#I LIKE DAZZLE HE’S NICE TO DRAW

[anx1oustig3r]

AIGHT THE AIRPORT DOODLES i really wholeheartedly appreciate them!! they got me through that whole trip!

loser magina in a modern AU for @blakmurd (carl invoker cheated in a game of yu-gi-oh and he is hellbent on vengeance)

kivooli and malfatto get a harsh surprise in RFD (based on a real experience we had two manning that dungeon underleveled) and sol and geno cosplaying doto characters for my wonderful @fridka 💖💖

and a dazzle mermaid for @aditublog (i chose dazzle because i dont draw him enough and the idea needed to be done!!)

[saintobio]

*๑♡՞ i, spy.

pairings. sylus, fem!reader tags. 1.5k wc, mild angst, suggestive ending, jealousy, petnames as usual (kitten, sweetie, baby doll), alcohol consumption, sylus being annoying lmao, loosely inspired by his immobilized memory

sylus can be very petty when he wants to be.

today’s weather was beyond freezing, and the view of the icy mountains in the arctic region stood tall over the hotel grounds where the hunter’s association team-building event was taking place. you had spent the entire day engaged in activities with your team, enjoying every moment, and your laughter mingling with the cheerful atmosphere. it had been awhile since you last went on a snowboarding trip with the rest of your hunter friends, so this day brought about just the perfect quality time to boost camaraderie amongst your team. 

unbeknownst to you, sylus, who had also chosen to stay at the same hotel, was watching from a distance. his red eyes, usually cold and calculating, were now burning with an intensity fueled by jealousy. you had been spending time with xavier, your interactions light and full of warmth, and sylus could barely contain his frustration as he saw how your colleague brought you hot chocolate and used his palms to warm your cheeks.

“tch.” sylus absently swirled his glass of whiskey, the ice making a faint clink as he observed you from the balcony of his room. “seems like a stray kitten has found a new companion.”

then, as the evening arrived, your group gathered for dinner and you were happily chatting with your team, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind the scenes (aka by a certain tall man with grayish hair and crimson eyes). the rest of your hunter friends eventually headed back to their own rooms after finishing their meals, while a couple others chose to spend more time at the hotel bar. your activity of choice for the night was also the latter, telling xavier that it was okay for him to head back to his room knowing how he had been fighting the drowsiness off for the last hour. 

meanwhile, sylus soon made his entrance at the bar, accompanied by a striking woman whose presence was impossible to ignore. her outfit was dazzling, and she seemed to be following sylus’s every command like a pet.

impossible! you thought, eyes widening in panic as soon as you saw the onychinus leader. if your hunter friends found out that the n109 boss was here, this hotel would turn into a battlefield in a heartbeat.  

yet sylus, completely unfazed, walked over to your area in the bar counter with the woman by his side. his smirk was barely concealed as he approached you. “i didn’t expect to see you here, kitten,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with subtle menace. “i brought a friend along.”

you looked up, your heart sinking as you took in the sight of sylus’s companion. she was effortlessly glamorous with her sleek blonde hair and exquisite fur jacket, her every movement seemingly calculated to draw attention. however, despite her overflowing gorgeous exterior, sylus’s gaze was fixed on you. and the asshole was watching your reaction with an almost predatory intensity.

“oh, sylus,” you said in an attempt to sound casual. “what a surprise.”

“oh, certainly, kitten. and by the way, this is elara,” sylus introduced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “she’s been kind enough to accompany me this evening.”

elara gave you a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. her partner, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the way her presence unsettled you as he took a seat next to her, deliberately placing her between the two of you. “nice to meet you!” 

“likewise,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a smile. 

“care to join us, miss hunter?” sylus said with a smirk, his eyes glinting as he watched you hesitate. his arm was draped casually around elara’s shoulders, and the sight made your stomach churn with a strange mix of envy and frustration. “elara and i are just about to get some drinks.”

“join us, please!” the woman next to him encouraged.

“uh, sure.” pressured by the situation, you gave a subtle nod, only to receive a gleam of satisfaction in sylus’s eyes.

this bastard! you didn’t like how his hand was lingering on her arm in a way that was meant to be seen. each laugh they shared, each touch, seemed designed to push you further into a pit of jealousy. and the way stupid sylus kept glancing at you, gauging your reaction, only made the situation more unbearable. that’s it, you silently snickered in your head, i should call him stupid sylus. 

you forced yourself to focus on your blue raspberry cocktail, trying to ignore sylus’s stupid blabbering while rushing to finish your drink. his actions were a blatant attempt to make you feel inferior, and it was working. it was definitely working. but you couldn’t lose your composure now despite him making sure to lavish attention on elara. every time he touched her back and her waist, you felt a pang of jealousy growing more and more intense by the second. it didn’t help that sylus’s presence was also a constant reminder of the way he could manipulate your emotions, and it was driving you to the edge.

“so,” sylus tapped his fingers on the counter, his voice low and intentionally provocative, “how’s your evening been, miss hunter?”

“fine,” you replied tersely, trying to mask the irritation and hurt simmering beneath the surface.

“just fine?” sylus asked, his smirk widening. “i thought you were enjoying yourself today. seeing you with your colleague was quite… interesting.”

“if you’re referring to xav—” you paused, remembering that xavier had a bounty in his head at the n109 zone and it was best to keep him out of conversations with sylus, so you decided to change the topic, “did you have mephisto report all my activities to you again?” 

him and his equally stupid bird. so annoying. 

“there’s no need for that, sweetie. you stick out like a sore thumb, so you’re not that difficult to spot.” he smiled as he talked, like he was having so much fun at mocking you. oh, he’s deliberately pushing my buttons! his actions were a cruel game meant to make you question your feelings and your place in his life. 

before you could retort, elara suddenly tugged his sleeve, focusing all of his misrouted attention back to her. “honey,” she spoke to him sweetly, “what drink do you recommend i should get next?” 

you rolled your eyes and turned away, the old man playing the piano now a much more interesting sight to look at compared to the two lovey-dovey couple next to you. but really, it was suffocating to be anywhere near sylus, and the only way to stop feeling all of these crazy emotions swirling inside of you was to not be around him. 

and so with that, finally, after what felt like an eternity, you excused yourself. but the walk back to your room was quickly interrupted by the figure of a six foot two man, his towering height preventing you from taking another step without his permission. “where do you think you’re going, kitten?” he asked, noticing the sourness in your expression that you tried so hard to conceal. 

“heading back,” you merely responded, trying to find an escape by pointing towards the opposite direction. “look over there, isn’t that luke and kieran?”

as soon as sylus turned his head, you made a swift beeline for the bar’s exit. you even sighed of relief as you managed to free yourself from his presence, now making your way through the empty halls of the hotel. unfortunately for you, sylus wasn’t one to let something like this go. so before you could even think of hiding and running away, he was already walking next to you—the frown on his face growing more pronounced as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the nearby elevator. 

“let go—!” you protested, wiggling your hands from his tight hold. “where ‘re you taking me?”

“my suite,” he muttered, pressing the button to the top most floor. “sleep in my room tonight.” 

you let out a loud, sardonic chuckle. “says who?” 

sylus, crossing his arms, looked at you with thin, furrowed brows. “your only choice is to obey me, kitten.” 

an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. “isn’t elara supposed to be with you?” you questioned, “you should bring her to your room, not me!” 

it was too late. because no matter how much you struggled against his iron grip, you were later pushed inside his presidential suite, the grandiose of his room stupefying you. the smell of red roses and wine was a relaxing aroma that continued to pull you inside. yet, before you can take another step, sylus was already pulling you by the waist, leaning in to crash his lips onto yours. 

at first you tried to push him off, but who were you kidding here? of course, you’d eventually melt into the kiss, allowing him to envelop his lips around yours, its soft and tender movements sending shivers down your spine. each kiss was a loud smooch echoing across the room.

“were you jealous?” he asked in a low voice, biting your lower lip and pulling only slightly away. “i don’t have that kind of relationship with elara. she’s just a staff member of mine that i asked to make you jealous.” 

��okay, and?” you frowned at his handsome face, hating how easily he could get under your skin. literally and figuratively. “the way you were still touching her was…” 

“your jealousy is showing, sweetie.” a smile of mischief crept up on sylus’s lips before he extended a hand to squeeze your ass. “and what about the way your male colleague doted on you all day, hm? had fun being treated like a princess by him?” 

“why do you care?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent despite the ticklish kisses he was trailing along your neck. “it’s none of your business who i talk to.”

“oh, it is my business, baby doll.” sylus’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, now unbuttoning his shirt and suggesting a very rough night ahead. “because i care about what i have. and right now, that’s you.”

[moondirti]

kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.

featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.

when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.

truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.

so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.

he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.

instead, he shrugs.

"not much more to tell, cap."

"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."

and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.

"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."

it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.

of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.

the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.

"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.

"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"

"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."

"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."

your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.

"and you want me to let him?"

gaz nods. "if you'd please."

you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."

he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"

"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"

"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."

kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.

you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.

sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.

price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.

he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.

"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."

"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.

"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.

"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."

gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."

"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.

but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"

"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."

"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.

"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"

"of course."

"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"

"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.

fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.

"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.

but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"

"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"

you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.

"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.

"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."

an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."

"aye. i do."

"and i wanna make him happy."

"same for me."

and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.

"so, what'll it be?" you say.

"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."

you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.

"kyle."

"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.

"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."

"yes, sir."

"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."

"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"

this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.

all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–

flip your skirt over your hips.

a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.

"no panties, hm?"

"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.

"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.

"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."

it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.

the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.

"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"

"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."

"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."

he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.

but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"

he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"

"a-at least three times a go, sir."

"what's the record?"

"eight."

"and the longest you've held off?"

kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."

"tch."

a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.

and you...

you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.

so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"

"just mine, sir. and her toys."

"how about at once?"

kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.

yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.

"one, sir."

he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."

the finger plunges in.

gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.

"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."

"sir?"

"you cum inside her, lad?"

"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."

"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."

his hand inches up.

this time, it's gaz who groans.

loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.

"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."

"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"

"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.

"yeah."

you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.

"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."

his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.

so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.

a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.

"that's a good boy."

he could really get used to this.

[shotmrmiller]

smut because somehow i always end up there.

yknow something that pushy ass cbf!johnny would do?

tell you that he'd get more benefits and/or pay if he had a spouse.

"Because you're in absolute poverty, Johnny."

He clicks his tongue. "Be serious, hen."

You are being serious. Johnny's not hurting for cash. His parents are still alive, so he has no need to buy a place of his own, and even then, he just swings by his family's home before coming back to stay with you until leave's over. Honestly, you should be charging him rent.

"Johnny. Unless you're planning on buying another ostentatious vehicle with tires too big for this tiny town, I'm not seeing what you're seeing."

He digs his thumb into the arch of your foot that's draped over his lap. "But think o' the possibilities! If say, you married me, ye wouldn't need to work anymore. Jus' worked on gettin' the job of yer dreams! An' besides, ah'd never realistically settle down anyway; too busy savin' the world an' all."

The extra income must be drastic if he's this insistent. "Why not marry the big brit with the skull for a face? You talk about him enough to sound like you've got a hard on for him."

He avoids your gaze when he informs you that Ghost is already married.

"And what about me? What if I find a boyfriend or something?" you playfully teased. Johnny's bright blue eyes turned to ice.

"Is there someone?" A muscle worked in his jaw.

Dread crawled up your spine. Abort. Abort. "Of course not." The tension melted from his face— gaze gentling and lips softening.

Christ, can he be intense sometimes.

You clear your throat. "Say I do marry you. What do you get out of this as my benefactor? Math isn't mathing, Johnny."

His lips curl upwards in amusement. "Nothin' between us would change. Jus' get a nice, shiny band on my hand tha' keeps unwanted advances off of me, and I wouldn't have to live on base anymore. Tired of eatin' tha' slop at dfac."

Johnny's long fingers curl around your ankle, thumb drawing gentle circles on the bone. "C'mon, hen. Think about your career! Marry me and ye won't even have t'change yer last name, swear."

Once again, fooled by the pretty face and dazzling smile.

You were a MacTavish by the end of the month, and he'd ended up in your bed that same night. Pushed your face into the soft mattress as he bullied his cock into you, telling you to feel how he splits his little wife's pussy open.

Mottled the delicate skin of your neck and collarbone with purple love bites when he hooked your knees over his shoulders, forcing you to take all of him in that devastating angle.

Made you look at yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, one hand gripping your neck, and the other on your swollen cunt, rubbing tight circles on your slippery clit. "Look at how beautiful y'are. How good yer takin' me." He tilts your head upwards, locking eyes with you. "This cunt was made f'me, wasn't it, wife?" he rumbles.

