#Hitching Buckles & Hitching Breaths

[ledetlore]

Hitching Buckles & Hitching Breaths

Sequel stuff below!!! Welcome to the fun, babies!

Art by @so-na-r (and it's so prettyyyyyy!!!)

It’s time to saddle up for the next chapter—Hitching Buckles & Hitching Breaths is on the way, and it’s bringing dust, drama, and just a little bit of cowboy charm.

Gideon thought he was heading west to pay his respects at his Pa’s grave, to find a little closure before returning home. Instead, he finds his father very much alive, running a ranch where a burned out shell should be. While his Pa is happy to see Gideon, he’s less than pleased about the gatorfolk at his side. Kremy is tolerated, but barely. It’s clear he’s not exactly welcome, and yet, here he is; poised, polite, and absolutely not about to let a few wary glances ruffle his composure.

Ranch life, however, is another challenge entirely. The heat, the dust, the sheer number of cows—it’s all a bit much. And yet, somehow, Kremy manages to handle it all with attempted elegance, his fine suits and carefully maintained posture a stark contrast to the rough world around him. He may not be built for farm life, but he refuses to let it show. At the very least, the cowboys on the night shift seem to like him, though they can’t quite seem to agree on whether to call him Miss or Mister.

Prologue is on Ao3, linked below!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63661312/chapters/163184263

[delightfuldestinytaco-blog]

Yisssss

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon teaches you how to cum

One month into your relationship with Simon, he was set to leave on his first mission since you’d gotten together. It wasn’t a long, just a little over two weeks but the moment he mentioned it, your face dropped, and your fingers curled into the hem of your shirt.

He noticed. Of course he did.

That night, he handed you a small black box, thumb brushing over your knuckles when you took it with hesitant fingers. A vibrator.

“Figured you’d need somethin’ to keep busy while I’m gone,” he said, half teasing, though the look in his eyes was anything but light.

You only nodded, biting your lip, avoiding his gaze.

“What’s wrong, birdie?” he asked gently, tilting your chin up with the curve of his knuckle.

You hesitated, cheeks burning. “I’ve just… never made myself cum before.”

He stared at you for a second longer before standing up, pulling you with him, murmuring, “C’mon then. Let’s fix that.”

He positioned you in front of your bedroom mirror, body bare, knees weak, thighs trembling already just from the heat of his gaze. One of his hands held your jaw in place, fingers curled under your chin, forcing you to watch.

“Eyes open, love,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

“Want you to see how your body works, how it should be touched.”

His other hand moved between your thighs, fingers pressing slow circles into your clit. You whimpered, eyes fluttering, only for him to tighten his grip on your face.

“Watch,” he chuckled. “See that? That’s how you like it, yeah?”

His fingers sank into you slowly, then faster, curling just right. Over and over, until your knees buckled and your breath hitched sharp in your throat. And when you finally came, gasping against the glass, he kissed your shoulder and hummed, “That’s it, lovie. Just like that.”

You got up, staggering toward the bed, legs shaking, ready to collapse into the mattress.

But Simon caught your wrist and gently tugged you back.

“Where you goin’, birdie?” he asked with a light chuckle. “I still gotta teach you how to cum on a vibrator.”

He guided you back down, spreading your legs, eyes wide as he held the toy up, his smirk lazy heavy with promise.

Maybe you really did need the lesson.

Or maybe Simon just had a thing for mirror sex.

Maybe Simon just loved his birdie too much and the thought of being away from you already ached more than he’d admit.

Either way, you weren’t getting any sleep that night.

Shit post.

[ledetlore]

Rod and Dom at any given moment

overheard these two guys talking and they're like. very obviously cowboys and one of them goes "man when I was young I used to think everyone had horses I didn't even know there were ppl w/o horses" and the other one goes "shows how horseified we are"

[tonycries]

RAW-MANCE!

Synopsis. First time he can’t pull out = first time he’s losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, not pulling out, FÉRAL men, creampíes, heats (Choso), knots, squírting, running from it, he’s BIG, matíng presses, making it fit, true form Sukuna, dp, ínnapropríate use of jujutsu, cúmplay, overstím, jealousy (Nanami’s side), they get REALLY pússydrúnk, pull out game WEAK, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. AIpha Tony just started her shark week, F

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Tight fit!

“Toji, why are you so big- oh.”

Your tear-glazed eyes scrunch closed at the force of one of his roughened palms pressing down on your tummy. Jade eyes widening, gruff breath hitching- “C-can feel myself from the outside, doll.” 

Voice breathy like even he couldn’t believe it. 

He’s hypnotized. That bumpy bulge only makes him plug up more of your entrance with his red, weeping tip, he’s furiously pushing and pushing against that snug resistance from behind. “M’big, she’s tight.”

So feverishly hot, so stuffed- the only thing you can do is thrash your weakened legs against the dampening mattress, “I kn-know that- hck! But what if you’re too-”

“Too big?” Toji’s cutting you off with a roll of his dilated pupils, “Well duh- m’gonna make it fit, silly girl. The only problem will be…” Broad chest shuddering as one of his hands wrap ‘round his swollen hilt with a squelch! “-whether I’ll be able to pull out.”

And oh…he knew he was playing a dangerous game.

Because it was a joke- really, it was a joke to make your cute, split-slicked lips fall into his favorite lil’ ‘oh!’ 

But fuck- if the very second those thick, rasping words depart from his scarred lips, Toji’s chiseled body didn’t buck.

Without him planning it, without even realizing until a singular, sopping thrust rams his bulging inches into you thoroughly- the sudden warmth of your dewy insides making the hulking man gasp.

“Oh, fuck- oh, fuck.” Panting out a shocked breath, the edges of his raven lashes tickle his cheeks as he’s blinking them urgently. Trying to clear his vision, trying to clear his damn mind. “Yer sucking me up s-so much I can barely even move-”

Experimentally, he’s reeling backwards and watching as your maw sags further open. Your pretty gaze turning all cross-eyed and misty, “Oh please- ngh i-it feels so good, Toji.”

He didn’t even have to try. 

Simply massaging your gummy walls with the winding curves of his veins, they’re so damn thick that you can feel him scraping just below your g-spot. Filling out every tiny crevice and nook inside of you with his meaty cock. 

“Oh yeah? T-tight little thing ya are. Sooo fucking tight, mama.” Sinking the sharp points of his canines into his lower lip, Toji’s forced to cling into your hips with one hand in order to sensually ease himself in and out. 

Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing greedily, “O-oooone…” He’s babbling out, teasingly letting the plump ridge of his cockhead snag against your quivering hole. “Two- three…” Whilst you whimper, he’s hiking up one of his muscular legs to angle himself deeper - counting each inch he rummages inside you. “Four- and what’s that?”

“F-five!”

In and out - even the tiniest movements left you seeing stars already. “Seven-” The rounded cap of his mushroomy tip scouring your cunt open like a searchlight, all it takes is the cutest lil’ smooch near your g-spot to make you clench.

“There–!” You’re keening, fingers digging into the softness of your pillows as you gyrate your hips back primally. “So close- ngh- so close there, Toji.”

“E-eight- oh.” It feels so good that he’s losing count. Stuttering and heaving.

Your head’s so heavy and fuzzy whilst being pounded that you can barely even lift it up. Whimpering, it’s just about all you can do to gently swerve your hips downwards until you’re hitting Toji’s tensed core with a spank of your ass. 

Feeling so entirely full that your knees are buckling-

“No-” Just the slightest few centimeters forwards until Toji’s grip on your hips turns bruising, draaaagging you all the way back the distance you’d been driven forward. And more. “Nonono come back.”

Toji’s scratching the very globes of your ass cheeks with his dark happy trail, now damn near bottomed out and yet - it still wasn’t enough. He needed more more more- and he’s ready to plant one of his firm feet straight on top of your sweaty scalp to get you to hold still. 

Seething, saliva-glossed lips pulling back into a snarl– “E-easy there, doll. Yer pussy’s so damn filthy s’driving me craaaazy.” And you could tell, his sloppy cadence was ramming into you even faster, probin’ the button of your g-spot with his slimy tip. “Just a little more a- a little more n’ let me pull out.”

The tight press of his balls aching when you only squeeze around his length tighter, he’s melting on top of you.

Grunting, “Doll-” Bulging his swabbing girth, and you’re tightening so firmly that your trembly legs push together. “-m’serious.” Before he seriously loses whatever’s left of his sanity, that is.

So big that he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to, body refusing to - your bawling pussy too heavenly.

Tighter. 

Tighter until his hoarse pleads stick clammily to your skin, “Let me pull out, mama–” The slightly broken crackle of his deep baritone was barely audible over the repeated squelch of his mazing cock. And oh- you’d made Toji’s voice break. “Let me pull out before I make a ngh- meeeess out of ya.”

Muffling something into the pillows-

He has to manually roam his foot off of your poor head, and you’re bolting up with a wettened pwah! of intaken breath. A puddle of saliva smearing down your lower face, “Want it inside, Tooooji.”

“I-inside?”

And before you know it, you’re being manhandled into a tough headlock by one of his swole arms, the muscles of Toji’s biceps dig into your neck, your throat, your pulse. 

“Tell that to my hah- face-” Grouchy gusts of words strike your features, and you’re mewling as you feel his honed teeth gnaw on your sensitive ear lobe. This angle just perfect for him to smack sultry half-thrusts that make you dizzy.

Babbling, “Want- want it.” Keeping your body hostage even tighter.

Almost as if he was begging you to say otherwise, he’s giving you a taste of your own medicine and it makes your mouth flood with humid drool. Slobbering a slick sheen down the side of his vein-covered forearm, “Please, Toji…don’t pull out.”

“Don’t p-pull out.” Comes his echoing repetition, breathless. Shocked, gone at the very notion that he’s falling back on his knees ever-so-slightly - still unstopping with his cadence. In fact, going even harder. “I-if we make Megs a big brother then s’y-your fault- fuck!”

And Toji knew he was playing dangerously, he knew he could feel the feral twitch of his rock-hard length burying deeply against the door to your womb.

But what he didn’t know was that all it would take was that - the feeling of you getting even more lewdly wetter at the idea of him filling you up - for him to pump his hips in a vulgar stroke and cum. Heavy, hard. 

More than he has in his entire life, Toji’s cumming and cumming so much that he’s almost dazed at how much webbed, white syrup sloshes into your readily awaiting pussy. 

“Didn’t…pull out– oh, mama—” And it’s finally hitting him now, slithering down two of his knobbled fingers to toy open your saturated folds. Watching the mess triiiickle out, “Didn’t…pull out. S’really all inside.”

You’re whining, hazy pupils disappearing to the back of your head once he coats his fingerpads with a few sticky layers of cum n’ plugs it inside your mouth. Letting the salted caramel taste overtake your senses, “Don’t think you’re getting off easy now.”

And those words are abrupt - final.

“Wh-what?”

The questions rush to your larynx before he presses his fat, hefty cock further- “Gonna hafta let me feel her haaaa- alllll the time now-” Rutting, his sharp jaw droops pathetically open before he snaps it shut into a grin. “Gonna hafta let me fill her up. Hafta let me keep it-” Plop! He’s pushing a few dollops of dewy seed with his middle finger, “-inside now.”

Still painfully hard. 

“Finish what you started, mama.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Creampie cutiepie

“Haaaa– stay quiet, my love.” Nanami’s guttural plead scorches your ears, tugging back your restlessly squirming hips with a gentle pinch of your drenched panties.

Rubbin’ his thick fingers right down your dampened folds as he’s puuulling you further down the sleek office desk. Whispering urgently into your popped ears, “Don’t want them to hear- though, I wouldn’t mind…just don’t want them to ngh- hear the noises made by my favorite girls.”

And as if on cue, your needy pussy lets out a slurp of greedy wetness when Nanami drills his fattened cock into you sensually. 

Making your back arch off the frigid table surface at the feeling of his puffy veins tapping your sweetest spots, “K-Ken—” Struggling to wind your boneless legs around his toned waist, “A-are you jealous?”

“Shush, darlin’. And focus on- hah- me. Your husband.”

Not a denial. Nothing but the way he was sagging your plush, puckered pussylips open with his wide girth. With a rude pull on your flimsy underwear as leverage, he’s practically spanking you with his chiseled pelvis. 

Roughly, probin’ your cervix. 

But you knew better - your gentle, sensible husband wasn’t the type to suddenly pull you into his office and pound you right into his desk. All without a condom.

Not until he’d seen that all-new intern ogling you a little too closely, that is-

“Stop thinking.” The cold band of Nanami’s wedding ring sizzles against your cheek as he’s cradling your cute cheeks and squeezing. Mean. “Wan’ you only thinking about- hah- me. About…”

Trailing off- but he didn’t even need to finish his sentence.

He’s pumping all his swollen, aching inches into you like a madman. The sheer raw force of it mussing up his blond hair, curtaining his half-lidded gaze that told you he wanted to devour you right here. Wouldn’t even mind him knowing-

“Kn-knowing?” You’re blinking up in shock at what’d just departed from your husband’s slurring mouth, your entrance saturating a fresh new wave of arousal at the mere notion. 

“Oh, did I say that out loud, my love?” Was he serious? He couldn’t be- ah, but he was. So hazy with how it felt to finally be inside you raw, Nanami’s swabbing your drooling mouth open to suckle lightly on your tongue. Groaning, “Wouldn’t mind them allll knowing, actually-”

Now that he started, he couldn’t stop.

Tawny, tufted ends of his happy trail scratching your back. He’s bottomed-out and still pressing deeper, resting the chubby curve of his balls on your ass cheeks. Spanking- “Wouldn’t even mind them all seeing- because I’m one fucking this pretty pussy, my wife.”

Like he was proving it - to you, to himself, to your sloppy cunt. 

Every rugged whack of Nanami’s curved length makes your mouth froth with saliva. He was just so damn hard that each pulse of his reddened, bruising crown made your walls stretch even further. 

Again and again.

“Wouldn’t mind carrying you out like hck! this- my cum dripping down those pretty legs of yours…”

And then you’re clenching with your snug, velvety-feeling walls and he all but collapses on top of you. Shifting down with a grunt- Nanami’s sweat-slicked abs massaged your front, pearly whites sinking into your neck and marking. Holding himself back.

Choking out- guttural, as if it made him lose his very sanity to even ask, “You…like that, darling?

Nodding, “Y-yes.” Spearheading himself even deeper it felt like - or maybe he was just growing even bigger inside your cunt. Nanami’s hefty cock was so staggering that he’s bruising your sponged cervix with a round, circular stamp. “Please- oh, mmm Ken–”

“Say it- say it again.” Breaths striking out quicker, voice tilting until he sounded almost crazed. “Say you don’t want me to ngh- pull out.”

“I- I don’t want you to- fuck!”

Barely even able to speak with the way he’s fucking the words from your lungs, sounding as if he himself was barely keeping it together. “U-use your words, darling.” But how was that possible when Nanami’s rovering one of his hands to saddle your thighs on his broad shoulders. “Please- want to make sure you can take it all.”

Bending you in half like a lawn chair whilst your limbs dangle over his firm deltoids, he was ravenous.

Resting a capped knee up on the desk to give your sultry g-spot a loooong snog with his split-ended tip, you could feel the circlin’ of his sobbing orifice pushing inside. 

“Because d-don’t get me wrong- love when I cum here–” Letting go of your face with a steaming hot handprint, Nanami brushes your hardened nipples with the band of his cold wedding ring. “And…here-” Lovingly, on your stomach. “And here.” Down, down, down to your clit. “But…”

“But?”

