#COME HERE. COME HERE. LET ME FUCKING STRANGLE YOU

[sugarwarachan]

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader

summary: being in the same phd program as tsukishima kei was already the worst, and that was before you and the snarky bastard were tasked to teach the same class together. during a late-night run-in at the library, will things finally come to a head?

(note: reader writes smut on the side to make some extra money, since phd students barely make shit *sobs*)

content warnings: tsukki being a degrading lil shit *barks*, like so much sexual tension, slight exhibitionism (gettin' nasty in a library), slight angst, dry humping

word count: 2.1k (an anon ask turned into this, whoops!)

art credit: @ynk_vv2 on x

You shouldn’t have kissed him.

Not even as a joke in the back of that shitty dive bar you’d taken him to because grading papers was making both of your eyes cross. But he’d looked so fucking handsome underneath the neon lights, sipping coolly at his beer, that you couldn't help dragging him by the collar into that alley and sucking his soul out through his mouth.

Fuck.

Staring down at the battered copy of Macbeth and your scattered pile of notes, you’re no closer to chasing him away from your thoughts than you had been the night before, achy and desperate in your bed.

Ever since you began your PhD program, Tsukishima Kei has been an ever-present pain in your ass. Sarcastic, flippant, and irresistibly intelligent in a way that makes your heart speed up every time you spar with him.

You hate him, perhaps just as much as you want him.

It's cowardly to hope he won't find you here, but you need to get work done, and the library feels like a good spot to avoid him in. He hates being around people, even when they're confined to calm spaces like this.

“You’re not hiding from me, are you?”

Of fucking course.

When you look up, he’s smirking, all self-assured arrogance while he leans against the library stacks. You want to strangle him and straddle him in equal parts.

“Why?" you snort, turning back to your notes. "Because of one kiss? You’re not that good, Tsukishima.”

(He is, though. You’ll be thinking about that kiss until you die.)

Maddeningly, he says nothing, only pulls out a chair and settles in across from you.

You really wish you could read him better, but the best course of action seems to be to shut your mouth and pretend you’re not affected. For a guy as detached as him, you think that’s the right choice.

“Have you eaten anything today?”

The fuck?

Looking up from the notebook you’re scribbling non-notes into, you see what appears to be concern on his face.

“Umm. Yeah.” You’re pretty sure you’re looking at him like lobsters sprouted out of his ears. He's never once asked about your well-being like this.

He nods. “Good. We did stay up late talking about Kantian ethics.”

That's certainly one way to boil down last night.

“And to think it came to blows only once,” you shoot back.

A small smile curves his lips before he takes out a book and some notes, seemingly content to start working on something.

Fine.

If he won’t bring up the kiss, neither will you.

Silence lapses, the only sound the scratching of pens on paper. You’re not sure how much time passes; it’s hard to be around Tsukishima for very long because of how much he seems to slow time for you.

You sneak a look and immediately wish you hadn’t, because you notice the edge of a sheet of folded paper and recognize notes you lost two weeks before.

Your entire body flashes cold.

You write down ideas all the time as they come to you. What can you say, you’ve got an actively flourishing sexual mind, which has helped tremendously in your choice of second income. Smut doesn’t just write itself.

But the last thing you want anyone to see, let alone Tsukishima, is a scene where you couldn’t stop picturing him as one of the participants…

You try not to let your thoughts race away from you. You can only imagine how much he’d tease you for it, how actively humiliating it would be to admit to Tsukishima fucking Kei that your fantasies more than often than not star him.

“You can’t be alright.”

“Excuse me?”

Golden-brown eyes confront you. He’s frowning.

Why the fuck can’t you lust over someone normal?

“You heard me.”

“There’s a book on Shakespeare and gender in the stacks I need to find,” you say, ignoring him and ignoring the fact that you already have that book sitting to your left.

He regards you carefully. Each second that ticks by, you know he’s weighing what to say. The hush of the library does nothing to calm the din in your chest, the awful racket of your heart furiously pounding behind your ribcage.

He smirks and waves a hand at the stacks. “By all means. “

Surrounded by a wall of books, you take a deep breath. It’s just as likely he hadn’t even seen the notes he’d accidentally snagged from you. All you have to do is get them back, right?

“You always deflect when you’re uncomfortable.”

Whirling around, you see Tsukishima leaning against the stacks like a Lothario in a Victorian play, and fuck, you must have it bad, because he actually looks good doing it.

“Might it have something to do with this?” He pulls out that folded-up sheet of paper, and you watch in horror as your notes literally unfold in front of you.

You know exactly what’s written there.

His eyes pin you in place and you feel like a bug wriggling on a cork board, helpless under his gaze.

“This is what’s bothering you.” He shakes the paper a little, like a master shaking a treat in front of a dog. “You didn’t want me to read it.”

Anger sparks in your chest. “Brilliant fucking solve, Sherlock.”

He glosses over the sarcasm and takes a step forward. You retreat one step back.

“Why didn’t you want me to read this?”

You stare at him, incredulous.

“Because it’s private, asshole.”

The look he gives you screams, Try again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, it’s a smut scene, Tsukishima. Do I really have to spell out why that would be awkward for you to read?”

“Why? Because you imagined me while you wrote it?” Condescension drips from his words. Below your navel, your insides pull taut.

“What makes you think that? Because I deigned to kiss you last night?” You’re flirting with fire and you know it. You lean in, and so does he. “Come on, Tsukishima, you’re gonna have to do better than that. Where’s your hard evidence that I think about you like that at all?”

His eyes flash, and a near-feral smile splits his face.

He taps the side of the paper.

“Because you wrote this.”

And there, in small, nearly-smudged writing, are the words: Stop picturing Tsukki.

Blood pools in your cheeks. There’s no way he’s going to let you live this down, not ever.

You finally notice the red ink in the margins, his own annotations littering the page underneath your imaginings.

“Did you make fucking critiques?”

His laugh is so immediate it startles you. “I think you might call them suggestions.”

He’s close now, his hip nudging yours back along the books. Spines dig into your shoulder blades.

“If you’re fucking with me right now—"

One hand settles next to your head.

“One word, y/n,” his breath ghosts over your temple. “One word, and this stops.”

The rational part of your brain considers the consequences of messing around with someone in the same program, let alone someone like Tsukishima.

The rational part of your brain doesn’t answer.

“I don’t want this to stop.”

Exhaling sharply, he takes a step forward, his body now completely aligned with yours. You suppress the small moan climbing up your throat.

You were right, damn it to hell. This already feels better than most things you’ve ever done: your back curved against the books, the musty smell of paper, Tsukishima’s shirt shifting with yours.

One hand possessively cups your jaw.

“In that scene you wrote, were you picturing yourself?”

“Does it matter?”

His eyebrows rise. “Does it matter? How do you ground yourself in the scene if you don’t picture the characters?”

It’s an obvious taunt, but as you stare at the hollow of his throat, all you can think about is the fact that he smells warm and spicy, and you want to lick the column of his neck and wipe that fucking smirk off his dumb, handsome face.

You want him to be as affected by this situation as you are.

“If you tell me why you wrote all over the scene, I’ll tell you.”

He exhales. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“The hardest.”

He presses a knee between your thighs, spreading your legs apart. Without thinking, you grind your core down onto him, brain firing as soon as the pressure on your clit increases.

His hand grips down hard on your hip as he pulls you close, whispering furiously in your ear. "I read over this scene a hundred fucking times and I added what I would do. That’s what those notes are.”

Pleasure spreads over your chest; you barely remember your promise. 

“I pictured myself. In that scene. I pictured you watching another man fuck me until you stepped in and showed him how it’s done.”

Tsukishima makes a noise like a whimper and a groan in his throat. His head falls forward on the stack, right next to yours. “Goddamnit, y/n.”

He presses his thigh more insistently against you, hand near to bruising on your hip. 

“Did that not figure in your notes?” you ask, fisting your hands in his shirt, greedy for him to touch you more.

With strength that makes your pussy clench, he picks you up by the waist and drags your core along his leg. You can feel how wet you are, the slide of your cunt slippery in your underwear.

And we’ve barely done anything, a giddy part of your brain whispers.

“If it was real, no one else would be able to make you cum like I could," he's saying, voice low. "But I bet you’d love to see them try, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? Fuck them in front of me until your sloppy pussy needs me to step in and fuck you like the little whore you are.”

His words travel from your ear down to your clit, and a low ache twists in your gut. You fall forward onto his chest, hands twisting around his shirt collar.

You're already climbing toward release with each slide of your core against his thigh.

“Please, Tsukki.” A whine erupts in your throat. “Please. Fuck, I’m so close.”

He doesn't even entertain your implied suggestion. “You’ll come on my thigh, y/n, I know you can. I can feel how much of a mess you’re making through your jeans. How wet would you be if I pulled those off?”

“Take them off and find out," you pant into his skin.

His hands deftly shuck your jeans down your legs, just enough to expose your underwear. You should feel ridiculous riding a man’s thigh in the back of a library stack with your pants around your knees, but you can’t be damned to care.