If he said anything else, it was promptly drowned out by a buzzing in your ears as your world went white. Warmth trickled down your legs as pleasure burst through you, spasm after gut-twisting spasm. Johnny blessedly slows down, working you through it tenderly, until you hiss in discomfort from oversensitivity.

"The way ye look in yer pleasure is somethin' i'll see behind my eyelids forever, bonnie."

Heat licks up the sides of your jaw. "Johnny, please—" you cut off, a moan tumbling out of your lips when he presses himself flush against your arse.

"Dinnae worry, ah'm not done with ye jus' yet." There's a hand in between your shoulder blades, pushing down gently. "Bend over, hands behind yer back, Mrs. MacTavish."

ghost is in fact, not married.

and the pay raise is mediocre.

[syoddeye]

something something possessed by a worm. you're soap's captive girlfriend who got the call that he was shot. i wrote this between the hours of 2-3 am, so let's be chill. ~1.3k words.

cw: italics, imprisonment/abduction, surveillance, medical inaccuracies we breeze right over, threats of violence, collaring, stalking, noncon blowjob.

on paper, it looks bad. it looks cruel. yet, you can’t bring yourself to care—johnny’s injury is a blessing.

it feels like you won the lottery, picking up the emergency phone. inbound calls only. you were so sure it was him, warning you of his imminent return.

playing the part of a devastated partner is easy. the englishman on the other end of the call sympathizes with your crocodile tears and helpfully tells you that someone will fetch you tomorrow morning. that you'll be brought, at no expense, to sit vigil at your boyfriend's side at the hospital. you hear the word ‘coma’, and launch out of bed. you only half listen to the rest of the conversation, hurriedly packing a bag as he drones. you can't end the call fast enough.

dismantling the flat comes first. you smash the cameras and flush the bugs. pry the tracker tag off your collar and bloody your fingers in the process. later, you’ll stick it on a bus.

you scour every nook and cranny, eventually finding the steel box you've seen john fiddling with. after trial and error, you pick the lock, and it’s a relief to see your id and passport again. it’s like a time capsule. past you offers a genuine, albeit shy smile, and you mutter an apology as you tuck her into a pocket. the last of the snacks he’d left go in with your clothes, as well as the few expensive-looking heirlooms he keeps around the flat. 

someone might call about the wide-eyed, crazed woman jumping off the balcony into the bushes. it’s a risk you take. the nearest pawnbroker, if you remember correctly, is only a ten-minute walk away. the cash you end up with isn’t much, but it's the first chunk of money that's yours in ages.

you hold your breath from glasgow to amsterdam and, by sheer luck, find your godmother’s place by memory alone. she’s surprised to find you on her doorstep, but she buys your story of an au pair job gone sour and lets you stay. truth and reality are too humiliating and too risky so long as you’re on european soil. you lay low, but nobody turns up. no one comes looking.

out of an abundance of caution, you cut and dye your hair anyway. you look up every variation of ‘john mactavish’ and scour obituaries and news articles. you don’t find a thing, but you know he’s special forces—they wouldn’t necessarily publish an announcement.

weeks pass. she doesn’t say a word, but guilt gnaws at you for living off your godmother’s kindness. after dodging their calls, you reach out to your parents and beg them to buy you a plane ticket home to chicago. although they welcome you stateside, they’re distressed and confused about your sudden departure and separation from ‘that nice scottish boy’ they’d met over facetime. they didn’t know about the knife just out of frame or the disturbing sketches he’d draw of your mother from memory. you lie through your teeth and blame his hectic work schedule because it’s easier to say that than admit your little journey of ‘self-discovery’ didn’t lead you into a ‘whirlwind romance’, but a fucking nightmare.

(it started as a dreamy evening of darts and drinks, where a cute soldier made you laugh all the way into his bed. a mirage that hid his true intentions. grand overtures designed to dazzle you until it was too late. until he got you fired and evicted. somehow arranged for your visa to be revoked. orchestrated your demoralization and subsequent breakdown. ushered you into his flat with open arms, cooing and rubbing your back as you hiccuped and sobbed. those days are a blur, a series of escalations. a slow boil you didn’t feel until it scalded, until he locked the collar around your neck. even then, you felt like a failure. that it was all your fault for believing the lies. he laid you out beneath him, whispering the things he’d do to your family if you ran. how the powers at be would let him, given his work. a slap on the wrist. that’s all i’d get, hen.)

months turn into a year. you still look up johnny's name on occasion. still stare when you see a mohawk. yet, little by little, you feel like yourself again. rejoin society. get a shit job. you refuse to touch the dating pool with a ten-foot pole, but you don't feel naked wearing short sleeves anymore. don't flinch at the sound of dog tags clinking together.

you pick up a night shift, determined to save extra money so you can find your own apartment and stop leeching off your parents. everything's fine and dandy. slightly creepy, given the hour, but nothing you can't handle. (after johnny, you handle anything.) you close, intending to take out the trash as you lock up. the alley smells like piss and beer.

tossing the bag into the dumpster, you freeze at the silhouette at the mouth of the passage. they face away, cigarette smoke wafting from their person. they probably don't see you, but just to be safe, you turn to head in the other direction to take the long way to the L—

at least, you would, if johnny wasn't looming over you, night terrors manifest. big, broad shoulders and a puffed-out chest. a grin as wide and sharp as you remember. and those bright blue eyes, the light in them flattening in real time as he drinks in your expression. he relishes the way your face drops. the instant terror. a horrific scar catches your eye, flaring in every direction on his temple like a furious sun.

did ye think i'd forgotten ye, bonnie? or hope the gunshot erased ye? did ye believe me dead?

when you start to cry, because why wouldn't you, he—

no, no. hush. this is a good thing. a happy day. we're reunited, and i'm meetin' my girl's parents. cap's gone ahead to break the ice.

and when you scream, because why wouldn't you, he clamps a hand over your mouth and pins you to the dumpster. doesn't care a whit when your head bounces off the metal. the light returns to his eyes as you squirm. his brows pitch, lips curling. he brandishes a knife and stammers through his reprimand, scolding you for all your struggling.

i see ye forgot the rules and your manners. forgot what'll happen if ye dinnae–din–fuckin' play nice.

johnny forces you into a car, muttering reminders of what happens when you run. assures you, even as he loads you bodily into the backseat, sandwiching you between him and some massive freak in a mask, that he is forgiving. when the car rejoins traffic, johnny works his fly open. it takes a minute, his hands a bit unsteady.

a near-death experience clarifies things. puts what's important into focus. john says he saw his future clear as crystal, then shoves your head down without warning. he barks at the man on your other side, and a hand comes to rest on your flank, causing you to whimper around his cock. he moans sinfully at that before violently fucking your throat.

by the time he comes, you're spent. the fight gone out of you. the mitt on your side migrates to your inner thigh, but you can't begin to care. you’re resigned to drooling on john's lap. you pray for a car crash.

johnny explains how, given his connections, it took only two months to find you. they let him do that because of his work, but he decided to wait and bide his time. he details all the therapy, rehab, and everything he did to get into shape, to get his head on straight, and to get to you himself. plus, there was the matter of tracking down his second quarry. naughty, how you pawned it for less than half its value.

his grandmother's ring fits you perfectly. fate, he calls it.

but you know another collar when you see one.

[sugurizz]

IDK IF YOU DO BREEDING KINKS BUT IF YOU DO MAY I PLEASE REQUEST JOO JAEKYHUNG X F BREEDING KINK (pls ignore this if you do not feel comfortable, i am so sorry 😔🙏) THANK YOU SO MUCH BABGORL ����🫶

Breeding kink is me. I’m breeding kink sis and so is Joo MF Jaekyung. He’s canonly a raw king *cough* chap.29 *cough* he hates condoms even more than he hates people lol.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓/𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 +𝟏𝟖!! , 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈!! 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: STRONG BREEDING KINK DUH, established relationship, vaginal/ unprotected sex, begging, dirty talk.

Oh gosh Breeding Maniac! Jaekyung who cums buckets on every nut your tiny pussy squeezes out of him. His balls are always so big and full, so tight and warm after the long hours he spends training. The hours of sparring and working out, blowing off steam on his competition never seem to drain him though. If anything he’s back home with a visible hard-on grazing his boxers…He still got so much to give you nice and hard.

His raging pheromones get you soft and loose, almost dazzled into begging him to breed you. You never had to ask him twice anyways, not even once to begin with…

He’s addicted to the view of your pussy painted white, sticky and dripping with the viscous cum. He smirks at it like a brat, spreads you open and yanks your feet over his shoulders, staring longingly as if he just created a work of art between legs.

His foxy eyes lock with yours, grinning at your wasted expression and messy hairs sticking to your damp forehead…The lewd sight of you laying down on his bed, your breasts rising and falling with ragged cries. You look so damn pretty and nasty, begging to be bred over and over. Marked with his strong scent and warm sweat, his seed slowly dribbling down the swell of your asscheek…The mere thought could get him off on its own.

‘So good you can’t even breathe huh?’ He hovers over you and leans down, lips ghosting over your ear, ‘Don’t you faint on me, I’m far from done with you’

He pulls you by the waist, pounding into your balmy pussy. The ropes of your wetness and his cum join your hips back together. He gets wilder the longer he stares at your bodies slapping each other, going deeper in heat as you babble for him to breed you.

‘Oh fuckk- sir, godd…feels so fucking good-’

He pulls you closer by the neck, thrusting in and releasing inside you. You drag your nails over his back, drawing a couple groans out his lips…

The way he fills you up drives you crazy. His cum gets you addicted. You feel so complete when he does it :3 Keeps you all warm and docile, calms your body and mind…The sensation of being full of him inside you gets you all bubbly and happy. Feels almost like a little gift you carry of him every time he touches you.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Six - Splendid

♡♡♡

"Eloise Bridgerton."

Benedict calls his sister when he finds her smoking on the swing set in their garden. He sounded stern, as if scolding her.

Eloise groans softly as she turns on the swing. "Go on, then." She lifts the cigarette to her lips. "Chastise me."

"Spare one for me?" He asks.

Eloise is surprised by his question. He comes and sits on the other swing beside her. She holds a cigarette out to him, and he takes it, putting it between his lips and lighting it.

"Suppose I desire something different." Eloise says.

"How do you mean?"

"Just different. I watch Daphne prepare for these balls with all of those dresses and the many suitors, and I am exhausted. Suppose I want a different life, Benedict. That I truly believe I am quite capable of something more, even when I'm not allowed to have anything else."

"Then I would say... that you're not the only one." He looks at her. They smile at each other.

♡♡♡

With the next edition of Whistledown comes fascinating gossip. You find yourself, for once, clutching the paper with the need to read more.

It has become apparent that Lord Berbrooke has a child out of wedlock, and not only that, with a maid he had sent away before the child was even born. He pays nothing for the child, it seems.

Your mother had been gossiping about with the other ladies she had over for afternoon tea. In turn, their maids had gone off to gossip further.

Word spread like wildfire.

The next day, Lord Berbrooke had left town suddenly.

You made it a point to go visit Daphne. You were taken up to the drawing room where she awaited you, a smile on her face as you came in.

"It's nice of you to visit."

You take a seat with her. "I wanted to see how you were."

"I have expected you come see my brother," she admits.

"Benedict? As much as he has become my friend, I felt the need to come see you. Are you alright?"

"I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders." She smiles softly. "I am glad he is gone."

"As am I. Wretched man, he was."

You both giggle softly.

"So, the duke? He is still on your favour?" You ask.

Daphne goes silent for a moment, and then her face twitches. A realisation. The realisation she must still pretend.

"Ah, yes." She smiles.

You smile in return and take her hand. "You make a most handsome couple."

"Thank you." Her voice wavers.

You do not bring up Hastings or Berbrooke again as you have tea with Daphne. The conversation becomes pleasant. Daphne finds herself talking to you about anything that comes to mind. Not once has any of her siblings sat down and listened to her like this.

It felt nice. Really nice.

An hour passes, and you find the teapot has been emptied twice in that time. There are no more biscuits to share either. You rise from the soft sofa and gather you purse.

"Thank you for letting me visit."

"Oh, nonsense. You are always welcome." Daphne smiles.

"I shall visit again then."

Daphne looks pleased by your words.

"Benedict will be so disappointed you came by and didn't stop to see him."

You chuckle. "Let him suffer. It may humble him."

Daphne chuckles and sees you out.

♡♡♡

The next ball is as dazzling as the others. You swear with each one, Daphne gets more and more beautiful. She enters with the Duke. Of course, everyone sees.

