#Red Spots on Roof of Mouth

[mihikavasant]

Red Spots on Roof of Mouth: Causes and Treatment - Surya Dental

Red spots on the roof of the mouth can be alarming but are often harmless and resolve independently. Since the palate is a sensitive area, these spots can sometimes lead to inflammation. This blog post will explain the potential causes, treatment options, and preventive measures for red spots on the roof of the mouth.

Causes of Red Spots on the Roof of the Mouth

Erythroplakia

Erythroplakia presents as red, velvety patches on the roof of the mouth or other parts of the oral cavity. These patches, which can be smooth or slightly raised, are typically painless. Erythroplakia is a precancerous condition and should be evaluated by a healthcare provider as it can precede oral cancer.

Canker Sores 

Also known as aphthous ulcers, canker sores are small, painful lesions that can develop on the roof of the mouth. They are not contagious and are often triggered by stress, hormonal changes, or minor mouth injuries.

Oral Herpes

Caused by the herpes simplex virus, oral herpes can lead to small, painful red blisters on the roof of the mouth, as well as on other areas of the mouth and lips. These blisters may be accompanied by fever and flu-like symptoms.

Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease

This viral infection can cause a red, spotty rash on the roof of the mouth, as well as on the hands and feet. It is most common in young children but can also affect adults.

Mouth Ulcers  

Mouth ulcers, or stomatitis, are general sores or inflammation in the mouth that can appear as red, painful spots on the roof of the mouth. Causes include trauma, infections, or underlying medical conditions.

Oral Thrush

A fungal infection, oral thrush can cause red, painful spots on the roof of the mouth. It is more common in individuals with weakened immune systems, such as those with HIV/AIDS or cancer.

Physical Injury 

Biting the roof of the mouth or burning it with hot food or drink can cause localized red spots that typically heal within a few days.

Strep Throat Infection  

In some cases, strep throat can cause a red, "strawberry" appearance on the roof of the mouth, along with symptoms like a sore throat, fever, and swollen lymph nodes.

Home Remedies for Red Spots on the Roof of the Mouth

While some causes of red spots are unavoidable, the following steps can help reduce the risk:

1. Practice Good Oral Hygiene  

   Maintain a healthy mouth by brushing and flossing regularly to prevent bacterial buildup.

2. Avoid Irritants  

   Avoid overly hot or spicy foods and acidic beverages that can damage the palate's delicate skin.

3. Manage Underlying Health Conditions  

   Work with your healthcare provider to control conditions affecting your immune system or oral health.

4. Home Remedies

   - Salt Water Rinse 

   - Honey  

   - Baking Soda Paste 

   - Chamomile Tea  

   - Cold Compress

   - Aloe Vera Gel

Diagnosis and Treatment

If you notice red spots or other discoloration on the roof of your mouth, schedule an appointment with your healthcare provider or dentist. They will perform a physical examination and may order additional tests, such as a biopsy, to determine the underlying cause.

Treatment will vary depending on the specific condition causing the red spots. Canker sores and mouth ulcers may be treated with over-the-counter or prescription pain medication, while oral herpes or oral thrush may require antiviral or antifungal medications. The affected area may need to be closely monitored or removed for erythroplakia or other precancerous conditions.

Takeaway

Red spots on the palate can affect both children under 5 and adults. While over-the-counter medications often relieve pain and irritation, it’s important to consult a dentist if symptoms persist for more than a week. With appropriate care, most cases of red spots on the roof of the mouth can be effectively managed.

[sleaterkinnie]

i've had strep throat a bunch, and the best way to know if it's a cold/flu with strep symptoms or actual strep is how much swallowing feels like you're swallowing glass shards, the more it feels like glass the more likely it's strep. Hope this helps :)

THANK YOU! this is very helpful actually no idea whats wrong with me but good to know ! i guess we will see in the morning if i wake up and feel like im swallowing glass (real possibility)

[charliemwrites]

Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison. 

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[alnilaem]

slobbering and whimpering at the thought of butcher!simon who also happens to be your socially inept neighbour <3

—

It’s the seedier side of Manchester you move to. To a flat with wet rot between each brick and the peal of police sirens on every other street.

Crammed into the corner of your block is a little gem found between flats and markets: a well-loved butcher shop.