Leaning in even closer, you could practically taste his sweet, sweet desperation for you. Like he was dreaming, “But I’ve hah! always wanted to make your pretty body remember the taste of my c-cum. Mine.”

Stuttering - he was stuttering, begging to not pull out. 

And how could you refuse?

“Ken—” You’re whining, eyes sliding backwards until they’re pure white- and Nanami Kento’s stern lips wobble oh-so-cutely once you’re tugging him in close with a hand around his gulping throat. “Don’t pull out.”

And he doesn’t- oh, he doesn’t.

“O-oh.”

Voice crackling. Those very words are more than enough to make the stoic man burn with a blush, the first time that he’s hearing those words - and he has no idea what to do other than bury his face between your jiggling tits and suck. Breathing, “I don’t…have to pull out.”

Hips thrusting so meanly between your legs that you’re fluttering important documents to the ground. Over and over and over— 

Harder. Sloppier. 

You’re realizing it before he does when he’s crashing the both of you into your highs with a slap of his cock into your slick g-spot. Skidding a line of precum straight down your walls and into your womb-

“O-oh, Kento- not gonna-” Head thrown back, toes curled, maw ajar with so many copious moans and lecherous noises. And yet you have nothing on the wet sounds pulled from your pussy, “Cum—ing–!”

“Yeah? Yeah? My pretty girl—” He’s murmuring breathlessly into your skin, cheek nuzzling where a neat little pool of drunken drool was starting to formulate. “I-I’m not gonna ngh! last either- oh.” Looking down, it’s only then that he’s catching the way your driveling cunt was already stuffed.

The way you’re struggling to hold in the thick, ribbony gushes of seed he’s spraying out. The way he didn’t even think - didn’t even register to pull out. 

“Inside…it’s really- really…pinch me-” Endeared by his request, you’re just about to when- ah, when your husband catches sight of your matching wedding ring. Molten eyes widening, “We’re married?”

Then when you nod- Half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open, “Was already…gonna propose…”

Just that pussydrunk, he can’t even decide where he wanted to watch you more. 

Your prettily fucked-out face, your glinting ring, or the way those gooey splotches of white were splashin’ around inside of you, slightly leaking outside as he moves to tug on your cute office skirt–

“How about we go outside and announce our baby shower in advance, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “Again?”

And Geto was being mean, Geto was being rude– spanking the quivering slope of your pussy whilst you clench and clench around his barreling, hot cock. Oh-so-lecherously pounding you through your nth high of the night-

“Awww, look- you’re cumming again.” He’s snickering from behind you, trapping you in a full nelson so tight that you could barely even squirm your hips back. Barely even breathe- “My gorgeous girl just can’t stop cumming, hmmm?”

You’re helplessly thrashing your legs, body aching for any kind of friction- before Geto’s inhuman reflexes work to curl underneath your thighs and pull. 

The curving veins of his forearms digging into your mounds of flesh, he’s snickering as you start whining into the heady air. “Seriously- look at this hah- mess.” The low, sultry tone of his voice curdling against the crook of your neck, Geto rovers the doughy soft tips of his fingers over the dollops of cum staining your front and smears. 

Drawing a few wet hearts on your tummy from all his own orgasm from rounds prior, “You look s-soooo fucking pretty like this. Almost makes me want to not pull out- oh-”

And Geto didn’t expect his ravaged cock to react like that. 

The tenderly leaking orifice on top of his crownhead twitching, he feels his teeth sink into his plush lower lip with a hiss. Sensitive pink slit rubbing up against the top of your slippery cunt in a way that made him want to cum right then and there. 

Inside. 

“I- fuck!” Geto doesn’t even know what to say, long inky hair falling like a curtain around you two. Panting. Heaving. The muscles of his deltoids ripple as he perks himself up on his elbows to look downwards. Did he seriously almost cum from the thought? “Fuck- what have you done to me, gorgeous?”

“D-didn’t do- ngh! anything…” You’re babbling out stupidly, the gummy channel of your cunt milking his veined cock. 

A slow trickle of drool drips down the side of your glossed lips, one that Geto smears away with a low ‘tch-’ Grunting gruffly, “Don’t even know what you fucking do t’me.”

Oh- oh.

He didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

But right now he was so hypnotized on your drooling pussy, just so drunk on the way your walls tenderized so softly. Gulping him up with greedy squelches that leave your teeth on edge, he was driving his hips up until he was heart-eyed. 

“Wh-what do you hngh! mean, Suguru–?” You’re humming, a smug smile plastering across your face as his words finally register. 

“What are you smiling all cockily about?” He’s seething from behind, pointed chin spraying with a few glittering droplets of spittle. Geto furrows his dark brows and snarls, “J-just because I said I didn’t wanna pull out- that I didn’t wanna cum a-anywhere but inside- hck! that I wanna fuck this pretty pussy forever—”

And he was so big- but his swirlin’, bulbous tip was only throbbing bigger with each word spilling from his mouth. Nuzzling right against your cute lil’ g-spot to slip and slide in mindless half-ruts. 

Warm tears of overstimulation well up in your eyes, “O-oh, right there- right there! Feels so good, Sugu-”

“Oh yeahhh- gonna squirt for me next?” 

“Only if you don’t pull out.”

Oh, fuck.

Just those words were enough for Geto to pound all his rummaging inches between your swollen folds, spine arching powerfully off of the creaking mattress for a good few seconds as he buries himself and holds it there. 

Words warbling with a slight chuckle, with a slight tinge of madness. “Y-you don’t really mean that-” He’s spitting, fighting to keep the dopey smile far, far away from his rosy lips. Jabbing his crowned mushroom tip, pressing. “-do you?”

And Geto didn’t even need to hear your response, he just needed to feel the way you were streaming out even more gushing waves of slick. Mewling, “N-not gonna last–”

“Nuh uh- not what I asked, gorgeous, need you to tell me-” He didn’t even know what he was babbling anymore, only that the way you were whining and the way you were grinding left his brain feeling overheated. “Want you to tell me- can I…really…inside?”

Voice hoarse, almost small like he didn’t even believe what he was asking.

And all Geto Suguru can do is roll one of his cum-topped digits to skid over your perked clit, swervin’ right on time with the pinpricks of his globed tip. Draaaagging his warm tongue over your throat, “Tell me-” He teases, reeling all the way out until his geysering orifice kissed your entrance, “-tell me.”

“Please-” You’re prattling away, and he’s hanging onto your every word as if he was still in disbelief. “-don’t pull out.”

And he doesn’t- he doesn’t, he doesn’t. 

He’s sinking his fat, pounding cock even deeper and still bucking until he bottoms out. Even after.

Once. Twice. Thrice- treating your poor g-spot like a dartboard until you’re bursting straight into your orgasm. Cunt bawling with a sparkling squirt- it left your head all stupidly white-hot to throw your head back and cum.

“Fuck- f-fuuuck– Sugu–” Your breath catches, heart racing once you’re feeling a splattered puddle of something wet on your shoulder. “Cumming- o-oh my god-”

Sluggishly turning your head around to find that oh- Geto was tearing up, his sensitively stinging length rubbing your sappy walls raw. The red, sheeny curve of his cockhead flinches- and Geto feels fit to burst. 

And he does - squirting, splurging out a few messy wads of translucent white. 

There’s so much of it that you’re feeling a few wettened wads splash all over your cervix, Geto’s cock pushing your pussy so wiiidely agape that your walls struggle to take up all of him. 

Panting- pushing his tensed abs into your back, higher and higher until the curve of his ballsack spanks your cunt. His sweatily flushed forehead falls onto your shoulder with a plop!

“Gorgeous…” Overstimulated, run raw. You were gulping out every droplet of cum he’s pumping out, and Geto thinks he must be in fucking heaven. Kiss-bitten lips wobbling, voice breathy - he was never going to be the same again. “M’never pulling out now.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - HEAT

“This- this heat.” Choso’s spitting, the trembly curves of his fingertips latching underneath your thighs to hoist you into the sloppiest mating press possible. Bending you pliably into angles you didn’t even know were possible- you swear the cheeks of your ass weren’t touching the bed anymore. “It makes me so…”

Whimpering, you’re watching with unsteady breaths as Choso lazily falters his pummeling pace. 

Letting his long, throbbing length slooow down, he’s making sure your hole can feel every carnal scratch of his zig-zagged veins, every pulse of his tip, every push. 

Your sweet, half-curse boyfriend’s cock was so big that every reel backwards of his slender hips left your entrance flooding with syrupy slick. Pushed out of you once he’s filling up every nook and cranny- 

Choso can’t help but swab his doughy fingerpads over that glittery gloss, lapping it into his mouth with a plop! “-thirsty, baby.”

“You’re so greedy, Cho.” You’re cooing out, wrapping your hands ‘round his neck and making him grunt. He was just too sexy whenever his cursed heat took over this time of year.

Fingers latching into his silken, brown hair, you’re using the lewd leverage to grind yourself down on his scouring cock. The dual spanks of skin-on-skin making Choso’s face droop into your neck and breeeeathe in that scent of you.

Slobbering with droplets of saliva, “N-ngh- I know, baby–” He’s whining, huffin’ and puffin’ in your saturated clouds of pheromones - he couldn’t get enough. “Can you p-please move your hips a little slower? S’gonna make me cum…”

“Awww, poor baby—” 

“Don’t tease.” Nose crinkling, playfully caressing the splotchy area of your g-spot with a few more probing pushes, it’s like Choso was trying to make you just as drunken as he was. 

But every thrust, every ram, every smooch into your deepest depths only made him more hypnotized. Push after push after push- he’s gnawing down on his cute pink cheeks to try and stop those wailing whimpers from leaving him. 

Planting your feet flatly on the damp mattress, you can’t help but perk your hips and maze the bulging roundness of his mushroomed tip across your cervix. “Mmm– ngh, what’s that, baby?”

“No- n-nooooo, don’t do that- don’t look at me like that or m’gonna cum.” He’s squeezing his mahogany eyes shut, long lashes glinting with a polish of tears. Clamoring his v-line to glissade down your teary slit, “M’gonna cum m’gonna cum-”

And Choso’s just about to pull out his weeping shaft, he’s just about to let off the most pained grunt before he’s pouring out a steaming hot mess of seed all over your tummy- before–

“S’that sooo–?” 

Without warning, without anything, you’re interlocking your ankles in a circle around his pretty waist. The flesh of your heels digging in deep against the dimples at the bottom of his spine, deeper. 

“N-ngh- let me- pull out-” Choso whines, eyes frantic. Teeth snarling- his canines simply drip with mouth-watered saliva, “Pull out pull out– otherwise m’gonna make a mess of this pussy.”

You’re flinching once his thumb comes hovering back down on your sloppily lustrous pussylips, painting his digits in all the sap leaking from your entrance. Heaps of it. 

Choso darts his half-lidded eyes away from your intense gaze and blushes such a bright, scorching red from the tips of his ears. “If I cover her in my cum I- hck! won’t be able to see her.” Another of his stray hands clawing onto your leg tight, his pace was hard. 

Rough. More curse than man- every thrust of his powerful hips left you darting further up the mattress. And Choso with his urgent bucks followed- never letting you get away. “Can’t hold it in, baby—”

“Well what if I hngh- want it inside, Cho?”

His handsome jaw drops, he gapes- body moving before his mind as he shoves you down even deeper into this mating press, until your hamstrings were burning. Swollen lips moving up and down stupidly - soundless. 

“Awww, do you want that too, baby?” 

Yes- yes. 

Stray strands of chestnut brown dangle to and fro once Choso can only nod fervently. Feverishly. And the only thing more out of control than him was his rummaging thrusts, leaving a firm thwack! on the door to your womb that just left you wanting more. 

“She’s just so soooft n’ warm it makes me wanna make her- drool–” Drooling himself down the ends of his dopey grin, and it wasn’t just the heat talking. “Wanna make her a mama- s-so you better let me pull…unless…” 

Swerving his hips into you even deeper, your ankles yank him until the ridges of his abs were bumping down your front. 

“O-oh my god- ngh- baby–” He’s battering mindlessly, pre spilling out of him like a broken hose.

And you swear you see him slip out a few beaded tears at the raw tightness of your cunt. Jackhammering against the snug resistance of your hole-

Until you could feel his thighs shivering, until you were keening at the bulbous, utter fatness of Choso’s base. 

“Y-you…” He croaks out, making you blink your heady eyes open in question.

Only to find Choso Kamo gaping down below. 

“Baby…you just took my knot.” 

Oh. 

And it’s the last thing said before Choso lets his head fall back with a strangled jumble of your name. Over and over like a mantra while he cums–

“S-so this is what it feels like.” Looking genuinely dazed, eyes all glassy. “This- th-this? S’this even ngh! allowed? S’too good- m’filling you up. M’filling you up and it feels too good.”

“Fuck- fuck– m’so full, Cho.”

He’s shivering viscerally with your every squeeze, trying to claw down your legs. Nibbling on your throat, “You’re letting me cum- really? Really, really letting me cum just this once?” Watery eyes of his staring dead-on into yours, he’s letting his mouth drop into an oh! with every one of your nods. “R-really? But that means m’gonna cum inside you ngh- so fucking muuuch.”

“I-I know—” Body limp with the sheer pressure he was putting on you, scraping the ballooned-up curve of his crownhead down your mushy innards. 

Your eyes roll back with a mewl just as soon as the splash of his ropey seed hits the bottom of your cervix, gluey wads of its sticking to your walls and making Choso shudder at the filthy second skin of it inside you. 

“G-gonna pump you allll full-” Snarling, fighting against the way that the fat knot positioned on the base of his cock meant that he couldn’t properly fuck you into the bedsprings just the way he wanted to. Snagging on the tight hole of your cunt and gyrating to stir your goopy insides, “-fuck- fuck I can’t stand leaving this cute hole a-all lonely. Wanna fuck you properly soooo bad—”

You’re whimpering once one of Choso’s ringed fingers comes rovering down to squeeze his fattened hilt and swear. 

Vision flashing white, blood manipulation seeping out, you can feel his barreling shaft harden-

He’s not even done with you before he’s preparing for more, “Knots o-only last haaaa– half an hour.” Before nudging your sultry folds apart to watch you drool. The hooded peripherals of his gaze locked onto where he’s pushing a knobbled thumb inside– “Until then…”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - You vs. Two

“Easy there- easy, brat.” Two of Sukuna’s big, beefy arms come curling around the small of your back, easily sprawling you out across his chiseled pecs with a simple tug. “Gonna fuck yourself stupid. Although-”

You’re whimpering, the only thing that you can manage to do right now while he’s manhandling you on top of his dual, throbbing cocks.

Clawing down a third of his palms on top of your sweat-matted crown to push you down his barreling lengths like some doll. It’s just so cute the way you’re shrilling yourself hoarse once he’s swirling your tight insides with both thick, globular tips. 

Snickering, “-ya already are pretty fuckin’ dumb on my ngh– cocks, huh?”

Brows furrowing, you’re flapping your spit-glued lips a few times to slur out a coherent response. “F-fuck you–”

“Nooo, little human.” And the smile the King gives you is dangerous, both sets of his devilish lips quirking up into something sleazy. Sukuna slouches further backwards against the headboard and bounces his tattooed knees. Just once. 

Just once to render you speechless on his plump lengths. So swollen that the tiniest rut leaves you arching your back and drooling– “I’m fucking you–”

“P-please-”

“Now now–” The pointed claws of his black fingernails scrape gently down your exposed throat, “Can ya feel me all the way up in that hah! pretty throat, huh?” Just probing your g-spot, once. Twice. Repeatedly. “Every vein? Every inch– heh, how about every drop?”