You entered with your mother, no one paying you any mind what so ever. Not that you minded any more. You had come to terms that no one would visit you.

As Simon and Daphne dance, you decide to take a walk. You have no idea what it is they discuss when alone together.

You keep your eyes peeled for any familiar faces. Yet, no one else is present in this current room.

Meanwhile, Daphne parts from Simon and is approached by another gentleman. Her wish to find a husband and have a family may very well come true.

As you enter the next room, you find Anthony in there talking with some others. His gaze lands on you, and he excuses himself from the current conversation. He approaches you.

You smile and bow your head. "Lord Bridgerton."

"Anthony, please. You call my brothers by their name."

You smile. "Anthony."

"Benedict isn't here, I'm afraid. He has elected to sit this one out. May I have the honour?" He holds out his hand.

You take a moment to take in his request. Anthony was head of his family. A viscount. Dancing with him would surely bring you attention.

You place your hand in his. "You may."

Anthony takes you back into the other room and leads you to the dance floor. He holds you as a gentleman should while dancing with a lady. You both move with the music.

Anthony look very firm as he dances with you.

"I must say, this is an honour."

"Is it?" He asks.

"I never see you dance."

"No. I suppose not. I am not beyond dancing with friends." He says kindly.

"Then I am even more so honoured to be considered such."

You both continue dancing until the music ends. You curtsy, he bows. Anthony takes your hand and leads you back to the side of the room. With swift ease, he marks his name down on your dance card.

"I shall see to it you are never left without a dance partner, my lady," he says with a bow.

You smile.

As Anthony returns to the party, you find yourself now being looked at by others. There are gentlemen looking your way.

Could it be true that Daphne is not the only one who can shine?

Soon, you are dancing again, and a few more names are scribbled across your dance card.

You think, perhaps, Daphne Bridgerton is your good luck charm.

It makes you giddy.

Safe to say, your night was splendid indeed.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy -

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ KEEP IT ON, ANGEL…❞

— satosugu x fem! reader, shoko might be a little into you, pet names (princess, angel) bratty reader, slightly suggestive near the end, outfit is inspired by something like this

summary; you're all getting ready to go out, but both your boyfriends' clothes make a better outfit than your own

Shoko steadily eyes your silhouette behind the partition, watches as you eventually step out in your third outfit of the night. A pout is still etched onto your glossed lips, and she giggles at the exasperated stomp of your bare foot against the floor. Heaving out a sigh, you look over your figure in the nearby floor-to-ceiling mirror. This fit looks nice, cute even…but it's just not good enough. Your last handfuls of attire have all been missing something, a certain razzle-dazzle that left them lackluster and needing a little something more.

“Well?”, Shoko asks, though the answer is evident from your adorable frown and stiff pose. “This one a winner?”

You hum in response, throwing your hands on your hips and lolling your head to the side in a desperate attempt to make the outfit work. Maybe a different angle will make it look better is your logic. Alas, it has the same problem as your previous attempts.

You groan. “I don’t like it.”

“Looks cute, though.” You’re too busy drowning out the bickering from the bathroom and wondering where this outfit went wrong to notice how her eyes trace over your body.

What you do notice, however, is Suguru’s shirt laying idly on the bed.

It’s a neatly ironed black tee decorated with warm-coloured graphics on the front of some band Suguru liked to listen to. Shoko follows your gaze to the shirt, but remains quiet. She decides to see where you might go with this.

You glance towards the bathroom. In the mirror, you catch a sneak peak of Suguru’s irritated expression as he fails to tune out Satoru’s nonsensical rambling. Both are too busy sabotaging eachother to spot you prancing over to the bed where their clothes are laid out. Next to Suguru’s shirt is Gojo’s black, leather jacket, lustrous and extremely expensive. The gears are starting to turn in your head. Shoko, intrigued, watches you strip down at record speed. The faster you can get their clothes on, the easier it’ll be for you to keep them. You slide Suguru’s oversized shirt over your body, fabric still a little warm even though it's been a minute since he ironed it. The shirt hangs loosely around your waist; you’ll fix that in a second. Satoru’s jacket is cool and heavy on your skin, but it looks incredible with the shirt.

“Need a hand?” Your attention draws to the couch, where Shoko balances a few safety pins between her fingers.

It takes a couple minutes to pin the shirt how you like, and you both listen for the end of the boys' bickering to make sure they don't catch the two little partners in crime. In the end, the final result looks amazing. Geto's tee now fits you like a glove, and the thigh high stiletto boots really bring the whole thing together. All that’s left is a matching handbag and accessories, so off you disappear into the closet. You’re so engrossed in the hunt for that one name-brand handbag from Satoru, that the pair of heavy footsteps approaching you from behind fall on deaf ears.

“Hey.” Suguru says to you, appearing over your now frozen form kneeled on the carpet. “My shirt. Where is it?”

Satoru chimes in from his spot leant against the doorframe. “And hand over my jacket, would ya, princess?”

You cross your arms underneath your chest, plumping your tits up just enough to get them to stare, and jut your lips out in a pout as you glare up at them both. “But I’m wearing them.”

“...And who authorized that idea?”, Geto asks in that ever-so-tolerant tone of his.

“They looked abandoned to me," You quip back. “And the shirt’s wrinkled now, anyway." You turn your attention back to the shelf of handbags. "It needs re-ironing, so might as well just find somethin' else.”

Satoru interrupts before Suguru can argue any further. “Okay. And my jacket?”

“Mine now.” You reply in a sing-songy tease, topped off with the same shit-eating grin Satoru's always giving everyone else, and blink your lashes up at them. “Besides, I look great as fuck! You two aren’t gonna make me take it off now when I look so-," You tuck a hand under your chin and breathe out," ravishing, are you?”

Gojo chuckles and starts to fire back, “We’re gonna end up taking it off you later anyw-“

“Fine.” Suguru quickly cuts him off. “Fine. Keep it on, angel.”

Even a deaf person could hear the absolutely treacherous tone laced beneath the pet name. But if there’s one thing you and Satoru are good at, it is waning a poor Suguru Geto’s patience.

“Thank you, Suguru, so kind, so generous.” You purr his name and give Geto those puppy dog eyes that make him wanna choke you on his fingers. And you’re sure he will, later when Shoko has long gone home.

“Hmph.” Gojo pouts over Geto’s shoulder. “No wonder she’s so spoiled when you give her everything she wants.”

And just like that, you’re coming for Gojo as well, pouting and whining at him, “You gonna take your jacket back from me, Satoru?”

Geto turns to look at him and, underneath two pairs of eyes, suddenly the great Satoru Gojo finds the closet wall extremely interesting. He really wanted to wear that jacket out to the festival tonight, but when you whine his name like that…

His thoughts are interrupted as Suguru gives a huff and shrugs out of his grasp, turning to exit the closet. “No wonder she’s so spoiled.”

“Shut up, Suguru.” You can hear Geto and Shoko laughing at him in the next room. And, now that their attention has moved elsewhere, you can focus on finding that pesky, elusive handbag.

[virginsexgod69]

would die for a dom Daryl who’s absolutely weak for fem reader but displays that in the way that he craves hearing her beg for him, is obsessed with drawing things out and making her cum and LOVES cockwarming omg. Established but new relationship would be so cute!!! And since they’re still learning eachother’s bodies (and their own honestly because maybe neither of them have rly let their guards down in sex with others before?) Daryl makes the reader squirt for the first time and is absolutely amazed 🤭

(Wanna thank in advance because I feel like squirting is not represented very often in fics and it’s so nice to read it, as a human who experiences it myself!) <3 :-)

❝ Oasis ❞

pairing Daryl Dixon x f!Reader

cw smut, cockwarming, unprotected p in v, squirting, pussy eating

889 words

not proofread yet

 You rested against Daryl’s chest as he took another drag from his cigarette. You lazily watched the way his pretty pink lips wrapped around the cigarette, wishing they were on your clit instead. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before going back to his cigarette. You were growing impatient. He’s had his large cock stuffed inside you for what felt like forever, yet he insisted on making you wait until he was through with his cigarette. You looked up at him pleadingly, but he didn’t give in. 

“C’mon, Daryl, please?” You begged, squirming in his lap. His rough hands placed a firm grip on your hips, keeping you still. 

“If you keep wigglin’ aroun’, ‘m not gonna let you cum,” he warned as he put out the finished cigarette. You sat up straight, looking him in his dazzling blue eyes. He put his hand behind your neck and pulled you down for a kiss, tasting your mouth with his tongue. You pulled away when the need for oxygen took over. 

“I’ve been real patient this whole time.” You batted your eyelashes at him with faux innocence. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling gently. You’ve come to find out that he loved it when you did that. A gentle grunt slipped from his lips. “Fine,” he said, finally giving in. Holding your hips, he guided you up and down on cock, thrusting his own hips up meeting you halfway. He pulled you into another kiss before sucking marks onto your neck and chest. You gripped onto Daryl’s shoulders for support, digging your nails into him though the fabric of his button-up shirt. The thick vein on the underside of his shaft rubbing against your velvety walls brought you close to the edge. The bowman pulled your tank top down, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the garage. 

“So pretty,” he commented before taking one into his mouth. You tangled your fingers in his hair as your rhythm became sloppy. His dick was rubbing against that one spot that drove you mad. It felt so good, yet so strange, like you needed to pee and cum at the same time. But you didn’t dwell on it as you continued to ride your boyfriend. 

“‘M gonna-”

“Go ‘head, baby. Cum fer me,” he encouraged, rubbing your clit for extra stimulation. Daryl held onto you as you threw your head back in ecstasy. The coil in your gut burst, sending a white hot orgasm flooding through you. But this felt better than your typical orgasms. A rush of liquid flowed out of you as you came. You and Daryl looked at each other with wide eyes. 

“Did ya jus…” He looked down at his soaked lap with a flushed face. He prided himself in making you feel so good that you squirted. 

“Oh my god, Daryl,” you said between pants. “I didn’t know I could do that.” His warm hand supped your face gently. 

“Needa taste ya.” His eyes were so full of lust you could barely tell they were blue. Before you could reply, he picked you up off his cock and placed you on his work table, spreading you out. His flattened tongue lapped up your juices from your slit like a dehydrated man finding an oasis. Still sensitive, you let out gentle whimpers, everything felt even more heightened. He inserted his tongue into your tired, soaked hold. His hand groped your thighs as he ate you out, his tongue hitting you in that same spot that made you see stars. 

“Yeah, right there, keep doin’ that!” You begged Daryl. 

 His fingers found your clit and began rubbing rapid circles on the swollen nub. Your back arched off the table as your hips chased his mouth and thighs clamped around your head. His tongue continued licking around your smooth walls, eliciting wanton moans from you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing him deeper between your thighs. His own hand found his achingly hard member, stroking it as he brought you to your second orgasm. The same feeling overtook you as that coil burst once again. Feeling your juices squirt onto his tongue brought him to his own orgasm as he drank them up. Reluctantly, Daryl pulled away from your abused cunt. He licked the remaining liquid off the inside of your thighs before helping you off the table. 

“You taste so good, Sunshine,” he praised as he cleaned you up with his red rag. You pressed a kiss to his cheek as a way to thank him for making you feel so good. 

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[myerssimp21]

Knife's Canvas (Pt. 1)

Yandere Poly!Ghostface x Reader

warnings: mention of torture (not reader), planned stalking.

prompt inspired by @jadedstarlight03 's prompt to @creepyyanderegirl on yandere stu with artistic reader. I liked it and took my own spin with it since I simp for Billy too.

"I admired your sketch!"

The cursive note, adorned with a smiley face, stared back at you, earning an A+ grade on your inaugural in-class creative writing assignment at Woodsboro High. As a newcomer, you had hoped your depictions of characters like Garfield and Scooby Doo would endear you to the teachers, and it appeared they did. Sketched in red pen and colored with pastel pink highlighter, your drawings grinned up at you, surrounded by tiny glitter hearts.

"Oh, those are wicked!"

The cute blonde girl seated behind you leaned over your shoulder, her minty breath fanning into your face as she praised, "Do you draw a lot? Did you do those in class? It's pretty fast if you did."

"Yeah! I started doing art last year, but you get better and faster with practice," you replied with a warm smile, eager to make your first friend. "I think these took about 3-4 minutes each."

Your face warmed as she leaned closer, her chest lightly pressing against your back as she inspected your paper. She pointed to the little hearts, "Those are so cute!" Her approving face turned toward you as she introduced herself, "I'm Tatum."

"I'm ____," you replied, pleased to make introductions effortlessly. The teacher's allowance for 5 minutes of free time before class's end was a welcome opportunity for socializing.