Fingertips trace over your pussy, outlining the lips through the cotton of your underwear. He skims a thumb over your clit.

“You’ve ruined these.” He sounds delighted.

“Fucking take them off, Tsukishima, for fuck’s sake.” You’re begging, and you hate it, but at this point, you’d do anything to feel his touch on your bare skin.

“No,” he says softly, tempering the denial with a kiss to your temple. “You’ll finish like this.”

You’re glad your face is pressed against him. This way he can't see how affected you are, how every time he drags you against his thigh, you practically drown in pleasure.

Little gasps and pleas fall from your lips, muffled against his chest. One more drag and you cum violently, your hips chasing after your orgasm with such intensity you feel like you’re floating.

You come down slowly, ears ringing. You're pretty sure you hear Tsukishima talking to you, but the only thing drifting through your mind is that you haven’t cum like that in years, and of course it’s with the man you can’t stop thinking about, for better or for worse.

You look down and take in your soaked underwear, the damp stain on his trousers.

He hands you back the notes and helps you right yourself on shaky legs.

Somehow, this feels more intimate than anything you've done with him so far. His hands are calloused and strong, and you want to hold onto him a little longer.

The thought jolts you, and before you can stop it, the words are out.

"This was a mistake."

And what takes you aback is not that Tsukishima agrees with you, but that he looks almost sad when he does.

masterlist here. reblogs and comments always appreciated <3

[yallthemwitches]

if Lily and James took the traditional dating route (aka he asks her out to hogsmeade in 7th year), James would be stressing out about the “define the relationship” convo meanwhile lily’s been going around calling him my boyfriend since he asked her out even when it’s not relevant- “Ms. Evans when can we expect the head boy?”, “Oh my boyfriend’s going to be late bc of Quidditch practice.” “Where’d you get that bracelet from?”, “Oh, my boyfriend got it a while ago.”

This is such a cute idea! Here's a little moment I wrote for you that came to mind because I'm a sucker for "melt James and straightforward Lily" I hope it's what you imagined! (Also I added this to my compilation Deep Cuts over on AO3!)

“I think today’s the day. I think I’m going to ask her.”

Sirius pushes his face into his pillow and lets out a dramatic moan. 

“Ask her? Mate, you’ve already asked her to Hogsmeade. For fucks’ —I swear it Prongs, if you got obliviated somehow and we have to live through this shite again…”

“No,” James cuts in, exasperated. “I mean–y’know–ask her to be…official.”

“Official?”

“Yeah,” James says, suddenly becoming bashful, “Like being my girlfriend and all that.”

There’s a pause and Sirius pushes himself onto his forearms. He shoots James a pointed look. 

“Mate,” Sirius says slowly. “I found you two snogging horizontally on the stairwell last night. Horizontally. I think it’s safe to say it’s pretty fucking official.”

James lets out a groan and scrubs his face with his hands.

“That’s…that’s not the point. Stop acting like such a ponce-–you know full well that people can snog and not be together.”

“Can they shag and not be together? Because I also happen to know there’s been a lot of peculiar noises coming from your side of the room—”

“Pads,” James says, voice straining. “Please. I’m being serious here. I don’t want to muck this up—this is Lily we are talking about.”

“Ok fine,” Sirius says, “But you both have gone on dates to Hogsmeade. Dating–dates. That’s the definition of it, isn’t it? It’s part of the etymology for fucks’ sake.”

James makes another strangled sort of groan and stands up, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Forget it. I’ll ask Moony or Pete.”

Sirius snorts, reaching for a pack of fags on his nighttable. “Ah yes, Moony and Wormtail. The known connoisseurs of romance and monogamy.”

When James shoots him a withering, deadly sort of look, Sirius only smiles in return. 

“I’m going to go down to the pitch…have a bit of a think,” James says, going for the door. When he’s gone, Sirius continues to stare up at the ceiling of his four poster.

See this—this is why dating is rubbish, Sirius reminds himself, blowing smoke up into the air. Too much etiquette. Too much dancing around the obvious. Much better just steering clear of the whole bloody bit—get a nice snog or shag from time to time but nip out right after. Easy, efficient, completely devoid of emotion–just how you like it.

There’s a perfunctory knock and the door bursts open. Lily enters and swiftly passes over to James’s side of the table in a hurry, sifting through the various books that litter the bedside.

“Oh, hey Sirius,” she calls, noticing his presence, “Any chance you know where my bloody boyfriend left my potions textbook? I’m supposed to be tutoring some third year in about an—”

Sirius bolts upright, his fag barely hanging onto his bottom lip. 

“Excuse me? Who?”

Lily doesn’t turn, continuing to pick up books and toss them aside. “Oh, you know, James Potter. Messy hair, glasses, your best mate, my boyfriend--and now Potions textbook stealer apparently.”

Sirius blinks. A laugh starts to bubble in his chest and he clutches himself to hold it in. 

“Sorry? You’re…boyfriend?”

At this, Lily freezes her search. She turns her head slowly, eyes already lowered into slits. 

“Er, yes? What’s that tone for? I don’t like it.”

“Oh, nothing,” Sirius says, laying back on his bed with a grin. He lets the laugh escape and it rumbles through the room, making Lily look back with more suspicion.

“Nothing, really,” Sirius says again after his laughter subsides. “But the next time you see your boyfriend, would you mind telling him he’s a fucking idiot?

[watery-melon-baller]

average adobe experience

[quietwingsinthesky]

of ten’s companions, if the doctor couldn’t handle losing them and crossed his own timeline to trick them into traveling with future!him instead of past!him so that he’d have a little more time with them:

rose would do it. first because bless her but she has the situational awareness of a rock, and legitimately would not realize this isn’t her doctor until his facade starts to break down and he starts bleeding grief-laced love for her at every turn. but once she does realize it, she’s both deeply sympathetic and a little scared that she could make him into this. it’s a lot to be confronted with having that much power over someone, to break them so thoroughly. rose would try to get back to her doctor, but while she’s with the future version, she tries to do what she can to ease his pain. (she also tries to figure out a way to subvert her fate. she fails.)

i think martha would be harder to trick. she can smell desperation on the doctor like a bloodhound. she is so tapped into the fact that this man wants to off himself so bad and that she’s 90% of his self-restraint, so present her with a doctor who is lacking that and she’s onto him immediately. however, assuming he gets her to come with him, explains why he’s doing this, there’s like. a minute where she’s kind of. not flattered exactly, but surprised, giddy with the realization that he’d come back for a little more time with her, especially if this is early season 3 martha. which would all come crashing down around the time that he reveals that he wasn’t pushed to this by losing her to some tragedy or her death or anything- but that she chose to leave. that is the point at which martha goes ‘oh i need to get the fuck off of this tardis right now’ and ghosts the past!doctor that she was also traveling with because holy shit, man.

donna, like rose, is easily bamboozled into following the wrong doctor home, provided that he shuffles her along into his tardis too fast for her to argue. but she catches on far quicker than rose does. like, three minutes tops of watching the doctor move through the tardis in a way that’s definitely not enthusiastic piloting and looks more like guilty panic. and then she yells at him for lying to her. and she yells at him for kidnapping her. and then she stops yelling because he’s gone sort of still and quiet and his eyes are just broken. and he doesn’t explain himself, he confesses. donna is going to try to stay with him after this btw. because how do you go back to looking your best friend in the eyes when you know he’d take everything you’ve become away from you, even to save your life? and this is still the doctor, he still did that to her, but he regrets it. regrets it so much that he can’t live with it, he’s breaking time and space just to hear her say his name again. and donna doesn’t want to lose him anymore than he wanted to lose her.

[vaguenotions]

I know it's because I'm single and bitter. But I swear to fucking god if my roommate and his boyfriend don't stop talking about the messages they get on Grindr I might fucking explode.

[gutsby]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.”��

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[swytdoll]

nsfw. slight somno.

✮⋆˙caleb always considered himself a true gentleman, taking pride in his manners and his ability to navigate life's complexities. yet, there were times when his polished exterior would slip. like now. the way he gently cradled your body, treating you like a fragile doll, showering soft kisses on your bare skin as you slept, was irresistible to him. you felt so warm and inviting. your soft snores, which might have bothered anyone else, only made him smile.

dark hair spread across the pillow, a few strands brushing against his face, bringing a grin to his lips. he cherished these little quirks about you—the way you curled up into a cozy ball, the way your nose twitched in your dreams. to him, every little detail was another reason to fall in love with you all over again. even after a long night that lasted until dawn peeked through the sheer curtains, he still yearned for more of you. it was only six twenty-five, yet the thought of being wrapped in your warm cunt stirred him awake.

with his calloused hands, he tenderly spread your thighs, his chest pressing warmly against your back as he nestled beside you. he vowed not to disturb your slumber, but a soft, unexpected moan slipped from his lips as he nudged his tip at your entrance. “my god, you’re so perfect.” your sleeping face contorts as he feeds you inch by inch, a familiar wetness allowing him to glide in effortlessly. he lets his eyes fall shut, relishing the feeling of you squeezing his shaft as he bottoms out. instinctively your back arches slightly as he begins to thrust, body naturally reacting to the slow, deep strokes. caleb shudders, pressing sloppy, wet kisses behind your ear as he molds you.

your breath is soft, a barely audible hum filling the quiet room. he sucks in a breath, the sound sending a tingle sensation from the top of his spine to his groin, where he can feel his cock swelling. the dark haired man hand wraps around your throat, holding your chin up as his lips explore the sensitive flesh of your neck. his strokes beginning to speed up, and the slight change in angle makes you stir awake. “ngnh! caleb!?” it’s hard to articulate as your husband pounds into you, his left hand digging into your hip, pulling you back onto his cock, splitting you.

