#HE HAS CONSUMED MY EVERY THOUGHT SEND HELP

[jameslongforjimshortforgabriel]

sometimes I can still hear his voice... (ooh ooh ooh wah aaah ah oooh ooh ooh wah aaaaãäąah ooh ooh oh wah aaaAAAAAHHH)

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 9)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: mommy kink, rough sex, bondage, spanking, oral, overstimulation

Taglist: @stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos

You don’t hear from Agatha after that for a day and a half. 

You can’t help but feel like you did something wrong. Was it making her pull over on the side of the road because your needy cunt was begging to be filled by her cock? Was it taking her hand with yours and holding it for the rest of the drive to get pizza? She didn’t seem to mind in either moment. 

Nothing else had happened Monday night once you two had come back to the house. She had given you a chaste kiss in the car, telling you to behave, and you had. The hug you’d given her before you left for the night was the picture of appropriateness. 

Everything had been fine, so why was she icing you out like this? 

It’s sixth period on Wednesday when you finally get a response from her. 

You’re sitting in Biology, textbook standing straight on your desk to hide your phone, staring at your messages with Agatha. 

You’ve sent probably close to thirty texts since Monday night, all of them going unanswered. You were confused at first, then angry, then sad, these emotions spilling into your various messages. 

I had a really nice time with you tonight ;) 

Hey, everything okay? 

Agatha what the fuck 

I’m sorry for whatever I did, please just talk to me. 

You’re wondering if you should send another one now when suddenly, the bubble with three dots pops up. 

She’s typing. 

For the first time in a day and a half, she’s not actively ignoring you. You hold your breath, almost afraid to keep watching. 

Sorry I haven’t replied. Come over after school? 

No explanation for the radio silence. You feel bitter and debate not answering just so she gets some kind of semblance of the hell you’ve been going through. 

But it’s Agatha and she has you under her spell. You can’t imagine not obeying.

Okay. You type back. 

You get a gut feeling that tells you something is wrong. 

Fuck. Did your dad find out about you two? The thought sends your heart racing and nausea climbs into your throat. 

You tell yourself that surely your dad would’ve said something to you if he had found out that you and his wife were fucking. This rational thought helps a little bit but you know that something isn’t right. So if it’s not that, then what is it?

You completely pour over every single interaction you’ve had with Agatha and this consumes you until the last bell of the day rings. You don’t even remember walking across the hall to seventh period but you clearly must have. 

On the drive to your dad’s house, a pit grows in your stomach with every turn that brings you closer to an inevitable confrontation. You absolutely hate conflict.  

You take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. Your palms are sweaty and your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. You remind yourself to breathe. 

Agatha opens the door and moves to the side to let you in. “Hey,” she says quietly. 

And that sets you off. “‘Hey?’ That’s all you’re going to say? I haven’t heard from you since Monday! I texted you like a million times and you say ‘hey?’ What the actual fuck, Agatha?” 

Pain flashes in her eyes and then it’s gone. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Things were happening, I was busy.” 

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Were you also busy when you fucked me in your bed? In your car? When I went down on you on the couch and made you cum harder than my dad ever did?” You wish you hadn’t brought up all those memories because now you’re angry and turned on. 

At the mention of your dad, she grabs your wrist with a bruising grip and drags you upstairs. She brings you into her room and shoves you against the wall with unnecessary roughness, her lips catching yours in a harsh kiss. She bites your lip so hard that your mouth fills with blood and you hate how hot you find it when she licks it off her own lips. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, seeing the black glint in her eyes. Something is off. 

But she doesn’t answer, only slides her hand up to clasp your throat. Your breath hitches in spite of yourself and her eyes darken. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes,” you say without thinking. You know you shouldn’t let her touch you until she explains herself, but you are too desperate to feel her hands on you again. Her face lights up in a wicked way and she leads you to the bed and shoves you down so your stomach is on the bed, ass in the air. She flips your skirt up and you shiver at the cold air on your bottom. 

You can almost hear her grin as she slides her fingers up and down your covered slit. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve become from her practically manhandling you. 

“Good,” she says and her hand cracks down on your ass. You gasp and lurch forward on the bed, the sting clearing all the thoughts in your head. 

“Fuck!” 

Her hand tangles in your hair and she pulls you up so your back is now flush against her front. “Count for me,” she whispers lowly in your ear and then lets you go so you fall back onto the bed. 

“One,” you say weakly. 

She spanks you again and your hands grapple with the bed sheets. 

“Two.” 

Again. 

“Three.” The pain has started bleeding into pleasure and you begin slowly rocking your hips against the bed to release some of the tension building between your legs. 

“Ah, ah,” she tuts, hands grabbing your waist, holding you still. Her fingers dig into the skin and you inhale sharply. “Don’t move.” 

“Mommy,” you beg, panting for more. You have to tense your muscles so you don’t start grinding again after she slaps you again. “Four.” 

“Almost done, sweetheart,” she coos, rubbing her hands on your ass cheeks, soothing the burn. Agatha literally has to peel your underwear off because of how wet you are. She then spreads your thighs even more and takes in the sight of you. “Oh, baby, you like this a lot, don’t you? You’re dripping onto the bed.”

You keen and nod your head pathetically. 

“Last one. You’re being such a good girl for mommy.” 

You arch your back in preparation, but this time, she smacks her hand straight on your pussy, fingers landing directly on your clit. You cum from just the bit of stimulation with a guttural moan and she watches in awe as your body contorts. 

“Five,” you say weakly, once you’ve come down from your wave of pleasure, just in case she wants you too. She laughs and flips you over, not giving you any time to recover before burying her head between your legs. Your back shoots off the bed and your hands immediately find purchase in her hair when her tongue gives you a filthy lick but she stops. 

“No touching,” she warns. 

“But, mommy!” you protest. 

She stands up and walks to her nightstand, your cunt cold against the air now that she’s not near you. 

Agatha pulls something out and walks back over to you. “Move to the top of the bed,” she instructs. You do without hesitation. She climbs on top of you, showing you the two lines of rope that were behind her back. You whimper involuntarily. “Are you okay with this?” 

“Yes,” you rasp, too quickly and she chuckles evilly. She leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips and then she makes quick work of tying you to the bed banisters. 

“Not too tight?” She checks and you move your wrists experimentally. You feel like with the right amount of force, you could free yourself if you needed to. 

“They’re good,” you say, voice clouded with lust. “Can you–” And then you stop, unsure if it’s okay to ask. 

“What do you want, baby girl?” Her fingers stroke your thighs reassuringly. 

“Canyoufuckmewithyourcock,” you spit out. She raises an eyebrow, silently prodding you to slow down. You try again, forcing yourself to pause after each word. “Can you fuck me with your cock?” 

She groans out loud. “Such a good girl, using your words like that. Since you took my spanking so well, I think I can arrange that.” She goes back to the same drawer where the restraints were and pulls out her harness and strap. She shimmies out of her pants and hastily gets ready for you. Your hips have started undulating ever so slightly in anticipation. 

She climbs back on the bed, rubs her strap-on against your opening to lube it up, and then slowly pushes in. You immediately feel better with the fullness, your anxiety at Agatha’s weird silence the last few days ebbing away. She gives you a second to adjust to the size and then starts fucking you like an unhinged woman. 

She snaps her hips with every fast thrust, pulling a strangled noise out of you each time. You’re both panting with the exertion and one of her hands finds your throat again. She squeezes and your cunt clenches around her cock, making it harder for her to move. 

“Mommy, fuck, yes,” you sob, the pleasure making you lightheaded. All of your senses are completely overridden by her. All you can feel is Agatha and you wish more than anything you could touch her. But being tied up and completely at her mercy is driving you absolutely crazy. “I’m so close.” 

You can feel her smirking against your skin where she’s leaving bite marks and then soothing the spots with her lips. She keeps fucking you just right. 

“Don’t cum yet,” she says, voice gruff. You whine and she grabs your chin with the hand that was around your throat and turns it roughly so you’re making eye contact with her. “Who do you belong to?” 

She picks up the intensity of her thrusts, if possible. You’re teetering on the edge. “You, mommy, only you!” You wail. 

“Good girl,” she purrs. “Cum for me.” As if you’d be able to stop yourself. 

Your second orgasm hits you much more intensely and you can’t stop chanting her name as she fucks you through it. Your mind goes blank for a second in the bliss. 

She pulls out slowly, leaving a gaping emptiness inside you. It doesn’t stay that way for long, though, because after she takes the strap and harness off and throws them across the room, Agatha moves down the bed and thrust her tongue into you. She sucks your clit into her mouth and you gasp at the stimulation. It’s too much as she eats you out with renewed fervor.  

“Mommy, fuck,” you mewl and strain your wrists against the ties. “It hurts.” 

She pauses for a moment to look up at you through hooded eyelashes. “You can give me one more, can’t you?” 

You nod meekly and she grins, diving back between your folds. It doesn’t take much for her to coax you back to the edge and a few minutes later, you’re crying out her name when you cum for the third time, her hot mouth knowing exactly what to do to make you scream. 

You wince as she gives you one last lick and then she climbs up to pull you into a deep kiss. Her tongue moves into your mouth with raw hunger and you go to put your hands around her before you remember that you’re tied up. Agatha notices that you’re struggling and smirks before untying you. You move your stiff arms around to get the blood flow back. 

“How was that?” Agatha murmurs. 

“Really good,” you answer honestly. Your brow furrows. “Are you okay? You seem a little off.” 

She doesn’t say anything, just lies down on her back on the bed. She motions at you and you cuddle against her body, head resting on her shoulder. Her arm comes around you and you draw soft patterns on her stomach, enjoying the feeling of her warm skin. 

You almost forget that you asked her anything and you’re about to drift off to sleep when she whispers, “Your father is having an affair.” 

[muniimyg]

6.5: baby 》 series m.list

note: oh my gawd ,, my friends !!! i’m so sorry for the wait! i was in my finals szn & tryna figure things out w my courses for my next sem … meanwhile ,, this entire ch has been brewing and consuming my mind like crazy! hope u guys enj ,, pls pls pls lmk what u guys think !!! i’m so glad i can finally push this ch out so lets fcking tawk abt it 😫

warnings: making out, mini fingering moment, raw sex, grinding, thigh humping ? ass slapping, pussy eating, 69, doggy style, cum shots & filming / sex tape vibes……… dirty talk / name calling <3 lol !!!

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @ellesalazar @bloopkook

//

Jungkook was afraid of this. 

From the moment he first made you laugh—oh, he knew he was fucked. Something inside him twisted and turned until his mind found ease from your very touch. Then, suddenly and all at once, every fiber in his body surrendered. Though he didn’t do the best job, he still tried. He tried his best to resist you and the feelings his heart felt. As his heart found rest with yours—it was then he realized that it was no use.

He was addicted to you. 

It’s like he’s a child all over again, tasting his favourite chocolate bar for the first time. It’s like he’s a timid high schooler trying weed and getting so high, that he’s already making plans to do this again tomorrow. Or, it’s like he’s a man falling in love for the first time. 

For real. 

No bullshit, just the plain and boring truth. No, he wasn’t only addicted to you… Jungkook is falling in love with—

“Cute room.” You step into his room and shut the door behind you. The room is dim, only lit with his warm lamp light and a few candles placed around. It looked romantic and for some reason, it did not scare you. If anything, it entices you. 

He was so thoughtful. 

Before you can look around any further, you feel Jungkook’s body embrace yours. He wraps himself around you, holding you tight by your waist and digging his face into the crook of your neck. He kisses you behind your ear, causing you to giggle from the ticklish feeling. At this moment, you take in the scent of his freshly washed hair.

Is it odd to say this has to be one of your favourite scents? You’ve grown to like it. If anything, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed when you see him and his hair isn’t a little damp. Something about him being freshly showered makes your heart race. His damp hair is a symbol of his priorities… And that priority is you. Not to mention, wet hair has got to be the most romantic look any boy could have… You’ve always told yourself that as a child. Now, here you are: standing in a room with a damp-haired boy clinging to you. 

Nothing makes you happier than this. 

“I think Yuna saw me—mmfphh,” your words are interrupted by Jungkook’s lips. He greets you with a peck before continuing to kiss you like it’s his last dying wish. 

His hands find their way to your hair, cupping your jaw as you kiss him back. Your lips sync together as if it’s been a lifetime since you two last did this.

Only it wasn’t—it hasn’t been.

It feels like it though. 

“Miss me much?” you ask, breaking away from the intense kiss. He leans his forehead against yours, wasting no time and letting his hands travel inside your shirt. You feel his fingers trace over your bra, quickly finding the clasp and undoing it with his one hand.

Impressive, you must admit.

Should you be mad at that? 

Jungkook smirks, “fuck around and find out.”

A small laugh escapes your lips as you raise your arms. He lifts your shirt over your head, leaving your top exposed. Your bra is barely hanging on and Jungkook can’t keep his eyes off your breasts. 

“How about a hi first?”

“Hi ___,” he obliges. Then, he taps his fingers together, bringing them close to his lips. Like a menace, he grins. “Well, well, well… What do we have here?” 

Playfully, you roll your eyes at him and respond by taking the bra off yourself. You fling it at his face, just enough for it to land perfectly on top of his hair. One cup covers his face and he takes a breath in. 

“Smells like you.”

“Smells like my boob sweat, you pervert.”

He takes the bra off from his face and licks his lips at the sight of your bare chest. “I can keep it in my pants… You on the other hand… A few nights ago? Drunk? You were coming on to me. Hard.”

You huff. “I was drunk.”

“You also said you’d hold my hand… Without arguing with me.”

“What? That doesn’t count. I was drunk.” Your words come out fast. It almost sounds defensive and harsh. “Jungkook, I was drunk.”

“Oh, I know.” He shrugs, taking the high road. “No need to be so uptight about it. It’s okay to hold hands, you know? The same way it’s okay to be obsessed with me, baby… This is a safe space.” 

The audacity! More than that, you wince at the pet name. “Who the fuck is baby?”

Jungkook ignores your question and takes a step closer to you. As he does so, he takes his shirt off. He then tosses his shirt to the side of his room where his laundry hamper is. As you turn your attention back to him, your eyes fall on his pelvis area as he begins to undo his pants. Then, he pauses when he notices your gaze. 

“Do it for me.”

You raise a brow. 

“Pardon?”

“Take my pants off,” he points at the floor. “Get on your knees and take my pants off.”

For a split second, you hesitate. Earlier tonight, as you made your way over, you thought about what kind of mood he must’ve been in. You’ve seen Jungkook happy, irritated, tired, and even hangry… But horny in a needy and demanding way? Boarder-line desperate? Never. His doe eyes and goofy attitude can’t fool you… You’ve wondered about this. 

You’ve waited for this side of him. 

Perhaps it was your curiosity that answered for you because, without breaking eye contact, you fell to your knees. Jungkook’s gaze lowers as you bring your hands to his crotch. You palm him, feeling his cock and gulping at how hard it already was. Faintly, you hear him snicker at your submissiveness. 

He likes this. 

Slowly, you undo his pants and tug them down. In his Calvins, his raging boner greets you. Just as you slip your thumbs in between the fabric to pull them down, Jungkook grabs your wrists and pulls you to stand up. You follow his lead, confused. 

“I thought I was going to—”

Jungkook undoes your cargo pants buttons and tugs them down. He gives you no warning as he licks his thumb and slips his hand inside your panties. You feel his wet thumb rubbing your clit. Your breath hitches as he draws circles and then adds another finger into the mix. He deepens his rubbing, slowly but surely dragging his fingers around your folds. Jungkook then shifts his hand placement, quickly inserting a finger inside of you. The shock sends shivers down your spine and completely takes your focus. He adds another finger and it earns a lewd moan from you. 

“Ooh my god—”

Then, he stops. 

He takes his fingers out and examines the wetness. Your eyebrows furrow together, completely unsure of the pace he’s going at. How long would this last? Why couldn’t he just continue?

“Sorry, were you enjoying that?” Jungkook asks innocently.

It’s official: you hate him.

Dumbfounded, you shoot him a glare. “Maybe I was. Who knows? I wasn’t finished.”

Jungkook exchanges with laughter. “Finished? Five minutes in? Pookie, you give me way too much credit.”