"You should join my friends and me after our next class for lunch; maybe some of us will be in your classes!"

"That would be so nice," you said, relief evident in your voice. "I'm honestly pretty shy, so making friends can be intimidating."

Her dazzling smile accompanied her words, "Perfect! If you have Chemistry next with Mr. Scott, I'll show you where it is if you don't already know."

"Um," you leaned down to your backpack, sifting through your new student documents to find your schedule. "Oh, it's actually history with Ms. Johnson."

"Hmm," Tatum leaned back, crossing her legs as she thought. "I think Billy has that class. Maybe if you leave a little early, you can catch him. He's the guy with the, uh," she seemed to struggle for words, "grunge hairstyle? I think he's wearing a dark red t-shirt today if that helps. He's a little grumpy sometimes, though, so if you're too nervous or he's mean, we'll look for you at lunch."

The bell rang, and students not already congregating by the door got up to leave. You neatly tucked your graded paper into its designated folder and stood, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as Tatum rose in tandem.

"I'll try!" you said with a giggle, even though meeting Billy made you nervous. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too," Tatum said, pulling a pack of gum from her bag and offering you a piece before you left. "I think your next class should be in that building, right? I’m not sure if you had it yesterday or if it’s a Tuesday-Thursday class."

Thanking her again, you made sure your Discman had the CD you liked the most before connecting your headphones and heading off in that direction. You'd only have a few minutes of music, but it was worth it!

After finding your next class, you lingered around the door since you were early, hoping to at least place who Billy was from Tatum's description. After a moment of trying to not look awkward as you stood around, you spotted him.

He did have a grungier hair style, reminding you of a movie star you'd seen on TV recently. It threatened to fall in his eyes as he stalked towards the door, a bored look on his face. Now that you noticed him more, it was hard to ignore that he had a pretty face. Trying to not overthink it now that you realized you thought he was kind of cute, you pulled your headphones down from your ears until they hung around your neck as he came closer to the class.

When he noticed you looking at him as he drew closer, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, the scowl on his face deepening and making you feel even more nervous.

"Hi," you said somewhat sheepishly, "I'm ___. I'm new and met Tatum in my last class. You must be Billy."

His eyebrow raises and his eyes soften, but the scowl remains, “Oh?”

“Yeah…” you trail off a little, unsure of what to say since his response was sort of dry, “I’m from the more southern part of the state and we moved up here for my dad’s new job. I hear you guys experience the seasons up here so I’m excited to see them! The leaves never change in the fall where I’m from.”

His dark brown eyes have been boring into yours as you speak, making your face feel warm for the second time today. They dart down to the folder in your hands and he smirks as he says, “That’s cool.”

For your history folder, you’d tried to paint torsos and busts like the ancient historic statues from Greece and Rome you’d seen in a National Geographic magazine on the cover. They were naked torsos, but you had tried to make the nipples on the women look less prominent to avoid getting into trouble. If you had any sense, you’d have depicted something else to entirely avoid the possibility of getting into trouble, but you’d gotten irritated at the idea of censoring art.

“Oh, thank you! I hope I don’t get shit for the nudity, but I guess I could probably give them all clothes if I need to.”

He nods towards the classroom and you notice the hallways are getting quieter, “We should head in. There’s a couple empty seats near me.”

Ms. Johnson's strategy to get the kids interested in history was to start with the brutality of the medieval age, it seemed; with diagrams of the torture methods they created being the highlight of her second class after syllabus day.

The history class, guided by Ms. Johnson's unwavering enthusiasm, delved into the unsettling corners of medieval history. As the lesson progressed, she took a moment to present an image of a haunting artifact, projecting it onto the screen for the entire class to see.

"Now, can anyone tell me what this is?" Ms. Johnson asked, gesturing to the screen. It was a grotesque device, an iron contraption with a cold, heartless design. Sharp spikes protruded inward, forming a cage around the wearer's head. The unsettling silence lingered as the class peered at the image, growing discomfort palpable.

To everyone's surprise, ____ confidently raised her hand, her eyes betraying an unexpected depth of knowledge.

"It's called the Scold's Bridle," she answered, her voice steady. "An oppressive device designed to silence women who dared to speak their minds. The spikes prevented any speaking, ensuring their voices remained stifled."

Billy arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "How do you know about that?"

____ shrugged, a nonchalant smile playing on her lips. "I read a lot. History isn't just about dates and battles; it's about the struggles people faced, especially women, and respecting the challenges they went through."

Billy's skepticism softened as he nodded slightly. "Guess history is more twisted than we think."

____ leaned towards him slightly, a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes and made his spine tingle slightly, "Oh, you have no idea."

"Ah, ____," Ms. Johnson said with genuine admiration and ____'s attention snapped back to her, "Impressive knowledge there. I'm eager to see your thoughts on this in more detail, perhaps in an essay. It's always refreshing when students connect with the material on a deeper level."

"Now, let's delve further into the complexities of medieval society. How these devices were not only instruments of physical torment but also symbolic of the societal norms of the time."

The lesson continued, and ____ slowly flipped through her sketchbook to find a fresh page, seemingly reviewing her previous art briefly as she did so. Billy faced the board, but his eyes were turned downward, toward ____'s hands. He caught a glimpse of previous drawings – a mix of cartoon characters and a few creepier depictions.

Angry faces splattered with red marks resembling blood and figures wearing intimidating masks (or just freaks with the scariest faces ever) caught his eye. Intrigued, he discreetly watched as she began absentmindedly sketching the torture devices described in class as she listened, switching out her pens to smear red ink on them. He caught his scoff before he uttered it when he realized she was drawing the devices in glitter pens, her eyes flickering from the images on the screen to back down at her paper.

He must have been too obvious, leaning in too closely or being too pointed with his staring now because she had flipped to a fresh page and locked eyes, an unreadable expression across her face. There was a pause before she tucked her sketchbook into her bag and turned her attention back towards the board.

Billy felt a mischievous idea forming in his head as he let his eyes linger on her, knowing she could probably see him staring in her peripheral. If she wasn't thrilled about him seeing her portfolio, perhaps there was more hiding in that sketchbook than just cutesy cartoons. It could be amusing for him and Stu to explore her place once they found out where she lived, hunting for more art she wasn't ready to showcase while they scoped out their new potential victim. If the glimpses of what he saw when she had flipped through it implied there was anything more beneath her vanilla exterior, Billy was confident that he and Stu could uncover it.

As the bell rang, she turned to him with what he'd call friendly eyes, the strange demeanor now gone, "Are you hungry or what? Is the cafeteria food at Woodsboro High edible or would I be better off hunting a bird?"

He huffed, "You'd be better off starving." Nodding towards the door, he started towards it, hardly waiting for ____ to collect her bag, "Maybe Randy will be enough of a simp to offer you whatever his mommy made for him."

Noticing the disdain Billy seemed to have for Randy's mother but feeling too tentative about the potential for conflict to ask more about it, ____ decided to leave it alone and hurry after him into the now bustling hallway.

[danikamariewrites]

Okay but being mated to Az, Cass, and Nesta but you don’t know and a foreign dignitary comes to stay at the House of Wind with the four of you and Rhys asks you to seduce/be flirty with them and the three of them are absolutely feral trying to keep their jealousy down

Just One Night

Nessian x Azriel x reader

A/n: I’ve been dying to write another fic with these four! They would absolutely want to kill Rhys for this especially Nesta.

Warnings: possessive Nessian & Azriel

Today is the day. Nesta had decided for the group that today they would tell you about the bond. She was just waiting for you all to get out of a meeting with Rhys and her sister. The last thing Nesta wanted was to confess the bond - and her love for you - in front of Rhys.

Nesta heard the angry footsteps echoing off the marble floor of her mates before she saw them. Setting her book down she tilted her head curiously at their disgruntled looks. The males dropped into their respective arms chairs letting out dejected sighs. Nesta stood with her arms crossed and a raised brow as she looked between the two.

“Well.” She said sharply. Azriel let out a low growl from the back of his throat. She felt his annoyance down the bond and looked to Cassian for an answer. Sighing through his mouth and rubbing the bridge of his nose Cassian bites out, “Rhys is having her seduce the emissary from Montesere. Cyrus Yarrow.”

When they looked up at Nesta those silver flames were dancing with anger in her eyes. Her left one practically twitching. “He’s having her do what?” She growled. Nesta turned on her heel, black dress flaring dramatically. Cassian grabbed her wrist before she could go give Rhys a piece of her mind.

Her fist balled. The first and only warning Cassian would get to release her. Letting go his open hand hovered cautiously. “Wait. She, just…she took the job. She knows what to get from the guy and we won’t let it get farther than that, yeah?” Nesta cracked her neck, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Fine.”

“You don’t want to be overbearing, Nes.” Azriel said. That deep, even voice relaxing her. “You’re right.” She looked back at her mates as Azriel waved her over. His arms open for her. Without hesitating Nesta sat on Azriel’s thigh, resting her head against his chest. “I know you’re impatient,” he says against her hair, “the Mother knows we are too, but we want to make it special for her.”

———

Pulling out the garment bag from your closet a knock sounded at your bedroom door. “Come in!” You hear whom ever enter, shuffling around the room. Nesta poked her head in your closet. You smile at her, “Hey you.” She gives you an equally dazzling smile. For a moment you swear something like love sparkles in her eyes.

Your heart leaped at the thought then quickly sunk. Remembering how in love she is with Cass. Blinking rapidly you plaster that smile back on your face. “What’s up?” You ask lightly. “I thought we could get ready for the ball together.”

You nod vigorously. “I would love that.” You and Mor used to get ready together - Feyre too - until she found Emerie. Usually when Rhys gave you a job for the evening you liked to get ready alone. Being alone lets you think through your plan for the night. Being with Nesta will be a nice change though. She was able to distract you from the awaiting nightmare of Cyrus.

Cyrus Yarrow was renowned for the females he chose to surround himself with. Always beautiful and charming. He was also quite demanding and handsy when he found something he liked. A shiver runs down your spine causing you to shake, your chin dropping to your chest.

Looking back up you saw Nesta had moved closer to your face. Her hand poised to draw with the kohl on your lid. “Are you ok?” You give her a small nod. “Stay still,” she giggled. A warmth bloomed in your chest at the sound.

———

The ball was in full swing. Nesta had stolen you for the first dance before you were swept away by Cyrus. Azriel had grabbed her waist before she could kill the male, dragging her into a waltz she could do in her sleep. Cassian was sending waves of calm to her down the bond. He stepped in for Az once the song was over. Also so Azriel could keep an eye on you for the night.

“Remember what Azriel said, Nes.” She gave him a curt nod, looking over her shoulder for you as they spin around the floor. “Hey,” Cass demanded, taking his hand from her waist to grip her chin. “She is fine. She is capable. I know the instinct to protect her and be by her is intense, we’re feeling it too. But tomorrow, he will be gone.” “Yeah.” She mumbled. Cassian pressed a quick kiss to Nesta’s lips before dipping her dramatically.

Azriel watched from the shadows as you entertained Cyrus. His party from Montesere was nothing like him. Kind and proper as they chatted with Mor and Feyre. His eyes bounced between the groups wanting to make sure that his court was safe. Feyre stood up straighter. A shocked and confused look pulling at her features.

He met his High Lady’s gaze and she tapped on his mental shield wasting no time in updating her spymaster. Cyrus no longer held the power they were told about. His Lord had stripped his title a week ago. This relieved Azriel. It meant he wouldn’t feel guilty about pulling you away from work and that Rhys wouldn’t give him a tongue lashing.

The Shadowsinger was about to step in and save you from Cyrus’s awfulness when a panicked feeling froze him in place. His shadows had reported Nesta and Cassian were safe. He even spotted them smiling and laughing as they danced.

When the realization hit Azriel that it was you projecting your feelings down the bond ran to you, sending his shadows ahead to pull Cyrus off of you. The look of disgust on your face had his instincts to protect you screaming at him to go.

Azriel drew Truth Teller, holding it to Cyrus’s neck. “Back away from my mate.” Azriel said practically roared. The fae around them stopped, gasps sounded through the crowd as they stared. You clung to Azriel’s arm through the whole ordeal. As the word mate left his mouth you stared up at Az, your eyes twinkling with love.

You had always had a crush on Azriel. But Nesta, you thought to yourself. No, you’d let her go. You have Az now. “Mate,” you repeat. Azriel stilled as the realization of the word he just spoke dawned on him. He slowly turned to look at you. The corners of your lip turning up at the his shock.