It’s suffocating when you walk in. Dewy and damp and misty and permeating with the angry odour of metal, poorly offset by an overripe air freshener hanging above the entrance.

A man lurks behind the counter. He’s big. Huge. Demands too much space as the coarsely-sewn sheers of his shirt look like they’re about to burst at his biceps. His hair is tamed under a Man Utd cap, but a few odd-angled curls peek out. His arm, swathed in tattoos, flexes as he hacks at a red piece of meat, slicing through the tendons, as you meagrely clear your throat for his attention.

His eyes, sunken in his sallow sockets, hinge upwards to stare at you.

“Um, hope I’m not interrupting you.”

His eyebrows purse because obviously you are. He steps away from the counter, wiping his big, bloodied hands against his apron.

“Could I just-“ you sharply inhale, then belatedly regret it as the smell of raw meat invades your senses. You suppress a cough as to not offend him. He stands with his arms crossed, the papery crows feet of his eyes folding as he stares at you above his mask. “Ah… lamb shanks?”

He grunts. It’s curt, but it doesn’t seem rude. More like socially inept in the ways in which he regards you, and how he prepares your order in sparse, quick movements.

“£6.00.”

You fish in your pocket and bring out a thin handful of coins. He swipes it, doesn’t bother to count it, for some reason, and slides the lamb into a repurposed Tesco bag, handing it over the display.

You reach over, your gaze flitting to his name tag which features only the tail-end of his name, the rest of the ink smudged and washed away from years of hard work.

As you swipe the bag from his hold, his finger brushes yours. A gossamer-thin layer of blood stains your forefinger and marinates your skin in the middle of the exchange.

You pivot, throwing a soft thanks over your shoulder, and rub your thumb into his vestigial warmth on your finger.

—

It’s after dark when you slip outside your flat, bin bag slapping against your thigh. You’re in a large sweatshirt and some shorts, chucking the trash down the disposal, when the tinny, grating sound of metal-against-metal peals from the elevator.

You throw a cursory glance over your shoulder, but freeze as you spot a familiar figure ducking under the roof of the lift and stepping onto your floor. The butcher.

He is clad in a filmy jacket, arms laden with shopping bags as he helps an elderly lady into her flat.

She says “Thank you, Simon,” and Simon nods, closing the door on his way out.

He fishes through his pockets for his keys and shoulders past you. You think he doesn’t recognise you, or worse, pointedly ignores you.

And for some reason, the latter thought causes a pang of sadness to seize you.

However, halfway down the corridor, in front of the flat next to your own, Simon turns around.

“You’re the new neighbour? Room 146?”

His eyes flicker from your legs to your face. A film of recognition glosses his eyes. Your mouth suddenly feels dry and you dumbly nod, preening under his intimidating eyes.

“Walls are thin,” he says, jamming his keys into the lock, “try keeping quiet, love. Some of us’ve got work in the mornings, yeah?”

Before you can reply, the conversation is already over with the slam of Simon’s door swinging shut.

[natalievoncatte]

Alex worked the skin of her forehead with her fingers, angrily kneading the flesh in a vain attempt to suppress a pounding headache.

“I’m telling you, I’m fine,” Kara insisted.

She was not fine, damn it! Kryptonite exposure was serious, even if it had no apparent, immediate effects. The little chunk of vibrant purple rock was currently in a lead-lined chamber where Brainy was mercilessly prodding at its secrets, trying to figure out exactly what it did other than make Kara sweat profusely when she was within ten feet of it.

“I don’t feel sick. What’s the big deal?”

“Red Kryptonite didn’t make you sick at first, either,” said Alex. “You’re not leaving the Tower until I’m certain you’re not going to track down Cat Grant and fling her off the nearest roof.”

Kara, seated on her hospital bed in the med bay, crossed her arms and pouted theatrically. “That was one time.”

She sounded a little brittle, probably because they didn’t talk about that. Well, they did -Kara cried for hours- but afterwards the whole thing became a sore spot and it was clear they they weren’t going to talk about it again. Alex could hear the little crack in Kara’s voice, the touch of strain that signaled how on edge she was.

“Running off and hiding won’t make it any less real, kiddo,” Alex sighed. “Once we’re sure you can go, but no Supergirl for at least a week. I don’t know if what that stuff did to you, but I don’t want to risk your powers shutting off while you’re thirty thousand feet up, or something.”

Kara huffed. Fine.

