon it

hi anon!! YOU'RE SO REAL ACTUALLY i have never thought about this but i feel like the boys would be so horny for a muscle mommy putting them in their place (believe it or not even xavier despite his dom-ish tendencies) this also made me think about mc pegging them while holding them in a headlock whewwwwww. thank you for planting this seed in my head actually. also i volunteer as tribute to lay upon thine thighs or however the saying goes ♡

the first time sylus is eating you out and you instinctively clench your thighs, he swears he felt all his sins be absolved and his soul instantly granted heaven. enveloped in you, tasting you, smelling you, he had never been so hard to the point of hurting in his goddamn life. he would have the most glazed dilated eyes as he goes pussy drunk, rutting the air pathetically the more you grinded on that crazy angled nose slope of his.

zayne would quite literally be the type to attempt to breastfeed from your tits i fear. and at work whenever someone mentions some biological terms for muscles, he might have to go rub one out in the toilet because he keeps thinking of the way your muscles ripple and tighten aroumd him when he's buried deep inside, waist crushed into nothing (because his waist was never there to begin with. body is tea as fuck). if you ever suggested pegging, he may or may not be extra sensitive and start cumming all over the sheets when you do.

xavier would be reluctant to openly agree for you to peg him but halfway through as his head is held in the crook of your bicep and elbows, thrusting into him with his ass smacking against the firm of your thighs. he would cum way too fast and way more than usual too. we're talking like big spurts. aftercare may or may not involve you having to let him fuck you like a rabbit during mating season because he has so much left to give and a huge favour to repay for making him go feral the way you did.

rafayel would be sending memes of being pegged and dommed by you as hints that are definitely anything but subtle. he'd be a literal housewife if you only asked. he would literally be so inspired and reverent of your physique he might make a statue of you based on an intimate polaroid of the view he has when you're giving his a firm thigh job. the way his dick slid against the ridges of your muscles, the way you were strong enough to hold him down when you're riding him, it makes him salivate everytime.

caleb is the type to loveeeee play fighting turned sex because let's be honest, that man is a freak of nature. he'd say he's way stronger than you, wrestling with lesser fear because he knows you can take it. so regardless of the end result, either him holding your thighs down and open as he carves your pussy out with his dick, fingers gripping the muscles and getting impossibly harder in your warm pussy, or you holding his head crushed against the valley of your tits as you bounce on his cock. to him, a win is a win.

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 58. a second try

previous — master list — next

notes ; WE ARE FINALLY HERE. i can’t tell if it feels rushed but atp idec i’m just trying to get this out 😭✌🏽 POP DA MF APPLE JUICE GET THE FRICKING FIRE WORKS WE ARE GETTING LIT.

BONUS — 570 wc, just a little fun extra that i felt like writing 🫰🏽

you could feel the beating of your heart all the way in the back of you ear, it’s rhythmic patter at an abnormally fast rate as you nervously stood in front of donghyuck’s apartment door. a place that was very familiar to you once, but felt totally foreign now.

you wondered how it would all unfold, what the first few seconds of your interaction would go like. would he have a moment of realisation that maybe you weren’t worth his time? would you two even talk much? would everything just go back to normal after a month of not seeing each other? you were tempted to back out for a split second, rethinking this moment and reschedule your ‘date’ so you could mentally prepare yourself, even if you were the one who proposed it.

but the door opened, almost as if donghyuck knew you were there this whole time. with a slow pull, you were met with him, and the emotions washed over you like a wave. you could never forget what donghyuck looked like, you’re sure that an image of his face has been permanently scarred in your mind, serving as both a fond or traumatic reminder. the only change was the new jet black hair he wore, its length having grown by a little bit.