“Yeah, umm…” His gaze drifted behind you. You followed his gaze to find a stunned Cassian and a fuming Nesta. “Az?” You ask softly. The party had resumed around you as the couple stepped closer. Cassian placed his hands on Nesta’s shoulders in a calming manner. “Why don’t we all go talk somewhere else.” Cass suggested. “Why do we all,” you trail off as Nesta grabs your hand to drag you out of the ball room.

You kept looking between Nesta, Azriel, and Cassian as she leads you to the living quarters of the House of Wind. Her iron grip never leaving you. Entering the main living room Nesta drops your hand making a beeline for the bar cart housing one of Rhys’s expensive bottles of whiskey. Pouring herself a finger she downs the amber liquid in one go.

“I thought,” she started, her tone dangerously calm, “we wanted to make it special. To do something sweet for our mate.” Nesta flashed her perfect canines in a saccharine smile at the males. Azriel’s jaw tightened. His head dropped, clearly frustrated with himself.

You hold his hand with both of yours. Running your thumb across the back of his hand in calming circles. Nesta’s words caught up with your brain. Our, she had said.

You looked at her with wide eyes. “Our? As in all three of you are my mates.” Cassian couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah sweetheart. You have all three of us. We’ve been waiting to tell you and we wanted to make it special. Cyrus just got in the way.” You covered your mouth as happy tears lined your eyes. That warm feeling in your chest that appeared with Nesta earlier returning. The bond glowing fiercely as it branched out to all three of them.

You sink on to the plush couch taking in the information. You have been blessed with three mates. Each one you were madly in love with. And you get to love them all for the rest of your life!

Cassian came to sit beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side. You could sense the apology on his lips before he could even say it. Cassian has always been too apologetic for his own good. You grabbed his hand resting on his thigh. “I’m not mad. I am incredibly happy to hear this.” Cassian’s head dropped to rest on yours. Azriel takes the spot next to you wrapping his arms around your waist pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You stare at Nesta who hadn’t moved an inch since you entered the room. You wave her over to join couch snuggles, tugging on the bond to entice her. Nesta ran at you. Jumping to straddle your lap and pushing Cass and Az off you. You hugged her tightly inhaling her scent of fire and steel masked by the vanilla and almond perfume she wears.

“I love you so much, y/n.” She whispered just for you to hear. “I love you, Nes. With all my heart.” You whispered back, just for her to hear.

[pocket-watcher]

The following is a collab between myself and the amazing @blissful23 !

Ding-Dong

The doorbell sounded and Suzie looked up from styling her long, blonde hair in the mirror. This always happens when she’s just getting ready to go out! She had readjusted the shirt she had “borrowed” from her roommate, as it was slightly too tight, checked her eyeliner was even for the 50th time, and was just finishing her lipstick with a satisfied pop.

She sighed frustratedly, stood up, and made her way to the source of the offending sound. Opening the front door, she was greeted by a man she’d never seen before. Dark hair and - oh God - a curled moustache framed a sharp featured face, adorned with a rather ostentatious top hat. Finely attired in a black suit, jacket resplendent with coattails, he gave a slight bow in greeting. It took all her willpower not to outright laugh in the face of this antiquity standing before her.

“Good day ma’am, it’s a fine afternoon, is it not?”

She stood, arms crossed in exaggerated frustration, staring back at him.

“How can I help you… Sir?”

She put the extra emphasis on that last word, wishing him to know quite pointedly that she was being interrupted. He smiled in return - whether it was sincere or strained in response to her standoffishness, she couldn’t tell.

“Well, you see my dear, I’m selling these very fine pocketwatches.”

With exaggerated flourish, he swept his coat open, revealing a dazzling array of pocketwatches hanging on the inside of it. He held it in place, and as if by magic - more likely the momentum of him opening his coat, she thought to herself - each of the pocketwatches begun swinging in unison. Probably a bit of showmanship designed to wow a potential customer, but still, it was fascinating to watch as they swung back and forth, back… and forth… back…

Suzie shook her head, dispelling a sudden onset of light-headedness, and redressed her gaze to The Salesman. He pulled his coat closed and smiled once more. A little less sure of her cold reception to him initially, she spoke again.

“Those are very lovely, but… I have no real need of a pocketwatch.” She said, gesturing to her phone.

“Ah, but my dear, you didn’t even take notice of our finest model!”

She bristled inwardly at being addressed as “my dear” again, and fixed her gaze to the pocketwatch he was now dangling in front of her face. It was silver, hooked by a long thin strap. The outer shell had some sort of pattern cut out of it to reveal the clock face behind, but with the shell popped open she couldn’t quite tell what was meant to be on the front. The spindling hands on the clock ticked away excitedly.

“Look at this gorgeous embedded crystal, and how it changes in the light! Let me swing it so you can see how it changes colour in the light…”

As he began swinging it from side to side, her jaw almost instantly fell agape at the sight of it, finding herself unable to draw her soft, blue eyes away from it.

"So many colours! Which colour do you prefer?" 

It was so hard to decide. So many splendid, beautiful colours to pick from. She tried to follow them as they shifted moment to moment. It was hard to think of a favourite. So hard to think… was all Suzie’s mind could muster for the moment, her thoughts, plans for the day, all of them fading away, replaced by her fascination with the tantalising kaleidoscope dancing before her eyes.

"I, uhh.... c-colours..."

The Salesman smiled wide. It wasn’t always this easy, but they all ended up this way eventually.

"Yes, pretty colours... and as each one shines, your worries and cares fade just that little bit more..."

Not having to think and just being able to enjoy the colours did sound nice to Suzie. Joyous, even; and she allowed herself a little giggle at the suggestion. She tried to help him how wonderful that sounded, but her mind was already so devoid of thought, all she could utter was:

"Hee-hee… colours...!"

Knowing he had her right where he wanted her, The Salesman followed on with his scheme.

“Can you hear the ticking? No? Maybe you should invite me inside where it’s quieter so you can really focus in on the sound…”

Had she heard the ticking? She wasn’t sure. Probably best to listen to him. A dull, errant thought in the back of Suzie’s near-blank mind warned that this was a bad idea, but was immediately overruled by the obedient thrall she found herself in.

"Uhhh… Won't you... nghh... won't you... please come in..."

“My dear, I thought you’d never ask…”

—

As he stepped through the doorway, another voice could be heard deeper inside.

“Suzie? You haven’t seen my top, have you? The low-cut one with the ruffles - oh.”

Suzie’s roommate Miranda - a stunning redhead - entered the room. Always a favourite, those, The Salesman thought to himself. She stopped upon seeing him eyeing her.

“Uh… hello. And you are?” Miranda asked, curiously, confused at the way Suzie stood there smiling blankly at her.

“He’s… He sells… pocketwatches…” Suzie answered for the strange man.

“Yes, and I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you like to take a look, my dear?”

“No, thank you. We,” Miranda looked sternly at Suzie, “are actually running late. So if you’ll excuse us…”

Suzie didn’t move, however. As Miranda went to grab her arm she simply smiled up at her.

“But… They’re so pretty…” She said, as if she struggled with every word.

The Salesman pulled out the watch. “See for yourself.”

Miranda looked at him, exacerbated, before huffing, turning back to Suzie in confusion. 

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

"But they’re so pretty..." Suzie whined. “Just take a closer look. You know you want to…”

Miranda looked. She couldn’t see anything special about this pocketwatch. Though, truth be told, she was struggling to take in any of the details as she tried to follow it with her hazel eyes. If only this guy would stop swinging it in front of her… back… and forth… and…

“What, are you trying to hypnotise me into buying one or something?” She laughed. But, then, she thought…

Looking at her usually headstrong friend standing quietly with her eyes tracking the watch’s every movement, everything seemed to click into place.

“Aha… w-wait. You’re not… You’re not actually trying to… right…?” 

Miranda was getting nervous, hiding it behind laughter. No. Of course he wasn’t. Hypnosis wasn’t real.

“My God, you are trying to hypnotise… me, aren’t you? And what have you done to Suzie? I’ve had enough of this, please leave.”

The Salesman frowned at this, placing his watch back inside of his jacket. She was going to be tougher. Luckily, he liked a challenge. Reaching into his jacket once more, his fingers brushed along the watches until he found… yes. Perfect.

“But my dear, you haven’t seen our Timepiece de Resistance…” He pulled out a small golden watch. Its chain was more detailed than the other, with a texture almost like woven vines. The numbers were roman numerals. Or were they? Miranda couldn’t tell. 

Shit. She’d been staring at it, hadn’t she?

Miranda covered her eyes and turned away,

“We call it that because it’s the Timepiece that causes all your resistance to melt away…”

His voice was deep in her brain now. It was so… so tempting to look back at him. And Suzie’s pleasant hums of approval weren’t helping.

“No, I won’t… you’re not going to… hypno… hypnotise… me…” Miranda managed, looking up to see Suzie had walked over to her. 

“Go on… just a little look… it would feel so good, Miranda…” Suzie spoke softly, almost dreamlike.

Then another thought hit her. If Suzie could sneak up on her, this guy could be anywhere! She had to check for certain if he was still between them and the door. 

She looked up at him and her attention was captured by the watch once more.

“Get… get out…” Miranda said as firmly as she could manage.

“Please calm down… You don’t need to be so on edge, so angry… Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep last night…”

Her eyes started to droop. All this fighting was exhausting. The only easy thing right now was keeping her eyes on that watch.

“No, I… I don’t need to… sleep… I’m completely…” She tried to stifle a yawn “… Awake…”

“We both know that’s not true, my dear… Look at you. You’re struggling to stay awake. You can barely keep your eyes open…”

Her hands, once balled into fists, were now relaxed and hung limply by her side. Miranda found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

“No… I’m not - yawn - sleepy…”

The man approached her, guiding her over to the couch, where Suzie had, at some point, also had found herself.

“There’s no need to fight it anymore… You want to give in to it… You want to surrender to slumber…”

“Surrender… to slumber…” Miranda felt a smile grow on her own face as she repeated after him, her weary eyelids now stuck at half-mast. 

“That’s it…” He looked at his pocket watch. Another job well done.

“Well, ladies, it appears I may have lost track of time.” He chuckled, leading the girls to giggle mindlessly… although, they weren’t quite sure why they were laughing. But Master was so funny, wasn’t he?

“I’ll just leave this here.” The Salesman said as he placed a business card on the coffee table in front of them. “In case you know anyone else who might appreciate my services, hm?” 

He watched as Suzies head slowly slumped onto Miranda’s shoulders, both girls blissfully asleep. He straightened his hat, closed the door behind him, and moved onto the next house.

[yuujispinkhair]

Heat Tolerance

A business trip to a desert planet with a certain annoying business partner leads to a heated fight and to a heated fuck.

Pairing: Sampo x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, smut, teasing, fuckbuddies, a bit of hate-fucking, some playful fighting, creampie, overstimulation, squirting. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Part three of my Heatwave Summer Series

A business trip to another planet to retrieve a relic set. It sounded like no big deal. Nice even. A change of climate, a little adventure. What could go wrong? You should have known better.

The moment a certain tall, blue-haired mercenary offered to accompany you, you should have run. But of course, Sampo Koski always has been your weakness, hasn't he? You never were able to say no to him, as much as you hate to admit that. And so you let him wrap you in his tales about how he knew so much about this faraway planet and how you could benefit from his knowledge and negotiation skills.

Long story short, you said yes, and now you deeply regret it.

"Why do you always have to get us into trouble, you idiot?"

You groan and send a death glare to the blue-haired man sitting across from you on the dusty floor of an abandoned souvenir shop in a shabby side street of Nailscrap Town. Sweat is running down your back and trickling down between your breasts. The heat is making your head spin, and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. Especially here in this cramped little space where you are currently forced to hide from the authorities.

A lopsided grin meets you, and an outrageously nonchalant shrug,

"Aww, don't be so hard on me, sweetheart! I told you it was just a misunderstanding."

"You stole a brooch out of the Wasteland Museum! What is there to be misunderstood about this?"

Sampo sighs dramatically and rolls his pretty green eyes as he runs his long fingers through his sweaty blue hair, brushing it out of his face, only for it to fall back immediately,

"I told you, I have no idea how it ended up in my bag. It must have fallen into it when I walked past the display case. Is it my fault that they didn't fix it correctly? They probably do that on purpose so they can chase innocent tourists through their dirty city!"

You draw in a deep breath and force yourself to count to ten before you exhale it slowly. Black spots dance before your eyes. The heat is almost unbearable.

Of course, you had expected high temperatures on a desert planet. Of course, you had done your research beforehand. But it couldn't prepare you for just how intense the heat feels. And it's even worse here in this cramped little space in the middle of the concrete jungle of this city.

But this isn't just about tolerating the heat. This is mostly about tolerating this idiot by your side. He tags along like some puppy, following you as if you are his owner, and he is waggling his tail and begging for your attention.