You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at how cocky he is. Truth be told, this suited him. The nasty comments and the edging… It feels like this should’ve happened before. It’s hard to explain but he just looks so comfortable with control. In a more unexplainable way—you can’t help but feel comfortable with it.

“Come on,” he nods towards the bed. “If you wanna finish, you should do it sitting on my face.”

His words make your tummy flip. Was he serious? The texts he sent prior to this.. You were so sure it was all talk. The most you expected was a quickie and a few nasty exchanges… But this? You don’t know what to think.

Jungkook lays on his bed first, gesturing you to follow. 

“Are you serious?”

With a flat tone, he answers: “Why would I joke about this?”

To be completely honest, he was a little offended you weren’t taking him seriously. Of course, he’s serious about eating you out. This was no joke to him.

Crossing your arms, you look at him in disbelief. “You want to do everything you texted me? Jungkook, there are people downstairs. Our friends are downstairs and—”

“I know,” he groans. “That’s why you need to shut the fuck up and sit on my face already. The longer we take, the more they will wonder where you are. Didn’t you say Yuna saw you come up here?”

“Y-yeah,” you recall. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

He hits his bed with his fist like a child. “Why do you always deprive me?”

You gasp at his dramatic question. “Deprive you? It’s just my body, Jungkook. Do you crave pussy this bad?”

Tilting his head, he looks at you softly. “You,” he breathes. “I crave you.”

A silence falls between you two, followed by a heavy sigh. 

“Look, I’m never going to make you do things with me if you don’t want to. I’m only demanding tonight because I just—I really need you right now. If you want to go downstairs and find Yuna, go ahead. We can do this another time… I just thought you missed me just as much as I missed you.”

“Gaslighter.”

He chuckles, attempting to hide the smile on his face as you get on the bed. Moving closer to him, he watches your hands roam from his abdomen to his jaw. Placing chante kisses on him, he stutters his words. “I’m s-serious. It’s fine. It’s just pussy.”

“But it’s my pussy.”

“True,” Jungkook agrees, leaning back and watching you place yourself on his thigh. “So fucking true, pookie.”

You lean in to kiss him. His lips chase yours when you pull away, only to grind your hips. He feels your wet pussy on his thigh and he feels like he could choke on air. It’s torture watching you throw your head back at the sensation. You can’t help but embrace the feeling of relief.

“You’re not finishing on my thigh,” he mutters, placing his hands on your waist. He lifts you just enough for you to get off. Laughing, he squiggles down the bed so you have more space. Before you know it, you’re making yourself comfortable on his face. As you straddle yourself on, you make a confession.

“W-wait, I’m scared! I don’t want to suffocate you—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jungkook snaps, unable to watch his tone. “This is literally all I’ve ever wanted so you need to shut the fuck up and let me have this.”

“Okay, okay,” you snicker lightly, as you sink into his face. “But seriously! I don’t want to crush—“

You don’t even finish your sentence. You’re cut off by the feeling of Jungkook’s hot breath against your pussy. Then, you feel his nose against your clit and the texture of his tongue brush against your folds. The feeling shocks you, causing you to lift yourself out of reflex. Just as quickly, Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you to stay. 

“J-Jungkook, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You can and you will, got it?” he hisses. “Hold the fucking headboard if you need to. You aren’t going anywhere until your cum is on my tongue.”

You do as he says.

You lean forward, grabbing a hold of his headboard for support. 

Just as those thoughts immerse your mind, you feel him dragging his tongue across your folds. It begins slow and soft. It feels like kitten licks and if the word cute was a feeling… This was it. Then, he flicks his tongue and it’s everything but cute from here on out. You want to jolt, but you keep what Jungkook said to you in mind. Besides, there is no place in the world you would rather be at than here. Jungkook eats you out like he’s a starved man. He doesn’t miss an inch of your pussy and tightens his grip around your thighs each time your body twitches. 

Biting your bottom lip, you hold in your moan. 

He feels so good. His tongue against your wet pussy feels so fucking good—it’s almost comical how you were so hesitant to do this. Soon enough, you let go of the headboard and search for his hands. Like second nature, you and Jungkook intertwine your fingers together and finally, you close your eyes and give in. 

You can have this.

You can have him.

“Y-you feel so good,” you confess shyly. “You make me feel so good.”

Jungkook smiles against your pussy as you begin to roll your hips against his face. He knew it would take some time, but you’d eventually come around. No pun intended. 

“C-close,” you utter in between heavy exhales. “Jungkook—I’m close! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

You hold his hand tighter and push your weight on him harder. You feel him quicken the pace as he licks you and—holy shit.

Are those stars?

You cum.

Messy, wet, and hard. 

Jungkook moans against your pussy, taking a moment to bite your inner thigh. Your legs practically shake, causing you to completely rest your weight on his face. After a few moments, you gather whatever energy you have left and shift your position. You turn your body around and line yourself with his cock. Jungkook stretches his neck out to figure out what you’re doing. Before he can comment, your lips are already placing kisses on his dick. Your fingers dig into his Calvins and pull them off. 

“W-what are you doing?” He asks, voice shaking from anticipation. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what you were doing—he just couldn’t believe it. He’s so fucking lucky. 

“34 plus 35! Do the math,” you tease. “Keep it up, okay?”

Jungkook laughs, pinching your ass in response. “Keep up with me then.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He rubs the spot he pinched your ass and shakes his head. “I already have one point… Doubt you’re gonna catch up.”

“You could nut twice,” you suggest. Then you turn your head and shake your ass in his face. “For me? So we’re even.”

Jungkook bites his lips. “Then it wouldn’t be a completion.”

“I hate losing.”

“So do I.” Jungkook then wastes no time. He digs himself in you again, flicking his tongue at all the right times and places. 

You groan, hating how much you love this. You try to focus. After pumping him a few times, you stuff his cock in your mouth. Moaning from how thick he is, you suck him off. Your cheeks begin to feel a little sore after a few minutes, but by then his dick is up. He’s as hard as can be and you can even feel his veins come out more and more. Every time you pull his cock out, you make sure to be as loud as you can. The pop sound makes Jungkook’s blood rush to his dick and the way you suck him so sloppy and hard only reminds him of the time you did this in his car. That night, Jungkook had never felt more attracted to you. 

Your jealousy had consumed his every thought for days after. 

Just like that, Jungkook’s stomach twitches. He feels a rush and it goes straight from his dick and out.

Like a loser, Jungkook cums and whimpers loudly. 

“F-fuck yes. Holy shit, ___.. Just like that… Mhmm,” his breath hitches. “Fuck!”

Lips pressed against his dick, you let his cum spill on your face. Mostly, it hits your nose bridge and your upper lip. You shift off of Jungkook and kneel in front of him. He gulps, watching you with longing eyes. You stick your tongue out, bring your fingers to where his cum landed and taste it. You lick your lips and swallow with a cute moan. 

“Yummy.”

He hisses, and immediately takes you by the waist. You giggle, unable to stop it from becoming a laugh. “Did that turn you on, pookie?”

Jungkook glares at you, swiping a bit of his cum with his thumb. Without warning, he then shoves his thumb into your mouth. As you suck, he cups the rest of his hand around your jaw and ravishes at your beauty. 

A layer of sweat makes you shine, and the strands of your hair on your forehead never made you look so beautiful to him before. Your lips are perfect—puffy and tainted with his cum. Your eyes—god, your eyes… They’re smiling at him and he swears he has never felt his heart flutter like this ever. 

As you sit on top of his dick, you roll your hips against it. When you do this, both of you watch it happen. You lean back, planting your hands on each side of his legs. Jungkook watches as your folds drag and split open against his cock. You can’t help but let out hitched breathes as you take in the feeling of his member. How his veins feel against you. How his soft skin feels as you soak it with your wetness.. All of it. 

All of him. 

“You like that, hmm? You like grinding on my cock with your pussy all wet?” He pries, turning up his dirty talk. “Come on, baby… You know how I like it, right? Why don’t you be a good girl and put it in? Sink into it like the little cockslut you are… For me?”

You moan, hissing his name. “Jungkook, shut the fuck up. Just enjoy this.”

As punishment, you rub yourself on him harder. Each roll of your hips has more pressure and his dick feels like it’s going to explore. He watches, hating you more and more as his head turns red. You hump his cock, moaning at the sensation.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook whines. “I’m not gonna last even if you ride me.”

“Loser.”

He chuckles, too lazy to put up a fight. “Let’s go doggy, please.”

You think about it. “Beg for it.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He tosses you over and gets on his knees. You arch your back and get taken aback when Jungkook swiftly places a pillow under your stomach. You turn back to give him a confused look. 

“You might cramp.” 

Huffing, you bite back. “I won’t cramp. You’re gonna nut before I cramp.”

He rolls his eyes at you and tells you to shut up. You bite your bottom lip, even more excited and eager to feel him. Doggy style isn’t your favourite… But for some reason, it feels hot. Doing this with Jungkook makes your mind spin and you aren’t sure if your playful remarks are masking how nervous you are. Underneath your teasing, you have no idea how you’re doing or saying any of these things. How are you even doing this with him right now? It’s fucking wild. 

“Gonna put it in now,” Jungkook’s voice sounds a little parched at this point. “If you cream my dick, can I film it?”

His question catches you by surprise.

“Your face wouldn’t be in it… And y-you don’t even have to say yes. I just… I miss you sometimes and I think about fucking you a lot so a video would be—”

“I trust you,” you say, flipping to face him. “Honestly? I’ll film a bit of it. Bet it’ll get you off in the future.” Then, you reach over his nightstand and swipe on his phone to the camera icon. You hold it and press record. Jungkook smirks and you zoom into his face. 

“Cute,” you laugh. 

Again, Jungkook rolls his eyes but loves every moment of this. You go back on all fours and hold the camera out. It captures half of your face, a bit of your boobs, and your ass. Jungkook places himself at your rear. You watch from the screen as Jungkook spits on his dick before he pushes himself inside you. He thrusts a few times before you let out a moan. 

You bite your lip for the camera and let a giggle escape in between Jungkook’s thrusts. His breathing gets heavy as he picks up the pace and fucks you harder. 

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper. 

“Louder,” he commands as he fucks you. You close your eyes, taking in how good he feels inside you. He’s throbbing. He’s so fucking big.

“Oh my god, Jungkook! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder! Please, please, please!”

“Say my name,” Jungkook growls. “Say it louder.” 

“Fuck me,” you ignore his request. “You’re so big. I’m so fucking lucky. I love it. I love your cock so much!”

He slaps your ass. 

“Say my fucking name.” Jungkook pushes himself deeper into you, taking his time doing so. You hate how slow it feels now. “Whose making you feel this way? You’re so wet taking my cock in. Don’t be a bad girl… Are you a bad girl?”

“N-no,” you cry, feeling each thrust intensify.

“What are you then? My little slut? My fucking cock hungry slut? You won’t even say my name… You’re just a dirty bad girl. Fucking disrespectful at this point.”

“No, I’m not!” you feel tears begin to jerk in. “I love your cock too much to disrespect it—I,” you catch your breath, “I’m not a dirty bad girl!”

“What are you then? Because if you were a good girl, you’d say my fucking name… Say it. Be a good girl and say whose fucking cock you’re going to cream.”

“J-Jungkook!”

“Louder.” He pauses, leaving his cock to twitch inside you. 

“Please… Fuck me so good I cream your cock…”

“No. My name. Say my fucking name—”

“Oh my god, Jungkook!”

He smirks.  

Jungkook loves this so much. It does more than feed his ego—it ignites it.

He loves the way you say his name. He loves the way you call for him and how soft your tone gets when the sentence gets to his name. He absolutely fucking loves it.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you sob as he continues to fuck you. He fucks you rough, sloppy, and messy. You feel his dick slip in and out so easily that the friction is pure pleasure. 

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook,” you chant. “I’m not a good girl—I’m just…”

“You’re what?”

“I’m your girl,” you exhale. “R-right?”

Jungkook loses it. 

He fucking loses his mind.

Hastly, he leans over and grabs your tits. He fucks himself into you more and more, while biting your ear and kissing your neck. You moan and whimper, watching how hot it all looks on camera. Jungkook then rides his orgasm, not leaving you behind. He takes his phone from your hands and begins to film himself fucking you. The camera captures his dick going in and out of your pussy. How your ass bounces each time it hits his pelvis. It captures his breathy moans and his hushed, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“J-Jungkook—I’m gonna cum! Oh my god, oh my god.”

And you do.

You cream his dick. As he pulls in and out of you, the camera catches your creamy release on his dick. 

It doesn’t take much after that. He isn’t sure if it’s just the heat of the moment or the fact that your brain is all fucked out by now—it doesn’t matter. The words that escaped your lips were enough. Jungkook cums hard and loud. He groans, hissing as he spills himself. You gasp when you feel his cock pull out of you harshly. Jungkook slips his one hand under you and flips you on your back. As you lay there, you watch as he pumps himself. He then aims his squirts of cum at your tits, and films as they land over your nipples. His breath is shakey from the relief and tiresome act and yours is the same. Except, you can’t help but let out a lewd giggle. 

Holy fuck, this was such a workout.

Like earlier, you take your finger and swipe some of his cum off your breast. Bringing it to your lips, you lick it and smile sweetly at him. He chuckles as he films it and you laugh. Really, you laugh for real. Then he laughs and offers you high-5. 

You laugh even harder, especially as you recall this being your reward. Even though it’s childish, you accept his gesture and feel special. Slamming your hand onto his, you lock them together and tug him towards you. He ends the recording just before he collapses on you. 

After all that, finally, you two share a kiss. 

A deep, soft, and much-needed kiss. 

The addiction to you was no different than an adrenaline junkie getting ready to jump off a cliff. No, there was no turning back. 

Your lips were addictive. The sweetness of everything your body would give him—it was like a fucking reward. Every saliva exchange, every drip from your pussy, to every tear shed while he digs himself deeper and deeper into you… He wants them all. 

As sick as it sounds, he’d lick it all up just to have you in him even more. Just to be close to you. Just to be closer. 

Every inch of you, he wants to devour. 

Like a starved man, he’d fall to his knees and beg for an ounce of kindness. A chance to satisfy you—a simple kiss, deepened by the second. Hands intertwined as you spread your legs for him as he places himself in between. 

As he leans his forehead against yours, he sneaks in a few pecks. “I can’t believe we have a sex tape.”

You roll your eyes. “Perv.” 

“You consented,” he sings happily. “Do you want me to delete it?”

You shake your head as he makes himself comfortable. “No… Send it to me later though. I miss you sometimes too.” 

A hearty chuckle escapes his lips as he snuggles into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him. Jungkook digs his face into his favourite spot—aside from your pussy—the cook of your neck. 

Sometimes. 

You miss him sometimes?

That’s a funny way of saying always. 

The muffled sound of music blasting downstairs and people chatting becomes evident. Yet, you two stay silent. Laying together, fingers and legs intertwined. Naked. 

When was it ever this easy? Why did this feel so right? Being with Jungkook has never been difficult—but when was it like this? When did things change? The sudden realization of the words you said while you two were intimate hit you. Were you really his girl? Did you want to be? Would he accept you if you asked?

Not only that but—when did you… When has it…

When did this begin?

These feelings.

There’s a tightness in your chest you can’t explain. Something that has been around for a while now. Long enough that you don’t remember when it first occurred and began to glow whenever he was around. What the fuck is up with that? 

As he fucked you tonight, that’s all you felt. Your heart was glowing. The closeness with him—regardless of how nasty—it was so special. It felt so good and like nothing you’ve ever felt. As you trace random things on his back with your nails, you hear him murmur, “mhmm… Yup. I love it when you do this, ___.”

It startles you.

When did you begin doing this? Being so intimate with him? Scratching his back, drawing hearts with your fingernails… When did this all happen? He says it like this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. Then, it gets hot. Suddenly, you notice how sweaty you two are and how it’s way too comfortable in his bed with him. You sit yourself up, causing him to follow. 

“I’m glad you came.”

“Pun intended?”

Jungkook pinches your cheeks and presses a kiss on your nose. “Whatever you want.”

You shove him away and get up from his bed. At least, you attempt to. 