It was an abundance of caution, to be sure, but the others could pick up the slack. Kara had taken breaks before, and the world didn’t fall apart. Sometimes Alex wanted to just grab her and shake her for all the good it would do. Kara deserved some time off. She deserved to be a person too.

“What’s going on?”

Alex looked up and tried to conceal her relief as Lena walked into the room. Alex liked this new Lena a lot more, the Lena who ran a charitable foundation and didn’t straighten her hair anymore and wore hoodies most of the time. This Lena was friend-shaped, as it were, and put her at ease.

Almost.

“Kara was exposed to a new form of Kryptonite, and…”

And she was off the bed.

Kara was already on her feet. Her pupils were so dilated that her eyes were almost black, the blue almost absent. She was staring at Lena with such an intensity that Alex was afraid she was about to attack her.

Lena looked panicked, but not by the Kryptonian staring her down. “What? Where is it? I need to see it right now, what if…” Lena trailed off, her face going slack for just a moment.

Alex stared at her. What the fresh hell was this?

“Guys?” said Alex. “What’s wrong with… you…”

Kara stalked forward, walking in a hip-popping sashay that would have made a Victoria’s Secret model blush, surging into Lena’s personal space, and… sniffed.

Then sniffed again.

Kara was smelling her.

“Uh,” said Alex.

Lena looked up at her -in flat shoes she was noticeably shorter- and sniffed back. Alex’s jaw went slack.

“Okay,” said Alex. “I’m going to need one of you to explain why you’re doing… that. Like right now.”

They both ignored her. Lena slipped in close, ducking under Kara’s chin, and sniffed at her again. It looked quite a bit like she was about to press her mouth to Kara’s throat, which was both shocking and… seriously, five fucking years of these idiots shooting and missing was bad enough, but right in front of her?

“Hey,” Alex said, taking a step towards the door. “Uh, we good?”

Kara wrapped Lena up in her powerful arms and nuzzled her nose into Lena’s hair, her chest thrumming with a loud purring sound.

“I’m in the room,” Alex deadpanned.

“Alex,” Brainy called, rushing up the hall.

A powerful… scent, or maybe an odor, washed over Alex and she nearly gagged. Whatever it was, it was making Lena try to climb Kara like a tree. The moment Lena popped one of the snaps on Kara’s cape and it fell halfway off her back, Alex bolted for the door and yanked it shut behind her as she stumbled into the hallway.

Brainy was outside, snd Nia was with him.

“Alex, I have good news. The radiation from the lavender Kryptonite sample appears to be entirely benign, although curiously it seems to have activated some anatomical peculiarities that appear to be, so to speak, left over from the evolutionary ancestors of Kryptonians.”

Alex groaned. “Such as?”

“Scent glands, and a peculiar ability to-“

“Guys,” said Nia. “What is that noise?”

Brainy paused, focusing. “I believe that Lena just addressed Kara as…”

“Did she say ‘daddy’?” said Nia.

“Shut up!” Alex barked, slapping her hands over her ears. “I am not hearing this, tralalalalalalala I’m going to the bar!”

“Yeah, I’m coming too,” said Nia.

Brainy turned, listening.

“Evidently, so is Lena.”

“I hate my life” Alex muttered.

[papaya-twinks]

omgomgomg you asked for more perv!lando ideas and omg imagine she riding a cute little plushie he got her and making it all dirty bc it felt so good but she didn’t know why🥺 and he’s so smug/proud and asks her to show him/do it again ahdhdjjeejenw

Warnings: smut, 18+, innocent!reader

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

You were lying on the bed, scrolling aimlessly through the instagram, the large, strawberry pink teddy bear Lando had bought you beside you. It was about the size of your torso, warm and plush. Lando had given it to you as gift, for nothing in particular, but because he knew you’d like the bows and the baby pink colour. 

Whilst you scrolled, the bear slipped down along the bed, eventually landing with its fluffy body against your stomach. You didn’t notice or do anything as you watched the videos, lying on your stomach, slightly to the side. You huffed softly, adjusting your position as a gasp left your throat, the bear’s leg brushing against your core. So maybe you were ovulating. 

Not your period just yet, but you were sensitive, and the bear against your body was adding to the frustration. You didn’t usually have sex, in fact, you’d had it once or twice, and masturbating wasn’t your cliche either, but right now no one would know, anyways. You chewed on your lip slightly as you rolled your hips against the bear, trying to ignore the guilt of it. Lando had got it for you as a present.