Yes, sure, the two of you have a history. You met years ago via some shady business, and yes, you ended up in his room above the bar that night, bouncing on his gorgeous cock until the sun rose. And yes, you have met many times over the years, and yes, it almost always leads to sex.

So yes, maybe you and Sampo Koski are business partners with certain benefits, if you can call it that. And maybe you think his face is nice to look at and that his cock is pretty talented.

But that doesn't mean you want him to follow you everywhere and drag you into his drama. Your head already hurts from the heat, and that idiot's incessant chattering and his ridiculous excuses only make it worse.

The extreme temperatures on this desert planet are enough to grate on your nerves. You don't need the additional trouble that is Sampo Koski!

You glare at him, barking at him that he should shut up. But he only gives you that infuriating, dazzling smile. His long fingers wander to his vest, and you blink as you watch those skilled fingers opening the buttons, revealing more and more of Sampo's skin.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Taking off my clothes, of course. Maybe you didn't realize it yet, but it's a bit hot in here."

Sampo slips out of his vest and pulls the sleeveless shirt he wore underneath over his head, leaving him shirtless, only in his tight pants and leather gloves.

You gulp hard, coughing a little because your throat feels too dry all of a sudden. Sweat is glistening on Sampo's defined pecs, and his abs flex suddenly as he laughs that infuriating laugh.

"Are you checking me out, princess?"

His voice is teasing, seductive. You huff, hands balling into fists, pissed off at yourself for falling for his cheap tactics.

"Don't flatter yourself, Koski. I am delirious because of the heat, so forgive me for accidentally looking your way."

It’s stupid. You are being childish, and you know it. But this is how it always goes when Sampo Koski is near you, and you don't know how to stop it.

But he is right. Maybe taking off some clothes is a good idea. You take off your shirt, leaving you in your bra top. You let your head fall back against the counter you are leaning against, eyes fixing Sampo with a challenging glare. But his green-eyed gaze is busy traveling unashamedly over your half-exposed breasts.

A grin lifts the corners of your lips,

"Like what you see, Koski?"

Finally, those bright green eyes meet yours, but they don't show any sign of remorse. Sampo chuckles and has the nerve to wink at you,

"Of course I do."

"You really have no shame."

You shake your head and sigh.

How long have you been hiding here? Maybe you should check if the coast is clear. You get up from the dirty floor and lean over the counter, squinting your eyes, trying to peek through the dirty window. You flinch when you see a group of police officers passing the small shop. You step back quickly from the window...

... and almost scream out loud when you crash into something hard. Or someone. Sampo must have gotten up without you realizing it and is standing behind you now. Way too close.

His tall, firm body is pressing against you, his hot breath is ghosting over your neck, his teasing voice directly in your ear,

"Aww, do you want to be in my arms so I can keep you safe, sweetheart? Don't worry. Sampo Koski is here to the rescue."

You hiss and push him away, glaring at him.

"Get away from me, idiot. You are in my way."

Sampo draws in a sharp breath. He clutches his toned naked chest, looking at you with his pretty green eyes opened comically wide in fake shock. Always so dramatic.

"I am shocked! How can you say this to me? Me, your loyal companion on every planet! Your fair business partner! Your friend! Your lover! You rip my heart out, princess!"

"Oh yeah, do you mean the fair business partner who got me into this shitty situation? I could have already spent the last two hours looking for that relic! But now, thanks to you, I am trapped here, waiting until we can escape or get thrown into jail."

Sampo sighs dramatically. His long black lashes flutter innocently around those ridiculously green eyes, his stupid, pretty face settles into a pout.

"Aww, well, I could make it up to you. Sampo Koski isn't someone who leaves his customers unsatisfied."

You are about to ask him how exactly he thinks he can make it up to you, when he steps closer again. Before you know it, Sampo has you pinned against the dusty counter, and his tall body is pressing against your back again.

Large hands land on your hips, sprawling over them, so Sampo's fingertips brush teasingly over your lower tummy, dangerously close to a part of your body a normal business partner has no business touching.

Your pussy flutters in interest, heat pulsing in your clit.

You hate yourself for it, but you instantly press your ass against him, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning when you feel the familiar hardness of Sampo's large bulge rub against your ass.

Why do the two of you always end up like that? Why does every argument lead to sex? Why does he make you so wet when he infuriates you so much? And why does he get so hard from bickering with you? Why do the two of you get so horny for each other anytime you meet?

But you don't have time to worry about that because Sampo's hot mouth is on your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses on your skin, and his hands yank on your bra top, pulling it down. You gasp softly when your tits spill out, instantly getting cupped by Sampo's large hands. The leather of his fingerless gloves feels soft against your heated flesh. His fingers expertly tease your stiff nipples, making you embarrassingly wet for him.

He is grinding his clothed erection against your ass, gasping loudly against your neck, whining something about how good he can make you feel.

You can't take it anymore. You push down your shorts hastily, followed by your panties, before you bend over the counter to offer yourself to him. Your naked ass up in the air, leaning over so Sampo gets a good view of your swollen, wet pussy lips.

You look over your shoulder at Sampo, whose mouth is hanging open and whose heavy-lidded green eyes are staring at that wet place between your legs.

You roll your eyes exasperatedly and give your right ass cheek a firm slap, pulling him out of his daze.

"Come on, pretty boy! I thought you wanted to make it up to me! Get your cock out!"

Your voice sounds annoyed and commanding, but your face feels hot, and your heart is beating way too fast as you watch him pushing down his pants, freeing his large cock, which stands rock-hard for you, long and pretty with a slight curve, and a glistening wet light pink tip.

There are rumors that Sampo used to work in other fields before he became a mercenary. Rumors about certain red light district establishments. And you wouldn't be surprised if those rumors are true. Sampo is a gorgeous man with the most gorgeous cock you have ever seen. And even though you act as if it isn't so, he knows how to use that pretty cock.

So it's no wonder your pussy longs for him, betraying you and creaming up even more just at the sight of him.

A lazy smile spreads over his face, and he wraps a hand around that gorgeous cock, slowly stroking it, making fat drops of pre-cum trickle out of the pretty tip. You unconsciously lick your lips at the sight, and Sampo's smile grows.

"Awww, see, I knew you liked me!"

He sounds cocky, but his voice is too husky, giving away how horny he is for you.

You roll your eyes,

"Oh, shut up. Just bend me over this counter and fuck me already!"

He is behind you again in a split second, velvety wet cock rubbing teasingly over your ass cheeks, smearing his pre over your heated skin. Sampo laughs that stupid, annoying laugh before it turns into a shaky whine when his swollen cockhead slips between your cheeks and into your tight wet heat, stretching open your creamy cunt around his pretty tip.

"Ah... always such a pleasure to do business with you, sweetheart."

He practically sobs as he tries to go slow, only fucking you with his cockhead for a few seconds, making your nails dig into the counter, and a low growl escape your mouth at getting teased like that.

But luckily, Sampo can't keep up his little teasing game any longer, and instead, his long fingers tighten their hold on your hips, and Sampo snaps his hips, burying his long hard cock deep inside you, moaning loudly as your hot cunt twitches around him.

You hiss, pressing back against him, loving the slight burn of getting taken so suddenly, urging Sampo on to give you more.

He's panting loudly as he presses his tall body against you, one gloved hand landing in your hair and pushing your face down onto the dusty countertop, bending you so prettily over the former shop counter.

And then Sampo does that thing with his cock. The one where he humps your pussy for real now with those deep, harsh thrusts that always go so deep that you see stars. He is leaning over you, so much taller than you, caging you in, making your head spin from the feeling of being under him and getting fucked for real, hard and fast.

It's a nasty fuck, hot and needy in the middle of this dirty abandoned shop. Both of you grunt softly, pushing your over-heated bodies hornily against each other. Sampo's sweat is dripping down on your back from the tips of his blue hair. His long fingers are slippery on your skin, where they sprawl over your hip.

"F...fuckkk..ah ah..too hot..."

He sounds so pretty like that, all whiny and desperate. It makes your pussy throb around him. But you chuckle softly,

"I thought you could stand the heat, sweetheart?"

"Sampo Koski isn't affected by the hot weather. Only by you and your hot pussy."

"Simp," you say as you smile and press your ass needily against him and clench said pussy around his long cock, eliciting another whiny moan from him.

"Tease," he whimpers in your ear and rolls his hips against yours, burying his hard length even deeper in your hot cunt.

"Ya grip me so greedily with that cute pussy. Wanna milk my poor cock dry, huh princess?"

He groans, low and horny, as he pushes himself into a standing position again, grabbing your hips with both hands, drilling his long cock even harder and faster into you, filling the small room with the nasty noises of his cock fucking into your soaking wet cunt.

"Oh shut up, idiot. And I am still mad at you for getting us into this situation in the first place."

But you smile while you say it, and maybe you moan a little when he grabs your hair to pull you into a standing position. You reach behind you to grab a handful of his hair that’s damp from the sweat and tug on it to pull his face down to your level. Sampo definitely moans when you bring his lips to yours, and your tongues meet in an open-mouthed, heated, sloppy kiss that makes spit run down your chin.

You can feel his firm, lean muscles press against your back, the defined pecs and taut abs that are slippery from sweat but feel so good against your naked skin. And his lips are so soft, tongue expertly stroking yours with hungry deep licks, while that pretty cock works its magic and fucks you with deep fast thrusts that make even more heat coil deep inside your belly.

He licks your bottom lip when you pull away from the kiss, grinning at you, green eyes heavy-lidded and full of lust.

"Just admit that my cock makes it all worth it."

"Hmm, nah, you have to earn the praise first. You didn't even make me cum yet, baby."

"Ok, your wish is my command, sweetheart."

You moan softly when Sampo's fingers find your puffy clit, rubbing it in slow circles, flicking his thumb over it, twirling it gently between two fingers, making you mewl and your hips buck uncontrollably. Even more heat is spreading through your body, starting in your toes and wandering up all the way to your cheeks.

You close your eyes and slump against Sampo, knowing he is strong enough to hold you. Your breath comes out in harsh, loud pants and needy, soft mewls as you let him pamper your pussy. Fucking you with his pretty cock, and rubbing your clit with his expert fingers.

"Sampo...ah fuck...!"

He makes you cum so hard on his cock, the heat almost unbearable, your orgasm crashing over you in such stormy waves that you can only tremble wildly in his arms, your cunt clenching hard on his long hard cock, not able to hide the intensity of your orgasm from him.

He fucks you through it, his long cock prodding your sweet spot over and over again, prolonging your orgasm until you are sobbing. And he doesn't stop after that.

Sampo keeps you on his cock, your twitching cunt stuffed with his hard length. The fingers of his left hand dig into your hip while the other hand continues to rub your clit furiously.

A feral-sounding cry escapes your lips, and you instinctively try to push his hand away. But it's a half-hearted attempt, and Sampo chuckles softly.

"Uh uh, princess, stay right here. You said I have to earn the praise. Sampo Koski takes those things seriously. What kind of business partner would I be if I didn't?"

"Fuckkk, Sampo..."

Your clit pulses hotly as his fingers flick over it unrelentingly. It's almost too much. But you let him continue. It feels so good. The pleasure is so intense, bordering on painful, but you can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. Only a little more, only one more orgasm...only...

In the end, he rubs two more out of you, overstimulating you so much that you sob his name. You're on your tiptoes, your pussy tensing up around his long cock as you can't hold back anymore and squirt all over him, bathing his pretty cock and taut balls in your juices before your creamy mess drips onto the dirty floor.

You are still trembling and mewling when Sampo's arms tighten around you, and he rams his long cock deep into you. He moans in your ear, a loud, needy sound that makes your spent cunt twitch around him again.

He cums so hard that you can feel his pretty cock throb inside you as he pumps your pussy full with several thick spurts, adding his hot cum to your already sticky wet mess.

He slowly pulls out afterward, both of you panting heavily. Your legs shake, and you steady yourself hastily on the counter, pulling a face as your mind clears again from the horny daze you have been in the last minutes.

And, of course, Sampo's annoying, teasing voice fills the room,

"I think I fulfilled your order. Never seen you squirt so much, darling. Maybe we should run more often from the authorities if it turns you on so much."

You huff and turn around to glare at him but can't stop an affectionate grin from tugging at the corners of your lips when you look at Sampo's pretty face,

"I hate you so much."

Glowing green eyes meet yours, glittering with amusement, and Sampo leans down, one hand cupping your cheek, his lips hovering over yours, voice dripping with that teasing tone again,

"Aww, no you don't. And I can always fuck you once more if you need more convincing. We probably have to stay here for a while longer anyways."