Your legs feel shaky. He quickly holds you by the waist and catches your stumble. Looking up at him, you huff. “Look at what you did!”

“What?” he panics. 

“Jungkook, I can’t fucking walk!” You begin to freak out. “How am I supposed to go downstairs and act normal? Yuna is gonna ask so many questions and—”

“Relax,” Jungkook sets you down on his bed. “I got you.”

You sit and pout as he heads to his bathroom. When he returns, he has a black shirt and pants on. He holds a damp towel and collects your clothes off the floor. Jungkook kneels in front of you and begins to pat wipe your sweaty skin. First, your forehead, neck, and then he uses a face towel to wipe his cum off your breast. Then, he continues to pat dry your arms and in between your legs. 

Without exchanging words, he helps dress you. The entire time, he was careful and used a soft tone whenever he did speak. For the most part, he just looked at you lovingly. That look in his eyes… You know in your heart you will never forget. 

When you’re all dressed, a good enough time has passed for you to recover. Not fully, but just enough. Jungkook helps you get up and you hiss at the initial soreness. 

“Round two?” 

You hit his chest and roll your eyes. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

“Insanely hot?”

“Whatever you want.”

He isn’t sure what to do. 

You laugh it off, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. As you two look into each other's eyes, he feels his heart race. 

He should just say it, right? It’s easy. 

Spit it out.

___, do you want to go out with me?

Or should he do a whole confession?

___, we’ve been doing this for a while now… And I think I’ve grown an unhealthy attachment to you. I miss you when I’m not with you. When I’m with you, I never want the moment to end. Being close to you has to be my favourite part of living. 

But when he opens his mouth to speak—

“Should we go downstairs? I need water.” 

He blinks. 

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook reaches for the door. Then, as he turns the door knob, he stops himself. “One more kiss, please.”

Without a fight, you tiptoe and kiss him. Smiling into the kiss, he leans more into it and gropes your ass. You hit his chest playfully, signaling him to pull away. With great sadness, he does so. 

“I’ll go out first.”

Your words cut him deeper than a knife. 

Right.

You two aren’t dating.

You two are just fucking—in secret, at that. 

“Why can’t we leave together?” he asks, sounding a little desperate. “You said it yourself. You don’t really care if people know or not… I doubt anyone will even care.”

Shrugging, you nod. “Sure,” you answer him. “I’m not trying to hide us or anything… I just don’t really want to be questioned… But, considering I can’t really walk right now…”

He laughs, feeling like he saved himself from sadness. 

“Can we hold hands?”

You give him a face. “Don’t push it.”

“But you said—”

“I was drunk!”

Jungkook laughs, as he opens the door. Stepping out together, he locks his bedroom door as you continue bantering. Pushing past everyone in the hall, he can’t help but feel a sense of relief. 

It was a small thing. Leaving the room together and even suggesting to hold hands—it was a long shot but here he was.

With you.

Lingering fingertips and all. 

As you two head down the stairs, you’re immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies. Jungkook leans into your ear and whispers, “ahh… See? We’re blending right in.” 

He’s talking about smelling like sweaty sex. 

You bring your hands to your face, covering yourself and the shyness that rushes to your cheeks. He laughs and you hit his chest for the nth time tonight. 

“Why are you covering your face? It’s like I didn’t just see you naked. Like I didn’t fuck you—”

“Oh my god!” you cover his mouth and look around to see if anyone heard what he said so bluntly. “I know I said I don’t care if people knew but can you relax? Don’t be so proud you fucked me.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Jungkook says sincerely. “Do you have any idea how admired you are?”

“So I’m a prize?” you laugh. “What a joke.”

Jungkook gawks at you. 

“Do you have any idea how hard I’d try to win you if this was the fucking hunger games? I’d die for you.”

You snort. “Did you even read the series—”

“No,” he snickers. “But you get what I mean, right?”

“Not really…” you trail, turning your head in an attempt to avoid eye contact. You aren’t too sure where this conversation was heading and perhaps you aren’t ready for whatever he has to say next. “Can we—”

“I won’t get all gushy and all because you’re going to get all self-conscious and then retort by saying I have post-sex feelings—but just know you’re it. The standard. A prize. Endgame.. All of it. You’re it.”

Too stunned to speak, your lips curve into a small smile. “Jungkook—”

“___!”

You and Jungkook turn your heads and see Yuna approaching with Taehyung. She smiles brightly, practically throwing herself at you. You catch her, hug her, and tilt your head in confusion as Taehyung whispers something in Jungkook’s ear. 

Jungkook lowers his gaze at you, gulping as Taehyung finishes his exchange and steps away. Then, Taehyung offers you a short lived smile. 

“Hey, ___. How are you?” Taehyung’s voice is calm and sweet… It’s so opposite from how suspicious he’s acting.

“Good…” you say with your eyebrow raised. “What’s going on?”

Yuna tugs on your arm. “Nothing!” She sneers at Taehyung and gives him a warning look. “Way to be discrete.”

“You said to follow your lead! You aren’t doing much so I—”

“You’re the worst partner in crime ever!” Yuna scolds him.

You shake your head at the two, feeling at home with their bickering. Taehyung and Yuna act like such a married couple most of the time they’re together—you were used to it at this point. In between their bickering, you glance at Jungkook who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

For some reason, you can’t make out what the look on his face is. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look sad either. He wasn’t angry… He looked… Eager? Worried? In agony?

“You okay?” you ask, moving away from Yuna and to Jungkook’s side. He slides his arms around your waist. You let him. 

Pulling you close, his lips shape into a pout. You cup his cheeks and squish them together. “Jungkook?”

“Wanna go back upstairs?” he suggests, resting his face on the palm of your hands. “Wanna get out of here? I’m suddenly not in the mood.”

“To what? Party?”

“To be anywhere without you.”

“But I’m here.” You reason.

He shakes his head, insisting something else. “But not you’re here with me… You know?”

You do know. 

“S-sure,” you agree even though a part of you feels hesitant. Not that you don’t want too.. More like you’re nervous and afraid of what it’ll lead to. More feelings? More sex? You don’t think you can go another round. “Where should we—”

“___ baby!” 

Your head turns to your name being called by a familiar voice. 

From the corner of your eyes, you see Taehyung and Yuna exchange disappointed looks. Just as you’re about to ask what’s going on, Seokjin and Eunwoo approach you. 

“Eunwoo,” you greet warmly. You step away from Jungkook and hug him. 

“You haven’t been answering my texts… Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” he whines like a child. You laugh lightly and tiptoe to ruffle his hair. Though it’s only been a few months, he hasn’t changed. He still acts like a lost puppy. “Jungkook, what’s up?”

Jungkook dabs Eunwoo up with low effort. You give him a confused look, wondering why he was acting all sulky all of the sudden. From what you recall, these two are friends. As Eunwoo greets Yuna and Taehyung, Seokjin greets you rather drunkenly. Then, he excuses himself to piss. Everyone rolls their eyes at his behaviour but let him do what he needs to.

“Can we talk?” Eunwoo asks bluntly. His question breaks the ice, but wins a wide-eyes from you all.

You tilt your head. “What about?”

“Us.”

Instantly, Jungkook feels like he’s being punched in the face. No, he wishes he was being punched in the face. Being punched in the face would be more enjoyable than standing here in between you and Eunwoo.

He has only tried a handful of times to ask and understand what happened between you and Eunwoo, but he never pressed it. Right now, he wishes he had. If he had, maybe he wouldn’t feel so threatened right now. But he didn’t and he does. Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying his best to mask his feelings. 

Was there still something between you and Eunwoo? Were you still texting him? Is Eunwoo who you’re with when you’re not with him?

All these thoughts and self-doubt flood Jungkook’s mind. 

It sinks and his insecurities make a home as you nod politely and follow Eunwoo away from the crowd. Away from him.

Not even a goodbye?

As you slip away, Jungkook sighs. How did you do that? He feels disappointed and hurt—offended even. How dare you pick someone else over him? Though no feelings between you two were expressed or exchanged in a way where commitment and exclusivity would be the trade-off—still, this wasn’t fair.

How could you walk away? Like it was easy? Like you weren’t just with him seconds ago?

It aches.

It hurts so bad that it even his anger is weak. 

No matter how much he wants to—he can’t blame you. 

He never asked you out.

“I like the way you look at her,” Yuna comforts Jungkook by patting his back. 

“Huh?” Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts. “What do you mean? Look at who?”

Yuna nudges him and gives him a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me,’ look. Then, she explains herself. “I always knew you were nice. Taehyung talks about the shit you put up with and the things you do to please people… Like how you joined the team again after they begged you to even though you felt burnt out… How you always limit your drinking so you’re sober enough to walk ___ home. How you come over and take care of her when she’s piss drunk and probably gave you a hard time—”

Jungkook’s eyes get shifty. “How do you know about that—”

“Doesn’t matter. She didn’t tell me shit, though. She doesn’t know I know and we’re going to keep it that way.” Yuna pokes Jungkook’s chest. 

He furrows his brows. “Why does everything have to be a secret when it comes to ___?”

Yuna doesn’t have an answer for him. Instead, she continues her little speech.

“You’re a nice guy… But to ___, you’re kind. It’s in your gaze. It’s in the way you always offer yourself to her. It’s in the way you’re her friend above all else—I’m so thankful you’re who you are when you’re with her. You look at her like she’s your entire world… I don’t know if you even know that—but that’s how you look at her. You look at her and it’s… It’s like she’s the only person in the world.”

Jungkook hates the words Yuna speaks. Partly because they’re all true and partly because he doesn’t know what to do after. Yuna squeezes his shoulders and he feels like he could cry. 

“Can you tell her I’ll be in my room? Waiting for her?” Jungkook pleas.

Yuna nods and excuses herself to find you in the crowd. You’re throwing your head back, laughing at whatever Eunwoo whispered in your ear. When Yuna approaches you and passes the message, you find Jungkook’s eyes from across the room. 

You smile at him and wave. 

He stands still, not knowing what to do. Before you know it, you watch him pick up his feet and head back upstairs. He doesn’t look back.

Yuna did tell you he’d be in his room… So that’s probably where he’s headed. In your mind, you make a mental note to go upstairs and figure things out with Jungkook in ten minutes. 

You’ll give Eunwoo ten more minutes... The rest of the night can be for Jungkook. 

Upstairs, Jungkook sits on the edge of his messy bed. Knees to his chest, he thinks about how fucked up everything got in a matter of moments. Did it really just take one conversation with your ex to lose you as quickly as he got you? Is this the reality of being a fuckbuddy?

He hates it. 

Jungkook clenches his fits, recalling the words Taehyung said to him. 

“Eunwoo’s tryna get back together with ___… I don’t know why it’s so important to Yuna but she said she tried to talk him out of it. Yuna said to get ___ out of here? Again, I don’t know why… I thought Eunwoo was Yuna’s favourite for ___ but I’m guessing not anymore…”

It was comforting to know that Yuna was on Jungkook’s side… But did it matter if you weren’t? You’re downstairs, talking and probably making plans to get back together with your ex.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sits in his room and waits until his eyes betray him. They flutter shut, falling asleep to the faint sound of your laugh downstairs and to the hope of you fulfilling a promise you never made.

In the morning, Jungkook wakes up and cries. He cries out of frustration and hurt. His heart feels heavy, like it could collapse and be broken. He has never felt so betrayed before.

And it’s pathetic because even then—especially then—he still waits for you.

[grimm-writings]

OH SHIT I BETTER SEND THIS IN QUICK uhhh can i get some dr. ratio or screwllum cuddling/general fluff? im very tired and i think that could fix me

- i think you know who this is 💜

warmth

…ft! dr. ratio, screwllum x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, lotsa snuggling!!!!, non sexual nudity (ratio)

…wc! 323; 412; = 735

…notes! MY FRIEND I KNOW YOU!!!! ❣️ty for the request here it is!!! small and cute <3 also!! give it up for the new character banners!!! lmk if you liiiike <3

Veritas Ratio

“Care to join me?”

Veritas’s voice reaches your ears.  You glance up at him, his figure relaxed in his bathtub through the bathroom door.  His head is thrown back to look back at you.

“Sorry?” You clarify, folding a book closed over your thumb.

“You’re exhausted, evidently, seeing as how you haven’t moved on from that page in a number of minutes.”

Your face flushes in embarrassment.  Nothing can get past your lover’s keen observations.

No use in arguing, you rationalise that Veritas has a point (like always).  You slip off your clothes and join him in the bathtub.  His hands land on your shoulders and rub down reassuringly.  He’s welcoming you to relax – surprisingly tender, gentle.

As he rubs in some body wash, Veritas’s voice sinks you further into relaxation; “care to explain why you’ve been neglecting your rest?”

“It’s not like I’ve been wanting to,” you reply.

“That doesn’t answer my query, love.”

You sigh as you feel Veritas kiss the top of your head.  You explain everything – your stresses as of late, and the overwhelming urge to just sleep forever.  You’re so tired.

He hums in thought, violet hair falling in front of coral eyes.  Oddly unmanaged in such an intimate place.  “We can figure out some ways to rectify that later.  For now, allow me to take care of you.  Is that alright?”

A small giggle slips from your lips – Veritas is always asking permission.  If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t be so soothing.  It’s nice to know that you were special in that way.  A warmth teasing to consume you whole as Veritas washes and rinses you down.

Yes, and it shall continue to grow as you are entangled in sheets later, his strong arms wrapped around your body.  Rest.  What was once unfamiliar becomes so easy with Veritas helping you.

You are inclined to believe that you had the best sleep of your life that night.

Screwllum

“Would I really be all that comfortable?”

“Oh shush, you’re plenty comfortable.”

Screwllum sighs (or at least makes a similar sound to one) at your refusal to accept that he might not be the greatest snuggle partner in the world.  It’s no secret that he’s a gentleman in every sense of the word, but something like cuddling…

You can’t say he doesn’t try, resting your head on your chest and a hand in your hair.  He pets you softly as another arm is lazily resting over your back.  This way you wouldn’t really feel any metal underneath the layers of clothes.

“I hope you realise that I can feel how tense you are,” you hum from buried into the ruffles of Screwllum’s shirt.

“A-Apologies, I’m trying my best—”

“Are you nervous?”

As soon as you bring up the question, Screwllum’s already blank face seems to somehow blank more.  Even if he is inexpressive, the message speaks volumes.

Fans whir louder in the silence.

You can’t help but burst into giggles.  “I can’t believe it!  All ready to fluster me with hand kisses and whatnot, but you fall apart as soon as we lay together!”

Screwllum stutters, trying to find some way to acquire his dignity back.  “I just wish to please you… I’m not exactly the most popular choice for a romantic partner…”

“But you’re my choice,” you shoot back, leaning up to place a kiss on Screwllum’s face plate, the one where a mouth normally would be.  The fans only prove a traitor to Screwllum as they whir louder.

The genius can only silently accept his fate as you smother him with kisses all over his metal encasing.  “Dare I ask—” he’s cut off by one of your many mwahs!  “Why do you torture me so…?”

You lean back, resting your chin on Screwllum’s chest again with a satisfied grin.

“When you get all shy, you get toastier.”  You snuggle closer into a hug.  “This is why you’re the best cuddler – you warm me up!”

Screwllum doesn’t react at first save for the heat dispelling from his body.  Then dignified yet comfortable laughter slips through.  You feel something land on the top of your head.  You look up to see that your lover has placed his hat on your head and is ruffling your hair through it.

“Whatever will I do with you…?”  He asks aloud.

“Snuggle me, maybe.”  You cheekily grin.

Screwllum hums.  “Well, suppose I’ll just have to comply.”

[usagiumiko3]

Intense reflections

˗ˏˋ Sylus has a thing for your red lipstick ˎˊ˗

Sylus × Reader

Love and Deepspace

Words: 2,325

tw: just kissing, touching and sexuala tension (・ω<)

ao3

Sitting at your vanity table, you carefully apply your deep red lipstick. In the reflection of the mirror, you could see Sylus sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on you with intense focus.

His gaze devours you and it makes you feel nervous, knowing that every movement of yours was being observed and savored by his blood red eyes. The way he looked at you was like an aphrodisiac to him, evident in the dilation of his pupils. They were intense and all consuming, taking in every shift of your body and every brush of your hand against your lips. The way he looked at you made you feel both exhilarated and nervous, as if he was under a spell.