“fuck, m’sorry ah—look so pretty when you sleep. shit, she’s suckin me in!” his voice is a deep, a rumbling whisper as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning against your cheek. the hand around your throat moves to the space between your breasts, keeping you pressed firmly against his body. the slick squelch of him pistoning into you filling the room like a melody, the bed shaking from his force.

he’s completely pussy drunk.

you can feel the way his muscles tense and flex with every thrust, his breathing labored. you love this side of him. it was a rare treat to see the normally composed, cool-headed man completely come undone. you feel his hand slide down from your breast, slender fingers splayed across your lower abdomen. “gah! feel me here?” his palm rests just below your navel, applying the smallest amount of pressure.

“y-yes, oh god!” it’s almost too much to take. caleb’s fat, pulsating cock stretching your walls, the mushroom tip nudging at your cervix. the lewd sounds of his dick gliding in and out of your cunt, his heavy balls slapping against your ass echoing through the room. his hand on your belly caresses the place he’s currently invading, making your head spin.

you’re a heap, moans coming out as strangled cries. his name spills from your lips, over and over like a broken record. your legs shaking as the knot in your stomach tightens, the telltale signs of your orgasm fast approach. caleb notices, of course, he notices everything.

his pace slows as his fingers find their way to your clit. you jolt, ‘s’okay. just relax.” he hums, rubbing small, firm circles against the swollen bud. “oh my gosh,” you whine, bucking back against him. it’s hard to keep your eyes from rolling back, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. he groans, biting his lip. teeth sinking into his flesh as his hips pick up the pace again, pounding into you relentlessly. the hand at your clit is unwavering, pinching, flicking, rolling the button drawing out loud moans.

the knot in your belly snaps.

warmth washes over you as your orgasm wrecks your body. white light dancing in the corner of your vision, the intensity of the pleasure sending you reeling. caleb doesn’t stop, both hands now at your hips, pulling you back against him.

he’s close, his thrusts becoming more erratic, needy.

his voice is raspy, barely above a whisper as he mutters your name, followed by a long, drawn-out whine. the warmth of his cum fills you, thrusts slowing to a gentle rocking motion. after a moment, he pulls out, watching with an unbridled hunger as his seed drips from your abused pussy. the sun begins to rise, a faint yellow light streaming through the windows. caleb reaches over to the nightstand, picking up his phone. seven am. setting the phone back down he wraps his arms around you, fingers lightly dancing across your stomach. you find yourself leaning into his embrace, humming as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“good morning love.”

[taintandviolent]

sin creeps in ; Nosferatu x Reader

summary: You're plagued by heinous nightmares of a mysterious monster, but you can't help but feel drawn to he who plagues you.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of death, making out, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering)????.

a/n: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! this is just.... listen, I'm not even going to try to justisfy myself. rack up yet another hear me out moment for me. you either understand or you don't. shorter than I wanted it to be, but I needed to get this out and sate my hunger. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You awake with a strangled gasp, your hands flying to your throat as your breath gradually returns. The nightmares had roused you, as they had every night, but this time, something lingered. Your room was frigid; the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the open window like misplaced ghosts, allowing the chill of the night to penetrate your quarters. Everything looks terrifying at night; familiar shapes are transformed into horrible spectres, and your very room feels unknown. Unsafe. 

He is here. For the first time in several nights, you weren’t dreaming – he has come for you.

“I know that you are here with me,” you bravely whisper into the emptiness of your own bedroom. The wind whistled, a familiar sound, but something growled – growled in a language you didn’t speak, but understood. The voice was low, gravelly, and heavily accented. 

Hurriedly, you kick the sheets from your legs. The moonlight pales your skin, washing you in its blanch, bluish tone. Gripping your gown with both hands, you gather it up your thighs, exposing them to the cold. The chill of the wind hits your center, and you hiss through your teeth. Your head drops to your chest, and so does your gaze, watching patiently. At the edge of your bed, a large, slender shadow manifests. Him. 

You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs. 

The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan.

Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared.  He comes to you in dreams, always leaving you unsatisfied. Your chest heaves in the night, cold droplets of sweat peppering your decollete and breasts. Your hands claw the sheets while you dream, but never reach euphoria.

Tonight, there are new sensations. The phantom wisp of his middle finger runs along the length of your slit. Grazing it. Somehow, you feel his finger part your wet folds, toying with your most sensitive areas. The nonexistent pads of his fingers sweep back and forth over your swelling clit, bringing a spasmodic twitch from each of your muscles. Wanting. Craving. While the sensation lacks the familiar warmth of a living man, it is bountiful with pleasurable feelings – your body responds embarrassingly; your shoulders shudder violently. 

He inhales, a deeply hollow sound. “You desire this… thine own body craves it….” 

The accent seems to fill his entire mouth, rumbling in his throat as he speaks slowly, drawing out each word like an incantation. You let out a plaintive moan, throwing your head back against the pillows, the down feathers crackling underneath you. As though he’s still pleasuring you, your hips writhe back and forth, practically convulsing with need. The shadow of his hand is gone from your body, replaced by the looming darkness of his physical form. After a moment of trepidation, you finally lift your head, and stare into the dark, terrifying eyes that watch you. 

You swallow hard. “I do.” 

A moment passes before you continue. “Take me as you will, for I am yours.” You consent again, desperate to convey your own insatiable hunger, your unimaginable need. 

Another intake of breath from him – it almost sounds labored, painful. His footsteps are dreadful as he moves around to the side of your bed. He’s tall, his form stretching towards the ceilings and towering over you, consuming your atmosphere as he had in your nightmares. His silhouette is large; enhanced by the countless furs he has on.

Weightlessly, his lithe, ghastly fingers reach for you and make contact with your form. They are cold, and the icy feeling of them penetrate the thin fabric of your nightgown. He moves gradually, but hungrily, feeling the curves of your body beneath the cotton. As he moves southward, his fingers skim over the peak of your breast, a nail catching on the swollen nipple. It hurts, but your chest jerks forward still, craving more of his touch. 

Pulling a breathy moan from deep within your throat, his long, sharp nails rake across the tender flesh of your thigh. It’s bathed in the silvery moonlight, which casts horrible, elongated shadows of his fingers down towards your center. He scrapes downward, his middle finger digging into the flesh enough to leave a reddened streak behind, but not so much to break the skin.

“P-please…” you mewl, looking up into his horrifying visage. The sight of him fills you with dread and disgust, but like a single drop of blood in water, it’s tainted with something else, something else that has been lingering in your system for days. 

He’s above you now, though you don’t remember seeing him move atop of you. Still, he’s there. The bed creaks as you push yourself into the mattress, whimpering underneath him. He lowers himself down onto you, the brush of his mustache tickles your face as he lingers above you. A second passes and his waiting mouth envelops yours. He tastes damp and cold, faintly of ash and earth. His tongue slips out and it too is cold, slipping wetly along your own and along your bottom lip. His kiss is dreadful, but possessive, and he inhales each time you exhale, as though he’s trying to suck the very warmth out of you. No man has kissed you the way Count Orlok kisses you, and the chill of the room disappears, snuffed out by the fire that rages in your lower abdomen. 

Your tongues collide with each other; you tasting his lifelessness, and him tasting your utterly intoxicating, vibrant liveliness. For a moment, the two of you stay intertwined at the mouth until he separates himself, smearing his mouth over the warmth of your neck. He hovers, pausing over your pulse. It thrums under his lips, and his hips urge into yours, indicating his hunger.

There is a shuffle, a rustling of clothing. You try to lift your head up to gaze between your bodies, but his hand holds you fast, pressing you against the pillow. The size of his hand is staggering; his palm underneath your chin, while the fingertips extend past your hairline, into the strands. You shudder again and whisper his name. He inhales as though he plans to speak, but doesn’t. 

The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach.

The fingers of his other hand crawl up your shoulder, and like a quill in ink, he dips the pads of his fingers into the hollow of your chest, coating them in your crimson essence. He smears the blood along your decollete, along the hem of your nightgown, tugging it harshly over your shoulder. The blood coats you in a flash of warmth, and then chill as it meets the cold air. 

His hips rut against yours as he drinks, the pulse of your blood matching the thrust of his hips. An ache starts in your neck, a slow pulling sensation that has your eyelids fluttering. He moves within you, his length penetrating as deeply as his sharpened teeth have. Your release is found amongst blood and groans and that same language which you understand, but do not speak. His tongue scrubs at your soft skin, lapping up the blood as it comes… as you do. 