AHAHAHAH he drives me insane!! It was so much fun to write this!! I know he would annoy me and at the same time make me want to fuck him. Those are simple facts and I am not ashamed to admit it lmaooo.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed our little trip to the desert planet with this blue-haired idiot!! Please let me know what you think.

Comments and reblogs would be super sweet!!

[chiharuhashibira]

What about a shorts featuring your fave Kimetsu No Yaiba teacher?

But make it Professor X Student 👀

I'm a sucker for this genre *blush*😩

So let's go and start this out babes! Imma make the Fem!Reader an 18+ tho, not comfy to write about younger/minor XD With that, she's in college and the lads are his professors. Hence, a College AU!

I'll make one shots for Kyo, Ten, Giyu, and Nemi but post it once per day 🥵 Same title will be used but different CWs~ This is because i saw this pic down there and I gulped and... OMEGED!

So here's the first part~ Rengoku version!

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔: 𝑯𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Content Warnings: ProfessorXStudent/Age Gap/Suggestive/Curse Words/Matured Content/18+/Sexually Explicit

Minors DNI.

(Image is not mine, credits to the rightful owner)

🌸𝑲𝒚𝒐𝒋𝒖𝒓𝒐 𝑹𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒐𝒌𝒖🌸

You have always adored your history professor, Kyojuro Rengoku. His dazzling eyes, flame-like hair, and ideal stature just can't help but draw you in, even though you know it's wrong. He's a professor, and you're a graduating student!

But he's nice and handsome, and he takes your breath away as always.

His voice, whenever you hear it, makes you wonder how he would sound when he pins you on the bed, moaning on your—

"Y/L/N-san? What's your answer?"

"Huh?!" You stood up, looked around, and saw that everyone was already staring at you. Apparently, Kyojuro has been calling you a few times to answer his question. But, for some reason, your horny-ass brain can't remember what that question was.

"Rengoku-sensei, sorry. Uh, what was the question again?"

Kyojuro crossed his arms, with his pecs and biceps getting obvious under his white shirt.

Kyojuro crossed his arms, with his pecs and biceps getting obvious under his white shirt. You gulped as you noticed the dismay in his eyes.

"Sit down." You sat down, watching as your history professor walked past you and called Muichiro instead.

The class ended with you awkwardly listening to the discussion, trying your best to stop your intrusive thoughts. All students have left the classroom, and you were also about to go when suddenly Kyojuro, who was still sitting at his desk, called you.

"Y/L/N-san, stay."

Your eyes widened, and you felt heat crawling up to your cheeks as you realised that him telling you to stay would also mean that you'd be alone with the man who makes your heart go crazy.

You turned to look at him and closed the door behind you once again. "Yes sensei."

Kyojuro was looking at the papers passed to him earlier; he seemed busy, so even if you were standing in front of him, you remained silent. You don't want to cause any more trouble because of what happened earlier.

You watched his fingers as they slowly ran on the sheet of paper, imagining how it would feel if they ran on your body instead. You flinched as you felt it getting hot down there with how dirty your thoughts were getting with each passing second.

Your breathing became heavier, and that kicked Kyojuro out of his trance. "Oh yes. Y/L/N-san. I wonder what happened earlier. You're always on top of this class. Your quiz also proves that. Is there any problem?"

Kyojuro sometimes doesn't act just as your prof; he also acts as your mentor and friend, so his concern now doesn't surprise you at all. Your pure-hearted professor just cares for you. But you'll know that his dismay would be fueled if he knew about your unpure thoughts about him.

"Rengoku-sensei, I'm okay. I was just distracted earlier. But I promise I'll make up for it tomorrow in class!"

"Distracted because of?"

You.You wanted to say that badly, but of course you couldn't, so you just muttered that it's personal. Kyojuro didn't inquire more, but he stood up and snatched your bag from your hand. His actions shocked you and left you stunned.

"Sensei?" you asked, confused.

"I'll drive you home."

Oh yes, Kyojuro lives right next to your apartment; that's why he knows where you live. But this is the very first time that the man has offered that.

"Sensei, you don't need to."

"I'm heading home early too, so why not?"

You gulped as Kyojuro picked up his jacket and draped it over his shoulder as he used his other hand to carry your bag. All your complaints were shoved down your throat as he finally went out of the classroom.

You followed him, walking a bit slower than he was to avoid commotion. If your classmates see that you're going home with your favourite professor, they might interpret it wrongly. But then Kyojuro took you to the faculty because he needed to say goodbye to his friends.

There, all your professors asked was why you were with him. "Oh well, we're neighbours! I might as well drive her home." He said casually that he got agreement from them.

--

The drive was not too silent, apparently; Kyojuro was chatty outside the uni! He kept on talking about his little brother, saying that he's as smart as you. Yes. You're listening, but still, you can't help but feel your body get hotter at the thought of you alone with him inside his car.

You pressed your thighs together under your skirt, and Kyojuro seemed to notice this.

"Do you want to pee?"

He asked that, which made you blush furiously as you shot him a look. He doesn't know how to hold back his words, and hearing them only made you feel worse about the embarrassing thoughts you've been having.

"Uh... no sensei."

"But you have been pressing your thighs together, and you seem to be uncomfortable."

WHY ON EARTH IS HE LOOKING AT MY THIGHS? You thought as you covered your thigh with your hands. A soft chuckle escaped from his lips, and that immediately sent you tingling. "You're a weird one." He said and finally continued driving.

You watched as Kyojuro drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He gulped, and you witnessed how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, which definitely made you bite your lip. You can usually calm yourself around him, but not today.

Perhaps it's because earlier today, while you were about to head to university early, Kyojuro walked out of his flat, only clad in his pants. You were astounded by the sight, but you tried to compose yourself, pretending not to see him. But then your history professor called you and greeted you good morning with his deep, raspy voice, different from his loud and jolly tone in class.

And so now you're here, sitting beside him inside his car while having those dirty thoughts.

"Y/L/N-san, do I have dirt on my face?"

"No sensei. I was just—"

"Sorry to pry, but am I the reason why you were distracted at class earlier?"

You didn't know how to respond to his question, so you just decided to shut up. But being the straightforward man he is, Kyojuro chuckled and spoke up once again, with that same low tone that he used earlier.

"I'm not a narcissist, but I'll take your reaction as a yes."

"How dare you—"

His chuckles cut you off, which made you smile.

"I'm just kidding, Y/L/N-sama. You're a beautiful woman, so why would you waste your time staring at your old history professor?"

You blushed when he called you beautiful, which also made you scoff. "What? Old? You look like you're just in your early 20s."

"Eh, I'm already 29."

"Hmmm, 9-year age gap?" You accidentally blurted out what you were thinking, which made Kyojuro clear his throat. You covered your mouth and looked outside the window, wishing that the man would just let that slide.

But then, it's Kyojuro, so...

"What's with the gap?"

"Nothing."

"However, that redness on your cheek certainly says something!"

Fuck. You whispered under your breath as you shifted on your seat.

"Oh! We're here."

He suddenly said that, which lifted the tension between the both of you. You turned to look at Kyojuro and saw his smile. "So, see you tomorrow?" He said, and you just nodded.

When Kyojuro opened the car door for you, your heart skipped a beat. You swear that the moment his fingers touched yours as he handed you the bag you'd almost forgotten was inside, you were instantly engulfed in a blaze of conflicting feelings.

You gulped and thanked him once again, but then he called you which stopped you in your tracks. "Y/L/N-san, it seems like I forgot my house key at school."

"Oh? Perhaps it's just inside the car, Rengoku-sensei?"

You went back to him and opened the car door for his back seat. "I'll check for you." You said, trying to help your teacher. You leaned down, searching his backseat. Suddenly, you felt something warm on your back, which made you blush. What the hell is he doing?

You turned to look back at him and saw that your history professor had draped his jacket around your waist. "Uh... Sorry, but you're..." He said while pointing at your skirt, which made you blush and stand, holding his jacket before it fell to the floor.

You bowed down, apologising for flashing at him accidentally. Though the dirty part of you wished that he really had seen. This time, it was Kyojuro who was blushing madly as he combed his hair with his fingers.

Oh, those fingers—you would really die for it. "Rengoku-san, it's late. Perhaps you would want to uh... stay in my flat? The lobby guy was absent earlier, so we can't really get your spare key. Let's just get them early in the morning tomorrow so you can prepare for work."

"You won't mind?"

"Of course."

--

You've found yourself panting as you move yourself grinding against Kyojuro's hard cock. He was holding you by the waist, digging his nails into your skin as pleasure engulfed him.

What just happened?

Flashback:

You opened the door inside your house, letting Kyojuro in. He made sure to take off his shoes before stepping inside, but you sat on the floor and offered to take them off for him. The man was astounded at first, but he just nodded in agreement.

You took off his shoes and placed them beside yours. You stood up without any concern when you felt a thug's hand on your skirt. You looked back and saw Kyojuro's hand pulling down on your skirt, but not in a dirty way. He was red once again, making you blush as well.

"You should be careful moving while wearing a skirt, Y/L/N-san." He said. Kyojuro lets go of the fabric and hands you his jacket again. You accepted it but teased him a bit, wishing that it would ease your situation.

"Eh, you won't be interested anyway, sensei."

You saw how Kyojuro gulped and looked away, and that enticed you more. So, you decided that you'd just give him a few more teases for the night.

You didn't expect that all of your teasing, a.k.a. seduction, would affect Kyojuro so much. You had to let the man shower in the bathroom first, handing him one of the bathrobes that you are lending to your visitors.

Inside the bathroom, Kyojuro was astounded at himself. One tease, and he was hard as fuck. He looked down at his hardness and at his reflection. He knows feeling this way isn't right, but he just can't stop it. You're irresistable!

Kyojuro showered in cold water, wishing that his erection would fade. And it did.

But then, when he went out, he saw you finish your bath as well, as you used the other bathroom in your flat. You were clad in shorts and a crop top shirt without a bra, which made him rethink his life decisions.

He hasn't seen you like this, and that definitely made him hard once more. You noticed his stare at you, so you tossed him a big pyjama that caught him off-guard. It landed on Kyojuro's face.

"Sensei, you're spacing out!"

He picked up the neglected clothing and went inside the bathroom without saying anything.

Kyojuro offered to cook for you, saying that he wanted to do so because you let him stay the night. You watched how skilled he is with knives. Kyojuro looks so wonderful, even if he's concentrating.

"Why were you distracted at my class, Y/L/N-san? I'm really curious. You were never like that."

He brought up the topic once again as he finished preparing your dinner. Kyojuro placed the food on the table and sat in front of you, waiting for your answer. So he isn't going to drop this off, huh?

"There's just a cute guy that has been lingering in my mind lately."

"Oh, so you're in love?" There was a tone of dismay in his voice, and you can't fathom why. You just shrugged your shoulders. Kyojuro was silent for a while until...

"But I don't like it when you're spacing out from my class. Being in love is not an excuse."

You finished your bowl quickly, trying to evade his scolding. "You cook great, sensei!"

"Don't change the topic." He was serious, and for you, it's probably because he loves his subject so much. You're unaware that a part of Kyojuro is jealous.

Yes. Even if he denies it, he's attracted to you. It's just that; he just confirmed it now. And now that it is clear to him, he doesn't want to share. He knows it's wrong to feel this but it's hard to deny it further.

You crossed your legs and leaned in closer to him. "Hmm, what if that cute guy was you, sensei?" You joked, wishing that he could also understand your hidden meaning.

And yes, Kyojuro did, but he shrugged it off. "What are you trying to imply? I'm your distraction?"

"I was just kid—"

His breathing had changed, and that made you stop talking.

"Why are you teasing me, Y/N?" Kyojuro's question and the way he called you by your first name surprised you. "Sensei?"

"Answer me."

"I... I... I like you, sensei!"

You finally blurted out that it made you scared. You knew that you shouldn't say that to a professor, but you still did it. You were expecting a few more scoldings, but to your astonishment, a smirk crept up on his lips.

"Come here then." He said, patting his lap. You gulped and obliged, sitting on his lap and facing him.

Kyojuro stared at you intensely, his eyes oozing with lust, an expression that you had never expected to see from him.

"Y/N. I'm still a man, and if you kept on teasing me, this would happen to you."

He smashed his lips against yours for a hungry kiss. You moaned against his mouth, pressing your breast against his chest as you felt yourself get wetter.

End of Flashback

You've found yourself panting as you move yourself grinding against Kyojuro's hard cock. He was holding you by the waist, digging his nails into your skin as pleasure engulfed him.