And you’re so far gone with just a few of his vulgar whacks to your sweetest, most tender spots.

Your heavy head is already starting to feel dizzy- so cockdrunk after every bullying ram that by this point Sukuna’s the one that’s moving you to meet his roughened tempo. 

One clammy hand gripping either side of your restless hips, you ogle the sheer natural bulge of his biceps as he manhandles you. Draaaagging your dripping wet cunt all the way from the strawberry orifices of his tip n’ dooown to hug his twin bases. 

Nestled cutely on the curve of his fattened balls, “I-I wan’ it, Kuna–”

“Want what?”

Lips wobbly once he knocks into your g-spot harder. He’s fucking you so thoroughly that you almost feel shy mumbling, “Want you to- mmm– not pull out.”

Oh. 

His rude lips drop - both sets of them. Hips rutting, girths bulging to stretch your walls even further apart, the edges of his candyfloss hair beading with a lather of sweat. With only a few words you’d all but ruined him and fuck-

“What did you say?”

Sukuna wasn’t taking this lightly- no. 

He’s promptly spanking the fourth n’ final of his hands across the lower half of your face, atoms in the air pressurizing with cursed energy when he manifests that infamous second mouth right across his palm to kiss you.

Sukuna watches you with a dazed glint in his crimson eyes as he thrusts. As he punishes your sopping wet pussy with his rummaging cocks, “Oooo- you need ta wash that mouth out, brat.” The slimy edge of his tongue slithers between your lips and makes you mewl- “What have I said about talking out of that ngh! pussy, hm?”

“But– mmpf–!”

“You better talk to me from this pair of lips, human.”

Knees weak with the sheerly raw points of stimulation everywhere, it takes you a few more gyratin’ bounces to gather your thoughts. 

Maw ajar and stinging once he finally pulls his cursed mouth back with a claggy pwah! “B-but I want you to, Kuna.”

And shit- the minute those words register in his pussydrunken mind, the ancient lights of his chamber flicker. Some burst- 

“F-fuck.” You’d made the King of Curses’ gruff baritone break, “Yer fucking serious about cumming…inside?”

“Yes- please.” You’re nodding, watching through your own hazy eyes as his mouth parts lewdly. “Not gonna l-last–!”

Sweltering breaths heaving, cocks fattening up until each nudging length was almost too much for your tight pussy to handle. 

Lightning bolts of his veins bashing against your sides, he’s bumpin’ into his own pounding lengths and shivering. Two arms snaking up and down your arched spine, “Tch- d-don’t think m’this affected because of- of that. S’just so fucking tight I can barely even move.” 

And it was true- he’s so big with both his twin, rock-hard cocks that Sukuna could only half-thrust into your gaping entrance at his point. The globular curves of his tips pushin’ into you so desperately that you could practically taste his neediness. 

But you could see the way that the sharp edges of his ears painted a feverish red, tattooed inner-thighs glazing with so much of his syrupy, buttery precum.

Your jaw drops as you take in the sheer volume making you slip n’ slide into his battering rams, “Want it- want it, Kuna- ins-”

“Don’t.” Canines gnawing onto the plush edge of his bottom lip, one of his palms creeping up again to leave your babbling mouth slurping with kisses. He was ruined, bit by bit. 

And he’s pumping his full, rounded crowns into your g-spot again. “Cum f’me instead, b-brat.” Making sure you won’t be remembering that little stutter with the way he was making your vision flash with pleasure. “Shut up and cum.”

When you did it was with Sukuna biting back a moan himself, guiding the mushy ends of his tips to swerve into your cervix once more. Your womb. Everywhere. 

“Can’t pull out, huh?” He repeats to himself, almost breathless with a snicker. “Take it then- take it-”

It was bucketloads, absolute torrents of milky white that were flooding your tight channel. Sukuna wasn’t just covering your velvety cunt with all his seed, he was drenching you in it until it overspilled. Loaded up wads webbing down each of his lengths, soaking his pinkish happy trail completely.

So much of it that you can feel splosh around in your throat, that thickly cloying texture tasted on your tongue. “Th-there’s so much, Kuna–”

“Awww, c’mon girl. You can take- every- drop-” Punctuated with a rugged thrust that sent your spongy cervix bruising, the slightly-circular motions of his toned pelvis makes warm sap smear across spots you didn’t even know existed. “Fuck! Look at you- movin’ those ngh- hips like you’re swallowing it all up. Been greedy for it?”

Reaching your limp hands up to cradle his neck and hold on for dear life, Sukuna flinches at the splat! of cum that slips out of you and hits his v-line. “Can feel you mmm- filling me all inside, Kuna–”

“Oh…now that’s fun.”

Rapidly- urgently manifesting his second mouth to slash across his abs, “Looks so much better droolin’ from your cunt like this- n’not anywhere else, brat.” Monstrously tonguing the glutinous puddle formulating underneath you n’ your slick, “Look at it mixin’ all together-” 

You’re sobbing out every time he slides the flattened edge of his tongue between your legs. Teasingly sliiiiding back and forth, “Tch- wish I had a third mouth.”

“For what?” As if you already didn’t know.

He was just hypnotized by what he saw below, only grinning- squeeeelch! goes the motion of his softened tastebuds slipping inside your hole. Fuck. “Itadakimasu”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Till it breaks?!

“Oh.” Comes out Ino’s dampened gasp, the soft puff of air scalding where his toned arms held you into a cute full nelson. 

And your spine arches back into the way his washboard abs tense, into the way his broad chest heaves your boneless body up n’ down. Right in the very same angle that he first felt that heavenly taste of your slick, raw pussy walls. “O-oh.”

Startling your burning skin with a wet splatter! of drool from his ruby red lips, “I think the hah! condom broke, pretty.” Motioning to drag his sloppy length back, Ino bites back a sensitive hiss at the saccharine squeeeelch. “Lemme just-”

And then he does it again- that same little, addicted brush of the splotch where that flimsy rubber was torn. Right on top of where your sweet boyfriend’s flared mushroom tip was so big that he’d shattered the condom open, driving up a tentative dig into the bottom of your pussy.

You’re feeling your mouth drop into a softly panted oh! “T-Taku–?”

“Yes- yes!” Snapping right back into reality, Ino’s pressing the doughy fringes of his fingertips into your thighs to manhandle your hips. Almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

“I should just-” Massaging and massaging the hot, reddened curve of his cockhead past your walls- it really doesn’t help that your sweet, sweet insides just kept on sucking him back up each time he’s carnally scraping his length down. Trying to pull out. “I reeeeeally should…”

Ah, he was so cute with his rosy lips wobbling in concentration. Chestnut brows furrowed whilst he tried to will himself to try and reel back from your dripping wet pussy. 

You find yourself tittering, craning your neck to plant an innocent peck near the corner of his mouth. “You can just not pull out, baby-”

“B-but if I don’t pull out how will I- oh.” 

You’re ogling at the exact moment it hits him.

When Ino’s molten eyes widen, his tawny lashes fluttering ever-so-slightly, the prettiest pink flush scorching all over the apples of his cheeks. And his cock- oh, his cock practically ravages your gooey innards with a throbbing jolt. 

Mouth gaping open silently a few times before he’s finally, finally finding his voice. “Can I? I shouldn’t- I really sh-shouldn’t, sweetness-” And your heart almost pangs in disappointment when he’s pulling out of your dewy entrance with the loudest sluuuurp-

-only to toss away the useless remnants of that rubber and slam back in.

“B-but you just feel sh-shoooo good—!”

“Hck- oh!” Whines clog up in your throat once Ino’s pinning you to him with a strong forearm, the slippery glide of his length making sure you feel every patterned vein imprinted into your walls. 

Ino swirls his cockhead in an experiment heart all over your cervix and gasps at the utter wetness that greets him. “H-how m’I even supposed to compete?” Comes out his pained whine, followed almost immediately by the thwack! of his rounded balls striking your treacly cunt. 

Making him snap his head down- loud. Fuck- you were so much louder when he didn’t have a condom on. Squelch after squelch resounding like music in his ears every time he slams upwards. Scolding, “D-don’t talk back to me.”

“Taku, baby, are you okay–”

“That goes for ngh! you, too, pretty- do I look okay?” Hooded lids widened, his usual baritone was botched with cracks. Octaves higher. “R-raw? Seriously? S’fuckin’ unfair- who said you can feel this good- soooo fuh-fucking good.”

And you’ve never seen your gentle boyfriend like this before. 

Never seen him so mindlessly rutting with his cadence, never seen him so feral every time he’s pummeling his hips into the mounds of your ass. 

Bruising his thighs against yours, his ballsack against your entrance. Ino was balls-deep and still trying to rover his bawling orifice further across your plush cunt. 

So harshly that you’re bowing your back and clamoring behind you to hold onto the headboard-

“Don’t run from me when you’ve been ngh! holding out-” Ino spits in a seething tone from behind, free palm gripping your wrists like adhesive. He tugs them down and hold you right at his complete n’ utter mercy, unmoving. “You’ve been holding out- th-this? Felt like this n’ you’ve been holding out, sweetness?”

“Fuck–!” Your spine aches with the white-hot ruts he’s bucking into you, the pointed globe of his shaft stirring your insides in a way that made you jostle with each swerve, too. “Mmm– right there, baby.”

And once he’s finding your g-spot he’s never leaving it alone. 

Spraying out a thick battering of warm pre all over that particular bundle of nerves before he jerks his hips and bruises it. Making you throw your head back and clench–

“D-don’t!” Ino gasps, watery eyes drooping with the sheer heat inside your soppy pussy. He felt like he was just melting into you, abs almost melding into your back with each skim. “Makes me go crazy- m-makes me wanna haaaah- cum…inside.”

The very moment he admits this, you coo. Partially shifting your body around to take in his scorching blush, the way that Ino tries to hide away behind his unruly bangs. 

You curl your fingers around one soft lock and pull- making him whine. “When I say don’t ngh- pull out- I mean don’t pull out, Taku–” 

And that was it- that did it. 

In all of two flutters of your lashes, Ino’s snapping. 

All those long, hard years of training letting him trek his powerful forearms underneath your thighs and haul you all the way in half. The caps of your knees hitting your tits, his cock hitting the bottom of your pussy.

“Then…get ready.” 

Crazed, babbling. It’s all the warning you’re getting before Ino froths out generous helpings of creamy white cum. The thickened dollops settling near your womb and sprinkling to and fro once he’s pumping it even deeper. 

You’re whimpering, body jolting at the low hum of reverse cursed energy that seeps from Ino’s fingerpads. Without him even realizing. 

“Taku– o-oh my god you’re ngh- cumming so much.”

More than usual - so much more than usual. 

Ino’s wild tempo meant that your poor entrance was gaping with all the leaky knots of his seed, milking and milking every single ounce out of himself. 

“Oh my god- you squeeze me even tighter when I cum inside, pretty- s-so I just have to…” Until his balls ached with nothing. The strawberry divot homed at the end of his length sputtering out once- twice- before Ino had wrung himself to cum dry. “Shit- don’t know if I can c-cum anymore. But I want to- I need to.”

“Nghhh– fuck!”

Every slurp! that echoed from your overspilling pussy whenever his cum leaked was speaking to him. And Ino was nodding– oh, what a monster you’ve created. 

Lightly groaning as he finally pulls out with a filthy drag, it takes him all of two seconds to flip your buzzing body over and give you a pussydrunken grin. Raw n’ ravaged. “R-ride me dry, pretty?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “J-just the tip.”

It’s about the fifth time Gojo’s breathily repeating that mantra - maybe even the fiftieth since he’d promised he could handle fucking you without a condom— with just the tip. 

And your boyfriend’s deepened voice cracks numerous octaves higher every time he’s pinpointing your insides with the red, bulging tip of his cock. That rounded crown swirlin’ a sultry smooch right into the spots that make you cutely keen–

“T-Toru! Ngh- oh my god, you’re in so-”

“-deeeep, yeah?” He’s snickering from behind, clouded pants leaving the back of your neck humid. And your overworked bedsprings creak! once he’s sidling his shivering thighs from behind, jostling you up with each meaty limb. “S’alright, my girl. You can take it- you will. S’just the…”

And he can’t even hold his train of thought- can’t do anything but let the tender grooves of his veins tickle your pussy. Rubbing sweetly up n’ down across your walls, deeper. Harder. 

“-tip.”

Teary eyes damn near bulging out of your head, “F-fuuuuck!”

So hard that you’re being driven further up the bed by his sharp hipbones - but he doesn’t let you move a millimeter. Immediately curling the right set of his long, pale fingers around your throat and draaaagging you backwards. 

“J-just the tip.” Gojo’s gurgling - babbling. Syllables coming out just as unsteadily as he’s mindlessly rutting with his swollen, veiny cock. You’re so cute taking everything he gives that he can’t help but chuckle. “See? See?” Eyes wide, tone hoarse. “You’re gonna- hah! take it like my good girl. Take my fat fuckin’ tip until I pull out, m’kay?”

Splat! Splat! Splat! You’re so dazed that the only thing reeling you out of your cockdrunken little reverie is the spray of treacly saliva that leaks from between his clenched teeth. 

He’s slobbering. 

Your lips flap stupidly, sparkly beads of spittle decorating your own chin as you’re whirling your head over your shoulder. “H-huh? Oh.”

Oh, Gojo Satoru doesn’t look like he heard you. 

He didn’t even look like he was breathing. 

Half-lidded eyes oh-so-murky that it’s a goddamn miracle they’re even shifting downwards to stare at your puffy, puckered folds. Huffing out a little ‘oh’, Gojo’s slouching his toned bodyweight on top of yours n’ cradling you into a filthy, filthy French kiss as he pounds you silly.

“Just the tip-” And it’s a good thing he’s smearing his syrupy mouth over yours - because one particularly harsh ram leaves you screaming. Drinking in each of your pretty noises into his breathy mouth. “Shhh sh sh, s’alright s’alright. Don’t run.” You didn’t even realize that you were fisting the silky coverings of your pillowcase and attempting to crawl away until he clings tighter ‘round your throat, hauling you back down. “S’just the tip- just the- ngh-”

And usually - usually - you would’ve given him a piece of your mind. 

Because it wasn’t just the tip. Gojo was so big - so long, and you could feel almost every inch of his hot, throbbing girth. Pushing open your plush walls until he’s filling up every nook and cranny; way, way past the flared ridge of his cockhead to stretch and stretch and stretch you out on his shaft.

Hell, you could almost feel the plump curve of his ballsack lazily nudging your puffy pussylips. 

“Toru–!” Your lungs heave with the effort to raise your voice above a mewl, “This is more than the tip- hngh.”

“Wh-what do you…” Fat dollops of sweat beading down his temple, it takes him everything - every last shred of his sanity to finally look. To finally get his fuzzily sparking brain to realize- “…oh”

And you don’t know what you expected, but it certainly wasn’t for Gojo to plant yet another experimental whack to the bottom of your cervix. Letting your hips jitter underneath his palms, he’s groping a handful of your ass. 

“Then…” You can only watch once he breaks away to tilt his head cutely, cherry-pink maw sagging as if he was hypnotized. “-halfway, sweetheart?” 

Swervin’ straight into your g-spot with three spanks each second, he’s tunneling you open with such lecherous sluuurps. “Mhm, hngh- oh, halfway and-” Hissing, Gojo’s long, angelic lashes flutter once he’s feeling his aching balls squeeze. Close. “-and then I’ll pull out, okay?”

“But you’re shoooo—” It was music to his ears watching you stumble over your syllables with your adorable voice, and it only made him go harder. 