The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop.  Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.

[berrryparfait]

sex pollen ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: zayne, xavier, sylus, caleb, rafayel x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: spring is here, and the "thorny" flower is in season. beware, unsuspecting farm visitor, lest you inhale the evil flower's pollen and fall victim to its whims... 「this urge... i can't resist it anymore—!」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, literal sex pollen; "spontaneous and urgent need to have sex", piv, creampie, intense orgasms, dubcon, characters are not dating nor have they ever f*cked before (frenemies)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: pelican town (from the stardew valley soundtrack)

✧ a/n: was the stardew valley soundtrack too unhinged or... anywaysss sex pollen is one of my all-time favorite tropes ever so here's my take on it <3

Sure, he might not be your favorite person in the world, but just for today, you're content with being acquaintances. For what it’s worth, if there’s anything worse than spending a whole day with your begrudging frenemy, it’s losing.

The annual Spring Corn-Picking Festival has begun, and you’ve been paired up with him. Can you put your differences aside and put your skills to the test? Or is there something else—something sinister—lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike?

The “thorny” flower is in bloom, and no one is safe…

“Follow my lead if you want to win. I did my research, so I know where all the best spots are.” He parts the thick maize, making way for the both of you to trudge through the field. You roll your eyes at his predictable arrogance. “Please. I used to live on a farm. I know my way around—” You trip on a small rock and stumble into his back. He barely even glances at you. “Be quiet if you don’t want to sabotage our mission.” Rude. “Hey, there’s some up there.” You both dart towards the bunch of ripe corn a few feet away, no longer weary and complacent. Placing his basket on the ground, he begins to expertly pluck the corn from their stalks, intense concentration written all over his face.

All of a sudden, a strange smell hijacks your nostrils. “Do you smell that?” He grimaces and looks around, apparently sensing it too. It’s…strange. Foreign. Not entirely unpleasant. The flesh between your legs throbs. Why do I feel…? Your eyes lock with Zayne’s, then travel down to his groin. He’s hard. It takes him two seconds to close the distance between you. “Zayne, what’s going on—” He yanks your overalls down and grasps at your breasts, the expression on his reddened face absolutely feral. “I-I don’t know—” he stammers, still smearing his hands all over your plump chest. “But I can’t stop…” He pulls your panties down in one fell swoop to find you already dripping wet. His pupils dilate at the sight, and his hands automatically move to undo his belt. It doesn’t take long for him to free his erection, which is so large by now you almost feel bad for him. “Wait, we’re in a corn field—” Your words are abruptly cut off by him spinning you around and plunging his cock between your folds, and you have to cling to the sturdy stalks to prevent yourself from falling over. A hand goes over your mouth to conceal your surprised moans. He has you bent over in front of him, back arching against his dick as he thrusts into you and curses under his breath. I don’t like you! You don’t like me! Why does this feel so good?! “Fuck— I can’t stop—” His groans are strangled and pained, his hips moving so fast the field around you blurs into a mess of pale green and yellow. Expletives escape his lips as he slams into you so hard you both come undone, his hot, thick cum filling you up and dripping down your legs as you spasm and shake under his grip. You’re panting. He looks like he can’t even breathe. “What the fuck was that, Zayne?!” you scream at him, flustered and so utterly confused. “It’s that damn flower… Fuck. I’m sorry.” You pull your overalls back up and shake your head, unsure how to feel about all of this. “Let me make it up to you— Dinner. Tonight.” Tiny butterflies drift into the field.

“Would you quit micromanaging?” He glares at you before turning back to the corn, both hands wrapped around its plush kernels. “I’m just saying, twisting it out might be faster.” Always pouting, always bickering. It’s the only thing you two ever do. You’ve never denied that it bothers you, the way he acts as if you’re beneath him. “If you’re so confident, you do it.” You take the bait and push past him, sandwiching yourself between him and the stubborn stalk of corn. A smug grin plays at his lips when you fail to pull—no, twist—it out, his arms crossed over his chest.

Xavier sneezes. He brushes it off as a one-time thing at first, but then he sneezes again. Hay fever? he thinks to himself. Suddenly, the image of you working your hands around the cob of corn—squeezing and pulling at its base—is too much for him to bear. He’s imagining his dick in its place. You don’t realize it at first, but you’re getting wet. You feel the abrupt, inexplicable need to grind against something. Anything. All at once, you push Xavier to the ground and sit down on top of him. “Do you feel that?” you whisper between gasps, the pool of need between your legs growing by the second. He nods breathlessly, uncertain, but wanting all the same. Your hips involuntarily roll against his, and you both suppress a moan. The next thing you know, you’re grinding against his rock-hard cock and relishing the sounds of his tortured groans. “I’m—so horny—right now—” His voice is fried, needy. You lift the skirt of your dress and pull your panties to the side, clearly sopping wet. His jeans are unzipped. In what seems like an unimaginable moment, you’re bouncing on his dick and screaming out in pleasure. Why does he…feel so good… Your thoughts are a mess, part confusion and part unbridled lust. The way he rubs against your walls, jerks upwards to meet your thrusts, whimpers like a man starved—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You roll your hips at just the right angle, and he gets impossibly bigger before shooting warm spurts of cum into your cervix, his thighs clenching underneath yours as the most intense orgasms the both of you have ever had crash over your joint bodies. You roll over to lie down beside him, still in shock. “W-What was that?!” He turns to look at you and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—ironic, considering your entire head’s a complete mess. “I didn’t know you had that in you. You didn’t even kiss me.”

“Perhaps we’d get there more quickly if you stopped whining,” he jabs, already five feet ahead of you. His demeanor remains cool and composed, yet frustration simmers beneath the surface, visible only to those who know the enigma of a man well enough. Unfortunately, “those” includes you. “I just can’t believe I’m stuck here with you. Of all people.” Without looking back, he replies, “Are you sure this isn’t your desire for me speaking? Because judging by the way you were eyeing me just now…” You huff at his ridiculous statement. “Ha! You wish. Sleeping with you is the last thing I’d ever want, so keep dreaming, buckaroo.”

You don’t hear his reply. A sharp, almost sweet scent attacks your senses, conquering your mind almost instantly. You sway amongst the stalks of grass, trying to make sense of the sudden urge you’re feeling—the urge to bury Sylus’ dick between your legs. I hate him I hate him I hate him— Your hands reach out to grab him before you can stop them, and he spins around abruptly to gently push you away. “Having a change of mind?” He means the question as a joke, but the sound of his gravelly, seductive voice only intensifies the throbbing in your cunt. “Shut up and fuck me,” you spit, fully convinced you’ve gone insane. But he doesn’t object. The cocky grin vanishes from his face as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down, apparently devoted to the task. His underwear is still on by the time he’s lying on top of you, pupils dilated and erection rock solid. Overcome, he dry-humps your clit for a whole minute, the pressure so rewarding that he can’t bring himself to remove his boxers. “Fuck, baby— What are you doing to me?” He hisses when you yank them down yourself, eager to bury his cock deep inside you. No time is wasted. In a single thrust of his hips, he’s plunging all the way into you, so big you cry out in delicious pain. Your hips move in tandem with his, mud covering your back and seeping into your hair—but you couldn’t care less. His length is pumping in and out of you so hard your eyes roll to the back of your head, and distantly you wonder how long you’ve secretly needed—wanted—this. He grunts with each jerk, wet squelches filling the air as the strawberry-picking competition is forgotten, sweet release the only thing on his mind. A stutter—a falter, and he erupts, his thick seed coating your walls and seeping out of your pussy. You both fall silent as the pleasure consumes your bodies, so good your eyes squeeze shut and your throat goes completely dry. “I’m…a mess…” you mutter between pants, pushing him off of you. “Who wants to sleep with who now?” He shoves his pants back on and—blushes?! “It must’ve been that flower. Though… It’s worth mentioning that I’m immune.”

“Alright, let’s hurry up and get this over with.” He doesn’t seem thrilled to be wading through a cornfield with the likes of you, one of his childhood tormentors. Well, he’d tormented you back, of course—middle school turf wars were no joke. You both grew up and learned to tame your reactions a little, but some things never change. The fact that you’re still stuck in the same small town with him, for instance. “After all these years, Caleb is still a jackass,” you quip, already making your way towards a ripe bunch of corn. “You’re just jealous I never dated you.”