Kyojuro pulled out for a moment to take off your clothes, almost ripping them. You moaned as he bit playfully on your now-exposed tits. "Umai, you taste so good, baby." He said this, licking your nipples as he cupped your ass and squeezed it.

You tugged on his hair and rubbed your wet, clothed cunt against his hard cock. Kyojuro wanted to feel you more, so he made you stand up and pulled your shorts down with your pants. You also helped him free his hardened cock as you marvelled at how big it was. With its girth, you felt like wanting to just spread yourself for him.

Kyojuro pulled you down on his lap once again and positioned himself at your entrance. "Do you want to continue, baby?" He said with his deep voice, making you almost cum there and then. You nodded and slowly went down, taking in his length. A moan of pleasure escaped both of your lips as you pushed yourself to go down on him, balls deep.

"Uh fuck! So tight!" Kyojuro said it made you feel more aroused. Finally, at the end of a long day, his cock is inside yours, and you crave it so desperately.

"Move for me, Y/N."

Kyojuro said, more like ordered, taking control even if he is under you. So you did; you moved up and down on his cock, slowly at first, letting him adore your sight.

Kyojuro kissed you passionately again, with his tongue exploring your mouth. He thrust with your rhythm, making you feel a growing pleasure at the pit of your stomach. While fucking your cunt, your history professor suddenly carried you and placed you on the couch.

He lifted one of your thighs and thrust deeper than before, nearly knocking you unconscious with pleasure. Kyojuro used his other hand to play with your breast, making sure it wouldn't feel neglected as he fucked you hard.

"Sensei, I'm almost there!" You almost shouted, which made Kyojuro also feel his body heating up. He kissed you, making you shut up, and the movements of his hips became slower, but his cock went deeper into your womb as he finally released his cum within you.

Kyojuro fell over your body, and you embraced him. "Sensei..." you muttered between your pants. Kyojuro finally looked up at you with his owl eyes and kissed your cheek. He pulled out and used his discarded shirt to wipe you clean.

"Sorry, I came inside you, Y/N."

"I loved it, sensei."

Kyojuro smiled at you and carried you towards your bedroom. He placed you down and sat down beside you, not caring if both of you were still naked right now.

He pulled a blanket over your body and looked away.

"Y/N, I'm sorry if I let my emotions control me. I'm older than you. I'm also your professor."

"Why? Do you regret it, Kyojuro?" You said, making him look back at you. "What if the uni knows?"

"Why would we let them know?" You said that, running your fingers along his back. Kyojuro sighed and finally laid down beside you. "I always wanted you." He muttered, caressing your cheek. You blushed.

"I also do. So please, stop feeling guilty, Kyo."

"Yes baby." He said he was pulling you into another kiss.

And there, you decided to go out, keeping this sensitive detail from the university.

--

Days later, Kyojuro called you into his classroom again. He was sitting, patting his lap, in the same position as he did the night before you first made love.

"I guess it's time for your special class, Y/N."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔!

But yeaaah! If you don't like this kind of theme, don't read XD

So there, see you on the Tengen version~ I'll try to make them hotter if you like XD It'll be up this Monday so be on the lookout!

Reblogs, Comments, and Requests are highly appreciated! Love you!

MDNI!

Ja ne~

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[eldritch-alicedoll]

Diasomnia Boy gift s/o an evening gown to attend the NRC & RSA ball tgt Headcanon

Following from my dress sketch design if you haven’t seen it here . They are base from Glorious Masquerade & Playful land events. Basically a sequence I imagine while drawing the dresses XD I also want to mention that when it’s finish 🥺 you can draw it on your oc and even tweak a bit detail to fit your Yuu or OC. It’s meant to be share with everyone, not just my Yuu.

⚠️ Bad English……. I have no idea what is grammar . 😂

╭══• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •══╮

Imagine a ball between NRC and RSA happening maybe sometime after chapter 7. All students are invited but you are troubling since you have no dress to wear. And for the love of the great seven. Your beloved head master, Crowley just allowed you to join in your NRC uniform……….. great! So much for your kindness!!

Guess who will be the photographer and a background character on this event…..hahaha………

Well maybe you whine too much in front of the wishing well. Someone comes up with a plan. A plan that would make you believe in a fairytale once again!

╰══• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •══╯

𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔲𝔰 🐉

You had to be blind to not suspect anything……

Lately Mal is a bit touchy. Not that he isn’t normally but this is different. Sometimes he holds your wrist while mumbles something while going on a night stroll. Sometimes he stares at you and gets lost in his thoughts. He even stands just in front of you and tries to lift you up once.

You are so confused and a bit embarrassed when he asks about your height so you call for support. The Diasomnia’s family counselor aka. Lilia Vanrouge. You went all the way to Diasomnia dorm without telling anyone and sneak in to see Lilia.

But

…….

…..

…………

Is he………….

Is he dancing with a dress just now??

Surprisingly you just witness your dragon boyfriend practicing a dance with a beautiful dress. He hummed ‘that song’ while spinning with the dress. What a beautiful princess gown with dark green silk. It looks so shiny and smooth, something that would delicately touch her skin while being held in that big palm. Imagine how soft that hand craft lace feels when on your chest. He did not spare any piece of jewellery from his procession. He keep bring in dazzling earrings and necklaces to test it with the gown. He would have use the heart of his collection to craft a piece of accessories for you if he doesn’t want to save it for something later in the year. You can see a magical golden thread and needle weaving delicate patterns on the skirt as he continues the dance. Every angle……Every turn………..Malleus is creating a masterpiece. He did it………..for you…….for his princess.

Your face is burning from the love of this dragon fae. Why does he have to put so much effort into it.

Oh no………now you a mess

You open the Pandora box too early and now you have to live with it while pretending not to know a thing until the day. You bit your lip as Mal smoothly tug a strain of hair behind your ears. You can now understand what he mumbles about……rose gold? Sunshine gold? May be one of his grandma’s jewellery set?? (Oh god no…….that’s tooo far for the first gown Mal lol)

Your heart beat so fast until the evening of the event. Malleus play cool by teasing you and being a nice partner who prepare a gift for you.

Boom! You are now in a matching dress. So those Raven feathers on the hip are supposed to match his shoulder then ah………..you are about to take off the veil since it looks like a bride. Before Malleus could turn grumpy…..Sebek yell and lecturing you about how talented Wakasama are! You human dare to question his sense of fashion? Outrageous! Just because he love you doesn’t mean you can ruin his days of afford to perfect this dress

Woops………tongue slip

Well it’s not like you never know anyway. Just pretend to be surprise so Sebek won’t get a lightning strike okay?

Bonus : she doesn’t want to point out that when she accidentally saw Malleus weaving that dress……. his tail wagging. It’s a secret she gonna take to her grave though

Bonus 2 : Lilia does notice that and brag about how adorable Malleus is. How Malleus has grown to fit in the society in front of the other dorm leader………..Oopsie

Bonus 3 : Malleus learn the hard way not to miss the meeting

𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆 🦇

Have you heard of the story of the fairy godmother in Cinderella? Well he won’t just roll out and sing bib bi di bub bi di bo and bang! A nice new dress for you. The old man planned while cuddling you in bed……in sofa…..in the gaming chair(?)

He pretends to be busy with something and hasn't listened to you. Even play dumb and say you look cute in the school uniform. Well it’s not totally a lie since he thinks it’s adorable. Why would he poke on your cheek and nibble your neck while you are in your uniform if it’s not because you are so cute to him.

The truth is, this old bat is as excited as you. He lived through the war time and never got a chance to enjoy a leisure party before. Well it’s just a joint event of 2 schools. It can't compare with how grand the royal ball of the Briar valley held a ball but this is the first time he is going to have his lover join him. He doesn’t have to be alert from enemies. Doesn’t have to command his subordinates to search all the parties involved in this event. Just lay back enjoy the day with you.

He had been trying to recreate that dress in his memories just for you. It was around……..hundred? Two hundred?? Year ago??? He walked past this girl on the street and was stunned by her attire. It’s an elegant dress with black velvet and green emerald. Soft flare neckline covered the black corset. Enough skin to show your radiant but not too much.

Well, He was allowed to give you some hickeys before the day of the ball. It got enough fabric to cover all his naughtiness. Wink*

However he was troubled with the skirt since he only remembered just part of it flowing past him. He argued if it’s short or long skirt. He was going back and forth and even tried to summon multiple dresses to compare them…….Then before the final day. He just uses his sense of style to bring it together. Of cause ! Who do you think he is, if not the cutest boy in NRC ? (Self proclaimed……)

He smiles so proudly with your flushed cheek as he teases you. As you put on a golden belt with a bat and thorn on. This is the perfect dress for you. His baby bat. He should had prepare a ring for this big day but well…….there are plenty time for that

Bonus : He pick a perfume for you today and as you dance with him on the floor. It’s totally Lilia’s scent///

This is very long………..more than I expected

I’ll continue Silver & Sebek in part 2 then 😂 sorry I’m so into it with my oshi! I’ll try pack in other dorm in one post! Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy!!

[osiiiris]

A beautiful day

Yes, there is one explicit reference to my favorite angel’s statue (do you know which one?). I finally got the chance to draw Iyrin with wings and took the chance.

So… I had started this before my fic IYRIN reached 5000 readers on Wattpad, to celebrate, and I’m posting it as it almost at 8000. I’m very happy, thank you, so cheers queers 🥂

This in particular is a new scene that will be featured in the unreleased (yet) sequel No Peace in Hell (it is next in line). I have no specific reason why I chose this snippet in particular, I just liked how the scene came out. I had started with a more romantic scene but NAH, angst be upon ya!

Despite the macabre topic, all I can say is that this is a good and pivotal moment of the plot (snippet and context follows):

“That’s what’s left of us in the end.” Terzo looked at the grave and then turned around, briefly including the landscape in his sight. “I never really liked graves. He’s not really there.” Iyrin glanced at Terzo and then back at the grave. It was one of the many ways humans coped with death, they thought. They had witnessed various death ceremonies during their visits to Earth: fire, water, ground… rituals of any kind with what was left of their vessels, each one so hard to let go of. “What… would you prefer?” they asked hesitantly. “Embalmed.” Iyrin patiently waited for him to continue; they knew him too well to think that was the end of it. “Put on display in the Ministry forever, like a Greek statue. Naked.” They raised an eyebrow, slightly tilting their head down as if inviting him to finish. “…My dick well visible, fully erected,” he finally added. Iyrin nodded, satisfied. “‘Here lies Terzo Emeritus but his dick is still alive’, a nice line for an epitaph,” they murmured, glancing around. They were glad Terzo could still mask his discomfort with humor. They tightened their grip on his hand. “What would you really want?” Terzo stiffened, uneasy at the thought of his own death. “Cremated,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the grave. “You can scatter my ashes wherever you want, or keep them... I don’t know for what, honestly. That or anything that doesn’t imply being eaten by worms.” Iyrin blinked, surprised he was entrusting them with such an important decision. Perhaps he really couldn’t care less about what would be done with his remains. Terzo’s eyebrows twitched in a moment of clarity: were they really discussing his death and how he wanted to be disposed of? Was that really the point of the story? Then, after a few moments of silence, he resumed, “Do you understand this?” he asked, seemingly disconnected from the moment. Iyrin understood only after a bit what he meant. “Do you understand what it means to us when it is truly over?” But even though they knew he needed to be comforted, they found themselves unable to reply. After a moment of silence, Iyrin finally spoke. “I know what it means to me. All the humans I have loved… I lost all of them. Sometimes they ended up in places I could not reach. I lost everything, always.” Terzo frowned beside them. “Sometimes you just need to be the one that leaves first. That’s what I have always done.” After a few moments filled with silence, their lips moved again. “Eternity isn’t better,” they considered sadly. “You really cannot escape that.” Then, just like a child who gets distracted too easily, they looked around. The sky stretched out in a clear, dazzling shade of blue, while the air carried the light warmth of the late summer sun's rays. The only sounds around them were the cheerful chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. It seemed like even the voices had quieted, leaving their head in peace for a while. “Look…” they said, inviting him to appreciate the beauty around them, “It is such a beautiful day.” Terzo looked, and suddenly, he felt warmth enveloping him and the bright rays of light shining in his eyes, like a sun appearing brilliantly after an eclipse. Everything was still so full of life.

Backstory:

Iyrin is an angel (of a specific kind I won’t spoil here) who was kidnapped by a group of drunk Ghouls and finds themselves held hostage (or “guest”) in the Ministry.

Papa Emeritus III must handle the diplomatic incident, but we know how he is when an opportunity to play a bit with a new prey is served to him…

The story has two different endings, and one of them allows me to continue it. After the main story and the little spin-off, the final sequel will close this circle.