You try to will your body to ignore his overwhelming presence, but your hand betrays you with its trembling. Nervousness consumes you, causing your heart to quicken and your breath to catch in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels heavy on your skin as you struggle to keep your composure.

As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you can't help but feel confident and beautiful. Tonight is a special event and Sylus has invited you to be by his side. He picked out a stunning dress, heels, and accessories for you, all according to his own taste. You couldn't complain even if you wanted to, because everything he chose is exquisite. You marvel at how he always manages to have such impeccable taste and give you gifts that take your breath away with their beauty and value.

You push away your thoughts and refocus on applying your lipstick. You part your lips slightly and glide the lipstick smoothly over them, feeling his intense gaze on you. After skillfully applying it with clean edges, you gently tap the middle of your lips to blend it in. As you focus on achieving an even application, you suddenly hear his deep rumbling voice.

"That color suits you well, sweetheart" he commented, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. You couldn't help but shiver slightly as his words washed over you.

You smile and continue to apply your lipstick, determined to get it perfect.

"You look especially stunning tonight" you hear his voice deepening even further, if that was even possible. "I can hardly contain myself until we arrive at the event."

You pause with your lipstick mid air as you glance at him in the mirror. “Pardon?”

He gives you a mischievous grin and for a moment, you could have sworn that his eyes were glowing with a deep red lust.

"You heard me, sweetheart. How many times do you think I can refrain myself from ravishing you in that beautiful dress?"

Slowly, he rises from the bed and approaches you from behind. You can sense his warmth as he stands close to your back. His fingertips trace a path down your shoulders and arms, sending an electric wave through your body. As he leans in close, his hot breath tickles your neck.

As you lift your eyes to meet his in the mirror, a jolt of adrenaline courses through your body. His strong, piercing gaze holds yours, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the intensity emanating from him, and it both intrigues and intimidates you. Your heart races as you try to keep your composure under his unwavering stare.

His voice, a low growl, whispers,"Have I told you just how beautiful you look tonight?…I can't seem to tear my eyes away from you, even for a moment..”

You can feel his lips brushing against your neck, causing you to swallow nervously. "I can see that..."

His lips travel down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. You feel his hot breath against your skin, sending tingles down your spine. He slowly takes your earlobe into his mouth, nipping it gently with his teeth.

“You should see yourself.. so beautiful and so deliciously tempting" he whispered between the kisses.

He reaches out and grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. His gaze travels over your features, focusing on your plump, red lips. A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he considers you.

"You know what would be an exquisite accessory?" He says slowly, his voice low and tinged with a hint of mischief.

Staring into your eyes, his gaze filled with a fierce, almost primal desire, before his words slowly reach your ears. "A lipstick mark..made by you…"

"And where do you want it?"

He leans in, his face inching closer to yours as he takes in every detail of your features. With a gentle touch, he runs his thumb along your chin, observing your lips contour, before speaking again in a hushed tone.

"I want it right here.." He reaches up and taps his neck just below his left ear, his gaze never leaving your own, a silent request in his eyes.

"Are you sure? Because everyone at the event is going to see it.."

He grins, his eyes darkening slightly as he gazes at you, his hand still gently holding your face.

"That's exactly why I want it. So that every single person that looks at me tonight, knows that you're the one who put it there.."

As the tension between the two of you builds, the room seems to shrink, the only thing that matters is the desire that courses through you both. You realize that, for him, this is not just about the lipstick mark, it's about claiming him as your own, making sure that everyone who sees him will know that he is yours... and yours alone.

The certainty in his voice is undeniable, and you find yourself capitulating to his desire, knowing that you can't resist the pull of his unyielding gaze. As you lean in towards him, the room around you fades into the background, and you see only him, only this moment. Not as if you weren't already seeing only him.

His hand still caresses your face, guiding your lips towards the spot he had indicated. The soft texture of his neck meets the warm feeling of your coated lips.

The fragrance of his cologne mixes with the creamy texture of your lipstick. The touch of his hand on your nape grows firmer.

As you slowly pull away, you look back at his face and can observe his gaze shifting from the mirror back to your face. Was he looking at the moment through the mirror?

Sylus, however, seems to be lost in his own thoughts, a mix of satisfaction and desire in his eyes. A slow smirk appears on his face as he locks his gaze with yours, seemingly enjoying the sight of your slightly smudged lip.

He brings his hand up and slowly, gently, traces the outline of your lip with his thumb, his touch surprisingly tender in this moment.

"I have a proposition for you, sweetheart… I might be greedy.. I want more, but not in a place where everyone at the event can see..."

"The question is, are we still planning on attending that event?" you ask with a playful smile.

Sylus can't resist returning a grin, his gaze filled with mischief and desire. He leans in and pulls you closer to him, his arms encircling your waist as he speaks in a seductive tone.

"I don't think so ... not when there are much more... interesting activities at hand..”

Sylus doesn't waste any time. As soon as the words leave his lips, he grabs you and pulls you down onto the bed with him. He lands on his back, the impact of your body on top of his sending a thrill through his. He looks up at you with a sultry smile, his hands now roaming over your curves.

Sylus lays there, his shirt untucked from the impact, his chest lowering and raising in front of you. He looks up at you with a cocky smile on his face.

"Come on sweetheart, I know you can unbutton the shirt on your own... unless you want me to take this honor from you?”

You glance down at his chest, the muscles shifting beneath the fabric as he moves, and a fire ignites within you. With a fierce determination, you reach for the top button of his shirt and begin to unbutton it slowly. Each button undone, amplifying the tension between you two.

Sylus' eyes never leave your face as you continue to work on his shirt. The fabric slowly parts, revealing the smooth skin that lays beneath and the defined muscles.

You pause for a moment, your fingers hovering over his abdomen as you take a good look at the man beneath you.

A smirk playing at the corners of his mouth "Don't be shy … I know how badly you want to touch me..”

With a deep breath, you let your fingers trail lightly down Sylus' chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. You can feel his muscles flexing in response. His eyes, dark with desire, never leave yours.

Leaning in closer, you press your lips against his chest, just below his collarbone. The deep red lipstick leaves another mark against his pale skin.

You continue your journey, kissing a trail down his chest, leaving crimson marks as you go. Each kiss grows more insistent, more fervent. Sylus' hands are on your hips, his grip tightening with every press of your lips.

You move lower, feeling the tension build between you. His shirt is now fully open, exposing his sculpted torso to your eager mouth. You pause just above his navel, looking up at him through your lashes.

"How many more do you want, Sylus?" you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"As many as you can give" he replies, his voice husky with desire.

With a playful grin, you rise from the bed and make your way to the vanity. You lean over the table, making sure to showcase your curves as you touch up your lipstick. Turning back to face him, you saunter towards the bed where he sits up eagerly, his eyes dark. With a confident hand, you push him onto his back and he lets out a low groan of both frustration and satisfaction at your eagerness.

He looks up at you, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Don't get me too riled up, sweetheart ... I might not be able to hold myself back.." he murmurs.

Your lips move lower, gliding along the lines of his abdomen with a possessive touch. Each kiss leaves a mark of passion, branding him as yours. The heat from his body envelopes you, filling your senses with desire that rolls off him in intoxicating waves. As you reach the waistband of his trousers, you lift your gaze to meet his.

Sylus stares down at you, his hair framing his hooded eyes, that are a dark red now, filled with an almost feral hunger.

“Are you trying to tease me?”

As he grabs you by your waist, Sylus flips you onto your back with a swift, fluid motion. He hovers over you, his gaze intense and unwavering. He traces the marks you've left on his body with a reverent touch, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and obsession.

His hands come on your body next, roaming as if trying to memorize every curve, every dip. Without hesitation he slides his hand under your dress, running his fingers over your hip.

"You've marked me enough, sweetheart " he says, his voice deep and rough. "Now it's my turn."

He leans over, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath your ear. His kisses are slow and purposeful, each one sending tingles in your chest.

Sylus continues to explore your body with his hands following his lips, discovering every inch of you. His touch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to writhe and arch in response, craving for more. He pauses momentarily, his hands tracing the curves of your hips before he speaks, his voice heavy with desire.

“I will have you now”

Your breath hitches as his words send a surge of desire through you. You reach up and grab his face, pulling him down to meet your lips in a hungry kiss, meant to devour each other. The passion between you is undeniable, and you know that you are both ready to let go of everything else and just be in this moment.

Sylus breaks away from the kiss, his eyes burning with desire.

You open your eyes to look at him, but you can't hold back your giggles.

His expression turns serious. "What's so funny?”

“You have some lipstick on your lips... and around them…” you try to hold back another giggle.

As he registers your words, he runs his fingers over his lips. He looks down at his them and notices the red smudges. He frowns, trying to appear offended, but a grin involuntarily creeps onto his face.

"You're enjoying smudging me all with your lipstick, sweetheart?"

You simply smile and shrug, trying to play it cool. "I couldn't resist."

Sylus chuckles, the sound warm and deep. "You laugh about me sweetheart, but you don't see yourself right now…” he leans closer and talks with a deep rumbling tone, "You are not looking put together either”

With that, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, completely covering your lips with his. The kiss is slow and sensual, his tongue gently exploring your mouth as his hands begin to trace your body once more.

You can feel the passion building between you, and you know that there's no turning back now.

“Sylus“ you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

"What sweetheart?” He looks deeply into your eyes.

“Don't stop…” you beg, your voice barely audible.

A satisfied smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

I can make a part 2 if you guys want

[blackenedsnow]

hiii, i hope you’re doing well 🤍 may i please request a hurt comfort with thomas hewitt? it’s up to you what’s the context going to be, i just want a little bit of angst with happy ending of course! much love, anon <333

roots run deep

WARNING: Mild descriptions of injury, emotional hurt/comfort, dark themes

PAIRING: Thomas Hewitt x Reader

NOTE: Hi anon <3 Thank you for such a gentle request, and I’m so glad you’re here! please don’t hesitate to send more like these—they mean so much. sending all my love back to you, take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: When an accident leaves you broken and feeling like a burden, Thomas’s quiet strength becomes your unexpected salvation.

There’s a peculiar peace in pain—one that swallows the world whole, silencing every other thought, reducing everything to that sharp, all-consuming sensation. But today, even in the agony threading through your limbs, there’s no peace, only a hollow ache of shame and something you’re not sure you can face. You feel like a burden. An inconvenience. And with every second that Thomas tends to you, patching your wounds with hands too large and too gentle for this world, that feeling deepens.

It was a stupid mistake—a misstep on uneven ground, sending you crashing down hard enough that you could feel the sickening crunch echo through your bones. You’d always thought you were sturdy, that nothing could break you, but lying here, helpless beneath the careful hands of a man like Thomas, you feel as fragile as glass.

He works in silence, as he always does. The only sounds are the creak of the floorboards beneath his weight, the soft shuffling as he moves around, gathering whatever he thinks will help ease your pain. You can barely look at him, your gaze fixed on the rough, weathered ceiling above as he wraps your ankle in a makeshift bandage, his fingers brushing against your skin with a softness you didn’t know he had.

“Thomas…” Your voice is weak, barely more than a whisper. You want to tell him to stop. To tell him he doesn’t have to go through the trouble, that you’re not worth it. But the words catch in your throat, thick and choking, and you can only lie there, your breaths coming in shallow, trembling gasps.

He pauses, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. You can see the concern in his eyes—a deep, wordless worry that tugs at something inside you, something you’ve tried so hard to bury. He doesn’t say anything; he never does, but there’s an understanding there, a quiet reassurance that fills the silence between you.

He nods once, a slight, almost imperceptible motion, and resumes his work. His hands are steady, unwavering, as if he’s done this a thousand times before. Maybe he has. Maybe he’s patched up wounds far worse than yours. Or maybe he just knows what it feels like to hurt, to be broken in ways no one else can see.

You want to say something, to break the silence hanging heavy between you, but you can’t find the words. They tangle and knot in your throat, a mess of emotions you don’t know how to unravel. So you lie there, letting him work, feeling the warmth of his hands seep into your skin, grounding you, tethering you to something solid, something real.

As he finishes, he pulls back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. There’s something in his eyes—a softness, a tenderness that catches you off guard. It’s a look you’ve seen only once before, in a moment so fleeting you’d thought you’d imagined it. But now, seeing it here, with his hands still hovering over you, you know it’s real.

And it terrifies you.

You’re not used to kindness. Not the kind that comes without strings attached, without expectations. It feels foreign, strange, like a language you’ve forgotten how to speak. But Thomas… he doesn’t need words. He never has. His actions speak louder than any words ever could, a silent promise that he’ll be there, that he’ll stay, even when you can’t stand on your own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words barely audible, but he hears you. You know he does, because his gaze softens, his hand hovering over yours for a heartbeat before he pulls away, as if he’s afraid to break you further.

There’s a part of you that wants to reach out, to take his hand in yours, to let him know that you’re here, that you see him too. But you don’t. You can’t. The weight of your own shame, your own self-doubt, holds you back, rooting you to the spot.

But Thomas doesn’t push. He doesn’t ask for anything more than you can give. He simply stands, his hulking figure casting a shadow over you, a silent guardian in the dim light of the room. You feel safe here, in his presence, in the steady rhythm of his breathing, in the quiet strength he radiates.

As he turns to leave, you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name—a longing, a need for him to stay, to keep that silence filled with his presence. You don’t want to be alone, not tonight. Not when the weight of your own thoughts threaten to pull you under.

“Thomas,” you call out, your voice barely above a whisper. He stops, turning to look at you, and for a moment, you see something in his eyes—something soft, something vulnerable, something you’ve never seen before.

“Will you… stay?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel your face flush with embarrassment, but he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t look at you with pity. He simply nods, a silent agreement, and settles down beside you, his massive form filling the space, grounding you in a way nothing else can.

You sit in silence, the room filled with the soft sounds of our breathing, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace. A sense of belonging. Thomas doesn’t need words to make you feel safe, to make you feel understood. His presence alone is enough, a silent promise that you’re not alone, that you don’t have to carry this weight on your own.

In the quiet, you feel his hand brush against yours, a tentative, hesitant touch, as if he’s afraid to break the fragile peace between you. But you don’t pull away. You let him take your hand, let his warmth seep into you, filling the empty spaces inside you with something you can’t quite name.

It’s love. Something you haven’t felt in a long time.

[d0llcuries]

LYING HAS TO STOP PT.2

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: grief stricken, you learn to cope with neteyam's absence. after five years it is finally time for the family to return to the forest, will you still be waiting for him?

author's note: my period came today and my womb feels like it's on fire please send help

it’s been days since neteyam left. since he tore your heart from your chest, as easily as you might pluck a flower, and carried it away with him across the sea, to a place you’ve never seen, to a people you don’t know. days, but it feels like an eternity—each minute dragging its feet, stretching thin with the ache of his absence.

your world has shrunk, contracted into the suffocating space of your marui, the woven walls pressing in on you, tight and unrelenting. the forest feels distant, untouchable, as though the trees themselves have pulled away from you, retreating into a haze of memory. you haven’t eaten, haven’t gathered, haven’t done anything at all, really. the thought of food turns your stomach, the very notion of sustaining yourself without him here feels obscene. your body is weak, fragile, a hollow shell that threatens to shatter under the weight of your grief.

and the clan knows. of course they do. your absence is like a gaping wound in the fabric of the village, noticed by all, pitied by many. sympathetic eyes follow your mother wherever she moves, people murmuring soft words in passing, their concern trickling down like droplets of rain on the dry earth. but those words, those glances—they feel empty, like they’re echoing down a dark, endless tunnel. they pity you, yes, but none of them understand the depth of what you’ve lost. how could they? how could anyone, unless they too had given their soul to someone and watched as it slipped away?

they whisper when they think you can’t hear: she misses him so much. the poor girl. how long can she go on like this? as if your heartbreak were something measurable, something that could be weighed, dissected, and then tucked neatly away. but the truth is so much messier than that, so much darker. the pain is a beast, coiled around your chest, claws digging in with every breath you take, and no amount of words or gestures can tame it. you miss him with a desperation that borders on madness, a longing that gnaws at your insides like a festering wound. it is not the gentle, poetic sadness that they imagine; it is a raw, tearing agony that consumes you day and night, leaving no space for anything else.

sometimes, the elders send food to your family’s marui, a silent offering. but the food sits untouched. you can’t bring yourself to take more than a few bites—everything tastes like ash in your mouth. it’s unbearable to think of him not here, unbearable to imagine life without him by your side. you had never considered a future where he wasn’t there. now, all you can see is the emptiness.

you lie curled in the corner of the marui, knees drawn up tight to your chest, fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the woven mat beneath you. the once-familiar texture feels strange now, foreign, as if your senses are dulled, disconnected from the world around you. your face is streaked with tear stains, eyes swollen and raw from crying until there is nothing left. you have become a ghost, a mere echo of the person you were when he was still here.