The wind blows, and you scrunch your nose at the scent it carries. “Shh— Do you smell that?” His eyes go wide as realization hits, and he rushes to cover your nose and mouth with his hands. “It’s that devil flower that spews aphrodisiacal pollen. Don’t. Breathe.” His expression is grim as he clamps his mouth shut, but he’s already starting to squirm. A small pit of arousal emerges in your core, but he’s clearly having a harder time than you are, the outline of his hard cock visible through his trousers. “Caleb…?” you ask tentatively as his hands slide away from your face, flexing indecisively before reaching towards you. “Caleb, wait a second—” He’s on his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down. Oh my god, this can’t be happening— You gasp as his tongue glides against your clit, the simple movement leaving you wanting more. Your hips grind against his face as you moan his name, lost in the lovely vibrations of his own groans of pleasure. “Get on the ground.” His tone leaves little room for debate. You lie flat on the soil, back towards the sky, and turn to look at him over your shoulder. His dick is out, precum coating the tip as it beelines straight for your inviting cunt. Pure bliss overcomes your system when he first glides in, your walls instantly slickening in response. He pounds into you from behind, his whimpers mingling with yours as you’re swept away by the feeling of finally having Caleb inside you. It’s surreal—ten years ago you would’ve laughed at the thought. Now your mouth hangs open for different reasons. “Faster, Caleb—” you squeak, desperate to reach your climax. He drives into you, clenching hard before he drenches your pussy, a steady stream of cum dripping down onto the soil below. “Holy fuck… I’m sorry…” he whispers, getting up to put his pants back on. An unexpected wave of laughter hits as you recover from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body sated and…comfortable. “Don’t you dare blame this on the pollen.” He sighs wearily and smiles. “I’m not.”

“If we don’t win, I’m blaming it on you.” Great. This detour was all your fault. You can’t believe this guy. First, he makes no effort to help with navigation. Next, he decides that if anything goes wrong, you’re to blame? Sweet crackers, he’s the most insufferable fool you’ve ever met. Sure, he’s charming—the old ladies back at the farm couldn’t have made it clearer—but you don’t get to have a competitive streak when you’re not the one doing the streaking. Seriously, he’s slow as hell. “Stop talking and walk.”

“There’s something in the air,” he remarks, squinting. It’s the first time he’s paid attention to anything today, so you hear him out and begin sniffing your surroundings. You detect nothing and call him a big baby, resuming your search for corn. “I’m being serious! I swear it’s doing something to me…” He turns away then, so hastily your suspicions are raised. “J-Just gimme a sec!” he calls over his shoulder, “Lemme take care of something real quick—” You turn back around, tired of his antics, but a barely concealed groan stops you dead in your tracks. He’s jerking off in broad daylight, his head thrown back in relief. “Rafayel, what the f—” You feel it then, the throbbing ache in your pussy, and suddenly his presence no longer annoys you. You inch towards him, eyeing his hard cock as he pumps it with his fist. At the sight of you staring up at him with a strange, unabashed lust, his thighs clench and he moans your name, the sound of it on his lips sending waves of arousal down to your core. You push him down by the shoulders so he’s sitting upright on the ground, dick so hard it looks miserable. “Bounce on it,” he orders. In the span of two seconds, your panties are pushed to the side and your cunt is enveloping his cock. You’re so full, so dirty with him between your legs—Does it feel better to fuck someone you pretend to hate? His thumbs bruise your hips as you keep your pace, bouncing on his lap like your life depends on it, his tip crushing against your cervix the only thing on your mind. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he breathes before pumping his fresh cum into your pussy, your combined cries of pleasure so loud a neighboring flock of birds takes flight. Defeated, you lean against him in his lap, still shaking with desire. His hand goes up to rest on your head, his touch surprisingly tender. “I’ve been waiting all year for that.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[bunnis-monsters]

Silly the clown has been a bit annoying today.

Since it’s April 1st, the clown has decided pranking you every chance he got was his top priority.

Already, you’ve been jumpscared, tricked, and teased. If he asked you to smell a flower just to get water sprayed in your face one more time, you’d lose it!

Fortunately, you had an idea on how to get him back.

As the day went on, you slowly dropped hints that you were feeling hot and bothered. You left a pair of your used panties in the hamper, knowing your scent would get him in the mood.

By the time he was done playing pranks, Silly was ready to play something else.

“Got all pretty for me, hmm?”

You were waiting in the bedroom, in a set of lacy lingerie. “Mhm. Stop playing around and come here…”

The clown entity stepped forward, and suddenly chains made of light shot out of the ground, wrapping around his body. His eyes widened, and he struggled against his restraints before looking up at you.

“You’ve been teasing and pranking me all day. I hope you’re ready for your punishment, it’s payback time.”

Silly wasn’t just a clown, he was an unwieldy being confined to the amusement park. It took a long time for you to find a way to restrain him, but you did.

Originally, it was going to be only for emergencies, but you couldn’t help yourself.

As he growled and stretched, his form flickering between the clown and his true self, you slowly lowered your body down and settled onto his lap.

He was already hard, his inhuman cock bulging against his pants. You rubbed yourself against him, listening to the strangled moans he let out.

“F-fuck, when I’m out of these chains I swear to god-“

You silenced him with a kiss. “Hush, just enjoy your punishment.”

His eyes stayed on your plump hips as you slipped your panties to the side, letting his tentacle-like cock slither into you.

But you stayed completely still, cooing and teasing him as he begged for you to ride him. “F-fuck, please, just a little… move, damn it!”

He bucked his hips up, and you helped as he started fucking into you. Silly was a lot stronger than you though, easily able to hold your weight against him as he kept you steady with the upwards thrust of his hips.

“That’s my girl, fuck…”

It seemed being restrained was a new, yet pleasant experience for him. Being mostly powerless against you was pretty hot, because you easily lifted yourself up and off of his cock, instead stroking it in your hand.

Silly whimpered, wanting so desperately to be inside of you instead… but this was a punishment, and he was lucky you were letting him get off at all.

Sticky goo spurted out onto your chest and face, and you pouted. “Come on, clean this up…”

His cheeks reddened, but he leaned forward and licked your cheek, then moved to sucking and lapping at your breasts.

You were about to tease him some more, but the sound of something cracking made you pause. The chains were fading and chipping away much faster than they were supposed to!

Before you could even think, you were being pinned to the ground, your cunt stuffed full of his cock and being stretched out more than usual as Silly’s face shifted.

“You thought those chains could hold a creature like me for long? I’ve been alive since the beginning of time, I outdate them.”

Your stomach bulged, his cock swelling up inside of you.

“I think you were right, love. It’s time for a little payback.”

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤALIEN GIRLㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Qu Reader Part 3

☆⁠ HEADCANON : You Were Pregnant... And Your Pregnancy Wasn't Normal... Especially Not Something That Mark Expected...

☆⁠ NOTES : Qu is an alien species from the book All Tomorrows. You can learn more about her here. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Mark started noticing things.

It began with small stuff.

Shiny things went missing—coins, keys, a silver spoon, even his mom’s earrings (which somehow ended up under his bed).

Then there was the soft stuff. His hoodies, pillows, blankets—all gone.

And the food. Fruits he’d never seen before piled up in the corner of his room, untouched but somehow... perfectly fresh.

Mark was so confused.

At first, he thought you were just being weird. Because let’s be honest—you weren’t exactly normal. But then he caught you sitting in a pile of stolen goods, legs tucked beneath you, nesting.

That was when he finally asked:

"...What are you doing?"

You blinked up at him, tilting your head, hair cascading around you like a shimmering cloak.

"For baby," you said simply. Then, after a pause, you added: "Babies."

Mark froze.

"...What."

You pointed at your stomach with a serene smile. "Baby. Nest good for baby."

Mark’s heart stopped.

"WHAT???"

Mark. Freaks. Out.

You tilted your head, confused. "What?" Mark panicked. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BABIES—PLURAL?!" You just shrugged. "Baby." You patted your stomach. "Yours." He felt his soul leave his body.

Mark didn't know how to handle this.

He immediately ran to his mom.

"Mom," he gasped, stumbling into the kitchen like he’d just seen a ghost. "She—she said she’s pregnant."

Debbie paused mid-dishwashing. "What?"

"She’s making a nest! She’s collecting stuff! She said babies!" Mark ran a hand through his hair. "Mom, what the fuck!"

Debbie dried her hands calmly. "Did you use protection?"

Mark gawked at her. "I didn’t think I needed to! She’s an alien!"

Debbie exhaled sharply. "Well, apparently, she’s an alien that can get pregnant."

Mark groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "Oh my God. I’m not ready to be a dad."

"Well," Debbie muttered, completely unbothered. "You should’ve thought about that before sleeping with her."

Mark let out a miserable groan.

Now that you were pregnant, your eating habits changed.

You ate. So. Much.

Especially meat.

Mark stared, horrified, as you tore into a raw steak, completely unbothered. "You know... we usually cook that."

You blinked at him, mouth full of blood. "...Why?"

Mark swallowed. "Because it's gross eating it raw?"

You just tilted your head. "But taste good."

Mark watched in silence as you continued devouring the steak.

You also developed a sweet tooth.

Cookies? Gone.

Ice cream? Destroyed.

Syrup? You drank it straight from the bottle.

He had to physically pry it out of your hands.

Mark learned that you were serious about the nest.

You dragged his hoodies into a corner of his room. You hoarded pillows, blankets, even his mattress.

Mark woke up on the floor.

"You kicked me out of my own bed!" he groaned.

You blinked sleepily. "Nest not for you. Nest for baby."

Mark sighed, rubbing his face.