“S-s-sooo mean, huh?” Mocking you, “But I hafta- can let myself go o-only halfway or I…won’t be able to pull out.” If he was in any better state of mind, he’d rather have died than confess to anything so pathetically drunk on your pussy. Laughing- “Just imagine, if I didn’t pull out…h-heh, imagine.”

Oh, that was a dangerous line of thought. 

He’s never done that before. Anything more of that and he’s going to drive himself crazy already, feeling goosebumps raise on the back of his flushed neck as your cute, sappy insides clench.

Milking his prolonged length all the way from his fattened tip to the plump, split-ended circle of his tip. Still murmuring, “How cute- Imagine if I didn’t- pull- out-”

Deeper- he doesn’t even register it. Again and again until both you and the bed frame sing. Harder- he’s still thinking about what he said. 

You’re almost sobbing once those tufts of ivory white at the base of his cock massage your skin raw, bullying you into the mattress with just his prominent v-line. You moan, “I-it’s more than- hck! halfway in, Satoru–!”

“Oh.” Gojo heaves, Gojo snickers. “F-fine. You win.”

And you didn’t even have the time to wonder what he meant by that before he tenses his abs and punishes your hole with a rugged slam. Animalistic. 

“Y-you win- you win you win you- ngh- win-” He’s spitting through gritted teeth, so harshly that the strongest tastes pure metal on his sizzling tongue. “You win n’ this is what’cha gonna get.” Filling up with saccharine trickles of saliva, he scrunches his chin and now fully - mercilessly - gives you a solid few thrusts. 

Gripping on tight to your left ass cheek with one hand, every hold he has on you is pulling you back after every recoil. A bubble of high-pitched laughter departs from his lips as soon as he watches himself siiink all the way in. Over. And over. And over again. 

Groaning, “Can’t take it anymore- can’t- fuck!” He can’t even bear the thought of pulling out anymore-

“C-can’t pull out?” You’re whispering, eyes widening as soon as Gojo gasps, hit with the realization that he was rambling his thoughts out loud without even realizing. Just that pussydrunk.

“N-no.” Comes out the confessional response, brows furrowing as he’s reaching below to give your neglected clit a sweet, buzzing pinch. “You win, just don’t make me ngh…pull out. Please, sweetheart?”

You made the powerful, cocky strongest beg. 

And as he says this he can feel himself cumming - can feel his cursed energy flare out of control. Bolts of tiny blue lightning straying from the edges of his peripherals, oh-so-thoroughly locked down on you and your sloppily thrusting cadence. 

No- he was muuuch more focused on the way that he could see with his Six Eyes. Murked walls of your sopping pussy covering with layers of syrupy white cum as he counts underneath his breath, ‘one…two…’ 

Digging the clean-cut crescents of his nails into the side of your pulsating neck, harder. Sloppier. ‘…three.’

Exactly in time to watch you fall apart as your orgasm hits you like a damn freight train. 

“Fuck- fuh-fuuuuck! Toru m’cumming m’cumming.” So pretty letting your thighs twitch with the white-hot pleasure, your toes curl in pleasure as you position your hips to let his steaming crownhead plunge. 

Bottomed-out and still aching to go deeper.

Barrelling in a rummaging tempo so sinful that thick droplets of sap ooze out of you, sticky n’ pure white. It makes Gojo’s breath hitch to watch the slicked mess pouring from your stuffed hole, glazed shaft so blissfully reeling back- only to not pull out. “I…inside.”

“Y-yeah ngh-” You’re humming with delight at the cobwebs of cum his girth mixes like frosting, so warm and heavy inside of you. “A-all inside, Satoru.”

So far delayed - his melty brain stalls just a few more pumping shudders before he can even think of opening his mouth again. “Did you take the pill, sweetheart?”

“…no.”

And Gojo Satoru can only smile and oh- oh, the look in his eyes made you jolt right to your very core. You weren’t getting off easy. Or walking. “Good.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ “ONE’S IN MY THROAT, ONE’S IN MY SOUL”

✩ ˛˚ . Tw - Nanami x reader x Toji, established poly relationship, shower sex. Not proofread.

The hot spray of the shower beats down on your back, but it didn’t do a single thing to soothe the ache in your muscles. Nanami’s hips were slapping into you from behind, gentle but still aggressive— keeping your spine arched and your toes barely brushing the tile because of him. He held you up so easily, thick hands cupping your waist like he’d molded you just for this.

“Doing so well, my love,” he murmured, nudging the head of his cock deeper into your slick heat, stretching you with the slow, measured rolls of his hips. “Taking me so good. Just like that”.

Toji is in front of you, one fist tangled in your wet hair, the other braced on the fogged-up tile. His cock was thick and mean in your mouth, leaky tip bumping your throat each time he shoved forward, groaning through gritted teeth like he was mad at you for how good it felt.

He didn’t care about easing you in— he used your throat like he fucking owned it like it was only ever made for him and his cock.

“You hear that, huh?” he sneered, grinding his hips forward until your nose bumped his pelvis. Your eyes watered. “He’s talking to you like you’re some sweet little angel, meanwhile your fucking mouth’s choking on my cock”.

Nanami groaned behind you, soft but strained. “Toji—”

“What?” Toji shot back, keeping your head pinned tight with his strong grip as his abs flexed. “She loves it. She’s making those pathetic noises, clenching around you like a horny little slut. Don’t pretend she’s not”.

You whimpered, your fingers scrabbling weakly against Toji’s muscled thigh for some type of purchase. Nanami’s cock dragged slowly and deep inside you, soothing the sting of Toji’s cruelty with every patient thrust. His thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

“You’re perfect like this,” he whispered, voice reverent. “Let him be mean. You’re doing amazing”

Toji clicked his tongue and pulled out just enough for you to gasp, then shoved back in roughly with a deep laugh. “Yeah, you like it when I treat you like a toy, huh? Fucking greedy mouth. Always acting shy around me, then sucking my dick like this”.

Nanami was losing rhythm now, his own control losing with the way you tightened around him. He slid a hand between your soft thighs, fingers finding your puffy clit and circling with gentle pressure that made your legs twitch.

“Cum for us, darling,” he breathed. “We’ll take good care of you”.

Toji scoffed, panting with sweat beading at his temple even with the water pouring down. “Nah, don’t let her yet. Wanna feel her throat get tighter when she’s desperate— yeah, just like that. Look at her, Kento. Shit, look at that fucking face”.

Warm tears streamed from your eyes as Toji pushed back in, groaning while your throat squeezed around him. Nanami is fucking you deeper and harder now, big hands tightening on your hip with desperation.

“Good girl,” Nanami whispered. “You’re so good to us”.

Toji growled. “She’s a fucking mess. Ruined and sloppy. Just the way I like her”.

Your knees finally buckled. You can already tell that Kento is closed based on how harder he’s fucking you now, he’s usually gentle but when he’s close— his pace quickly increases, and ends up fucking you stupid with mean thrusts.

Nanami caught you before you could slip, keeping you lifted on his girthy cock with one arm under your belly, fingers still playing with your throbbing clit. His rhythm had turned punishing now, thrusts slamming up into you like he’d lost his patience with gentleness.

“She’s close,” he warned lowly, breath hitching with loud groans.

“Course she is,” Toji snapped, pulling his cock free from your mouth, letting it slap against your spit-slick lips. You gasped for air, lips swollen, drool mixed with precum dripping down your chin. “Look at her, fucking crying for it”.

He grabbed your jaw in his hand, squeezing until your cheeks puffed as he stared down at you like a predator. “Beg”.

Your voice was hoarse and whimpery. “P-please!”

“Toji,” Nanami said sharply, but there was a desperate edge in his voice now, as if he was warning him. He was close. They both were.

Toji ignored him. “Tell us whose fucking holes we’re in”.

“Y-yours,” you cried out, tears mixing with the shower water. “Yours—Toji’s mouth, Nanami’s cock—yours, all yours, please—!”

Toji grinned. “Fucking right they are”.

He shoved back into your mouth without warning, fucking your face while Nanami shoved his dick in deep and held it there, grinding hard against your fluttery walls while his tip massages your g-spot. The stretch was unbearable. You weren’t even moving anymore— they were just using you, pushing into you from both ends, chasing their own highs while your body trembled between them.

“Cum for us,” Nanami whispered to you, “Don’t hold back, baby. Let it happen”.

He pinched your clit and rubbed you just right— you couldn’t hold it anymore.

Your whole body clenched up, spasming on his throbbing cock as you came with a cry that got swallowed by Toji’s desperate thrusts. Your thighs shook violently, hands flailing to hold onto anything, but you were suspended— Nanami keeping you up and secured, Toji controlling your head, both of them fucking you through it like you were just a vessel.

“That’s it,” Toji growled, voice husky and rough. “Fucking made for this”.

Nanami gasped, his grip tightening. “I’m—fuck!—I’m going to—”

He came deep inside you, hot and thick load cramming into your poor cunt, he moaned as his head falls back and kept you stuffed on his cock. You felt it, the warmth of it, and the slow pulse of each spurt. It immediately set something off in Toji.

“You better fucking swallow,” he warned you, then shoved his shaft all the way into your mouth and came down your throat, voice breaking with a harsh grunt. “Swallow it, fucking brat— there you go, good little mouth”.

They stayed there for a moment, panting hard with your body limp and used between them.

Nanami finally eased out, hands gentle as he turned you in his arms, letting the water rinse you off. He kissed your forehead, his lips soft and comforting.

“You did so well,” he murmured. “I’ve got you”.

Toji stood back, watching you both with his arms crossed and his chest heaving. His expression was blank for a moment until he reached out, his hard knuckles brushing your cheek.

“You’ll be sore tomorrow,” he muttered, almost smug. “Good”.

Nanami just smiled, pulling you tighter against his wet chest. “We’ll take care of her”.

And they did.

Wrapped you up in towels and warm hands with soft kisses and whispered praise until the next time they decided to ruin you again. (Tonight)

[sweet4rafe]

FIRST TIME ˎˊ˗

summary: the handsome cowboy hired by your father to help around the farm has been eyeing you, for weeks. on this fateful summer evening, rafe finally decides to do something about the attraction he felt towards you— his employer's daughter.

the barn smelled like hay & fresh wood, warm even with the night air creeping in through the gaps in the beams. you were used to it, used to the quiet hum of crickets outside, the occasional rustling from the horses in their stalls. what you weren’t used to was him.

rafe was leaning against the old workbench, arms crossed, watching you with that lazy sort of gaze that made your stomach feel tight. he’d been helping your dad with repairs all week, sleeves pushed up, hands always busy with something, lifting, hammering, fixing things you never paid attention to before. you’d barely spoken more than a few words to him, but the way he looked at you now made it feel like he already had you figured out.

you wiped your palms on the front of your dress, swallowing hard. “shouldn’t you be heading home?”

he tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “you tryna get rid of me, berry girl?”

your face felt hot. that’s what he called you after catching you out in the fields, basket in hand, fingers stained red from fresh picked fruit. like he thought it was cute. like he thought you were.

“no,” you muttered, shaking your head, “just… my daddy don’t like me talkin’ to boys much.”

“yeah?” rafe pushed off the bench, closing the space between you. he didn’t touch you, just stood close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “good thing i’m a man, then.”

your breath caught. he was teasing, you knew that, but it didn’t make the heat pooling in your belly any less real.

his hand lifted, fingertips ghosting over the end of one of your braids, tugging at the ribbon tied at the end. “s’cute,” he murmured. “all done up like this. makes me wonder if you’ve ever had someone mess ‘em up before.”

you shook your head, wide eyed, not trusting yourself to speak.

“thought so.” his fingers brushed your jaw next, tipping your chin up higher. “you ever been kissed, sweet?”

your silence was answer enough.

“shit,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “shouldn’t be looking at me like that, then. makes me wanna ruin you.”

your knees nearly buckled at that, something unfamiliar twisting inside you. your inexperience must’ve been obvious, because rafe hummed, guiding you back until your spine met the wooden stall behind you.

“c’mon,” he coaxed, voice low. “just a little taste. lemme show you how it feels.”

your lips parted to protest, but rafe was already there, dipping down, mouth slanting over yours. it was softer than you expected, but only for a moment. then he was tilting his head, deepening it, swallowing the tiny noise that slipped from your throat.

his hands found your waist, gripping firm as he pulled you flush against him, and oh, you felt him. thick and hot, pressing into your stomach through his jeans.

you gasped, pulling back slightly, and rafe just smirked, breath fanning against your lips. “you feel that, baby?”

you nodded, dazed, fingers clutching at his shirt.

“s’all for you,” he murmured, sliding a hand lower, gathering the hem of your dress. “if you wanna stop, tell me now.”

you didn’t. couldn’t.

so when his fingers slipped between your thighs, you let him.

his fingers traced along the inside of your thigh, warm and rough, calloused from days of working under the sun. you shivered at the touch, your breath hitching when he dragged them higher, teasing.

“you’re shakin’, baby,” rafe murmured, his lips barely grazing your jaw. “nervous?”

you nodded, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. you’d never done this before, never even thought about doing something like this in the barn, of all places, but rafe was looking at you like you were something to be devoured, and the way he touched you made you feel like you could trust him.

“don’t be,” he soothed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, a stark contrast to the filth spilling from his mouth. “gonna take care of you.”

his fingers finally dipped between your legs, brushing against the cotton of your panties. you gasped, instinctively trying to press your thighs together, but rafe clicked his tongue, prying them back apart.

“none of that,” he chided, amusement lacing his tone. “lemme see how sweet you are.”

he pressed down, slow and deliberate, rubbing tight, lazy circles over the fabric. a whimper escaped your lips, your back arching slightly against the wooden stall.

“fuck,” rafe breathed, watching you. “this all for me?”

you nodded, of course it was, it had only ever been for him, but the confirmation made something dark flicker in his eyes.

“such a good girl,” he murmured, slipping his fingers beneath your panties, dragging them through your slick. your whole body tensed at the foreign sensation, hips twitching as he spread it over your clit, circling it with the lightest pressure.

“rafe,” you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for, but he understood.

“shh, just let me do it, baby,” he soothed, slipping a finger inside you. your walls fluttered around the intrusion, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome. rafe groaned, head dropping to the crook of your neck. “fuck, you’re tight.”

your breath came in soft, uneven pants, your fingers gripping his shoulders. he moved slowly at first, letting you adjust, before sliding a second finger in, scissoring them carefully.

“you’re takin’ it so well,” he murmured, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw, making you look at him. “feel good?”

you nodded frantically, unable to speak, pleasure buzzing through you like nothing you’d ever felt before.

rafe smirked, leaning in to press a messy kiss to your lips. “bet you’d feel even better wrapped around my cock.”

your breath hitched at his words, the insinuation making your head spin.

rafe pulled back just enough to gauge your reaction, fingers never stopping their slow, torturous pace. “you want that, baby?”

your thighs trembled, your answer coming out in a desperate, breathless whimper.

“yeah?” rafe chuckled, fingers curling just right, making you keen. “then you better hold onto me, sweetheart. ‘cause i’m about to show you what you’ve been missin’.”

[ledetlore]

if anyone is interested, send me a meme in the ask box and a character from ouaw or my fanfic - I feel like doing some shitty redraw tonight!!

my credentials for levels of shittiness ☝️

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Wanted||Remmick x fem!reader

Summary— when Remmick wants something he gets it.

Word count —1065

A/n— this Irish vampire from sinners has me in a chokehold and he would definitely get me to come outside while he was singing rocky road to Dublin

Y/N was tired.