“ma’ite.”

your mother’s voice is soft, but you don’t need to look up to know she’s standing there, watching you with that mix of concern and helplessness she’s worn for days. you manage to turn your head slightly, just enough to acknowledge her presence, though your neck feels too heavy to lift fully. she kneels beside you, her hands cool and gentle as they brush back the strands of hair that stick to your tear-damp skin. there’s no pity in her eyes—only a quiet, unspoken understanding. she knows this kind of loss, though maybe not in the same way, not with the same fierce, bone-deep ache that claws at you every waking moment.

she’s tried to coax you from your hiding place before, urged you to eat, to breathe in the fresh air, to let the forest heal you the way it always has. but the idea of stepping outside, of facing the world without neteyam, feels insurmountable, like your grief will crush you the moment you so much as stand.

“you cannot live like this,” she murmurs, her voice steady but tinged with a sadness she tries to hide. “he would not want this for you.”

her words hit you like stones, sharp and cutting, and your heart lurches painfully at the mere mention of him. you shake your head, pulling your knees tighter against your chest, like you can somehow protect yourself from the truth. “i cannot,” you whisper, your voice a dry rasp, barely more than a breath. “i don’t know how to go on without him.”

she cups your face gently, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet hers. there is a strength in her gaze, a fierceness that mirrors your own, though you have none of it left now. “i know your heart is heavy,” she says softly, her thumbs brushing away the new tears that spill over your cheeks. “but you cannot let your grief swallow you whole. you are needed here. your people need you.”

her lips press against your forehead, a kiss meant to soothe, but it only deepens the ache in your chest. you close your eyes, willing yourself to feel comfort, to let her words in.

“come,” she says gently, taking your hand in hers. “just for a moment. step outside. feel the wind, the sun on your skin. it will help.”

and so, you do. at first, only for a few brief moments. you force yourself out of the marui, blinking against the harsh brightness of the sun, your legs unsteady beneath you from the days spent curled in the dark. the light blinding after so long in darkness. the village bustled around you, the sounds of life—laughter, voices, the chatter of children—grating against your raw nerves.

it felt wrong. everything felt wrong.

the village watches you as you move, their eyes filled with quiet hope, but no one approaches. they give you space, knowing that grief is a private thing, a burden that cannot be shared.

your throat burned, tight with the effort of keeping the tears at bay. nature calls to you, as it always has, but even that feels dim now. the beauty of the forest, the rustle of the leaves, the hum of life—it used to bring you peace, used to ground you. but now it’s just a reminder of what’s missing.

the spirit tree becomes your refuge, a place where you can sit and breathe without the weight of the clan’s pity pressing in on you. you sit beneath its glowing tendrils, your knees pulled to your chest, your voice barely more than a whisper as you speak to eywa, the words tumbling out in a rush of desperate hope. you beg her to watch over him, to keep him safe, to bring him back to you. you ask her why, over and over again. why did he have to leave? why did you take him from me?

but there are no answers. just the soft hum of the tree, the gentle glow of the seeds floating around you. they are beautiful, but their beauty feels like a cruel joke, a reminder that the world goes on, even when your heart is breaking.

as the months turned into years, the whispers in the village changed. they no longer spoke of your grief, but of your beauty, of your strength. you had grown in those years—your body, once soft and youthful, had become strong, your muscles lean from hours spent in the forest, gathering and tending to the needs of your people. your hair had grown long, flowing down your back in thick waves, often adorned with wildflowers you picked during your walks. your attire shifted too, more flowing, more ethereal, as if you were slowly becoming part of the forest itself. you were no longer the girl you had been when neteyam left; you had become a woman, beautiful and ethereal, with an air of quiet grace that made you stand out among your peers.

many sought your hand, asking to court you, to make you their mate, but you refused them all. you had promised yourself to neteyam, and though the years had passed, though your prime had come and gone, you remained steadfast in your love for him. the village elders spoke of you often, saying you had grown too spiritual, too distant, that you would never find happiness if you continued to wait for a man who might never return. but you paid them no mind. your heart belonged to neteyam, and no one else could ever take his place.

neteyam had grown restless. five long years had passed since his family fled to awa’atlu, and though he had adapted to life among the reef people, his heart had never left the forest. he missed you—eywa, how he missed you. he still wore your bracelet, the delicate beads now worn and faded from years of saltwater, but it was his most prized possession. it was all he had left of you.

after five long years, his father had finally declared it safe for them to return to the forest. quaritch had been silent for too long, and jake was confident that the threat had passed, that they could go home. neteyam had been elated at the news. he would finally see you again. he had spent years dreaming of this moment, imagining your reunion in a thousand different ways. he would hold you, kiss you, tell you how much he had missed you. his tail flicked back and forth excitedly—this was the happiest his family had seen him in ages.

but then lo’ak had to ruin everything with his big mouth.

“what if she’s already found someone else? i mean, five years is a long time.”

neteyam had laughed it off at first, but the thought lingered, festering like a wound. what if lo’ak was right? what if you had moved on? what if, after all this time, you had found someone else—someone who could be there for you in ways he couldn’t? the thought was unbearable, and yet, he couldn’t shake it. it gnawed at him, turning his excitement into a bitter cocktail of hope and fear.

when they finally arrived back in the forest, neteyam’s heart was in his throat. the village greeted them with open arms, their joy palpable, but neteyam could barely hear the celebrations around him. his mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only.

you.

“where is she?” he asked, his voice tight with the weight of five years of longing.

mo’at frowned slightly, her eyes scanning the crowd. “she was here earlier. she may have gone to gather, or to pray.”

his heart sank. what if you didn’t want to see him? what if you had known he was coming and chosen to avoid him? panic fluttered in his chest, but he tamped it down, refusing to let the fear take hold. he had to find you.

he searched the village first, asking those who knew you, but no one had seen you. frustration clawed at him, the weight of those five years pressing down on him, making every breath feel like a struggle. he needed to see you, to touch you, to know that you were real, that you were still his.

he pushed through the underbrush, his senses heightened, eyes scanning the landscape for any trace of you. he followed the paths you used to walk, the places you had once shared, hoping for some kind of sign. his chest felt tight, his breath shallow with anticipation. and then, as he rounded a bend, your scent hit him—a faint but unmistakable blend of earth and flowers, of home, almost overpowered by the salt of the sea that clung to him.

you were sitting by the stream, your back to him, your hair cascading down your back in thick waves, adorned with the wildflowers you had always loved. for a moment, neteyam couldn’t breathe. his heart clenched at the sight of you, a wave of emotion crashing over him so powerfully that it nearly brought him to his knees. you looked different, older, more serene, but still so unmistakably you. time had changed you, had carved beauty into every inch of you, shaping you into something ethereal, something he could barely comprehend.

eywa, you were beautiful.

he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to approach you. five years had passed—what if you didn’t recognize him? under normal circumstances you would've already detected his scent and turned around to acknowledge him. what if you didn’t want him anymore?

slowly, he stepped forward, careful not to make a sound, but the wind betrayed him, carrying the scent of saltwater to your nose. you stiffened slightly, your hand pausing in its absent tracing of the water’s edge. it was an unfamiliar scent, foreign in its sharpness, but something about it made your heart skip a beat. you turned slowly, your eyes wide and searching, and then you saw him.

for a moment, the world stopped. your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. neteyam stood before you, older, stronger, but still so achingly familiar. his hair was longer, his skin sun-kissed from years spent under a different sky, but his eyes—his eyes hadn’t changed. they were the same deep, golden brown that had always made your heart flutter.

the air thickened, time itself grinding to a halt as you stared at each other, drinking in the sight of one another for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

“neteyam?” you whispered, your voice trembling, as if afraid that speaking his name would shatter the fragile reality of the moment. “is this… a dream?”

his lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes warm as they locked onto yours. “no, i am home. i have come back to you.”

you stood slowly, your legs shaky beneath you, as if the earth itself had shifted. you took a step toward him, and then another, but you stopped just out of reach, your eyes searching his face as if trying to convince yourself that he was really there. you wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms, but something held you back. five years of distance, five years of longing, five years of doubt.

you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the silence between you thick with unsaid words, with questions that neither of you knew how to ask. and then, neteyam broke the silence, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

“do you… have a mate?”

the question hung in the air, heavy and painful, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the fear that lingered in his eyes. you shook your head slowly, your voice barely a whisper. “no. i waited for you... just as i promised, remember?”

his breath left him in a rush, his shoulders sagging with relief. “and you?” you asked, your voice trembling. “have you… found someone else?”

he shook his head quickly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “no. i could never.”

the silence stretched between you, fragile and electric, before you both moved. it wasn’t planned, wasn’t thought out, but suddenly your arms were around each other, holding on as if the world itself might crumble if you let go. his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you buried your face in his chest, breathing him in, grounding yourself in the solid, steady presence of him.

you stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the weight of five years of longing and heartache melting away in the warmth of his embrace. there were no words for what you felt, for the relief, the love, the overwhelming joy that coursed through you like wildfire. he was here. he was real. and he was yours.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, memorizing every detail. his eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe that everything might just be okay.

bonus:

the poor boy couldn’t tear himself away from you.

it wasn’t enough to sit close or brush shoulders—no, neteyam had to practically bury himself in your skin. his arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer than necessary, while his face stayed tucked against your neck, like he couldn’t stand the idea of even a breath of space between you.

the night air was thick with the smell of roasted fruit, fish, and the soft crackle of the fire at the center of the gathering. drums echoed across the beach, pulsing with the rhythm of celebration.

you could feel his breath on your skin, warm and steady. he wasn’t confident tonight, though. not like usual. no, tonight he was clingy. dare you say... pathetic even, the way he couldn’t let go, like you’d vanish if he blinked.

you sighed, letting your arms drape lazily around his shoulders, the weight of them pulling him closer still, and though you were happy to be in his arms again after all this time, there was something off about it. his scent—salty, sharp, almost acrid in the way it hit your nose—wasn’t the same as it used to be. you don’t quite like it, the way his scent stings your nose, it clung to him, to you now, but you didn't bother to complain. you persevered, pushing through the discomfort, because he needed this, needed you.

you’re laughing at something, probably at him, because he’s clinging to you like a vine desperate for a tree. he buries himself into you, his breath warm against your jaw, rubbing his cheek, his chin, anywhere he can, marking you again and again with a quiet, trembling need. your fingers absently played with the beads of his hair, their familiar texture grounding you in the moment, and neteyam shivered under your touch, leaning into it like he couldn’t help himself.

“missed you,” he murmurs, voice cracking somewhere between the words, too low, too broken for anyone else to hear. the kind of confession that never leaves the mouth of someone as proud as neteyam. “i was scared you had moved on.”

you frowned slightly, not because the thought was ridiculous (it wasn’t, not entirely), but because of how broken he sounded admitting it. this was neteyam, the strong, steady boy you’d known your whole life. the boy who’d never shown fear, never let his emotions get the better of him. and now here he was, wrapped around you like a lost child, his breath trembling against your neck. his tail curls, wrapping lazily around your leg.

“lo'ak made me think you were already mated.”

“lo'ak is stupid,” you muttered, though your voice was gentler than the words themselves. “you know i wouldn’t do that.”

he nodded, but it felt half-hearted, like he wanted to believe you, but some part of him couldn’t.

you shifted slightly, pulling him closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “i am not going anywhere.”

he shuddered, his grip on your waist almost bruising now, and for a moment, you thought he might break down right there in front of the entire clan.

and maybe, in some small way, you understood. maybe he wasn’t wrong to be scared. five years was a long time, and you had changed. you weren’t the same girl who had watched him leave all those years ago, and he wasn’t the same boy who had made you promise to wait for him.

“you smell like the ocean,” you finally whisper, teasing, a half-hearted protest. his body tenses, the ghost of a laugh shaking his shoulders. still, he doesn’t pull away. can’t.

“it will wash off,” he promises, lips ghosting over your temple. but he doesn’t move to let go. doesn’t think he can. five years apart, and neteyam’s convinced he could spend the rest of his life breathing you in and still not get enough.

[strwbwrrybunny]

needy. satoru.

cw 𐙚 drabble, pregnant! reader, leaking tits,riding, cream-pie, strong language. gojo kinda has a pregnancy kink . . . minors shoo.

gojo couldn’t take it anymore. the way his needy cock is pressing against his checkered pajama pants, he’d tried to contain himself but he just couldn’t. the sight of your fat pussy lips devouring that thong, the way you’re wearing one of his shirts because your round belly makes it hard to wear anything else, the way your breasts have doubled in size and are always leaking—it all drives him insane. he hates to bother you, especially since you toss and turn so much trying to find the perfect position, but he has to.

you were pretty before pregnancy, but now? god, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. he swears your hips have spread and your ass has doubled in size; this baby is doing wonders for you. the way your body has transformed, the fullness of your curves, it’s all too much for him to handle. his mind races with thoughts of you, his desire building with every glance.

“so f’cking wet!” he groans, his head lulling back against the pillows as you ride his twitching cock. his hands grip your hips tightly, feeling the slickness of your arousal coating him. you can see the pleasure etched across his face, his eyes half-closed in bliss.

you lean forward, your breasts swaying with each movement, and he can't resist reaching up to cup them. his fingers knead the soft flesh, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. you moan, the sound mingling with his own groans, creating a symphony of desire.as you roll your hips, you can feel every inch of him buried deep inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. the friction, the heat, it’s all consuming. you move faster, your movements becoming more erratic as the pleasure builds. his hands slide down to your waist, guiding you, encouraging you to take him even deeper.

“s’ch a pretty pussy baby, now i remember why i got you pregnant” he pants, his voice strained with need. you can feel him throbbing inside you, his cock twitching with every thrust. the sensation is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.“mm’ fucking my pregnant pussy s-so g-good,” you whine leaning down ,capturing his lips in a searing kiss. your tongues tangle, the taste of him intoxicating. his hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

as the pleasure intensifies, you break the kiss, gasping for breath. your movements become more urgent, each thrust bringing you closer to the climax you both crave. his hands grip your ass, helping you move faster, harder. the room is filled with the sounds of your passion, the wet slap of skin against skin, the desperate moans and gasps. “i’m gonna cum,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of your approaching orgasm. he looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust, and nods.

“cum on me sweetheart, it’s yours,” he urges, his voice rough with desire.

with one final thrust, you feel yourself shatter, the pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. you cry out, your body convulsing around him, milking his cock as he follows you over the edge. his hands grip you tightly, holding you close as he spills inside you, the warmth of his release filling you.

[emily--prentiss]

Peace

Aaron Hotchner x Reader (Aaron providing reader comfort after a tough case)

contains: no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, general cm themes, I think that’s all? (please let me know if I missed anything!)

a/n: hi! I’m certain something along these lines has been done before so sorry in advance for that! it’s been a long, long time since I last wrote anything so I may be a bit rusty. also the first time I’ve written for hotch, and the first time I’ve posted any of my writing on here so I’m slightly nervous! regardless, enjoy! <3

word count: 1.56k

You’re quiet on the drive home.

That in itself is a cause for concern. You’re a talker by nature. On any given night, regardless of how heavy your eyes may feel after poring over a mountain of paperwork and staring at a computer screen for the entirety of the day, or how emotionally exhausted you may be after yet another gruelling case, you’re constantly full of chatter. It’s endearing. Or, at least Aaron thinks it is. Such a stark contrast to his own mannerisms; you’re the rambler, he’s the listener.