“i missed you.” were his first words, a bashful smile already stuck on his face that he couldn’t fight off. it was contagious, as soon enough you smiled back at him, unable to hide your joy. you missed him too, and you told him exactly that. “can i hug you?” donghyuck followed up, this time avoiding any eye contact.

the cuteness aggression you felt for him were put aside for a moment as you leaned forward and embraced the boy next door in a soft embrace, one which tightened as he pulled you closer. you got a whiff of his signature vanilla scent, one you wished to drown in by never letting go off him. but donghyuck already pulled away, retracting his arms back to his side.

“do you like the hair?” he asked with a shy smile sporting his face. you smiled again, nodding your head. you loved it. you loved everything about his look. and after seeing him again, you came to the conclusion that you just loved seeing donghyuck. “it’s a nice look.” you decided on keeping your answer simple, though your answer was enough for donghyuck to beam.

“thank you, it’s a new me. i got the website ready so let’s hurry up.” donghyuck motioned for you to follow him into his apartment. you followed the boy into his place and as you did, donghyuck’s words fully sunk in your head. they lingered as you watched the episodes, and they lingered even after you finished watching them all. looking to your side, you were met with donghyuck who’s head was slumped, having dozed off some time ago.

focusing on the newly dyed black hair, his words came back to mind. a new me. you couldn’t agree more with his simple statement as the hair brought a new identity to the boy you knew. it signified the start of something new, and new him, a new era, a new chance.

staring at his softened features that were in deep rest, you came to the conclusion that you truly were willing to take this new chance, and new him into your life.

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (thirteen)

jenson button - "I want to make you mine."

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/45), flirty!reader, unprotected sex & baby trapping, doggy style, jenson is smitten (read: unhinged), dark-ish themes

sinful sentences catalogue

you were a flirt, that was what you were good at. flash a pretty smile, wear a low-cut top and any man would happily give over some cash. flutter your eyelashes and give them a sweet laugh at their corny jokes, and the bills grew in value.

jenson was smitten, needy for your attention. he loved how you felt in his hands, how his lips felt against yours. and when he was lucky, his cock snug inside of your achy, soaked cunt. maybe it was time getting to him and missing so-called glory days. but he liked the little flirt he often saw at the bar, and he liked taking you home.

but he believed that you could do a hell of a lot better than the bar you frequented. someone quiet, secluded, with an apron around your waist, dinner on the table and his child growing in your belly.

"hey, beautiful." he purred as he draped an arm around you, "look a little lonely tonight." his lips grazed your jaw, "sad that no one's giving you attention, tinkerbell?"

"shut up." you replied and when you looked at him. when your gaze met his, he pulled you in for a heated kiss. that shut you up quite quickly. you hated it, he had this way with you that made your core simmer.

"i want to make you mine." he said, "tonight."

"i could never be yours, jenson. don't be stupid." you laughed.

there was a reason why all the men got to look but not touch, but jenson often got handfuls of your flesh and his cock buried inside of you. when he pulled away from the kiss, he smiled at you, " are you done, tinkerbell? gonna be good for me?" he leaned in, "because my wallet is feeling a little heavy, and i think you could lighten the load."

and then like a lamb you tucked yourself closer to him. you knew you were a slut for his attention, he was older, wiser, wealthier. he knew what he could get from you and it made you aroused. it didn't hurt that his cock was rather big and he knew exactly how to use it.

"when have i ever been good for you?" you asked playfully.

jenson chuckled lowly, "that's what i like to hear. causing my problems, making me watch you be a total fucking flirt. but you always come back to me." he kissed your cheek.

"are you going to give me what i want?" you asked softly as you played with the top button of the light blue shirt he wore. you then spread your hand across his chest, "please?"

jenson's smile grew, "of course, honey. i'll always give you what you want. but, you have to be a good girl for me. so put away the teeth, angel, and let's have some fun tonight."

you ended up back at his home, the expensive kind of apartment with a price tag that made most raise their eyebrows. he had the money so why not spend it.

he was quick to undress you, and while the couch was closer he did have the capacity to be a gentleman and guided you to the bedroom. your clothes remained in a pile on the floor in the living room as he shepred you into the bedroom. then, when you got through the door he got you up in his arms and onto the bed.