Tired of the knocks at the window.

Tired of the whispered promises through her dreams.

Tired of Remmick.

But still she stood by the door, fingers ghosting the lock, pulse thumping like it already knew what she was about to do.

“Come outside, sweetheart,” his voice purred through the crack in the frame. “I promise I’ll be gentle… for now.”

She rolled her eyes. “You never shut up, do you?”

A chuckle. Low, dark. “Not when I want something.”

And he wanted her.

It had been weeks of him slipping through the edges of her life dark eyes watching from alleys, grinning at her reflection in mirrors he didn’t belong in, finding her even when she swore she was alone.

She hated how he got under her skin. Hated more how her skin missed it when he didn’t show.

Tonight, she cracked.

The door opened.

Remmick didn’t lunge. He stepped forward like he had all the time in the world, like he knew she was already his. And maybe he was right.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say yes,” he murmured, fingers skimming down her cheek, his touch colder than it should’ve been. “You’re gonna thank me when it’s done.”

Y/N didn’t answer. She couldn’t not when his lips crashed into hers like a storm, not when he shoved her back against the wall, and not when his hands slid beneath her clothes like they were searching for something sacred.

The world narrowed to heat and breath and his body pressed against hers.

She didn’t realize what he was doing until his mouth left hers and dropped to her neck.

Didn’t register the shift from kiss to hunger.

Not until she felt the sharp sting

The bite.

She gasped more shocked than in pain and he growled against her skin.

“I told you,” he breathed, licking at the wound, sealing it with something that felt too much like a kiss. “You’re mine.”

And god help her, she wanted to be.

Her knees buckled, and he caught her of course he did. Held her like something precious, even as her blood still warmed his lips.

Y/N’s breath hitched, heart hammering in her ears. Everything felt too much his touch, the air, the throb of the bite pulsing in sync with the ache building low in her stomach.

“What did you do to me?” she whispered, but even her voice trembled like it wanted more.

Remmick smiled, slow and cruel and adoring all at once. “Everything you asked for without saying it.”

“You’re insane,” she hissed, hands pushing at his chest.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he leaned in again, mouth brushing her ear. “Then what does it say about you… for letting me in?”

His hand slid beneath her shirt again, fingertips trailing heat and sparks across her skin. She hated how her body arched into him, traitorous and wanting.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” he murmured. “The hunger. The way your pulse is already changing. The fire under your skin.”

She did. God, she did. It burned. It bloomed. She wanted to claw it out or let it devour her whole.

“You turned me,” she said, eyes wide with fury, confusion, and something far more dangerous: need.

He nodded, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And now I’ll ruin you properly.”

Then his mouth was on her again—rougher, deeper. Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and he lifted her with ease, like she weighed nothing, like she was his to handle.

His hips ground into hers, and this time she moaned. Loud. Unfiltered.

The worst part? She didn’t even care.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, scraping. His name was a curse on her tongue and a prayer in her throat.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“No,” he growled, biting her lower lip, “you just hate how much you want me.”

And then he was inside her, and all the words vanished.

He moved like he owned her body like he’d studied every inch of it long before tonight. Every thrust made her breath hitch, her fingers dig into his back, her head fall back with a broken cry.

He fucked her like he was starving.

Like the bite wasn’t enough.

Like her pleasure was the last thing tethering him to control.

Her skin felt like fire and ice all at once every nerve exposed, every touch electric. And it wasn’t just him anymore. Something inside her was shifting. Awakening. The hunger he warned her about spread like smoke in her chest, wrapping around her ribs, curling in her gut.

She clawed at him—furious, frenzied, lost in the storm he’d pulled her into.

“Remmick—” she gasped, voice wrecked.

“I’ve got you,” he growled into her throat. “Let it happen. Let me happen.”

And she did.

Her orgasm tore through her like a scream. Her vision blurred, her cry strangled in her throat. He followed with a deep, desperate moan, burying his face in her neck like he could sink into her completely.

And then

Silence.

The room swam back into focus in slow, creeping waves. Her body was shaking, oversensitive and half-numb, her heart racing like it wanted to leap from her chest. She blinked, trying to remember who she was.

Remmick pulled back, just enough to look at her. His eyes glowed faintly inhuman. “You feel it now, don’t you?”

Y/N’s breath caught.

She did.

Her senses were too sharp. The thrum of the city outside felt like it was under her skin. The taste of blood still lingered at the back of her throat and it wasn’t all his.

Her hands went to her neck. The wound had already healed.

“No…” she whispered. “No, you didn’t—”

“I did,” he said softly. Almost reverent.

“You bastard.” Her fist slammed into his chest, weak but furious. “You took everything from me.”

Remmick caught her wrist, gently. Not to stop her but to feel her.

“I gave you more than you’ll ever understand,” he murmured. “And you’re not angry because I turned you.”

She shook her head, blinking hard against the tears. “Then what am I?”

“You’re angry because now you want what I am.”

She couldn’t answer.

Because deep down under the panic, the betrayal, the fear she did.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

[faithsmadhouse]

In the pines||Remmick x reader

MDNI+18

Summary—You wake up soaked from a dream you shouldn’t have had—one where Remmick had his fangs in your throat and his cock buried deep inside you. But it wasn’t just a dream. He’s real, watching, waiting… and when he lures you into the woods in the dead of night, there’s no turning back. You’re his. Body, blood, and soul.

SMUT WARNING (18+ only): This is a dark, explicit one-shot featuring Dom!Remmick and a sub!reader. Includes trance/dub-con, voyeurism reference, predator/prey dynamic, biting, bloodplay, venom/aphrodisiac drool, rough sex (doggy style and missionary), overstimulation, chain kink, degradation & praise, multiple orgasms, light breathplay, dirty talk, possessive obsession, and deeply feral energy. Read responsibly.

A/n the was requested by an anon on @ice-man-goes-bwoah

@abriefnirvana @spikeyfearn

The sheets were soaked.

You jolted awake with a strangled gasp, thighs clenched and pulse pounding between your legs. Your skin burned. Your tank top stuck to you with sweat, your panties utterly ruined. The ache in your core throbbed like a bruise.

Dream. You blinked at the ceiling. But it hadn’t felt like a dream.

You could still feel his hands on you.

Remmick.

A laugh, low and cruel, echoed in your skull.

You thought you were safe.

You thought I’d stay away.

You were wrong, darlin’.

Your breath hitched. The air in the room had changed. He was here.

You sat up. The window was open.

Cool wind spilled in from the woods, carrying the scent of moss and smoke and something darker. Your feet hit the floor before your brain caught up. You didn’t grab a coat. You didn’t even put on shoes.

Something in your body needed to find him.

The forest was pitch-black, but you didn’t feel fear. The night air curled around you like fingers, whispering in a voice not quite your own.

You walked deeper. Through brush and root, over moon-drenched patches of stone. The wind spoke.

“Come on, sugar. That’s it. Come find me.”

There was no thought. Only heat, and hunger, and the echo of a dream you were still wet from.

Then he stepped from the shadows.

Remmick.

Tall. He wore a button-up shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, and his suspenders hung down by his waist. His shoes were caked with dirt, and the thin chain necklace swayed around his throat, glinting as he tilted his head. And those eyes—glowing like red hot coals—devoured you.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he drawled, voice deep, lazy, laced with both Southern molasses and something old and Irish, ancient like the woods. “Knew you’d come crawlin’. You’ve been dreamin’ ‘bout me again, haven’t ya, mo grá?”

You swallowed thickly.

“I—”

“Don’t lie. I smelled it. Watched you fuckin’ grind on them sheets like a bitch in heat.”

Your knees buckled. Your thighs trembled.

He was in front of you before you could blink.

“Felt every little whimper through the trees,” he murmured, mouth brushing your ear. “Felt you clenchin’ ‘round nothin’. Cryin’ for me. So I came to see my girl. Thought I’d give you what you needed.”

His hand slid between your thighs. Your panties were soaked through.

“Aw, hell,” he hissed, grin curling sharp. “You are drippin’.”

A growl rumbled in his throat. “Should’a come sooner.”

You gasped as he scooped you up, your back pressed against the nearest tree. Bark scratched your shoulders as his mouth found your neck kissing it and biting marking you.

Once he was satisfied, he yanked back, fingers digging into your cheeks hard enough to bruise. “Open,” he growled.

You obeyed, staring up at him with your mouth wide. Remmick’s lips curled into a wicked grin, a thick string of drool sliding from the corner of his mouth. He leaned in close, breath hot and heavy, and tilted your head back like you were nothing but prey.

Then the venom spilled—slow, deliberate—onto your tongue, thick and burning as it hit your throat. You went limp with a strangled moan. Dazed. Blown open with heat. His saliva slicked your skin, and the world tilted.

“Mm. That’s it. Let go for me, sugar.”

He dropped to his knees and shoved your panties aside with no ceremony.

Then his mouth was on you.

Remmick ate like a starved man, tongue filthy, slow, teasing.

“So goddamn sweet,” he groaned, voice muffled. “Like honey and fuckin’ sin.”

You were writhing, sobbing, grinding helplessly against his face.

One thick finger slid inside you.

Then two.

“Can’t even fuckin’ wait,” he growled, rising to his feet, licking your slick from his lips like a promise. “Need this cunt now.”

He spun you around, bent you over a mossy boulder. You barely caught yourself in time.

“Back arched,” he barked, grabbing your hips. “Ass up. Show me that fuckin’ needy little pussy.”

You whimpered as he shoved his cock against your entrance, teasing.

“Beg.”

“Please, Remmick,” you cried. “Please fuck me—need it—need you—”

SLAP.

A harsh smack to your ass made you jolt.

“Damn right you do.”

And then he was inside.

All the way.

You screamed.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he snarled, rolling his hips. “Grippin’ me like you’re starvin’. You love this, don’t ya?”

You couldn’t speak—only moan, already clenching around him as the first orgasm slammed through you.

“Shit, already?” he barked, feral. “Just like that? Thought I was gonna have to work for it, slut.”

He didn’t slow.

Thrust after brutal thrust, he drove into you like a man possessed. His hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back as he pounded into your soaked cunt from behind.

“You’re my pretty little fucktoy, huh?” he hissed in your ear. “Let me ruin you, sugar. Let me fuckin’ break you.”

Your legs were shaking. You couldn’t breathe.

Then he pressed two fingers to your clit—and you shattered again, sobbing.

He flipped you over onto your back, caging you in the moss.

His eyes were dark now, chain swinging freely over your face as he hovered above you.

“I love watchin’ you like this,” he purred, voice a slurred mix of drawl and brogue. “All wrecked. All mine.”

The chain hit your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you. You moaned around his tongue, tasting venom.

“Open your legs. Wider.”

You obeyed.

“That’s my girl.”

He slammed into you again, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

“Count your fuckin’ orgasms,” he growled.

“I—uh—two—”

“Wrong.” He snapped his hips. You cried out. “Three. That one on my tongue? That counted.”

You nodded frantically.

He grabbed your throat, gentle but firm, his grip pulsing as he rutted into you.

“You’re gonna give me seven,” he snarled. “That pretty little pussy can take it. You were made for me. Made to be fucked like this.”

You were sobbing, begging, drooling.

His chain bounced with each thrust, smacking lightly against your lips, your nose, your flushed cheeks.

And then—

He bit you again.

You came with a scream, body spasming under his weight.

“That’s four, sugar,” he growled, licking your blood from his lips. “Ain’t stoppin’ ‘til you’re gushin’.”

You lost count.

You came until your thighs shook violently, until you were clawing at his back, until your voice was hoarse from screaming his name.

He praised you. He degraded you.

“Such a good slut for me.”

“Dumb little hole, just made for cock.”

“You’re so perfect when you cry.”

“Mine. All mine.”

When he finally came, it was with a deep growl and his fangs buried in your throat. He spilled inside you, marking you, biting hard enough that you saw stars.

You were boneless, trembling, completely ruined.

He stayed on top of you for a while, pressing kisses to your bloodied throat.

“You ain’t ever gonna dream ‘bout no one else now,” he whispered, voice soft and possessive. “I’m in your fuckin’ blood, darlin’.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked.

He smiled.

“Good girl.”

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[elswhore]

—۶ৎ DUMBFICATION WITH ARCANE, TLOU mndi.

۶ৎ ELLIE

pins you against whatever surface is closest—table, wall, floor—her calloused hands gripping your hips like you’re her lifeline. Her strap’s already on, and she’s pushing in fast.

her thrusts are desperate, uneven, like she’s chasing something primal, she loves when you moan too loud, grinning cockily saying. "let the whole damn world hear you, babe."

even when you’re a trembling mess, ellie’s not done she’s kissing you messy, all tongue and teeth, while you’re still impaled on her strap. "pretty girl" she murmurs, her hips giving one last lazy thrust, just to hear you whimper.

۶ৎ ABBY

Abby’s got you bent over, her massive hands spreading your thighs like it’s nothing, her strap’s thick, stretching you wide, and she’s thrusting with brutal precision, each slam making your knees buckle. "you’re takin’ it so good" she says, voice low and proud.

She loves pinning you down, one hand pressing your back into the surface, keeping you still as she fucks you slow and deep. "Stay still, baby" she commands, and when you squirm, she smacks your ass, grinning at your yelp before speeding up, making you see stars.

She’ll pause mid-thrust, strap buried deep, just to watch you squirm and beg. "what’s that? Want more?" she cooes, smirking, before slamming back in, relentless, her fingers digging into your hips as she drives you to the edge and over.

۶ৎ VI

She’ll bite your shoulder mid thrust, laughing when you gasp, then kiss it better, "you’re too fuckin’ cute like this" she says, but her hips are ruthless, driving you into the ground, her breath hitching as you come, screaming her name.

Her hands are greedy, grabbing your tits, squeezing your thighs, one slipping between you to rub messy circles on your clit, she’s fucking you like it’s a brawl, all power and passion, whispering "C’mon, give it to me" when you start to shake.

Vi’s got you pressed against a wall, her strap’s sleek, and she’s fucking you fast and dirty, grinning at your moans, hiking your leg higher, her hips relentless as the city hums around you.

۶ৎ SEVIKA

sevika’s got you on her lap in a smoky bar, her strap hidden under her coat, sinking into you slow and deep, "brave girl, takin’ me like this" she growls, her mechanical arm cold on your waist, her flesh hand gripping your thigh hard.

her thrusts are heavy, each one pushing you closer to the edge. "Fuck, so tight" she groans, her smirk dark as she watches you struggle to stay quiet, her hips grinding just right to make you whimper.

When you come, crying out, sevika’s kissing you hard, possessive, her strap still moving, drawing out every shudder. "That’s it, I’ve got you" she says, her voice low, her touch softening just enough to keep you close.

۶ৎ CAITLYN

she’s all restraint, pinning your wrists with one hand, keeping her thrusts steady even when you’re begging for more, "patience, darling" she purrs, but her hips snap harder, betraying her own need, her breath catching when you moan her name.

she’s fucking you like it’s a performance, each thrust calculated, her free hand tracing your lips before slipping to your clit, rubbing slow, perfect circles, smirking when you arch, her control fraying as you come undone.

when you come, she is all soft praise, stroking your face "well done, darling." But she’s still moving, slow, shallow thrusts, drawing out your shudders, her lips brushing yours like she’s savoring the taste of your moans.

۶ৎ JINX

she’s all over the place—fast, then slow, then deep, changing angles just to mess with you. "bored yet?" she teases, but she’s groaning, "you’re so tight" her nails raking your thighs as she chases her own buzz from the harness.

her hands are everywhere pinching your nipples, slapping your ass, tugging your hair, she’s fucking you like it’s a game, laughing when you moan.

she flops onto you, giggling, "broke you, huh?" but she’s kissing you sweet, her fingers tracing silly patterns on your skin, already scheming the next way to wreck you.