Though he may also be weary from whatever work he has endured through any given day, he loves to listen to you talk. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as he drives, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. You gesture wildly with your hands, stop midstream every once in a while to take a sharp intake of breath before carrying on with your train of thought, eyes alight with passion, no matter how mundane the topic of conversation may be. He’ll hum his assent every once in a while, nod along to show he’s paying attention, but otherwise he’s happy to let you chatter away, simply grateful for your company.

Tonight is different, though.

Tonight you’ve not said a word since the pair of you left the office, and it’s worrying him.

The most recent case had been taxing. Perhaps more so than normal. Any case that involves children seems to hit the team hard, but this one was far worse. The violent nature in which the UnSub tore apart his victims was harrowing, nightmare inducing, and would stay with all of you for a long time.

Hotch had been tempted to send everyone home as soon as the jet touched down in Quantico, but hadn’t. Despite his quiet, reserved love of and care for his team and their health, he knew that the paperwork following a case was vital and time consuming, and he’d rather they got it over with so everyone could go into the weekend with clear heads, and wouldn’t be expected to rehash all the gory details come Monday morning. So they’d stayed, and they’d worked, and they’d filtered out at 5 o’clock, a weary chorus of hushed goodbyes lying in their wake.

The bullpen was empty by the time Aaron had ushered you out to the car. Your legs had felt heavy, your heart heavier still, and had it not been for his grounding touch on the small of your back, you’re certain you would’ve dropped to your knees and let out the most blood curdling of screams. Once in the car, he’d helped you buckle your seatbelt before climbing into the drivers seat and heading for home. The radio was switched on, at a low volume, and provided a calming soundtrack for the drive.

He wanted to speak to you, wanted to hear your voice in return. But he remained silent, his gaze flickering towards you every so often, his hands aching to reach out and touch you. You, for the majority of the journey, lay your head on the window and kept a steady gaze on the passing scenery.

Aaron was out of the car first once he’d pulled into the driveway and parked the car. You hadn’t even registered his departure until he was carefully prying your door open so as not to startle you. You looked to him with a furrowed brow, the concerned look on his face almost breaking you.

“We’re home, honey.”

You’ve no recollection of walking into the house, let alone the upstairs bathroom. But when you seem to come to your senses, you find yourself sat on the closed lid of the toilet, wringing your hands together, teeth biting at your lower lip. Aaron is leaning over the bath, the fingers of one hand trailing through the water to check the temperature, the scent of your favourite bubble bath surrounding you.

When he turns, you almost crumble. He gives you the sweetest smile, all dimples. The stoic facade he adopts when in the company of others shatters when it’s just the two of you. He’s softer. He handles you like glass, as if you could quite easily shatter. It should annoy you, really, but it doesn’t. Because it’s Aaron, and you know it’s merely his way of showing you how much he loves you.

He knows you’re strong, capable of anything - these are things he regularly reminds you of. But he’s also the first to remind you that you’re allowed to be vulnerable, to lean on others, on him, when you need to. It doesn’t make you weak - it makes you human.

His footsteps echo as he walks towards you. The crack of his knees as he crouches by your feet would make you laugh on any other occasion, would have you mocking him and making jokes about how old he’s getting. But not tonight. You don’t have it in you to speak right now, let alone tease him.

Lifting his hand to your face, he pulls your lip from between your teeth. With a calloused thumb, he rubs across the cracked skin, wiping up a drop of blood as he goes. He’d usually scold you for it, but he stays quiet. Your cheek is swallowed by the entirety of his palm, and you lean into the warmth and comfort his touch always provides.

There’s a familiarity in his actions, as he rises to his feet and starts to help you out of your clothes, that makes your heartache. The way in which he takes charge is so reminiscent of Hotch - the leader, the boss, the grump. But there’s a softness to him, too. The way he waits for your nod before you unhooks your bra and pulls the straps down your arms, the way his touch lingers on your skin, the way he presses loving kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, the palm of your hand.

That gentleness is only for you.

That side of him is purely your Aaron.

Once your clothes are shed and tossed into the laundry hamper, he takes your hand and steadies you as you settle into the heat of the bath water. A stifled gasp sneaks past your lips, and he’s about to apologise for the temperature. But then you sink down, relax into it, and the apology dies on his tongue.

You’re certain he’ll leave now. He’s so in tune with your emotions that he’s confident you’ll want some privacy, a moment to yourself. You prove him wrong when you grasp at his fingers, your eyes filled with a silent plea.

Stay.

So he does.

He settles himself on the edge of the bath, strong, calloused fingers inching through your hair, scraping at your scalp. Your eyes flutter closed and you once again relax into his touch. You truly can’t remember the last time you felt love like this, so completely safe with another person, your heart fit to burst. And you want to tell him. Want to thank him, to whisper how much you love him as though it’s a secret for just the two of you. But your throat is hoarse from holding back tears, so you’ll figure you’ll tell him later.

You have time.

Aaron is diligent as he helps you through your routine. He washes your hair, warns you to close your eyes as he rinses the shampoo out, watches as it collects around you in the water. His fingers feel wonderful on your scalp as he massages in your conditioner, and again as he washes it away. He’s careful not to be too rough as he takes a wash cloth to your face and your body. And when he presses a kiss to your lips once you’re clean, his heart swells at the smile you give him.

It’s only a small thing. If he’d have blinked, he’d have missed it. But it’s the first smile he’s seen on your face in days, and he finds himself basking in it, brain in overdrive as he thinks of ways to draw more from you.

You feel more human after your bath, more steady. So, as you stand at the counter, wrapped up in a towel that swallows your small body, and brush your teeth, he dips out of the room for a moment. When he returns a minute later, it’s with a change of clothes in each hand. Underwear for the both of you, as well as a couple of t-shirts (both his, you notice quickly, and once again you’re overcome with love for the man that knows you so completely that he knows you’d want to be entirely surrounded by him tonight).

The plug is pulled from the bath, lights are switched off, and you’re both crawling into your own bed once you’re dressed. It’s only when you’ve been away for a while that you come to appreciate the small comforts your home provides - the mattress that is perfectly molded to your shape, the softness of your own pillow, the silk of the sheets on your bare legs.

And it’s when Aaron collects you in his arms, brings your head to rest on his chest, your fingers tangling in his shirt, a mumbled ‘I love you’ pressed into your hair, do you feel something you haven’t felt in days.

Peace.

[ken-dom]

I’ll Do Anything You Say If You Say It With Your Hands

Colt Seavers x gn!reader

2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: You comb your fingertips through the wavy lengths of his soft hair, pausing when you find the perfect spot to wind a handful of strands tight around your fingers...

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: Thank you my wonderful K (@heresthestorymorningglory) for beta reading, finding me a Swift song for Colt, and allowing long hair Colt into the Geese Who Consume Us Club. This is my first time writing him and I know it won’t be my last! Title from Trecherous by Taylor Swift

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, long hair Colt, crying (both to Taylor Swift and from overstimulation), praise, hair pulling kink, a lot of cum, hand job, overstimulation, orgasm as pain relief, aftercare

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

With lips hot and wet at his neck, your nails scrape over Colt’s scalp, threading through his thick locks.

His head drops back into the feeling; it’s sensual and soothing in equal measure, every nerve tingling like a spread of lightning through his body and heat pooling like lava at his aching core.

You've been touching him like this, tender but teasing, for what feels to him like hours since finding him curled into a ball on his sofa with Taylor Swift playing from the kitchen, eyes and cheeks wet, back aching and head pounding. You offered to help him relax, slowly opening him up to you, and, although you didn’t tell him this, your plan was also designed to make him feel good about himself. He fell apart in your hands the moment you began to touch him and as ever, he’s content to let you put him back together however you see fit.

You comb your fingertips through the wavy lengths of his soft hair, pausing when you find the perfect spot to wind a handful of strands tight around your fingers until you’re holding his head still with a firm fistful of thick, luscious blonde.

There’s still one loose strand framing his face, but he looks so gorgeous, you leave it there.

He whimpers as you tug your fist lightly, his wet eyes glimmering before they slip closed.

He feels your free hand glide down the smooth expanse of his chest. You’re raking your nails over his soft flesh too, feeling him shiver under the warmth of your palm until you graze a nail directly over a nipple and he jolts at the sudden spark of pleasure. You continue there, pinching and rolling the soft nub lightly between your fingers, watching his face contort in pleasure that isn’t quite enough but is almost too much to bear.

Watching him unravel.

He's been hard for too long and the front of his loose fitting sweatpants are soaked through. Colt is strong and he has stamina for days, but he really can’t keep this up for much longer, not with the way you’re teasing and coaxing, being so soft and caring with him.

Your hip presses briefly against his cock the hen you reach up to stroke that loose strand of hair, and Colt writhes, biting his bottom lip to keep from letting out the hungry groan that’s been nagging to tear from his chest.

You brush against him deliberately now and again, watching his chest muscles tense while his cock throbs at the hint of contact, and this time he does let out a groan. It’s guttural and almost relieved, and the wet patch grows a little darker.

He’s delicious like this, you think, simmering on the edge of bliss, needy but not daring to ask for anything more than you’re giving him. He completely relinquishes control to you, giving you both his body, and the power to oversee his pleasure however you see fit.

He trusts you, and you take good care of him. It works.

‘Colt?’ you whisper, still massaging that perky, sensitive nipple, and he whines in response. He can’t formulate so much as a thought of anything worth saying, let alone turn the sound into a word. So he gives up and simply nods instead, face scrunching up in pain when the roots of his hair snag against your tight grip.

It’s not just pain, though; it’s pleasure too, and he shudders at the sensation it sends running down his spine. 

It’s almost too much. Every touch is bringing him dangerously close to the edge, and having his hair tugged was a factor he never expected would contribute.

Lips pulling into a smirk at his reaction, you whisper, ‘Do you need to cum?’

‘P-pl-’ he tries, resorting back to a nod, slower this time, gentle against your fist, trying not to let this new thrill he’s discovered overwhelm him too soon.

‘Then tell me you’re handsome.’

‘Wha-’

‘Tell me you’re handsome,’ you repeat, a clear and simple request, fingers finding the tip of his cock with your and tracing a featherlight touch over the pulsing bulge in his damp sweatpants.

Heat radiates through the fabric as you trace the outline of a vein running down the underside of his length, and he twitches against your finger, cock begging for more — or less, if you want this to continue for much longer.

‘I- I’m- handsome,’ he chokes out, hips stuttering as you circle his sensitive tip again.

‘Tell me you’re smart, too.’

He shakes his head. It’s too vigorous and it hurts, but a spark of bliss shoots down to his core and he grunts as he feels himself leak out another thick drop of precum. His head drops back against the wall, your fist there to cushion the blow.

‘Come on, Colt, you can do it. Tell me.’

Your finger slows to a stop and his breathing turns uneven and ragged.

‘No- no, please- I… I can’t- I’m not!’

‘Oh but you are, and I need you to believe it. I need to hear you say it.’

He dares to open his scrunched up eyes just enough to glance at you.

You mean it. He knows you mean it. And he will never not give you what you ask for, so he manages, somehow.

‘I’m… I’m smart,’ he mutters, embarrassment pricking at his cheeks.

‘Good boy,’ you coo, massaging his tip again, gentle and slow.

Oh, Colt thinks, lost in the sensation, absentmindedly rolling his hips in time with your fingers, worth it.

Because he likes praise. He likes doing right by you, even if he doesn’t always agree with what you want him to say about himself. If you believe it, that’s enough for him.

‘I think you really deserve to cum now.’

‘Oh- yeah, ok-’ he breathes, still trying to please you, to sound agreeable, but it comes out desperate and you smirk as you lean up to press your lips to his for a moment, his cock once again left to throb aimlessly inside his sweatpants in the empty space between you, untouched and leaking steadily.

He feels a sinking disappointment when you loosen your grip on his long hair, but then you dip your head and your lips wrap around the plump nipple you’d been teasing moments earlier, and he moans, loud and unrestrained, bucking his hips and grabbing your shoulders to seek something- anything you might be good enough to give him.

With one hand still loose in his hair, the other drags painfully slowly over his stomach, fingers grazing his happy trail, to hook under the waistband of his sweatpants, open a space big enough to slide your hand inside the fabric and press your palm flat against the underside of his cock.

It’s sticky with precum and he blushes again at how wet he feels.

His cock is thick and heavy, noticeable even just from resting against your palm, and you can feel every little throb of need it gives. Your eyes drag over his burly form, and absentmindedly, you lick your lips.

His jaw clenches at that. He’s trying so hard not to spill yet, forcing his hips still and concentrating on breathing. He needs you to tell him when, but it’s growing more difficult by the minute to wait for that command, even while there’s no friction, no movement.

‘Tell me one more thing?’

‘Anything!’ Colt cries out, voice weak, strangled and cracking, the vein in his cock throbbing against your palm.

‘Tell me what you need?’

‘I need- oh-’

You finally stroke his cock. A soft, gentle massage that, to him, feels like far too much at this point. He can’t hold off, his release is approaching rapidly and-

‘Oh, fuck- I can’t-’

‘That’s it baby, you can, I promise,’ you coo, and your fingers wrap around his length while your tongue resumes its work on his sensitive nipple.

‘I- I need to-’ he rasps, on the verge of more tears. But these are needy tears, not self pitying ones, and you both know that you’ll give him what he needs, eventually.

The tears pour, steaming down his cheeks, and as a reward for trying so hard, you begin to move your fist, pumping faster the more he attempts to spit the words out, and tightening the grip of your other hand to yank his hair, hard.

Colt growls at the combined sensations and your teeth catch on his nipple as he jerks forward. It’s so good, so overwhelming, he knows he’s done for, and every ounce of strength in him diminishes until there’s just your hand, your mouth, your warmth. He’s safe like this with you. Safe and handsome and smart. Fuck.

His vision blurs as the words continue to fall from his trembling lips; ‘I need to- cu-ohhh-oh!-ughhh-mmmnnn-gg-’ and he spills uncontrollably, hips snapping forward into your furiously pumping fist while his cock darkens the front of those sweatpants with a fresh layer of thick, hot seed, dripping down satisfyingly over your hand, too while his whole body turns limp.

You continue working his softening length with slower, softer strokes until he’s got nothing left to give and he’s softening inside your loose fist.

He’s a heap on the floor by now and you’re positioned over him, pushing your fingers through his hair and softly brushing it away from his face instead of pulling at it. The contrast soothes him and he whimpers, nuzzling his face into your shoulder as you settle beside him.

You wipe his release from your hand onto a dry patch of his pants — they’re going to need a thorough wash anyway, and Colt doesn’t even notice.

His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his over-sensitive cock relieved and soft and coated in his own cum, twitching with aftershocks.

Slowly, he begins to feel like he’s made of jelly, the feeling spreading from his core out to his limbs, and he can barely keep his eyes open.

He floats away on the haze of bliss while you play with his hair and press soft kisses to his cheek, whispering how good he was for you into his ear, the praise dripping like warm honey.

When he comes to, he first notices that your comforting weight is no longer pressed against his side, and then he recognises the calming trickle of the tap filling his bathtub and the scent of lavender floating through from the steamy room. 

Whatever you did to him has relieved his back pain, however temporary, and he shifts on the floor, seeing how it feels to have more ease in his movements.

There’s a cushion under his head and you’ve stripped him of his cum stained sweatpants, replacing them with a blanket for now.

It feels like you’ve brushed his hair.

He smiles to himself. A big, dumb grin that would make you want to kiss him (and pounce on him) if you were still beside him.

He looks over to where you were laid before he drifted off and sees that you’ve left him a glass of water.

His heart skips.

He’s not sure he can drag himself to the bathtub right now, weak from too much pleasure and somewhat overwhelmed at it, but he knows you’ll help him. And that it’s what he needs.

He knows you’ll massage his shoulders, and that you’ll wash his hair with tender, loving fingers, and gush about how pretty it is all the while. 

About how pretty he is. 

You’ll do it until he sees his worth, and as difficult as it may be to learn and accept that he’s as desirable as you seem to think he is, he’s not exactly complaining about hearing it from you. Especially when you choose this method — the one where he gets to cum.