"hands and knees, beautiful."

"are you going to use a condom?"

jenson flashed that winner's smile, "of course, tinkerbell. gotta play it safe for you, right?" the plan was turning in his head. easy to lie with your face in the covers. he patted your cheek and leaned in to kiss you on the lips. you tasted like cranberry juice and vodka, and he tasted like rum and coke.

his other hand on your thigh as he held you. his cock stirred in his jeans at the taste of you against him. you felt like something else, you could scam your way into some cash with just a few smiles. but jenson was greedy.

"hands and knees, beautiful. i want to see that pretty pussy and that lovely ass of yours." he chuckled before he pulled away and you got on your chest and knees with your ass in the air. perfect for him.

jenson played with your pussy as he got undressed, he dragged his fingers across it. played with your clit and even sank his digits into you. he felt the tight wet heat and he wondered how many men ran through you before. but, that didn't matter now. not when he had you in his metaphorical jaws.

it'll be the only cock you needed now, jenson would take care of his wife. there wasn't even a question if you would be his wife or not. he knew you'd walk down that aisle. he wasn't raising his baby without a ring on your finger.

you held onto the pillow under your head and heard him move around once he was undressed. you looked over and saw him get a condom out a desk drawer and you exhaled a sigh of relief. he smiled wickedly when you put your face back into the pillows.

when you weren't looking at him, the unused condom was dumped in the waste bin. he said as he approached you, his heavy cock bobbed as he got up behind you on the bed. he admired the glossiness of your cunt and licked his lips.

all for him, only for him.

he sank into you, no protection keeping that pretty pussy of yours safe. no, tonight you were going to take jenson raw. the thought excited him as he shifted his knees on the bed to get a better angle to fuck you. he pressed you at the middle of your shoulders, pushing you further into the bed with your pretty ass up against his hips. you felt amazing, the tight heat of your cunt wrapped up around him.

jenson button was one lucky bastard tonight.

he rocked up into you. his movements started off slow yet powerful. he moved up against you, both hands at your hips. he used it as leverage to move against you. it felt amazing, your cunt held onto him tightly.

like your body knew it wanted to get pregnant. and who was jenson to deny a beautiful woman what she so desired. your words said one thing and your body said another.

"fuck, jenson." you shuddered as the thrusts grew. his pace had his cock pressed up into your deepest parts. it made you panting against covers as he fucked you further into them. your breathing was heavier as you cunt fluttered around him.

the pleasure clouded your mind, all rationale was out the window. you didn't even question him that he actually put the condom on. your brain was flooded with the intense heat of pleasure. you gasped into the covers as the pleasure grew in your core.

there was something thumping in your soul from his movements and your core swam with a yearning for him. the way he fucked you, even when it was rough, quick sex. there was something about it that made your head swim with lust.

damn jenson button for knowing exactly how to get you going, how to pull orgasms out of you like a rabbit from a hat.

"you feel like heaven, honey. my little fucking tinkerbell with your fairy wings that i wanna pluck from you." he wrapped his arms around you and battered his cock into you. this pace quickened and you felt your foundation shake. his words were filthy and it lit a fire in your belly.

he continued to fuck you. he pressed his weight further down on you and made you squirm when his pace became brutal. he knew exactly how to keep you under him. you thought you were getting a nice payday from this, but you were going to walk a way with a bit more than some fresh euros stuffed in your purse.

more like his cum stuffed into your slick pussy, right where it belonged. don't worry, after you have his first kid he'll let out have a break, but he hoped within a decade you two will have three little button kids running around. of course he'll buy a nice house for your little growing family. but tonight, the logistics weren't important, tonight he was on a mission.

get his little tinkerbell, the girl desperate for male attention, nice and pregnant with his kid. then everything else will fall into place. his movements quickened till he was fucking you right into the mattress. his breathing was heavy and his body tense as he fucked you.

the bed creaked a little as you panted heavily into the covers. you whined, "fuck, jenson! i'm close!" then arched your back quite a bit as you felt climax begin to take its hold on you.