[urmum-lovesme]

Toxic!Rafe when he gets jealous. . .

The night had been a blur of music and laughter, a house party filled with people she didn't really know. Y/N was just being polite, talking to the new guy in town- someone whose family her parents had mentioned working with- and she felt like she had to. Her parents had spoken about how nice the guy’s parents were, so Y/N did her part, listening to him babble about things that didn’t matter, keeping the conversation going.

She wasn’t flirting, just being nice.

“So, have you lived here your whole life?” Logan asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Not much changes around here, but I guess you’ll find that out soon enough.”

Logan chuckled, “Good to know. So, what do people even do for fun?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, but something in the air shifted- like the atmosphere had thickened, weighed down by a force she couldn’t ignore. She knew before even turning her head.

Rafe.

Her eyes flickered across the room, and there he was- leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at her. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was tight, his fingers flexing at his sides.

He was pissed.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and she quickly looked away, refocusing on Logan. “Uh, well, the beach is a big deal here,” she said, trying to push past the way her pulse had suddenly started to race.

“Boating, parties, stuff like that.”

But even as she spoke, she felt Rafe’s eyes burning into her. She glanced back and he was still staring, but now his expression had darkened- his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitch. She knew that look. Her breath hitched as he suddenly turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Shit.

She excused herself quickly, barely even hearing Logan’s response as she pushed through the crowd, her heart hammering. She knew better than to let him leave like that.

She called out to him, but he was already halfway to his car. Her heart started to pound, a cold knot of dread forming in her stomach.

“Rafe!”

She called, jogging after him. He didn’t look back. By the time she reached the car, he was slamming the door shut with a force that echoed through the quiet street. Without thinking, Y/N grabbed the handle and yanked the door open just as he was starting the engine. She could hear the engine rev, and the headlights cut into the darkness as his hands gripped the wheel. “Rafe, please wait,” she said, her voice shaky,

“I- I was just being polite.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

He didn’t even look at her, his voice flat and laced with venom. Her heart pounded harder, her hands trembling as she slid into the seat, buckling her seatbelt as quickly as she could. She could feel his anger radiating off of him, thick and suffocating. He wasn’t going to let this go easily. As he slammed his foot on the gas, the car jolted forward, tires screeching against the pavement. Y/N’s grip tightened on the handle of the door, the fear mounting inside her. The street passed in a blur as they drove down the road, and Y/n couldn't stop herself from gazing over at the speedometer,

“Rafe… slow down,”

She said, her voice shaky but firm. She could hear his heavy breathing beside her, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. “You think that shit was funny?” His voice was low, seething.

“You think you're funny, huh? Talking to him like that?”

Her stomach twisted as she realized what was happening- he was high. She could see the haze in his eyes, the way his pupils were dilated. The anger was consuming him, and she was at the center of it. “Rafe, please,” she said softly, trying to calm him down.

“I was just talking to him. I didn’t do anything wrong, you know I’d never-”

“-no,” he interrupted, his voice cold and sharp.

“You were being a cheating fucking whore.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, the sting of his words cutting deep, but she wasn’t surprised anymore. He’d said things like this before. He always did when he was angry or high. Still, hearing it from him again hurt like hell. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“I wasn’t—”

“The way you smiled at him? The way you touched his arm?”

“I didn’t touch him, Rafe”

She responded, voice rising. She bit the inside of her lip, she’d never touched the boy, she knew she didn’t. She cautiously looked at him, he looked enraged, that almost psychotic look in his eye, she knew exactly why he was imagining her actions, exactly why his pupils were so blown.

“Bullshit,” he growled.

“I saw it.”

His laughter cut through the car like a blade, dark and humorless.

“I do everything for you, and this is what I get?”

His voice was shaking now, not with sadness, but rage. His knee bounced restlessly, fingers drumming against the wheel in a twitchy, coked-up rhythm. He was spiraling, completely lost in his own head.

“You’re so fucking ungrateful, Y/N. Do you even realize what I do for you? Huh? DO YOU!?”

Her throat was tight, hands trembling in her lap.

“I keep you safe, I give you everything I have.”

He let out another sharp laugh, shaking his head.

“And you just—what? Smile at some random guy like I don’t fucking exist?”

He sniffed sharply, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. His pupils were still blown wide, making his normally piercing blue eyes look dark and dangerous. He was wired, running too hot, unable to slow down.

“You like the attention, huh? That’s it, makes you feel good? You like making me look like a fucking idiot?”

Y/N opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak and he angrily spat out.

“Because that’s what you did, Y/N. You made me look fucking stupid.”

His voice was shaking now, but not from hurt. From rage. From pure, untamed fury.

The speedometer climbed and the road outside the window blurred. The car shot forward, and her heart slammed in her chest. She could see a deer in the distance, its eyes glowing in the headlights.

Her stomach dropped.

“Rafe, slow down, you're gonna hit it,” she pleaded, voice rising in panic.

“Yeah? So what?”

He didn’t slow down. She could feel the terror creeping into her chest as she began to beg.

“Stop, Rafe, please- what are you doing?”

But instead of slowing down, he pushed the pedal harder. The car sped towards the deer, and Y/N’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat.

“Stop! Please—”

At the last second, she reached out and grabbed the wheel, swerving the car to avoid the deer. The tires screeched in protest, the car veering off course. She could feel the panic and adrenaline coursing through her veins as Rafe’s hand jerked the wheel back into control; the range rover came back onto the road, but the air was thick with fear. She was crying now, her hands trembling, and her voice was barely a whisper.

“Please, Rafe. . . you're scaring me.”

He didn’t answer at first, the tension in the car suffocating, until he suddenly slammed on the brakes. The car jerked to a sudden stop, throwing Y/N forward so hard that her seatbelt snapped tight across her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands flew to the dashboard, bracing herself against the impact. Her ears were ringing. Her heart was racing. The silence that followed was suffocating. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she turned, terrified, to look at Rafe.

He sat completely still, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were bone white. His chest heaved, his nostrils flaring with every sharp inhale and his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. She could feel the rage rolling off him in waves. She whispered, voice barely there.

“You’re scaring me.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

And then- he moved the action so sudden it made her breath hitch. His hand shot out so fast she didn’t have time to react. Fingers wrapped around her jaw, hard. Y/N gasped, her head snapping toward him as he forced her to look at him. His grip was bruising, his fingers digging into her skin.

“Don’t ever- ever -fucking do that again, d’you understand me?”

He growled, his breath heavy and uneven. Her heart thudded in her chest, fear and adrenaline mixing with the sting of his touch. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling, the tears streaming down her face now. She nodded frantically, the words caught in her throat.

“I said” he repeated, his voice cold and booming in the silence of the car

“D’YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!?”

“Yes- yes! I hear you”

Y/N barely managed a nod, the words caught in her throat as she whimpered out. He let go of her face with a sharp shove, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, her head snapped back against the seat, leaving her gasping for air. Her hands trembled in her lap, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress as she tried to steady her breathing.

And then—

BANG

His fist slammed against the steering wheel.

Y/N flinched.The sound echoed through the car, raw and violent.

“You fucking embarrass me like that again, I swear to God—”

He cut himself off, breathing heavily, Y/N sat frozen, her heart hammering, her body still trembling. He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before a small sound rang out in the thick air of the car.

The click of his seatbelt.

He leaned over towards her causing her to stiffen and soon the slow creak of the glove compartment opening was heard. A rush of nausea hit Y/N’s stomach, her body locking up as the air turned suffocatingly thick around her. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn’t want to look- she knew she shouldn’t look but she did and that was when she saw it.

The gleam of cold metal in the dim light.

Her breath hitched so sharply it felt like a blade to her lungs. A noise- small, fragile- escaped the back of her throat, but it barely filled the silence. The fear was instant.

Crippling.

Her fingers dug into the seat, her nails pressing so hard into the leather she thought they might tear through. She knew she should move, open the door of the car and just get out, but her throat had closed up, her body locked in place by something deeper than terror- helplessness.

Rafe didn’t even look at her at first.

He sat there, fingers running over the handle of the gun like it was something precious, something sacred. The weight of it in his palm seemed to calm him, his chest rising and falling in an almost steady rhythm. His expression was unreadable and then- he turned his head, eyes met hers with that cold, calculated look. The kind that made her stomach drop, the kind that told her he wasn’t just trying to scare her. The gun was heavy in his grip, the black steel gleaming under the glow of the dashboard lights. It looked too big, too real, like something that shouldn’t belong in a moment like this.

Then- he clicked the safety off.

The sound sent a jolt through her body and a small, broken sob tore from her throat, her entire frame shaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. But Rafe? He barely blinked, his movements were slow.

Deliberate.

She hoped that he was just trying to intimidate her, scare her so she would shut up, but when he raised the gun her prayers stopped. Her stomach plummeted and a desperate, breathless noise pushed from her lips, her body tensing so hard it hurt, but she still couldn’t move.

The barrel of the gun was cold when it pressed against her forehead.

Her breath stopped. The pressure was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to make her entire world stop spinning.

Rafe studied her.

Watched the way her body locked up, how her chest barely rose, how her lips parted just slightly- like she was afraid even breathing too hard would set him off, it was as though he enjoyed it. Some sick and twisted part of him liked having control over her, having her so powerless.

His thumb brushed lazily over the trigger.

“I do everything for you”

He murmured, voice low. Soft. Almost gentle. It was like he wasn’t holding a loaded gun against her forehead, like he wasn’t watching her fall apart right in front of him.

“And this is what I get?”

Her bottom lip trembled, but she didn’t dare move, didn’t dare blink, she was so terrified.Tears slipped down her cheeks, her vision blurring, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. She wanted to beg him, to scream in his face, to move and run.

But she couldn’t.

Rafe tilted his head, still watching her, eyes following the tears that slid steadily down her cheeks, some dripping off of her chin, others rolling down her neck. Studying her, he pressed the cold metal against her skin slightly harder.

“Tell me who owns you.”

Her stomach twisted violently as he opened his mouth. The words sent a deep, horrible kind of dread crawling down her spine, settling in her bones like lead. She tried to breathe past it, but her lungs weren’t working. Her hands clawed at the seat, desperate for something- anything- to ground her, but there was nothing. Rafe’s thumb brushed over the trigger again and her breath hitched sharply.

“Say it”

He ordered, yet his voice was ironically calm. Cold. Y/N’s lip quivered, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Her throat was so tight she could barely choke out the words.

“You do”

She finally whispered her voice shaking. Rafe’s lips twitched. A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corners as her wide pleasing eyes looked at him.

“That’s right.”

And just like that—

The gun disappeared.

Like it was never there in the first place.

is it bad I lowkey have a thing for psycho season 2 Rafe...

part 2

[remmickgf]

Sweetest Sin (nsfw 18+)

❤︎ Remmick (Sinners) x female reader ❤︎ Remmick fucks you dumb enough to ask if he enjoys having sex with you/if it feels good and he nearly strokes out ❤︎ came home after watching sinners for the 9th time and decided who needs sleep! wouldn't be getting much of it if he were here anyway

His tongue met the edge of your hip. A wet moan muffled against your skin, Remmick dragged it toward your belly button, then trailed messy kisses and sloppy bites up to your breasts, where his mouth found the raised flesh of your nipples, darkened with their hardening. Your fingers burying themselves in the locks of black curling around his ears and matting to his forearm, your chest lifted as he suckled needily on one then the other, switching with a crude popping sound and a hurried exhale. His saliva dribbling onto you and smearing his cheeks, the next he lifted up, you cupped his cheeks and brought his face to yours, squirming beneath the weight of his body.

His gold chain dangling from his neck, your fingertips then danced down the back to his spine. As soon as your touch dragged further down his back, your arms wrapping around his wide torso, Remmick buried his nose into your neck and began inhaling your scent in between deepened groans. You wriggled your hips upward some more, kissing and biting his shoulder as he had done to you, until he pushed his knees beneath your thighs and lowered himself enough you felt the hard edge of his cock slide across your wet belly. With a shiver at the contact and the flex of his lower back, arching his ass back before grunting and glancing down the length of you to make sure he was angling himself properly, you ached to feel him stretch you open and hold himself inside the way he always did, slowing his breath and adjusting to the feeling of your walls clenching around him, never totally used to the sensation of your pretty cunt damn near weeping for him.

Nonetheless, despite this need and the racing of your heart to dizzy you with the anticipation, your hands met his neck and chest and you stilled him with a hush of his name, distracting him just long enough you could turn your shoulder, then tuck your hands beneath you and push up against him, turning to lay of your belly. Remmick's calloused hands slid down the curve of your back and swept downward to cradle your abdomen, his long fingers and hard knuckles groping at your supple flesh while he cursed beneath his breath and realigned himself to your swollen entrance, this time hurriedly. His other hand moving from your hip to reach up and grab a fistful of the hair at the back of your skull, he craned your jaw back and as soon as the gummy head of his leaking cock disappeared between your folds, he punched his pelvis upward and sheathed himself completely inside, nearly buckling forward over you as you simultaneously tightened so much the delicate tissue almost squeezed him out, yet with the hollowing of your lungs, he felt he couldn't have been able to pull out if he tried. His mouth hung open, and another string of saliva trickled down his chin; his eyes darkened and dilated. Jagged teeth revealing themselves when he clenched and bared them, he knotted his fist again and earned a high-pitched whimper from you as your breath hitched and your blurry gaze looked upward.

He began thrusting hard, a rough exhale matching the increasing tempo until he left bruises where his hands met you and he released your hair to wrap his palm around the front of your throat. Finally falling forward to wrap his opposite arm around your chest, you felt his teeth meet your scapula and the back of your neck before he sat back on his knees and brought you up with him onto his lap, never ceasing his thrusts, only changing how much he pulled out before snapping back to the hilt with a squelch of your wetness mixing with the sweat and precum glistening on his skin. He was surprisingly quiet while fucking you, too concentrated to turn his thoughts into words, instead letting you hear the open mouthed sounds that escaped and were choked from him, strangled from his strained and striated throat as his eyes squeezed shut. When he fell forward again, releasing one arm to shoot out beneath next to where where your hands fell from his forearm, you stretched out and rested your head against the ground, sucking sweet air into your burning lungs through flaring nostrils while Remmick took hold of your waist again and used the curve of your hips between his palms to yank at you until the quivering burn of his thighs and the yanking tension deep in his belly came undone, causing him to bury himself as deep as he could get one last time and lean his shoulders back, wincing while hot seed spurted against your cervix, sticky strings of it feeling like an extension of each heavy kick of his throbbing cock as his hips tensed and rolled forward each time his balls contracted.

Tenderly, his chin to his chest and his panting sounding like a dog's, Remmick pulled himself out and immediately fell to your side, collapsing on his back with half-lidded eyes following yours while his fingers stretched out and beckoned you to nestle into him.

You pressed small kisses just beneath his jaw to his cheek, then asked quietly, "You alright?" When he remained silent. You touched his forehead and swiped some hair away, observing his expression. He had a habit of drawing back into his thoughts, his memories, but rarely when the two of you were being intimate--which was more often than not. You began to feel like there was something else to the way he fucked you hurriedly, like it was a task to get himself off, until Remmick caught your wrist and lifted his face in the same motion, catching your cheek in his other hand to kiss you like it was taking a needed breath. He tugged at you so your chest pressed to his, before you swung your leg over him and straddled his waist. When he planted his hands on your ass and tugged at the plush meat, your sore folds separated, and a glob of his cum dripped like cream onto his abdomen.