He knows he’ll be hard again by the time you’re done washing and massaging him, too, but you’ll take mercy on him since he’s so overstimulated. Won’t you?

[soulofapatrick]

All The Time In The World - Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: You got kidnapped and in the aftermath you need Hotch to erase it all

Words: 3.3K

Warnings: mentions of attempted r; hurt-comfort; ptsd; fluffy and angsty

Notes: I need to be stopped 🤣 I do plan on writing more Spencer but Hotch has my whole attention rn 🤣

Y/N’s POV

I stand under the cascading of water, the heat searing my skin as if it could burn away the memories etched into every fibre of my being. The events of the last few hours replay like a horror film in my mind, each scene more vivid than the last. 

I can still feel his hands, vile and invasive, creeping under my shirt, his putrid breath hot against my skin as he loomed over me with that twisted grin. The terror of those moments claws at my insides, threatening to consume me whole. But just as I thought I couldn’t fight him anymore, voice raw from screaming and back burned from the carpet below me as I fought to escape, my team burst through the door like avenging angels, their precise shots shattering the nightmare and saving me from the abyss. 

The water pounds against my skin, relentless, as if trying to wash away the stain of his touch. I scrub furiously, desperately, but the memory lingers, staining my skin with it’s foul residue. The sob claws it’s way up my throat as I scrub and scrub. I must have made more sound than I realised because Hotch’s gruff voice, filled with concern, pierces my cloud of panic. 

I manage only a small sound in response, my arms still wrapped protectively around myself, a feeble attempt to shield myself against the unseen horrors that haunt me. 

“Do you need anything?” His voice, usually firm and commanding, is now softened with empathy, a balm to my wounded soul. In that moment, I realise what I truly need. Without hesitation, I find the courage to voice my plea, a fragile whisper that hangs heavy in the air between us. 

“Join me.” I choke out, the words barely escaping my lips, carried by the trembling breath of desperation. I long for his presence, for the solid warmth of his body to chase away the chill of my fears. In him, I seek refuge from the darkness that threatens to consume me whole. I hear the hesitant shuffle of footsteps outside the shower curtain, a tentative response to my plea. And though the moment hangs in fragile uncertainty, I cling to the hope that he will hear the silent plea beneath my words, “Please, Aaron.” I whisper, the weight of my anguish heavy in the space between us, a silent prayer for him to bridge the divide and offer me solace in the midst of my despair. 

The bathroom fills with a heavy silence, broken only by the soft exhale that escapes Aaron’s lips. I hear the subtle rustle of fabric as his shirt hits the floor, followed by the metallic clang of his belt buckle hitting the tiles. Each sound sends jolt of panic coursing through my veins, a stark reminder of the nightmare I’ve just escaped. 

But then, like a lifeline cast in a storm, his arms wrap around me from behind, strong and steady, pulling me back from the edge of despair. I release a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding, the tension in my body melting away as his chest presses reassuringly against my back, a silent promise of safety in his embrace. 

His touch is gentle deliberate, as he silently pries my hands from where they cling desperately to my shoulders, nails biting into flesh in a futile attempt to anchor myself against the chaos within. I have to close my eyes against the onslaught of memories, tears slipping unbidden down my cheeks, each drop a testament to the agony that lingers beneath the surface. The scent of shampoo fills the air as Aaron reaches past me, his movements fluid and sure, retrieving the bottle provided by the hotel. 

I can’t help but tremble as his fingers thread through my hair, the sensation both soothing and agonising in its tenderness. His touch is a balm against the rawness of my wounds, a silent offering of solace in the world torn asunder by violent and fear. He works in silence, his hands moving with practiced ease, each stroke a silent prayer for healing, for redemption in the wake of tragedy. And though the tears flow freely, each drop a testament to the pain that will hold me captive for a long while, Aaron’s presence a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that he found me and saved me. 

But, even as he tends to me with such care, such tenderness, I can still feel the ghost of the UnSub’s touch lingering upon my skin, a stain that no amount of scrubbing can erase. It’s a thought that threatens to overwhelm me, to drown me in a sea of despair and self-loathing. 

As Aaron's hands tenderly cover mine, completing the ritual of washing away the remnants of terror that cling to my hair, I am consumed by a wave of overwhelming emotion. His touch is a lifeline in the darkness, a steady anchor in the storm raging within me. But even as he tends to me with such care, such tenderness, I can still feel the ghost of the UnSub's touch lingering upon my skin, a stain that no amount of scrubbing can erase. It's a thought that threatens to overwhelm me, to drown me in a sea of despair and self-loathing. 

And then, in the aftermath of my turmoil, Aaron’s arms encircle me, drawing me close as if to shield me from the pain that threatens to consume me whole. The weight of his presence is both a comfort and a burden, a reminder of the fragility of my own resolve in the face of unspeakable horror. 

My knees buckle beneath me, the weight of my grief too heavy to bear alone. I am lost in a tempest of sorrow, screaming sobs echoing against the tiled walls of the shower as Aaron cradles me in his embrace. Sobs so loud I’m sure the rest of the team can hear them from where they’re waiting on the other side of the bathroom wall, scattered across Aaron’s room. Aaron… He sinks to the floor with me, a silent promise that he will never let me fall, never let me drown in the darkness that threatens to engulf us both. 

In the sanctuary of his arms, I find release, the floodgates of my anguish opening wide as I surrender to the pain that has haunted me for so long. I’m adrift in a sea of memories, each wave crashing against the fragile shores of my sanity, threatening to pull me under. 

"It- I-" I choke on the words, my chest heaving with the weight of my sorrow, and yet Aaron waits patiently, his steady gaze a silent reassurance that I am not alone in my pain. And then, with a tenderness that takes my breath away, he presses a kiss to my wet hair, a silent vow to stand by me no matter the cost, "I can still feel him," the words are a whisper, barely audible above the rush of water, but they hang heavy in the air between us, a reminder of the scars that still linger beneath the surface.

“Do you trust me?” Aaron’s voice is a gentle murmur, a question whispered against the nape of my neck as his stubble brushes against my skin. I don’t speak, but nod, allowing him to pull me gently back to my feet. 

He turns me gently to face him, his russet eyes holding mine with a tenderness that belies the weight of the world we carry between us. There’s a gentlemanly grace in the way he looks at me, a silently acknowledgment of the wounds we both bear. And then, with a steadiness born of resolve, he reaches for the body wash, his fingers brushing against mine in a fleeting caress. 

I unfold my arms from around my was it, revealing the bruises and cuts that mar my skin, souvenirs of the darkness that still lingers within me. Aaron’s breath catches in his throat, a harsh exhale that echoes the pain written across his features. But there’s no hesitation in his touch as he picks up the shower sponge, his movements deliberate and unhurried, a silent promise of healing in the wake of devastation. 

He cleans me with a gentleness that borders on reverence, his hands tracing the contours of my body with a tenderness that speaks of love unspoken, of wounds too deep to fully comprehend. Each kiss he leaves upon my tingling skin is a testament to the intimacy we share, a silent vow to stand by me through the darkest of nights. 

But, even as the water prickles against our skin, a reminder of the heat that still burns within us, I find solace in the sanctuary of his embrace. His arms envelop me, a fortress against the storm raging outside, his face buried in my hair as if seeking refuge from the pain that threatens to tear us apart. 

I lean into his embrace, my head resting against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby in the chaos that surrounds us. In his arms, I feel small and fragile, but of so safe, cocooned in a love that knows no bounds. I want to hold onto this moment forever, to lose myself in the warmth of his touch, in the safety of his arms. But, reality intrudes, a harsh reminder of the world waiting beyond the confines of our sanctuary. 

“The girl?” My voice is a whisper against his chest, a question that hangs heavy in the air between us. He acknowledges it with a sound, a subtle shift in the air that speaks volumes of the burdens we both carry. And then, with a tenderness that pierces the silence like a knife, he steps away, turning off the water and pulling back the curtain. The moment is over, a fleeting glimpse of paradise in a world torn asunder by darkness. 

In the soft glow of the setting sun, Aaron stands like afire carved form marble, illuminated by the golden rays streaming through the window. His silhouette is a study in strength and face, even contour etched with the delicate touch of twilight. The light dances across his broad shoulders, casting shadows that play upon the sinewy muscles of his arms as he dries himself off, a vision of masculine allure bathed in the warmth of dusk. His dark hair, tousled and unruly, frames his face like a halo. His hazel eyes, molten gold in the fading light, fix upon me with a tenderness that steals my breath away, the corners crinkling with the ghost of a smile that sends my heart ablaze.

I can’t help but drink in the sight of him, from the proudest arch of his brow to the curve of his lips, each detail a testament to the beauty that lies within. My gaze lingers on the expanse of his muscled chest, the rise and fall to his breath a hypnotic rhythm that draws me in, until my eyes trace the line of his body, down past his happy trial to the heavy length settled between his thick thighs that has my eyes widening as he’s big. My mind going to what that would feel l-

“Eyes up here Princess,” his voice, low and commanding, pulls me from the reverie, sending shivers down my spine. It’s a command that I dare not disobey, though the temptation to linger upon the sight before me is almost unbearable. With a sheepish smile, I lift my gaze to meet his, the warmth in his eyes melting away the chill that lingers within, “Let me just get dressed, then I’ll give you a hand, okay?” His words are a  a gentle reassurance, a promise of solace in the tumultuous sea of uncertainty that threatens to engulf us both. I nod in silent acquiescence, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of his footsteps as he crosses the room.

Each movement is deliberate, purposeful, as he slips back into his clothes, the fabric falling against his skin like a lover's caress. And as he draws nearer, his presence envelops me in a cocoon of warmth and safety, a sanctuary in the midst of chaos. Every touch is a symphony of tenderness, a silent declaration of love that transcends words. In his embrace, I find refuge from the storm that rages within, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us whole. 

As Aaron kneels before me, his touch a gentle caress against the bruises that mar my skin, I’m overcome by a flood of emotions too powerful to name. Each stroke of his hand is a silent prayer for healing, a testament to the depth of his compassion in the wake of tragedy. His lips leave sweet kisses in the wake of his touch, a balm against the wounds that still linger beneath the surface. I watch as his eyes flutter for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability in the depths of his gaze, and in that fleeting moment, I see the depth of his love reflected back at me. 

With trembling hands, I cup his face in my palms, the warmth of his skin a welcome embrace against the chill that still lingers in the air. There is a tenderness in his touch, a reverence that speaks volumes of the bond that binds us together in the aftermath of despair. And then, with a courage born of desperation, I guide his face down, my heart pounding in my chest as our lips meet in a chaste kiss. It is a moment of vulnerability, of raw emotion laid bare in the quiet sanctuary of our shared grief.

As Aaron pulls away slightly, his eyes search my face with an intensity that takes my breath away. In the soft glow of the dimly lit room, I see a myriad of emotions flickering in the depths of his hazel eyes – love, longing, and a hint of vulnerability. 

His lips brush against mine once more, a silent question lingering in the space between us. And then, as if drawn by an irresistible force, he leans in again, his kiss infused with a newfound passion that ignites a fire within me. I feel the heat of his touch against my skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine as our lips meet in a tender embrace. There is a hunger in his kiss, a longing that mirrors my own, as we lose ourselves in the depths of our shared desire. 

But even as the intensity of our passion grows, the kiss remains gentle, tender, a silent affirmation of the love that binds us together. In the quiet sanctuary of our shared grief, we find solace in each other's arms, our hearts beating as one against the darkness that threatens to consume us whole.

“That’s enough Princess, you need your rest. We have all the time in the world for this.” Aaron breaks the kiss, albeit reluctantly to help me finish getting dressed as my heart jackhammers in my chest but this time not from fear but from anticipation. 

With his help, I slip into clean underwear and a pair of his oversized tracksuit bottoms, their warmth a comforting embrace against the chill that still lingers in the air. He tends to my hair with a care that speaks of love unspoken, his fingers deftly weaving it into a bun as if to shield me from the chaos that threatens to consume us both. I make a mental note to ask him where he learned such a skill, a reminder of the mysteries that still linger between us, waiting to be unraveled in the quiet moments between storms. 

And then, with a quiet resolve that belies the weight of our shared sorrow, he holds out his shirt from the day before, a silent offering of strength in the face of adversity. I meet his gaze, the unspoken bond between us a lifeline in the darkness that threatens to tear us apart. With trembling hands, I slip my arms through the fabric, wincing at the ache that still lingers beneath the surface. He helps me button it up, each touch a reassurance that I am not alone in this battle, that together, we can face whatever demons may come. And as he leads me towards the door, the rest of the team awaits, their concern a silent testament to the bonds that bind us together in the aftermath of tragedy. 

As Spencer's eyes meet mine, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirls within their depths, threatening to spill over in a torrent of tears. His words hang heavy in the air, suspended between us like a fragile thread on the verge of breaking. JJ's grip tightens on Spencer's arm, her own expression a mirror of his turmoil, while Emily's hand flies to her mouth in a silent gasp of shock and disbelief. 

Morgan's jaw clenches with a fierce determination, his gaze a steel blade slicing through the tension that hangs thick in the air. Rossi's expression is stoic, a mask of controlled fury that belies the storm raging beneath the surface. And yet, despite the turmoil that threatens to consume us all, they remain steadfast by my side, a silent testament to the bonds that bind us together in the face of adversity. 

I shift uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of Aaron's embrace. His arms are still wrapped around my waist, a shield against the storm that rages within and without. 

"I-I don't want to be alone tonight," I whisper, the words a tremulous plea that hangs in the air between us like a fragile thread. And in that moment, it's as if a switch is flipped, the rest of the team springing into action with a sense of urgency that borders on desperation.

Morgan and JJ move with purpose, their movements swift and sure as they push the two double beds together, creating a makeshift sanctuary amidst the chaos that surrounds us. The others disappear from the room, only to return moments later with armfuls of pillows and duvets, their hands a flurry of activity as they arrange them with meticulous care. 

With a courage born of desperation, I turn to JJ and Spencer, my voice a tremulous whisper in the stillness of the room. "Will you sleep with us tonight?" The words hang in the air, laden with unspoken emotion, a silent plea for solace in the midst of our shared grief. They nod in silent understanding, their expressions a mirror of my own turmoil. Rossi takes the couch without complaint, a silent sentinel in the night, while Emily and Morgan settle themselves on the floor amidst the pillows and duvets, their presence a silent reassurance in the darkness that threatens to consume us whole. 

I nestle my head against Aaron's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby in the silence that surrounds us. Spencer's arm is thrown haphazardly across my waist, a silent vow to stand by me through the darkest of nights, while JJ's fingers brush against my hip in a gesture of comfort and support.

That’s how I fall asleep: My team, my family, surrounding me and the hope of something growing between me and Aaron in the future. Those words echoing in my mind. 

We have all the time in the world for this.

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka @alexxavicry

[saberlight1]

— can’t help fallin’ in love, coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, mentions of trauma, depression, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: another one!! i am a goddamn writing machine these days lmao. i wanted to write something lovey dovey about my boy, i think i may have gone a lil overboard but this app is seriously lacking coryo fluff fics. i hope you enjoy soft coryo as much as i do! <3

masterlist

Coriolanus sat with an emotionless look on his face as he sat on the rocky train that was taking him to his worst nightmare. He was being shipped off to District 12 for cheating to help you win the games. He didn’t regret that, he never would.

But this was not the ideal outcome he’d imagined.

At least he wouldn’t be completely alone— after all, he was going to your district. He just wished it was under different circumstances.

“You know, I thought I might find you here,” Sejanus’ words caused him to turn around immediately, breaking him from his thoughts. “Sitting all by yourself.” He teased, walking into the train cart Coriolanus was currently in.

“Sejanus, what’re you doing—” He stood up, his eyebrows knitted together in concern and annoyance.

“What do you think?” He cut him off with a scoff. “After what I did in the arena? My father had to buy me the Academy a brand new gym just so I could get my diploma.” He put his bag down. “He begged me to stay, but once I found out where they were sending you, I couldn’t get out fast enough.” He admitted with a sigh, moving to sit down. “Barely made the train ‘cause of this stupid knee, but it’s okay, they gave me some morphling for the pain.”

Coriolanus looked at him with judgment. “You volunteered for this?”