"that's it, beautiful. let it out for me. good girl, good girl." he cooed lowly and it made you head swim with heated want as you felt the throb in your body of climax. jenson knew your body better than you knew it yourself.

jenson kept up his pace. he fucked you with a simmering heat. he didn't last much longer, he couldn't have. he could feel the pleasure in his gut as soon finished inside of you. as climax hit, he shoved his entire length into you. made sure that the tip of his cock became familiar with the base of your cervix. they'd become quite acquainted over the next few months.

"fuck, jenson." you gasped as his pace slowed down and he gave you a playful smack on the behind.

"better than the rest, huh?" he said as he leaned over you, kept his softening cock inside of you for a moment. he kissed the shell of your ear and felt your tremble.

in a moment of post-orgasm weakness you croaked, "yes." and jenson felt nothing but a sense of pride that tonight he got you pregnant.

-

large hand on a swollen belly. been a whine since you've been at the bar and it's been only a few weeks since you became jenson button's wife. no late nights seeking the flirty attention of men older than you.

one of them finally got you tied down and in a few months you were going to be the mother to his child. his hands were still greedy for the softness of your hips, his tongue still wanted to explore your mouth. now he could whenever he wanted.

his hand grazed your middle, he loved the feeling of it. you looked so good. looked proper even when you struggled a little to get off the couch. you carried the baby well, even if it made you rely on jenson a little more (not that he was complaining)

you still don't know how it happened, but jenson simply shrugged and said, "miracles happen every day. and this one is ours." shutting down any questions about misuse of protection. all it took was one night and one little lie, and now jenson button clipped the wings of his little tinkerbell. <3

[ask-underfazverse]

It is the most heavenly food they have ever tasted. The meat is so juicy, you'd think it was the blood of a fresh kill. The bread is fresh, as though they were pulled seconds from the oven and plopped into their mouths. The vegetables are sautéed with many spices, and the fruits pour their juices down their throats with every bite.

Not once is the meal boring or flavorless. Lucifer smiles at the ones that eat. "Sorry if it is not as good as it could be. Asmodeus is better with hedonistic meals and Beelzebub domain is gluttony. They could make you something better, but this will have to do."

The multiverse is full of infinite possibilities...

Most worlds tend to connect through similar builds. Through stories, people, themes...

It's no surprise seeing a stranger to the multiverse. What IS surprising, however, was his condition. Covered in deep wounds, limbs twisted and torn, and he appeared to be drowning in his own blood by the time he was found. Holy weapons were embedded in his skin, and the flesh sizzled liked bacon around it.

He had red skin, gray hooves, horns that looked far too round and circular to have normally grown out of his head. His long pointed tail is covered in hand prints, and there are bones exposed out of his back. He lays face first in a pool of his own boiling blood, barely breathing or moving.

@ask-underfazverse

Cry’s come from the mass amounts of strangers, many just back away to cowedly to do anything, but a few step up, and begin to heal him. Mainly the younger, less evil Malak’s, a few Doug’s that are just simply concerned, and only one Bierce.

Dream Malak very hurriedly takes him to his hospital, with the help of the others.

[slut4thebroken]

Reasonable

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepdad!Lenny Miller x reader

Summary | You break one of his rules, so he punishes you.

Warnings | Smut, dubcon?, “incest”, fucking machine, overstim, forced orgasms, bondage, slut shaming?, abuse of power lowkey.

Words | 690+

Notes | Idk I barely edited this tbh

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 22: fucking machine

You heard the door open, and his footsteps, then you saw his dress shoes approach your head from where you laid on the floor. 

“Learned your lesson yet?” He asked casually. 

“Please,” you sobbed, voice raw from all the moaning and crying. Your knees and shoulders ached from being against the floor for so long and your wrists were throbbing from each time you tried to pull away. You don’t even want to know where he got something like this, but your ankles were attached to the sides of the machine and your arms were extended behind you with chains connecting the cuffs on your wrists to the device, keeping you from moving away from the dildo as it pistoned in and out of you. 