"...Where am I supposed to sleep?"

You thought about it for a second, then patted your lap.

Mark stared. "...I am not sleeping on your lap."

You shrugged, curling up in the nest. "Then floor."

Mark let out a strangled noise.

One night, Mark found you hugging your knees, staring out the window.

He frowned. "Hey... what’s wrong?"

You stayed silent.

Mark sat beside you. "Come on. Talk to me."

You took a deep breath. "Miss... sisters."

Mark blinked. "Your sisters?"

You nodded. "We... always together. Always. Birth together. Hug under sky." Your voice grew soft. Lonely. "Now... alone."

Mark felt something tug at his chest.

You were always so strange, so terrifying, so otherworldly. It was easy to forget you could feel sadness.

Mark hesitated before wrapping an arm around you.

You looked up, surprised.

Mark forced a smile. "Well... you’re not alone anymore."

You blinked. Then, slowly, you buried your face in his chest.

"...Mark warm," you mumbled.

He chuckled, resting his chin on your head. "Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot."

"Mark," you whispered against his skin, nuzzling into his neck. "You scared?" Mark swallowed thickly. "...A little." You pulled back, blinking at him. "Why?" He exhaled. "Because you’re not human. And you’re... different." You tilted your head. "Different bad?" "...No. Just... different."

You considered that. Then, slowly, you reached out, placing his hand on your slightly rounded stomach. "Not different," you murmured. "Just... mine."

And somehow, despite everything, despite the insane, terrifying reality of his situation— Mark smiled. Because yeah. He was yours.

You were beautiful. Terrifying, yes, but his. You clung to him, kissed him randomly, slept on top of him. And God help anyone who looked at him the wrong way. One time, a girl at the store smiled at Mark. You hissed. Mark had to physically drag you away. "Can you NOT try to commit murder every time a girl breathes near me?" You pouted. "She want mate." Mark sighed. "No, she was just being polite." You narrowed your eyes. "I kill." "NO." Mark was exhausted. Not because of crime-fighting, not because of college, not even because of his dad suddenly being back in his life. No. Because of you. It started one night when Mark woke up to emptiness. You weren’t in the nest. Panic hit him immediately. He checked the kitchen. Not there. The bathroom? Nope. The ceiling? ...Also no. "Goddamn it," he muttered. Mark searched the whole house three times before he heard it—soft breathing. He turned to the darkest corner of his room. Two glowing eyes stared back at him. "Jesus—!" He nearly punched the wall. "What the hell are you doing there?!" You blinked slowly, like a cat caught doing something forbidden. "Hide." Mark exhaled, running a hand down his face. "From what?!" You shrugged. "Feel good." Mark’s eye twitched. "Get out of the shadows." "No." "Get out." "...No." Mark groaned. Debbie had seen some shit. She survived Omni-Man. She survived Viltrumites. But she was not surviving this. She walked into the kitchen one morning, and there you were—perched on the fridge like some kind of cryptid. "...What are you doing?" "Mark say no raw meat," you said blankly. "So I eat where he not see." Debbie sighed. "Please don’t tell me you’re eating it raw again." You tilted your head. "...I no tell." "...Oh my God." Nolan hated you.

He had been sitting at the table, drinking coffee, when Mark asked you something completely innocent. "So… what were you like before?" You perked up. Pregnancy made you talkative, and you loved talking to Mark. "Oh! Had harem. Many males. Many pretty. All do what I say." Mark choked on his drink.

Nolan raised an eyebrow. Debbie just stared. "Harem?..." You nodded proudly. "Yes. Male do all work. Listen to Queen. Bring food. Fight others. Make babies." Mark coughed. "Uh. What happened to them?" You tilted your head. "Eat them." Dead silence. Nolan put his cup down very slowly. Mark paled. "...WHAT?" You hummed. "Some live. But old way… Male weak, we eat. No waste." Mark looked horrified. "...You ate your husbands?" You shrugged. "Yes. But you safe." You patted his head. "No eat you. Like you too much." Nolan looked like he was having a stroke. Debbie got up and left the room. Mark, meanwhile, just buried his face in his hands. "Oh my God." One time, Mark caught you crying in the nest. Immediate panic. He rushed over, pulling you into his arms. "Hey, hey—what’s wrong?!" You sniffled. "Nest too small." Mark blinked. "...Baby isn’t even born yet." You hugged your belly. "Need big nest." "...How big?" You looked at him, eyes deadly serious. "Big as house." He wanted to scream. Mark learned way too much about you. One night, as you laid in the nest together, you played with his fingers and whispered— "I ruin species once." Mark groaned. "Oh God. Not again." "Yes. Make them better. Stronger. Then… too strong." "...You made a species that killed itself?" "Yes." You yawned. "Oops." Mark covered his face. "Mark?" "...Yeah?" "Would you let me change you?" "NO." "...Okay." Mark didn’t sleep that night. One day, Nolan took Mark aside. "Mark. Listen to me. You don’t understand what you’ve done." Mark sighed. "Dad, relax. She’s harmless." "She is a goddamn genetic nightmare!" Mark crossed his arms. "She’s cute." "SHE ATE HER OWN KIND." "She said she wouldn’t eat me!" "THAT IS NOT REASSURING." Mark rolled his eyes. "Look, she chose me. That means I’m safe, right?" Nolan looked pale. "...Mark. If she chose you, that means you are hers. Forever." Mark shrugged. "I don’t see the problem." Nolan grabbed his shoulders. "MARK. SHE’S HAVING YOUR CHILD." Mark smirked. "Yeah. And?" Nolan looked to the sky, as if begging the universe for patience. "...You are the dumbest child I have ever raised."

Once Mark walked into the house after training, exhausted, covered in bruises, and ready to pass out. Instead, he was met with an eerie silence. His stomach dropped. "Babe?" No response. He checked the kitchen. No you. The living room? Empty. The bathroom? He opened the door and— "RAAARGH!" "HOLY SHIT!" Mark fell back as you jumped out from the shadows, completely naked as always, landing on his chest. You grinned. "Surprise." Mark groaned. "You almost gave me a heart attack." You tilted your head. "I no have heart attack." "I’M NOT YOU." You hummed, then leaned down, licking his face. Mark sighed. "Okay. You really need to stop licking me." "No." Despite the absolute insanity, Mark was obsessed with you. You were weird. You were dangerous. You were terrifying. But you were his. And he wouldn’t trade you for anything. Even if you tried to eat his kids.

"You are... happy?" you asked once, tilting your head as you lay across his lap, your long hair pooling onto the floor. Mark blinked, swallowing thickly. "I—I mean, yeah? I think so? It’s just... a lot." You smiled softly, placing a hand over your stomach. Then, like it was the most casual thing in the world, you murmured, "I eat it if it bad." Mark choked. "WHAT?" You blinked. "If baby weak. Bad. I eat." His soul left his body. "YOU CAN’T JUST EAT THE BABY!" You frowned, confused. "Why not?" "BECAUSE—BECAUSE THAT’S NOT—" He buried his face in his hands, groaning. "Oh my god, I can’t believe I got you pregnant." You beamed. "I can."

One night Mark had come home late, exhausted. He expected to find you asleep in your ridiculous nest. Instead, he found you sitting on the balcony, staring at the stars. Quiet. Still. He sat beside you. "Couldn’t sleep?" You shook your head. "Stars nice." Mark hummed. "...Yeah. They are." You glanced at him. "You think babies like stars?" Mark hesitated. Then, slowly, he smiled. "...I think they’ll love them." You brightened, eyes shimmering in the moonlight. Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He was so screwed.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 1. Part 2. Part 4.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[chansdoll]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 방찬ㅤㅤ♡ㅤㅤdon't stopㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] bf!chan x fem!reader . needy!channie , praise kink , tit job , blowjob , dirty talk (kinda) 600w.

this was a request ! i hope you like it.

♡ masterlist

discord link: here

your mouth is already wrapped around him, the heat of it making his thighs tense beneath your hands. chan is falling apart in front of you, head tipped back against the pillows, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. his fingers thread into your hair, not to push, just to hold—like he needs something to keep himself grounded.

he’s already so close, you can tell by the way his hips stutter and the desperate whimpers he tries (and fails) to swallow down. but there’s something else, something about the way his fingers keep twitching against your scalp and how he’s squeezing at your breasts in a way that feels almost… distracted.

you pull back just enough to let him slip from your lips, and when he makes a choked noise of protest, you glance up at him. his face is flushed, sweat dampening his temples, and his teeth are sinking into his lower lip hard enough to turn it white.

“what is it?” you ask, voice teasing as you stroke him lazily. “you keep playing with my tits like you’re thinking about something else.”

chan makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, hands twitching where they still cup your breasts. his eyes flicker away, throat bobbing as he swallows.

“i just…” he hesitates, fingers flexing. “can i—fuck—i wanna…”

you grin, already piecing it together. “you want to fuck my tits?”

his breath hitches. he nods, looking both wrecked and embarrassed at the same time. “please.”

you hum, pressing a kiss to the flushed tip of his cock before shifting up onto your knees. “you could’ve just said so, baby.”

chan groans as you press your breasts together, waiting for him to settle himself between them. his hands hover for a second before he gives in, pushing them tighter around his cock, and the moment he thrusts up, his head falls back with a shuddering moan.