“I figured if I get through basic and then maybe I’d become a medic.” He beamed. “Maybe make a real difference out here… just like you said.” Sejanus’ gaze turned downward. “They never told us what you did,”

“I cheated.” He answered, shamelessly. “To save Y/N from the snakes.” Sejanus’ nodded slowly, understanding where his friend was coming from. After a beat of silence, Coriolanus’ tearful eyes met his. “Do you think they killed her?”

“Why would they risk it?” Sejanus questioned with furrowed brows. “She was a big hit, if there is a games next year, they’re probably gonna invite her to sing at the opening ceremony.” He joked with a smile.

Coriolanus didn’t laugh. “You know, when you came in, I was weighing the merits of suicide.” He half-joked, his smile not meeting his eyes.

“When we’re about to be free?” Sejanus shot back. “When the girl you risked everything for might be waiting for you at the end of this track?” At his words, Coriolanus’ throat ran dry, the tears returning to his eyes. The possibility that you might be waiting not even crossing his mind. Sejanus looked at him with a knowing glint in his eye. “My friend, don’t give them the satisfaction. Your life has just begun. You’re gonna do great— We’re both gonna do great.”

Sejanus’ words still rung in his ears, even if they were spoken all those months ago.

Even now, when you were delicately tucked under his arm, your head buried in his neck as you slept soundly. That conversation seemed to take home in his mind, never leaving.

You were, in-fact, waiting for him, and the moment you saw him you ran into his arms, and he cherished you every day from that moment. The pair of you spent as much time together as you could, and you loved every second of it. As did he.

You were like a star of brightness in his darkness— lighting up places he didn’t even know existed and granting them with your warmth. And now that you weren’t fighting for your life, he got to learn so much about you.

He learned about your quirks, your personality, your smile, all of it. You learned the same about him.

But nights like these where he couldn’t find sleep and was left up alone, the silence and ringing of the bugs outside consumed him, the man getting caught up in the ropes that was his thoughts.

He often didn’t believe he deserved you, that you were too pure for him. You were gifted to him by mistake, but he was too selfish to let you go.

And, God, you never wanted him too.

Coriolanus had a bad habit of not speaking his mind, and bottling his emotions until they bubbled over, everything coming out in one out burst of rage and sadness. You didn’t blame him, you never did. Instead, you picked him up from the floor and held him until he calmed down.

He had never experienced the type of love you gave him, and it scared the shit out of him. He didn’t know how to return it, he wasn’t good with kind of stuff. You taught him things everyday, though.

You snuggled deeper into his neck, his uneven breathing causing you, a light sleeper, to wake up. Or, according to your theories, you were so interlinked with Coryo that you could sense when he was overthinking.

You left a small patch of kisses on his throat, cracking your sleepy eyes open to confirm your suspicions— the boy was staring off into space, not a drop of sleep in his eyes.

“Coryo,” You whispered, leaning up to kiss his jaw softly. He turned at your acts, his eyes meeting yours as his previous frown was replaced with that lovey smile you adored. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head, temporarily pushing you off of him in order for him to turn on his side to properly look at you. Once he got situated, he pulled you back into his chest, a giggle leaving your lips.

Your fingers came up to knead through his messy platinum locks. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “Nothing.. it’s just, sometimes I think you may be too good for me.” He admitted slowly.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Coryo, if anything, you’re too good for me. Remember, honey, I’m ‘District Trash’.” You laughed, repeating the words Lucky Flickermen had said about you before wrapping your arms around his neck and leaving kisses all over his face. “You must be a fool if you can’t see how in love I am with you. You are more than good to me, I couldn’t imagine my life with anyone else.” You promised, continuing to leave kisses on your lover’s smiling face with every word you spoke.

His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you closer to him. “I love you,” He whispered in your ear, beginning to leave his own kisses on your neck and jaw.

Butterflies creeped up your spine at his confession, a love-sick smile tugging on your lips as you leaned up to really kiss him.

His hands came up to cup your face as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, the kiss only being further fueled with your burning passion for each other. Your hands slipped back into his locks for purchase as the kiss grew more needy. You let out a whimper against his mouth when he began to kiss you harder, angling your body back to deepen it further.

He smirked against your lips at your noises, before pulling back for air. His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheekbone as you both stared at each other, love strong in the both of your eyes.

“I love you, Coryo.” You whispered back, before taking your spot back in his arms. “Get some sleep, my love.” You left another kiss on his throat, the boy hugging you somehow closer, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you,” He softly spoke, leaning up to blow out the candle you had lit earlier.

“Always,”

[toddthekiwibird]

Compleeeeeeeeetely normal....

Gotta be honest at this point i just wanna quit my job/life and lay around screaming about Adar/Rings of Power.

It's a sickness.

[rsatoru]

dumbfounded, “satoru-” you whimper, struggling trying to find room to breathe, trying to suppress a moan. “what the fuck?” it’s hot, you feel your body on fire. every touch sends a shiver down your spine. the intensity overwhelms you, your thoughts are spiraling out of control, yet—you can’t help but crave more.

your room is big, the bedroom the both of you share. it’s cold, the ac is on, there’s so much empty space—you could run around if you wanted, maybe even play soccer when boredom hits. but when it’s just the two of you, sitting on the edge of the headboard of your king-sized bed, you could probably die from suffocation. it’s like the two of you have taken up every inch of space possible.

but of course, it only applies when you’re making out with him. or maybe, during times when he’s feeling extra kinky, he could just choke you til you meet your death. but like the man he is, he would never hurt his baby like that!! ♡

he’s so close—you feel like both of your skins could just collide, you feel like you’re being pressed against the edge of a cliff, every inch of space has been consumed by him. your is mind hazy. your clit is throbbing. yeah, he's definitely going to be the death of you.

making out with satoru is not for the weak.

“oh” satoru smirks, “oh dear. my baby’s injured.” staring at your lips with that dumbass smug grin on his face. “yeah, your baby’s idiot of a boyfriend bit her lips too hard they started bleeding.” rolling your eyes.

“’s cute” he teases, what a cocky bastard.

“cute my ass. it’s bleeding, satoru. they feel sore.” “maybe i should just stop spoiling you so much and avoid makeout sessions.” you hiss with a not-so amused look on your face

“rest your pretty face on this one baby,” he murmurs. without a moment’s hesitation, he licks your lips. “sweet” he mumbles under his breath, licking his lips. about to utter something—you were cut off guard, “hah—satoru, mm,” moaning the moan you were trying to suppress. keyword: trying, woops!

“don’t ya worry about anything baby—maybe i’ll suck all the pain out they’ll feel less sore, yeah?” oh, he’s so agitating. oh, you wanna have all of his children right this instant.

your pleasure and pain blend together, painfully, you can’t deny—you’re actually enjoying this. who were you to resist him anyway? who would make complaints about something so irresistible?

“oh my god, satoru, if you don’t fuck me senseless already i’ll—”

“oh, my needy baby. so impatient. i always get you what you want, don’t i?” and he’s right—he does. he always does. in fact, he gets you way more than what you asked for. he always went beyond your wildest dreams.

this is seriously so so bad. in all seriousness, please don’t ever let me pick up writing tools ever again. 🫶

[minnaci]

gojo satoru x gn!reader · nsfw · wc: 650

when satoru offers you a reward for your good behavior, you immediately tell him you want to ride him. unfortunately, you may have overestimated your ability to focus with him inside of you...

contents: lightly implied dom/sub dynamics (d!satoru x s!reader), gentle but teasing!satoru, light praise kink, dirty talk, insertive sex (reader receiving)

reader details: reader has a non-specified "hole", and is described as being "lifted" by satoru. no other body or gender descriptors used.

a/n: this fic is a request from @attractedtopeoples for @ficsforgaza! thank you so much for donating to help dr moath abu samra and his family evacuate!

“C’mon, you can do it,” Gojo levels a shit-eating grin at you, big hands sitting hot and heavy on your hips. You shiver in his lap, straddling his thighs, filled to the brim of his throbbing cock. Fuck. He’s so thick inside of you, stretching you open perfectly. “You were so good today— you earned yourself a nice, big reward.” 

Your thighs quiver as you attempt to lift yourself off his cock, and you slap a hand against his chest when the sensations overtake you, sending you straight back down onto his cock. “Satoru.” You aim for chastising, but, much to your dismay, it comes out closer to a fucked-out whine. 

“What? I’m just giving you what you wanted.” He leans back, his smile softening into something more appreciative. “Isn’t it good, baby? Didn’t you want to ride me— how did you put it? Oh, yes. Didn’t you want to ‘ride me into oblivion’?” 

Something tender and vulnerable trembles in your chest. A heady cocktail of embarrassment and desire seeps into your voice. “Don’t tease. This is my reward, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sorry, sorry,” he chuckles, leaning down to give you a mollifying kiss. “You just look so cute when you’re frustrated and horny.”

You don’t dignify him with a response, instead focusing on your next attempt at lifting yourself up and off his cock. His length slides out of you slowly, and your breaths grow heavier as your hole clings to him as if begging him to stay inside. 

“Let me help you,” he murmurs. Before you can react, his hands clamp down over your hips, and he pulls you back down onto his cock, shoving every overwhelming inch back into you so deeply that you swear he’s fucking the thoughts out of your brain.

“Ah!” A wretched, wordless noise escapes from the back of your throat. You scrabble for coherency, trying desperately to pull yourself together—

He lifts you up and slams you back down again, using that truly unfair strength of his to fuck you up and down on his cock, like you’re just some— some pleasure toy. It’s hotter than it has any right to be, but still, some stubborn part of your brain protests. 

“Sa— Satoru—” Fuck, you can barely speak between each mind-melting thrust, especially when he begins to fucks you harder at the sound of his name on your lips. You sob a truly humiliating slew of whines and whimpers into the crook of his neck, losing yourself to the pleasure for a few brief, blinding seconds of pleasure. “I wanted to ride you.” 

He leans in until the warmth of his breath washes over the shell of your ear, letting his voice drop into that dark and delicious register that he knows makes you turn to putty in his hands. “Mmm, I know you did, baby, but I also know that this needy body doesn’t know how to act when I’m inside it. Besides, doesn’t it feel so much better like this? You don’t need to answer that. I can tell by all the pretty faces you make when I do this—”

He forces you down even further on his cock, and your eyes roll back into your head as you collapse against his chest, lucidity overpowered by all-consuming pleasure. You find yourself agreeing, nodding mindlessly, even as your hole sucks needily at his cock. There’s no headier high than submitting to Satoru, no deeper pleasure than being good for him. Obedience is a reward in and of itself— but the sheer, irresistible pleasure he showers upon you is what keeps you coming back for more.

“Ha! There’s my pretty baby,” he smiles as you blink up at him with that blank, fucked-out look that makes his cock twitch hard inside of you. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure this reward is still worth your while. Just sit back and let me take care of you.”

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

[iovebarca]

hiii loved all of your fics… could you do a fluff one with marc guiu where they have been studying for school so they haven’t seen eachother for days and marc surprises her by going to her house? hope you’ve understood everything!

A Midnight Interlude - Marc Guiu

Authors note: First of all thank you so much! and I hope I did your request right :) 💓

WC: 1200+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, just fluff!

summary: Amid exam stress, Marc surprises you. After a cozy movie night and stargazing. Grateful for Marc's presence, you drift to sleep.

send me requests!! ❤️

You've been drowning in textbooks and notes for days, the looming exams consuming every waking moment. Each page turned feels like another step closer to the edge of exhaustion. But amidst the stress and late-night cram sessions, there's one thing you miss more than anything, spending time with Marc.

You and Marc have been inseparable since you met at a mutual friend's birthday party. From the first moment you laid eyes on each other, there was an undeniable connection. You've shared laughter, secrets, and countless moments together. But as finals approach, your time together has dwindled to brief text messages and occasional phone calls.

One evening, as you sit at your desk, buried under a pile of papers, you hear a soft knock on your door. Startled, you glance at the clock. Who could be visiting at this hour?

You open the door to find Marc standing there, a sheepish smile on his face and a backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes sparkle with excitement as he takes in the sight of you.

"Marc! What are you doing here?" you exclaim, unable to hide your surprise.

"I missed you," he says simply, stepping inside and pulling you into a warm embrace. His arms feel like a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of your busy life. "I know you've been swamped with studying, but I couldn't go another day without seeing you."

You feel your stress melt away in Marc's arms. You've been so caught up in your studies that you hadn't realized just how much you missed him. His presence is like a soothing balm for your weary soul.

"Come on," Marc says, taking your hand. "Let's take a break from all this studying. I brought some snacks and your favorite movie."

You can't help but smile as Marc leads you to the living room, where he has set up a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in front of the TV. The soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting a warm, inviting light.

The sight of popcorn and chocolate makes your stomach rumble with anticipation. You settle onto the couch, tucking yourself into Marc's side as he presses play on the remote. The movie begins, but you find it hard to concentrate with Marc so close, his warmth seeping into your bones.

For the next few hours, you lose yourself in the world of the movie and each other's company. You laugh, you cry, and you share whispered conversations in the dark. It feels like no time has passed at all since you were last together, lost in your own little bubble of happiness.

As the credits roll, you realize just how much you needed this break. Marc has a way of grounding you, of making you forget about the pressures of school and just enjoy the moment. You turn to him, feeling a rush of gratitude and love swell in your chest.

"Thank you for coming, mi amor," you say, pressing a kiss to Marc's cheek.

"Anytime, mi vida," he replies, his voice soft and gentle. "I'll always be here for you, no matter how busy life gets."

You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment, savoring the closeness between you. Then Marc speaks up, his voice tentative.

"Would it be okay if I stayed over tonight?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for approval. "I don't want to leave you alone after such a long day."

A smile spreads across your face at the thought of spending the night with Marc. It's been too long since you've had him beside you, and the idea of falling asleep in his arms fills you with warmth.

"I would love that," you say, reaching out to take his hand. "Stay as long as you like."

Marc's face lights up with a smile, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "Thank you, mi vida," he murmurs, his voice filled with love.

"Hey," he says softly, turning to you with a gleam in his eyes. "It's a perfect night for stargazing. What do you say we take a break and enjoy the view?"

You smile at the suggestion, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "That sounds wonderful." you reply, already imagining the cozy scene under the night sky.

Together, you gather blankets and pillows, creating a makeshift nest in the backyard. The air is cool and crisp, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the house. You settle onto the blankets, snuggling close to Marc as you tilt your heads back to gaze at the stars.

The night sky stretches out above you, a vast expanse of darkness illuminated by pinpricks of light. Wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The worries of exams and deadlines fade into the background as you lose yourselves in the beauty of the night.

As the hours pass, you share hopes and dreams, whispering secrets into the darkness. You talk about the future, imagining all the adventures you'll go on together once the football season and exams are over and summer break begins.

At one point, a shooting star streaks across the sky, and you both make a wish in unison, hearts filled with hope and possibility.

As you both lay under the blanket of stars, Marc turns to you with a soft smile. "What did you wish for?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, a playful twinkle in your eye. "I can't tell you," you reply with a teasing grin. "You know the rule - if you tell, it won't come true."

Marc chuckles, leaning in closer to you. "Ah, playing it safe, are we?" he says, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it comes true for you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a rush of affection flooding your heart. You reach out to squeeze his hand, feeling the connection between you grow even stronger in the quiet of the night.

As Marc's question lingers in the air, a soft smile graces your lips. "I wished for our future together," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Marc's eyes widen slightly, his gaze softening as he takes in your words. "Our future," he repeats, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I couldn't wish for anything more."

You feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you, overwhelmed by the depth of love you feel for Marc in this moment. He pulls you close, wrapping you in a tight embrace as if to reaffirm his commitment to you and the future you both envision together.

Underneath the canopy of stars, surrounded by the quiet serenity of the night, you share a moment of pure connection and understanding. It's as if the universe itself is whispering its blessings upon your love, promising a future filled with endless possibilities and boundless joy.

As you lay there, wrapped in Marc's arms, you can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know that as long as you have Marc by your side, you'll be able to face them together, hand in hand, with unwavering love and devotion.

And as you drift off to sleep, cradled in the warmth of Marc's embrace, you hold onto the hope and excitement of the future that awaits, knowing that with him, anything is possible.