His lips hovered only centimeters away from yours when he finally responded. "You're fuckin' unbelievable."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You--m'lass, askin 'bout if I'm alright as soon as I get done fuckin' ya as if I ain't flutterin' down from heaven on earth at this very moment. And as if I ain't plannin' on gettin' righ'back in there." His words melted into a grumbly purr, then a soft moan once he kissed you again.

"I just wa..." he kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you, barely letting you get another word out. You had to sit up to do so, although he followed to his elbows and tilted his head with doe eyes that made your heart twist. "Want you to enjoy yourself--with me, to enjoy me. It feels good, doesn't it?" The statement hadn't sounded that serious when it crossed your mind, but there was a change in Remmick's expression as soon as he heard it out loud.

It was like blasphemy to hear you even for a flinch of a second doubt if he enjoys you. You could see the frustration, the agony in the scrunch of his eyebrows and nose, the opening and closing of his lips like he couldn't even begin to adequately express how wrong you were--and the stupidity in thinking it wouldn't feel good. His Adam's apple shot upward when he swallowed, and frustration became determination.

At the same time he cupped your face, smashing his mouth against yourself, full of sharp teeth and with a red glint to his eyes, he hoisted your waist up so he could force you beneath him again, this time pinning you on your back and slinking down to bury his face between your thighs. He would make you apologize, of course, but first he would make you fucking grateful his manhood needed a break before achieving another erection. Although his vampirism sped up the process and enabled him to go more times in a row than the average human male, his increased stamina and endurance be damned with you. There were times he thought he would cum not a minute into fucking you.

The sound of his name choking in your throat was sweet, but it wasn't enough. His fingers curved upward and buried in your core, his tongue flicked over the already overstimulated bud of your clit, and he would continue to do so until your clenched your legs around his head and pushed at his skull, curling upward and trembling as if he were about to exorcise demons from your pussy and swallow them whole. He wouldn't stop until tears ran down your cheeks, and you would think him cruel for this punishment.

Only at that point would he push your legs open again and grab your jaw with slick fingers to keep your eyes locked on his while he slowly, deliberately slid back inside you, fucking you nice and good and slow, cradling one of your legs open in his other arm all the while not letting you turn away from him so you could see each twinge and strain of his face and hear loud and clear the obscene words that could set a whole church on fire from its sin if uttered within a mile radius. But he didn't just utter it, he commanded it, as if it hadn't been centuries since he'd even thought it, longer since he doubted it even existed. Oh, but it did, and it trickled from his tongue, breathless, vicious and biting.

"I love you. I love you--I love you."

[junojoel]

Inside Your Mind

Jackson!Joel x fem!Reader, 1.6k

Summary: You need to find a way to make Joel relax. Quickest solution? A blowjob.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (m!receiving), swallowing cum, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, ignoring the fact an old man would not recover that quick, dubcon??, joel says hes not in the mood, but he is, slight sub!joel at the start, stressed joel, not specified but glasses stay on in my mind

i watched ep1 this morning and spent my whole day getting this out. could not concentrate on anything else.

You watch him from the doorway, the way his shoulders stay rigid, like he’s still braced for a fight. Arms crossed, your own frustration simmers beneath your skin. He hasn’t slept. Barely eaten. Every waking moment is consumed by the fear of losing her—again.

Enough.

You push off the frame and move toward him, your bare feet silent on the wooden floor. The firelight dances over his back, highlighting the rigidness of his spine. When you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, you reach out and let your fingertips trail down the tense muscles of his shoulders.

He stiffens but doesn’t turn.

“Joel.”

His name is soft on your lips, but he only grunts in response, his fingers tightening around the pencil in his grip. You sigh, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from his forehead.

“You’re gonna run yourself into the ground,” you murmur, your voice low, edged with concern.

Joel exhales sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on the pen. “Ain’t got a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

His breath hitches, just slightly, but his jaw stays set. “Ellie’s out there—”

“And she’s safe,” you interrupt, your hand sliding down his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. “Tommy’s got her. You need to rest.”

You step closer, your hips pressing against the side of the desk, forcing his knees to part just enough for you to slide between them. His breath hitches, just slightly, but his eyes stay fixed on the papers. Your hands slide down his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin, the way his muscles flex as he resists the urge to pull away. You press closer.

“Let me take your mind off it,” you whisper.

“Darlin’,” he warns, voice low.

You ignore him, leaning down until your lips brush his ear. “What’s it gonna take to get you to look at me?”

A shudder runs through him. His head tilts slightly, just enough for you to see the way his jaw clenches. “Darlin’, I ain’t in the mood—”

You cut him off by nipping at his earlobe, your teeth scraping just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. Your hands drift lower, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips tracing the ridges of his abdomen.

“Liar,” you breathe against his neck.

Bracing your hands on the arms of the chair, you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs straddling his. His hands instinctively grip your hips, calloused fingers pressing into your skin through the fabric of your jeans.

His hands flex against the desk, but he doesn’t push you away.

Encouraged, you let your teeth graze his pulse point—just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

You smile against his skin.

Your hands slide down his chest, fingers working open the buttons of his shirt one by one. His breathing is heavier now, his body rigid with restraint.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game,” he growls.

You hum, slipping the last button free and spreading the fabric apart, revealing the hard of his chest, the scars that map his skin.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you whisper, dragging your nails lightly down his torso.

Your fingers make quick work of his belt buckle, tugging it free with a sharp pull. His breath catches, hands twitching like he means to stop you—but he doesn’t.

“You think too much,” you murmur, palming him through his jeans, feeling him stiffen under your touch. His jaw clenches, a low groan trapped in his throat.

“Ain’t—fuck—ain’t the time for this,” he grits out, but his hips jerk into your hand anyway.

The second you drag his zipper down, he’s already half-hard, thick and heavy in your hand. You don’t waste time—just drop to your knees and lean in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tip, tasting salt and heat.

Joel’s curse is ragged, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Christ—”

You take him deeper, tongue swirling, hollowing your cheeks as you sink down. His grip tightens, not pushing, just holding, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Fuck,” he rasps, head falling back. “Just like that—shit—”

You hum around him, savouring the way his thighs tense, the way his breath comes rough and uneven. His hips buck once, shallow, like he’s fighting not to take control.

But you don’t let him. You set the pace—slow, deliberate, dragging your lips up and down his length, teasing the head with your tongue before swallowing him down again.

Joel’s muttering curses, his free hand fisting your shirt. “Goddamn—goddamn, sweetheart—”

You glance up through your lashes, meeting his blown-out gaze. His lips are parted, his chest heaving, and for once—finally—there’s nothing in his eyes but you.

You suck harder, bobbing faster, and his grip turns almost painful. “Gonna—fuck—gonna come if you keep—”

You don’t stop.

With a ragged groan, Joel spills into your mouth, his whole body shuddering. You swallow every drop, working him through it until he’s panting, oversensitive, his fingers slackening in your hair.

When you finally pull back, licking your lips, he’s staring at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with want, and the intensity of his gaze sends a thrill straight to your core.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doin’?” His voice is rough, gravelly with need. “Tryin’ to distract me?”

“Is it working?” you breathe.

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

The kiss is rough, desperate, all teeth and hunger. He tastes like whiskey and exhaustion, and you moan into it, arching against him. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly before slamming you down onto the desk. Papers scatter, a glass tumbles to the floor with a smash, but neither of you care.

His body cages yours, one hand pinning your wrists above your head

Joel leans over you, his breath hot against your lips. “This what you wanted?” he rasps. His body cages yours, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, one hand fumbling with the button of your jeans.

You hook a leg around his waist, dragging him closer. “I want you to stop thinking.”

His fingers slip between your thighs, finding you already wet, already aching for him.

“Christ,” he growls, dragging a rough finger through your folds.

You whimper, bucking against his touch, but he holds you down, his grip unrelenting.

“Joel—please—”

He chuckles darkly, nipping at your throat. “Beggin’ already? We ain’t even started.”

Then his fingers are inside you, curling just right, and your back bows off the desk with a cry. He sets a punishing pace, his thumb circling your clit in tight, relentless strokes.

Your mouth finds his collarbone, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. Joel hisses, his hips grinding against yours, the friction drawing a broken sound from your throat.

You writhe beneath him, pleasure coiling tight in your belly, but just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls away.

You gasp, blinking up at him in dazed frustration.

Joel’s smirk is dark, predatory. His fingers glisten with your arousal as he drags them slowly down your stomach, watching your chest rise and fall with each ragged breath.

“You were sayin’?” he rumbles, voice thick with satisfaction.

You bare your teeth at him, arching up to capture his lips in a biting kiss. “Don’t be a tease.”

His laugh is rough, but his hands are already moving, yanking your jeans down your hips in one sharp motion. The cool air hits your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as it rakes over you. Hungry. Possessive.

“Ain’t teasin’,” he mutters, hooking your knees over his elbows. “Just makin’ sure you remember who’s in charge.”

And then he’s pushing inside you in one brutal thrust, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You cry out, nails scraping against the wood of the desk as he fills you, stretching you to the brink. Joel doesn’t give you time to adjust—just sets a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with enough force to make the desk creak beneath you.

“Fuck—Joel—” Your voice is shattered, barely recognisable.

His grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. “Look at me.”

You force your eyes open, meeting his darkened gaze. There’s no trace of exhaustion now—just raw, unchecked want.

“That’s it,” he growls, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout nothin’ else but this. Us.”

You whimper as his pace turns erratic, his thrusts losing their rhythm as pleasure overtakes him. His forehead drops to yours, breath mingling as he drives into you again and again, chasing his own release.

“Gonna come,” he grits out, voice wrecked.

You clench around him, dragging a ragged groan from his chest.

His hips stutter, and then he’s spilling inside you with a guttural moan, his body shuddering above yours. The sensation sends you tumbling over the edge right after, heat rushing through your veins.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is your combined panting. Joel’s weight presses you into the desk, his forehead still resting against yours.

Then, slowly, he pulls back, his gaze searching yours.

You reach up, brushing a sweat-damp curl from his forehead. “Still thinking about Ellie?”

His lips twitch. “Brat.”

You grin, triumphant.

But before you can gloat, Joel scoops you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he carries you toward the bed.

“Rest,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Both of us.”

This time, he doesn’t argue.

[gf2bellamy]

hi!

Can you do one where reader gets injured but doesnt want to bother anyone so she doesnt sag anything. The catch unsub, and maybe spencer notices something is off but is not sure. Eventually she loses so much blood and collapses on spencer or something like that. Not sure how it ends. Fluffy and angst

thankkkssss

xoxoxoxo

collapse — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship , reader is hurt , lots of blood , mention of stitches , reader got stabbed a/n: hi hi !! hope you like this <3 i might've gotten carried away

The adrenaline was the only thing keeping you upright.

You bit down hard on your lip, the metallic tang of blood blooming across your tongue as you suppressed a groan of pain. The unsub thrashed violently between you and Spencer as he fought against your grip.

Your side burned—a deep, throbbing ache—but you refused to loosen your hold.

Just a little longer.

To your relief, the unsub finally stilled, his resistance crumbling as Spencer adjusted his grip and shoved the door open with his shoulder.

Spencer’s voice cut through the ringing in your ears.

“Are you okay?”

You could see the concern etched into the lines of his face—the way his brows furrowed, the slight downturn of his lips. You had taken a nasty hit during the struggle, but you had brushed it off, insisting you were fine.

You weren’t fine.

But now wasn’t the time.

You forced a soft smile, willing your voice to stay steady. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Derek was already at the car, his expression hardening as he took in the unsub’s snarling face. He reached out, wrenching the man from your grasp and shoving him into the backseat with a muttered, “Nice try, pal.”

The moment the weight was gone, your knees nearly buckled.

You leaned against the car for support as the world tilted slightly. Spencer stood in front of you, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You swallowed hard, willing the black spots at the edges of your vision to fade. “Yes, Spence. I’m okay.”

You pushed off the car, determined to prove it—to him, to yourself. You took a step forward, reaching out to touch his arm, to reassure him—

And then, everything gave out.

Your legs crumpled beneath you, the pain exploding in a white-hot burst as your vision blurred. The last thing you registered was the warmth of Spencer’s arms catching you, his voice cracking as he shouted your name.

Then—

Darkness.

Spencer barely caught you in time, your weight slamming against his chest as his hands scrambled to keep you upright.

“Hey—hey! Look at me!” His voice was too loud, too sharp, cracking under the weight of sudden terror.

Your skin was pale, your breathing shallow. His fingers brushed against your side—and came away wet.

Blood.

His stomach dropped.

“Morgan! Hotch!” The words tore from his throat, raw and desperate.

Derek whipped around, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “What the hell—?”

“She’s bleeding!” Spencer’s hands were shaking as he lowered you to the ground, his mind racing through symptoms, probabilities, how much time—

Your eyelids fluttered weakly, struggling to focus on his face.

“Sorry…” you slurred, the word barely audible.

“No, no, no—don’t apologize, just stay awake, okay? Look at me.” His palm cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in frantic, soothing strokes. “You’re gonna be fine. Just keep your eyes open.”

Hotch was already on the radio, calling for an ambulance, but every second stretched into an eternity. Spencer could feel your pulse under his fingertips—too fast, too thready.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He should have noticed. He should have known.

His breath hitched as your eyes started to close.

“No—hey, no! Stay with me!” His voice broke, fingers tightening around yours. “Please.”

Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.

The sound should have been a relief. But as the paramedics rushed toward you. Spencer couldn’t breathe.

“We need to move—now!”

Hands reached for you, but Spencer’s grip tightened instinctively, his fingers tangled in the fabric of your shirt. A paramedic pried his hand away—gently but firmly.

“Sir, we need to treat her.”

He forced himself to let go.

The seconds it took to lift you onto the stretcher felt like hours. The moment they strapped you in, Spencer was moving, climbing into the ambulance before anyone could stop him.

“I’m not leaving her.” His voice left no room for argument.

The doors slammed shut. The ambulance lurched forward.

And then—there was nothing but the sound of the heart monitor’s steady beep and the too-slow rise and fall of your chest.

The paramedics worked quickly, cutting away fabric to reveal the wound—a deep, angry gash just below your ribs, still bleeding.

His stomach twisted.

The EMT pressed a fresh bandage to your side, and even unconscious, you let out a weak whimper.

Spencer’s hand shot out before he could stop himself, his fingers tangling with yours. Your skin was ice-cold, your grip limp.

“Hang on,” he whispered, voice cracking. His thumb traced frantic circles over your knuckles, as if he could somehow transfer his own warmth into you. “Just hang on, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

The ambulance hit a pothole, jostling you slightly. Your face contorted in pain, and Spencer’s free hand hovered uselessly above your shoulder, desperate to comfort but terrified of hurting you more.

“Can’t you go faster?” he snapped, his voice fraying at the edges.

The paramedic didn’t look up. “We’re almost there.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes darting between your face and the heart monitor. The numbers taunted him—too low, too slow.

This was his fault.

He should’ve seen it. Should’ve known. He’d watched you take that hit during the struggle, seen the way you’d stumbled afterward, the way your hand had pressed discreetly to your side. But you’d smiled at him—soft and reassuring—and like an idiot, he’d believed you.

A sudden twitch of your fingers against his snapped him back to the present.

His breath caught. “Hey—?” He leaned closer, his free hand brushing your cheek. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

The ambulance screeched to a halt. The doors flew open.