“fuck, that’s—shit, that’s so good,” he pants, voice breathy and strained.

at first, he lets you set the pace, slow and teasing, just to watch him unravel. but when you glance up at him, eyes full of mischief, and murmur, “you’re being so good for me,” something in him snaps.

his grip tightens, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your breasts, and his hips jerk forward with a desperate sort of urgency. his soft whimpers turn into low, wrecked growls, and suddenly, he’s the one in control, chasing his pleasure with reckless abandon.

“fuck—keep them just like that—don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—” his voice is rough now, laced with authority, and the way he looks down at you, pupils blown and jaw clenched, sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs.

you match his rhythm, pushing up to meet each of his thrusts, making it even tighter, even messier. his breath catches in his throat, a strangled moan ripping from his lips as his cock slides slick and hot between your breasts. his fingers flex against your skin, and his whole body tenses—his abs tightening, his thighs trembling beneath you.

“shit—fuck, i’m gonna—” his voice breaks, a desperate, ruined sound, and then he’s gone, head thrown back, body shuddering violently as he spills between your breasts. his grip on you tightens, like he’s trying to ground himself through the pleasure, moaning your name like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

his chest heaves, his entire body still trembling as he comes down, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. there’s something wrecked in his gaze, something dazed and adoring all at once. he lets out a breathless laugh, rubbing a shaky hand over his face before looking back at you, lips parted as he tries to catch his breath.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you smirk, wiping some of the mess from your chest with a teasing glint in your eyes. “you love it.”

his gaze darkens, jaw clenching, and when he reaches for you again, you know he’s not nearly done with you yet.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @geni-627 @bbokvhs @wavetohannie

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[aajjks]

The Shower Show (m)

synopsis. A lot happens when you find out that your horny housemate is taking a shower in your bathroom and the worst way to find out is when you walk in on him naked in the shower.

genre: 18+, cringe, comedy, mature, crack

pairing: roommate jungkook x female!reader

warnings: shôwêr wârs, rôômâtês tûrñêd châôtîc fôês, jûñgkôôk bêîñg â flîrty lîttlê shît, tôwêl drâmâ, bîg d sélf-hypê, înâpproprîâtê shôwêr sêx rêfêrêñcês, dîrtÿ jôkês, thrôwîñg shâmpôô âs â wêâpôñ, sêxûâl têñsîôñ bât nó shôwêr shârîñg (fôr ñôw).

note. Besties he’s here to torture you again.. I bet you’ve missed him, but let’s see share your feedback. Please give me everything. ENJOY. I just want to thank JK for this GIF because it fits so well 😭 also GIF credits to owner. I found this on Pinterest.

•••

The bathroom door is open.

The shower is running.

The universe is testing your patience.

You stand frozen in the doorway, towel slung over your shoulder, brain cells malfunctioning as you process what’s happening.

Jungkook. Your roommate. Your personal headache. Your walking HR violation.

In your shower.

Naked.

Steam curls around his body, clinging to the obscene lines of his back, his unholy shoulders flexing as he runs shampoo through his hair, completely unaware of your presence.

Until he hums.

Not just any hum.

A deep, throaty, sinful hum.

Like he’s enjoying himself too much. Like he’s two seconds away from making the type of noise that would get this entire building evicted.

Your eye twitches.

“JEON JUNGKOOK.”

He jumps. Actually yelps. And then—he turns.

You see everything.

Then you see nothing because your soul leaves your body.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes, completely shameless, absolutely evil. His hair is soaked, water dripping from his stupidly pretty face, rolling down his obnoxiously chiseled chest and lower—

You look lower.

Mistake.

The steam is not covering enough.

Jungkook grins.

“Hey,” he says, like this is normal. Like he’s not standing there, dick swinging, looking like a Greek god sculpted by the hands of sin itself.

Your brain malfunctions.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN MY SHOWER?!”

Jungkook just shrugs. “Yours has better pressure.”

Better pressure.

Better pressure.

Better fucking pressure.

Like that is a valid reason to traumatize you before 8 AM.

“Jungkook,” you seethe, gripping the doorframe so tight it might snap. “Get. Out.”

He pouts. “Babe, don’t be like that.”

“WE ARE NOT DATING.”

Jungkook tilts his head. Smirks. Drops his voice.

“But you’ve thought about it.”

Your soul glitches.

“I— WHAT?!”

“I mean,” he hums, so casual, so dangerous, “you’ve definitely thought about me naked before. So this is, like, a dream come true, right?”

Your sanity explodes.

“Jungkook,” you hiss, “the only dream I’ve ever had about you is me strangling you to death.”

He grins. “Kinky.”

“THAT IS NOT—;”

“You should’ve told me earlier, baby. I would’ve let you tie me up.”

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.”

Jungkook just laughs, shaking his head, completely unbothered, completely insufferable.

And the actual worst part?

He doesn’t even stop showering. He just turns back around, casually flexing, running his hands through his hair like he’s doing an audition for a porn parody of an Old Spice commercial.

Your life flashes before your eyes.

“Damn,” Jungkook sighs, glancing over his shoulder, grinning so hard it hurts. “Wanna hand me the body wash, babe? You can get real up close and personal.”

“I WILL THROW IT AT YOUR HEAD.”

“Mm.” He smirks. “Do it. I like it rough.”

You black out.

The next thing you know, a bottle of shampoo is flying across the room.

Jungkook dodges. Laughs. “Ooh, feisty.”

You are going to prison.

“You’re seriously not leaving?” you demand.

Jungkook just leans against the wall, completely naked, completely hardheaded, and possibly just hard at this point.

“Why would I?” he smirks, tilting his hips slightly, watching your eyes flicker down involuntarily.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You looked again.

And he knows it.

Jungkook grins. “Wanna touch it?”

You make a strangled noise.

“I—EXCUSE ME?!”

“What?” He grins wider, stretching, flexing, committing war crimes against your sanity. “It’s really nice. People say I should charge.”

Your brain ceases to function.

“I—WHAT PEOPLE?!”

Jungkook shrugs, completely casual. “Y’know. The lucky ones.”

Your life is over.

You should leave. You should run.

But you’re too furious, too flustered, too weak in the knees to even move.

Jungkook notices. Oh, he notices.

“Damn,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your very obvious reaction, his voice dropping even lower. “You’re really into this, huh?”

You sputter.

“I—NO?!”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Babe, you’re standing there watching me like I’m the main course at a five-star restaurant.”

Your soul leaves your body.

“JUNGKOOK.”

“You wanna ride me so bad—”

“I WILL KILL YOU.”

He laughs. Laughs. Like this is fun for him. Like he’s living his best life while you suffer.

And then. Oh.

Oh.

The real war begins.

Jungkook leans back. Smirks. And then drops the bomb.

“You know,” he purrs, so cocky, so smug, so filthy,

“shower sex is scientifically proven to be good for your health.”

Your entire body malfunctions.

“EXCUSE ME?!”

“It’s efficient,” he winks. “Gets you clean and gets you off. Two birds, one very lucky stone.”

Your soul ascends.

“I—WHAT THE HELL—;”

Jungkook tuts, shaking his head. “Damn, no wonder you’re so grumpy all the time.”

You malfunction.

“Y’know,” he continues, completely evil, completely Jungkook, “I could totally help you out.”

Your brain combusts.

“YOU ARE A DEMON.”

“Or,” he grins, so sinful, so smug, “I’m just really good at what I do.”

You cannot breathe.

Jungkook tilts his head, all fake innocence, all filthy intent.

“You’re curious now, aren’t you?”

You launch the showerhead at his face.

Bestie, you want filthy? You’re getting filthy.

“OUT.”

You’re dripping wet, the bathroom is steaming up, and Jungkook? Still standing there, looking entirely too entertained.

“In a second,” he shrugs, leaning against the doorframe like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Now.” You point at the door with all the authority you can muster while wrapped in a damp towel.

But Jungkook? He just grins.

“Damn, babe, you’re really gonna throw me out when I’m standing here, fully clothed, knowing damn well you just got all wet and needy—”

“Jungkook.”

“—And naked.”

You whip a bottle of conditioner at his head. He dodges, but barely.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re in denial.” He tilts his head, all faux innocence.

“You sure you don’t wanna share? It’s an efficient way to save water. And time.”

“GET OUT.”

He scoffs. “You act like I haven’t seen tits before.”

“Not mine.”

“Yet.”

You stare. “Jungkook. I will kill you.”

He bites his lip like he’s thinking. “Damn, at least let me die with a good visual.”

You grab the showerhead.

“Okay, okay..” he laughs, hands up, but his eyes are shamelessly raking over your barely-covered figure. “You don’t have to be shy, babe. We’re roommates. We share everything.”

“Not this.”

“C’mon,” he grins. “It’s not my fault I’m built for shower sex.”