He sighed and you heard his footsteps again as his shoes disappeared, moving behind you. When he turned the speed of the machine down, your whole body sagged in relief. Then he finally turned it all the way off and you felt like you could actually breathe again. The orgasm that was approaching was starting to fade now, but you’d rather get a break than come again…

“Thank you,” you gasped out, “thank you— I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” 

You whined, not wanting to say it out loud. But you knew you had to if you didn’t want this punishment to get any worse. “I’m sorry for having a boy over without permission…” He barely waited a second before landing a sharp smack on your ass, warning you to do better. “I’m sorry for.. having sex with him.” You whined, bottom lip quivering. 

“I like to think I’m a fair man. The rules I gave you— that you have to follow so long as you live under my roof— seem pretty reasonable, don’t you think?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said quietly. 

“No boys, no sex, no drinking or smoking, and curfew at 1 am.” He reminded you. “You may be an adult, but you still live in my house. And my house has rules.” You squirmed nervously, starting to think that he didn’t actually come in here to finally end this… punishment.

“Now, I don’t know if this is the first time or if it’s just the first time you got caught, but I don’t tolerate disrespect.” He suddenly turned the speed back up, making you cry out. “Hopefully you learn that sooner rather than later, for your own sake.” When he turned it up even more, you let out a mix of a scream and a moan. 

“S-Sir, please.. I’m sorry!” You gasped out, struggling to breathe from the intensity of the fucking machine. “I’ve learned my lesson.” You added with a pained whimper. 

“You haven’t.” He said conclusively, forcing a choked sob out of you. “Not yet, at least. But I’m sure after a couple more hours, you’ll start to make some progress.” 

“Please!” You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. Over the sound of the machine, you could hear the obscene, wet squelch of your pussy. You’ve already come twice after less than three hours of this— and without any stimulation on your clit either— so your juices were gushing around the dildo, leaking onto the floor between your legs. 

“You were the little slut who decided you wanted to be fucked. I’m just giving you what you wanted.” You sobbed out a moan and shook your head, unable to protest any other way. 

Despite how badly you wanted him to turn it back off, you were barrelling toward your orgasm because of the stimulation, and now his words. 

Your whole body stiffened and the sounds caught in your throat before the knot of arousal in your stomach finally snapped. You practically screamed at the intensity, barely able to take it, and you could faintly hear Lenny sigh. Your body was trembling and tears were streaming down your cheeks, staining the floor below you. 

“Sir, please!” You sobbed brokenly, feeling the overstimulation start to kick in once again. 

“I have to stop by the office. When I come back, I’ll decide whether or not I think your punishment has been sufficient.”

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Excuse my ovulating self but personally, Bearded Hotch is bust-worthy. He’s so fine.

OMG YES EXACTLY THANK YOU

He is SO HOT I can't handle it 😩😵‍💫. The places my brain goes when I think of bearded Hotch 😵‍💫😮‍💨.

*NSFW MDNI*

Ugh you just NEED his face between your thighs and he is more than happy to do so. He never knew how feral you would be just from him having a beard and yet here you are, holding his head between your shaking legs as he makes out with your cunt 😮‍💨 He's so messy and sloppy about it too. He's probably spitting on your pussy once he gets really really into it (hope that's okay). He's always into it but then something inside of him goes just as feral and you are and he wants to turn you into even more of a mess.

The beard burn is worth it 😮‍💨. The feeling of his beard rubbing against your thighs and your soaking cunt just 😵‍💫😵‍💫. He gives you so many orgasms and so often just the sight of him down there and that beard is enough to finally push you over the edge almost every single time. When he pulls away to breathe you can see your juices dripping down his chin. You've soaked his beard and he couldn't be more happy about it. And you also end up sitting on his face after he's fucked you 😵‍💫 because you can't get enough.