And just like that, you were ripped away from him again, whisked into the bright, sterile chaos of the ER.

A nurse stopped him at the doors. “You’ll need to wait here.”

Spencer opened his mouth to argue—but the doors swung shut in his face.

Alone in the sterile, suffocating silence of the waiting room, Spencer Reid— man who always had an answer—could do nothing but stand there, your blood still drying on his hands, and wait.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. He couldn’t sit. Couldn’t breathe.

So he paced.

Back and forth, back and forth—wearing a path into the linoleum like a man possessed. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers stiff with dried blood. Your blood. The sight of it made his stomach twist.

The team came and went in shifts, each checking on you, each casting worried glances his way.

Then, the adrenaline crashed.

Exhaustion hit him like a physical blow, but he refused to sit. The hospital chairs were too stiff, the silence too loud, the waiting unbearable. His mind, always too sharp for its own good, raced through worst-case scenarios.

He should’ve seen it. Should’ve known.

“Reid.”

Hotch’s voice cut through the static in his head. Spencer hadn’t even heard him arrive.

The unit chief stood beside him, his usual stoicism softened by the faintest crease of concern between his brows. “Any updates?” he asked as his eyes flickered toward the treatment doors.

Spencer shook his head, his throat too tight to speak.

Hotch didn’t push, before stepping aside as Garcia burst through the entrance, her heels clicking frantically against the linoleum.

“Oh my god, is she okay?” Her voice was high with panic, eyes red-rimmed behind her glasses. She zeroed in on Spencer immediately, her hands fluttering toward him like she could physically tether him to the present. “Spencer, talk to me—”

“They haven’t told us anything yet,” Hotch answered for him.

Garcia’s lower lip trembled. “But she’s tough—she’s gonna be fine, right? She has to be—”

Morgan arrived next, his usual swagger replaced by a grim tension. He took one look at Spencer’s ashen face, the blood still streaked across his sleeves, and exhaled sharply through his nose, but he didn't say anything.

Spencer's gaze was fixed on the clock above the nurses’ station, barely noticing anything around him.

Twenty-seven minutes.

Too long. Too long.

Rossi appeared with coffee no one drank. JJ murmured reassurances no one believed.

And Spencer paced.

At the fifty-three-minute mark, a doctor finally emerged.

Spencer’s heart stopped.

She looked at him first—of course she did—and offered a small, exhausted smile.

"She's going to be okay."

The words struck Spencer like a physical blow to the chest. Oxygen flooded back into his lungs so violently it burned, his knees nearly buckling under the sudden weight of relief. Behind him, Garcia gasped - a wet, shuddering "Oh thank God" muffled against Morgan's sleeve as she fisted her hands in his leather jacket.

Spencer remained frozen. Rooted to the spot.

Because the doctor was still speaking, her lips forming words that dissolved into meaningless static before they reached him.

—significant blood loss—

—no organ damage—

—lucky the blade missed the artery—

Lucky. The word turned to ash in his mouth.

There was nothing lucky about how your body had gone limp in his arms, your blood seeping through his shirt as he'd screamed for help. Nothing lucky about the way your eyelids had fluttered weakly before going still—

"—kept asking for you."

His head snapped up so fast his neck cracked. "What?"

The doctor's expression softened around tired eyes. "During moments of consciousness. She was disoriented, but she kept saying your name."

Something vital fractured behind his sternum. You'd asked for him. Even half-conscious. Even bleeding out.

"When can I see her?" The demand ripped from his throat, jagged and desperate.

"She's in recovery now. Give us another hour to get her settled, then one visitor at a time."

An hour. Sixty more minutes of this agony. Spencer's fingers twitched at his sides, still tacky with your blood.

"Reid." Hotch's voice dropped into that particular tone that brooked no argument. "Sit down before you collapse."

Spencer barely registered the hard plastic chair biting into his back. His hands trembled violently in his lap - the same hands that had failed to notice your injury, failed to protect you—

Garcia thrust a paper cup of lukewarm coffee between his shaking fingers. "Drink this," she ordered, her usual bubbly cadence replaced by steel. "

The coffee tasted like ashes, but he drank it anyway, if only to stop the trembling.

The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly. Each second stretched into eternity. Around him, the team moved quietly - Morgan pacing like a caged panther, JJ making hushed phone calls, Rossi leaning against the wall with a tension that belied his casual stance.

And Spencer sat. And waited. Counting each breath, each heartbeat, until he could see for himself that you were truly alive.

The hour passed in agony.

At first, there had only been relief—a dizzying, all-consuming wave of it that left Spencer lightheaded. You were alive. That was all that mattered.

But as the minutes crawled by, other emotions began creeping in, slithering through the cracks in his composure like poison.

Anger.

It started as a spark, small but insistent.

How could you not tell him?

The question burned through him, relentless. You’d lied to him. Smiled right at him, blood soaking through your shirt, and told him you were fine. He could still hear the way your voice had wavered—just slightly—when you’d said it. He should’ve known. He should’ve—

His hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms.

And then, worse than the anger at you—the anger at himself.

He was a profiler. It was his job to notice the details, to see what others missed. He’d watched you fight the unsub, watched you stumble afterward. He’d seen the way your hand had pressed to your side, the way your breathing had turned shallow. But he’d let you brush it off. He’d believed you.

Idiot. The self-loathing settled heavy in his chest.

Across the room, Morgan shot him a look. “You good, Reid?”

No. He wasn’t.

“Peachy,” Spencer bit out, the word brittle.

Garcia frowned, reaching for him, but he stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. He needed air. Needed to move.

The hallway outside was quiet, sterile. He braced his hands against the wall, head bowed, breaths coming too fast.

He’d studied every microexpression, every twitch of every unsub they’d ever hunted—but he hadn’t seen this. Hadn’t seen you.

What if the unsub had gotten another hit in? What if—

“Reid.” Hotch’s voice cut through the spiral. Spencer didn’t turn.

“She’s alive,” Hotch said, quiet but firm. “That’s what matters.”

Spencer’s jaw worked. “She could’ve died.”

“But she didn’t.”

Because she got lucky. The unspoken words hung between them, heavy as a verdict.

A nurse appeared at the end of the hall. “Agent Reid? She’s asking for you.”

The nurse's shoes squeaked against the linoleum as she led him down the hallway, the sound grating against Spencer's frayed nerves. His pulse hammered in his throat with each step closer to your room. When they reached the door, he froze in the threshold, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"Thank you," he muttered to the nurse, barely recognizing his own voice.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And then—your eyes flew open, locking onto his like you'd been waiting.

"Spencer."

Your voice was rough, but the relief in that single word nearly undid him. A shaky exhale escaped you, as if you'd been holding your breath until this moment.

Each step was measured, unsteady, as if his body had forgotten how to move without trembling. He had counted every agonizing second until this moment, had played it over in his mind a hundred times—how he would rush to your side, how he would take your hand, how he would finally know you were alive.

But now that he was here, his legs wouldn’t cooperate.

And then he was at your bedside, close enough to see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lashes fluttered weakly with each blink. His throat tightened.

"You're awake," he whispered, the words cracking under the weight of everything he wasn’t saying.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets—a weak, aborted movement, like you wanted to reach for him but didn’t have the strength.

"Told you I was fine," you murmured, voice hoarse but laced with the faintest tease.

A broken sound escaped him—half-laugh, half-sob. His hand finally lifted, hovering just above yours before he let it settle, his touch feather-light, terrified of hurting you.

"You collapsed," he said, the words raw. "You—you bled out in my arms."

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching weakly beneath his. Then, with effort, you patted the empty space beside you on the hospital bed—an invitation, a silent plea for closeness.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated. His gaze flickered over the IV line taped to your arm, the bandages peeking out from beneath your hospital gown, as if weighing the risk of hurting you against the unbearable need to be near you.

Then, carefully—so carefully—he sat down on the edge of the mattress, his weight barely disturbing the sheets. His hands trembled as he reached for you again, but this time, you were the one who bridged the gap. Your fingers brushed over his knuckles, tracing the dried blood still smudged there—your blood—before curling loosely around his palm.

"But I'm okay now," you murmured, your voice soft but steady.

His breath shuddered out of him. He turned his hand beneath yours, intertwining their fingers with aching gentleness, as if you were something fragile. Something precious.

"You scared me," he whispered.

"I know. And I’m sorry," you whispered.

A flicker of guilt passed over his face, but before he could spiral further, you added with a weak smirk, "The nurses told me about a tall, pretty guy not letting them work properly."

They hadn’t, of course—but you knew him. Knew he’d hovered, frantic and pale, demanding answers they couldn’t give fast enough. Knew he’d probably been seconds away from reciting medical journals at them just to feel some semblance of control.

Spencer blinked, then huffed—a startled, breathless sound caught between indignation and reluctant amusement. "I—that’s not—" He faltered, then exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping. "Okay. Maybe."

You grinned, despite the dull ache in your side. "So you admit you’re pretty?"

His cheeks flushed, but his grip on your hand tightened—just a fraction—like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on. "I admit," he muttered, "that you’re impossible."

"And yet," you teased, shifting slightly—then wincing.

Instantly, his expression sobered. His free hand hovered over you, uncertain. "Don’t—don’t move, just—"

"Spencer." You caught his wrist, guiding his palm to rest gently over your uninjured side. His breath hitched as his fingers skimmed the dip of your waist—careful, reverent, like he was relearning the shape of you.

He bit his lip, his thumb brushing once, twice, over the soft fabric of your hospital gown, as if to reassure himself that this part of you, at least, was unharmed. Then, with a quiet exhale, he murmured, "The rest of the team is waiting outside. I’m pretty sure Garcia got you a bunch of different plushies."

You could practically see it—Garcia bursting in with an armful of absurdly cheerful stuffed animals, each one louder and more ridiculous than the last.

"How many are we talking?" you asked, lips quirking. "Enough to start a zoo?"

Spencer’s mouth twitched—almost a smile. "At least three with googly eyes. One of them might be a neon pink llama."

You snorted, then immediately regretted it as pain lanced through your side. His hand tensed against you, his face flooding with concern.

"Hey—easy," he murmured, shifting closer instinctively. His other hand came up to brush a stray hair from your forehead, his touch lingering. "No more making fun of Garcia’s questionable taste in plushies until you can laugh without wincing."

"That might take a while," you admitted, but you were smiling again—small, but real.

Spencer’s gaze softened. "I’ll wait."

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken tension. Then, Spencer uttered the words like they'd been clawing at his throat:

"You lied to me."

His voice was quiet—too quiet—but the hurt in it cut deeper than any blade. His fingers still rested against your side, but they'd gone stiff, like he couldn't decide whether to pull away or hold on tighter.

You swallowed. "I didn't lie. I just... didn't mention the part where I was actively bleeding out."

His jaw clenched. "Semantics."

"Spencer—"

"No." His hand finally withdrew, raking through his hair instead. "You smiled at me. You said you were fine. Do you have any idea what it was like, watching you collapse like that? Thinking—" His voice cracked. "Thinking I'd just let you die?"

The raw pain in his words stole your breath. You reached for him, ignoring the protest of your stitches. "Hey. Look at me."

He did—reluctantly—and the guilt hit you like a punch. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale with exhaustion.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't want you to worry. I thought I could tough it out until we got him cuffed."

"That's the problem," he said hoarsely. "You don't have to tough it out alone. Not with me."

Your throat tightened. "I know. And next time—"

"There won't be a next time," he interrupted, voice fierce. Then, quieter: "Please."

You caught his hand again, pressing his palm to your cheek this time. "Okay," you murmured against his skin. "No more lies. Even the stupid ones."

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "...Even the stupid ones,"he agreed.

And just like that, the weight in the room shifted—not gone, but lighter. Bearable.

Outside, Garcia's voice suddenly carried down the hall, "—FBI, ma'am, I promise the emotional support alpaca is essential to her recovery—"

Your gaze drifted down to his hands—those beautiful, trembling hands still streaked with rust-colored stains. The sight punched through you harder than the wound ever had.

"You should wash up," you whispered, tracing a fingertip along the edge of the dried blood caking his knuckles.

Spencer flinched as if burned. He hadn't even noticed. But now the evidence clung to him like a second skin, flaking when he flexed his fingers. Your blood. The realization sent a violent shudder through him.

"Right," he choked out, standing abruptly.

He made it two steps before turning back, his voice cracking. "Don't— Don't disappear while I'm gone."

The joke fell flat, undercut by the raw fear in his eyes.

"I'll be right here," you promised, patting the sterile sheets. "Go."

The bathroom fluorescents buzzed overhead as Spencer scrubbed at his hands with surgical precision. Steam rose from the scalding water, turning his skin an angry red. He didn't stop until every last trace was gone.

The water ran pink, then clear, swirling down the drain with the last physical remnants of your blood.

Then — voices. Loud. Familiar.

Garcia swept in first, arms overflowing with plush animals—including, as promised, a neon pink llama with absurdly large googly eyes. "Oh, sweetheart!" she wailed, nearly tripping over her own heels in her haste to reach you. "Look at you, all brave and beautiful and—oh my God, is that a bullet wound?!"

Morgan followed close behind, rolling his eyes. "She was stabbed, Garcia."

"Details!" Garcia sniffled, dumping the stuffed animals onto your lap with surprising gentleness before cupping your face. "The important thing is, our favorite badass is still kicking."

JJ appeared next, balancing a tray of suspiciously green hospital Jell-O. "We brought contraband," she said, grinning as she set it on your bedside table. "Well, contraband adjacent. It's still hospital food, but it's the lime flavor, so…"

Rossi lingered near the foot of your bed, arms crossed, but his usual smirk was softer than usual. "You gave Reid ten years off his life, kid."

"I know," you admitted, your gaze flickering toward the bathroom door.

Hotch stepped forward. "You did good work today," he said simply. "But next time, maybe mention when you're bleeding out."

The apartment was quiet when Spencer brought you home.

He'd already fluffed the pillows on the couch, laid out your favorite blanket, and arranged a small army of Garcia's plushies along the back—including the neon pink llama, which now sat proudly on the armrest like some kind of fuzzy sentinel.

You barely had time to take it all in before he was at your side again, hovering. His arm hooked gently around your waist, his touch feather-light, like you might break.

"Sit," he murmured, guiding you down onto the couch with the same careful precision he usually reserved for rare first editions. "Do you need water? Pain meds? I bought those crackers you like—"

"Spencer." You caught his wrist as he started to turn toward the kitchen, tugging him back gently. "Breathe. I'm okay."

He hesitated, his gaze flickering over you—checking, always checking—before exhaling sharply. "I know. I just…" His hands flexed at his sides, restless. "I need to do something."

You understood. This was Spencer Reid, after all—the man who needed equations to make sense of the world, variables to control. And right now, the only equation that mattered was you, alive and here, and he had no idea what to do with the leftover terror still humming under his skin.

So you gave him a task.

"Okay," you said softly, nodding toward the blanket. "Then sit with me. And tell me about the book you’ve been reading."

Something in his shoulders eased. He sank onto the couch beside you, close enough that his knee brushed yours, and reached for the blanket.

"It's about quantum entanglement," he started, his voice warming as he draped the fabric over your legs with meticulous care. "The theory that particles can become linked, so that what happens to one affects the other, no matter the distance."

You smiled, leaning into him. "Sounds familiar."

His breath hitched. Then, slowly, his arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you carefully against his side.

"Yeah," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "It does."

Outside, the world kept turning. Cases would come, and wounds would heal.

But here, tangled together on the couch, you were perfectly, irrevocably linked—and nothing, not even blood or time or space, could change that.