You gape. “Built for—what the fuck?”

“I mean, you’ve seen my thighs.” He gestures to himself, completely dead serious.

“Perfect for bracing you against the wall, if you think about it.”

Your brain is short-circuiting.

“Oh my fucking goodness.”

“And don’t even get me started on my stamina,” he continues, absolutely shameless. “I could make you—;”

The shampoo bottle goes flying.

Jungkook DIPS.

He books it out of the bathroom, laughing his ass off, knowing damn well you’re about two seconds away from actual murder.

Fucker.

[tonycries]

Exes who…

Synopsis. Showing up to a party looking like that. What's a man to do when he just can't stay away?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, desperate boys, unprotected sex, NSFW, cunnilingus, pet names (my girl, babe), swearing.

Word count. 1.0k

A/N. This was supposed to be shorter, sorry lovelies. Art by @_3aem on Twitter.

Exes who know they should stay away, but one whiff of your perfume at some dingy party and he’s dragging you to the nearest bathroom. 

He’s pathetic, he knows, but right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck as he spreads you on that bathroom counter and dives face-first into your dripping cunt.

Greedily lapping at your juices, the taste of your pussy on his tongue was so addictive. Fuck, he missed this so much. 

He feels feral. Groaning lowly at the tug of your hand on his hair which hurts so good. He flicks his tongue harshly over your throbbing clit. More. He needs more.

“Hah- Fuck- Feels so good!”

“Yeah, jus’ like that, my girl.”

Making out with your pussy was almost as addictive as fucking you. You were a drug he couldn’t let up - he couldn’t get enough of. 

Nose-deep in your cunt, he tastes you over and over the way he imagined when he fucked his fist on those lonely nights.

Fingers digging into your thighs, he moves your legs so that they wrap around his head, bringing him impossibly closer to your hot core. He breathes over it - teasing - mouth watering at the sight of it getting wetter just for him.

He’s pretty sure your sinful moans and the squelching sounds could be heard above the overplayed pop on the other side of the door. Good, let them hear. It’ll teach that scrub outside that was eyeing you a thing or two about what he can’t have.

“Hngh- Baby, I’m gonna-”

Once you cum around his tongue, hips bucking wildly and clit catching on his nose as you ride his face, he thinks he’d be happy to die here if it was in-between your legs. 

A final peck to your quivering cunt - not a goodbye, no, he’ll be seeing this pretty pussy again - but a prelude for what was to come. 

Amidst heated kisses, he lets you taste yourself on his tongue as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. Fucking trousers - they come with too many fucking buttons. He wants to feel you now. Have your wet cunt pulsing around his painfully hard cock as he gets drunk off of your pretty moans.

So he does.

He only has his flushed tip kissing your folds, but already feels like he’ll fucking pass out. He teases your entrance - willing himself to wait like he did all these past few months. This won’t be the last time - he knows - but he sure as hell is going to treat it like it is. 

“Tell me what you want, my sweet girl.” he huffs out, eyes boring into your dazed ones. Beautiful. You were always so beautiful.

“Please. I need you in me so bad.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Please, baby.”

Your lustful whimpers are what makes him snap. You were going to be the death of him. 

Fully sheathing himself in you, he fucks your pussy with a merciless cadence that has your nails digging into his shoulder at how painfully good you were stretched. Tight. So tight.

He feels himself losing his sanity as your cunt struggles to adjust to his size, walls clenching down on his throbbing erection. It’s animalistic - the way your pussy tries to suck him back in when he pulls out fully, only to ram inside you again.

“Shit- Pussy made jus’ for me. Only me.” he moans. 

One strong arm steadying himself on the counter, and the other with an almost-painful grip on your hip, he keeps up a pace that has his abs burning. Heavy balls stinging as they smack relentlessly against your ass. 

He bites down on your exposed neck to muffle the strangled groans ripping from his throat at the ethereal feel of your snug cunt - he needs to better drink in your fucked out yelps at his harsh thrusts.

His dick twitches inside when you start whining out his name as you reach closer and closer to your climax. He could do this forever. You were heaven on Earth.

In his hazy mind, he distinctly registers the jingle of the doorknob. Annoying fuckers can’t take a hint.

“Fuck off.” he barks out, “I’m fuckin’ my future wife in here.”

His heart clenches as you push your face into the crook of his neck in embarrassment. Pulling you closer to him in response - strings of slick and precum connecting you to him - he hopes whoever’s there up above strikes him down if he doesn’t wife you up. 

Ah…he’s so close.

There isn’t even a hair’s breadth between your two bodies as he fucks into you mindlessly, not even a trace of thought for the poor soul on the other side of the door. He’s got more important things to do - you.

“Baby- Shit. I’m so close.” your exhausted mewls are music to his ears. His balls tighten and cock aches for release. 

Teeth clenched and brows furrowed at how your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly, he grits out “Me too, my girl. Me too.”

Your legs tighten around his toned waist as your cunt clamps down on his thick length - sending both of you over the edge. 

He sees stars as he cums. Thick ropes painting your walls white and shaky whimpers of your name leaving his mouth like a prayer. You really were heaven on Earth.

Cum drips down the side when he slows down to shallow grinds of his hips, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into you. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he pulls his sensitive cock out of you.

With a long finger, he gathers the cum now slowly dripping out of you. Pooling it at his fingertips before popping them into his mouth, half-lidded eyes looking right into your fucked out ones. He moans around them as if tasting a delicacy, elated at the way your mouth drops in disbelief at his lewd act. 

He feels barely lucid as he snaps your panties back on you with a devilish grin and tucks himself back into his trousers. 

Unlocking the door to pointed looks he couldn’t care less about, he can’t keep his eyes off the alluring curve of your hips as you walk away back to the party - pretending like his cum isn’t making a mess of your panties right now. 

Dick twitching to life again, he pulls out his phone - unblocking you once more. 

– GOJO, Choso, Geto, Suna, ATSUMU, KUROO, Oikawa, Sakusa, JEAN, EREN

A/N. …Gimme a min I’m cooking up something for Suguru…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nerdlvr]

✩ᰔ cockwarming

(MDNI)

smut with some feelings , jaemin and female reader , fwb jaemin though not mentioned , they both secretly like each other , cockwarming ofc , LOTS of petnames , possessive jaemin , you sat on his dick facing him on the couch btw , requested here !

when you had asked jaemin to try cockwarming with him he didn't think he'd enjoy it this much,

but he should've known by the way his cock twitched in his pants as you ducked your head, your request coming out as a soft strangled stutter off your lips.

how could he say no to your sweet little, "please jaem?"

.

"jae-"

"shh princess, it's okay, i got you." jaemin's hand was hot against your back, fingers running along your spine to soothe your tense body.

"s-so full, feels, feel good jaem."

he could feel your slick running down his balls, cock stuffed deep inside your pulsing heat. "i know baby, so good. feel you squeezing around me, like my cock that much hm?"

you nodded against his neck, breath fanning against his exposed skin as soft pants left your lips. he could feel your body heating up, skin getting sticky with sweat.

"want me to move angel? can fuck you real good right now, you just have to ask."

your grip on his shoulders tightened as you leaned closer to his chest, nipples rubbing against his smooth skin. "n-no, like this, like being close to you jaem- oh fuck."

he threw his head back as his length pulsed inside of you, your words making his stomach tighten. his hands ran up and down your body, stopping to rub your ass.

he sucked in a breath as you gently rocked against him, "like me close hm? like feeling me deep inside this pussy baby, who else fills you up this good?"

he knew he was pushing the line, but as you clenched around him, a soft just you jaem, he knew tonight was his night. "hm baby? only i can make you feel like this right? pussy was made for me- fuck"

you squeezed tighter around him soft whines leaving your lips, "yes, yes jaem, only you, made for you baby."

his hands found their way into your hair, gently pulling at the roots to make you look at him, "yeah baby? all mine, look at this pretty little face-"

a wild grin spread on his lips as one of his hands traveled down to hold your jaw, "only i get to see you like this, begging to be stuffed, only me." you struggled to nod against his grasp, biting your lip to hide the pathetic whine threatening to slip past your lips.

he let go of you with a chuckle, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you towards his chest. you ran your hands up his chest to cup his face. your voice was soft, shy blush dusting your cheeks, "and you're mine? yeah?"

he moved your hands from his face, leaning forward to plant a quick peck on your lips, "not even a question angel, yours always."

your giggles filled the room, bodies still latched together in heat.

"wait, wait, wait."

you covered your mouth to hide your giggles.

"wait, shit- you're squeezing me every time you laugh- stop- stop laughing it's not funny- oh my."

you threw your head back, core clenching around his length as you giggled louder, jaemin's face twisting into a half laugh, half moan, "you little-"

he rutted his hips up, cock pushing deeper into your heat. your giggles died in your throat as you gripped onto the back of the couch, head falling onto his shoulder,

"let's see how funny it is when i fuck you senseless- oh you like that huh? oh baby you're gonna wish you never asked me to try this."

what you really wished, is that you had asked him sooner.