It felt good, though. And, almost as if the timing was personal and purposeful, the doorbell rang. The sound made you squeak, eyes wide as you scrambled off the plushie, running to open the door. “Lando, hi,” you said, cheeks still bright red from moments ago as you scratched your neck. 

“You…good?” he raised an eyebrow at your flustered state, walking into your apartment like it was second nature. “Yeah, fine,” you said breathily, rubbing your arm as you followed him upstairs. Shit. “That’s the plush I got you,” he grinned, not quite noticing the…wet patch on the leg of it. “Y/N,” he raised an eyebrow, seeing the spot as you blushed. 

“So…you were having fun, then?” he turned to you, your cheeks on fire now. “I…” you trailed off, unsure what to say. “Show me,” Lando’s voice was demanding in some ways as he tilting your chin up, eyes on you. “Go on,”. He pushed you a little closer to the plushie, your eyes wide. Lando had been your best friend for years, and you’d do anything for him. 

“Okay,” you mumbled, eyes wide as he lifted you up by your waist, placing you onto the plushie. His eyes were trained on your skirt as you moved slowly across the plushie, your eyes rolling slightly. “Quicker,” he said, his voice laboured slightly as his shorts a bit. You did what Lando told you,moving quicker as his hands came to his clothes. 

Your eyes widened as he pulled his shorts down, his cock springing hard against his abdomen, his hand pumping his length slowly as he walked towards you. Your body was moving against the bear, your core feeling like heaven as Lando stood in front of you, his hand caressing the back of your head. 

You turned your head up to face him as he pressed his thumb to the corner of your lip. Instinctively, you opened your mouth, letting him dip his finger inside, your tongue immediately welcoming him as he pressed to the roof of your mouth, his other hand stroking his member. 

He moved his finger out of your mouth, your body still rocking against the bear as Lando tapped his cock to your cheek, your lips parting obediently. He grinned at your reaction, sliding the tip of his cock into your mouth. Yes, he was your best friend, but somehow, it didn’t feel…wrong. Your eyes widened as he pressed his tip against the back of your throat, gagging slightly round him. 

He pulled you off of him gently, his finger tapping your cheek again before he pushed in, slowly moving his hips in and out of your mouth, your hand moving off of the bear to the base of his cock, holding the parts you couldn’t reach. You felt the knot tighten in your stomach as you stopped rolling against the bear, bouncing instead. 

Lando’s cheeks were flushed red as you bobbed your head up and down his length, a groan leaving his lips as you felt him coming to his high too. Your eyes widened as he held your head still, his cum shooting in thick ropes down your throat, warm and sticky. You coughed a few times as he pulled you off gently, a small wet patch against the bear’s leg. 

“Someone had fun,” he commented, his hands tangling in your hair as he pressed a kiss to your head. 

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — it's getting harder to hold off on bakugou or based on this excerpt

࿄ ! warnings - corruption? fingering. nsfw. / note. this was very highly anticpated lol :} ty guys! minors& blank blogs dni.

you’ve never really enjoyed sex. while that’s not really taboo to say as a woman (considering the vast & massive orgasm gap) you think you might as well give up at this point.

most guys that you’ve met are selfish and egotistical, in nature and in sexual prospects. they overrate their sexual experience, licking at a nipple slightly before plunging into your walls without a care for any telltale signs of arousal. was sex supposed to be painful and dry? either way, you were not interested in trying to disprove that hypothesis anymore. swearing to abstinence made more sense than try to fuck your way through a dry spell. nuh uh. never again.

when you start dating katsuki, you realise you can’t hold off on not doing the deed any longer. your boyfriend is an attractive, adonis of a man and the sexual tension is through the high angled roof of his penthouse whenever you come over to his place.

however it becomes every time, every single time, in which you deny his advances, push away at the brush of his pouty lips against your jaw, wriggling away from his fingers dipping into the waistband of your pants, cutting off every passionate kiss with a pull of your teeth despite the damp spot that grows on your cotton panties. katsuki paid no mind to it at the beginning of your relationship; chalking it up to jitters and shyness.

but it gets to when you’re both in his bed together and it’s currently the furthest base you both have gotten to in regards to sexual endeavours. katsuki’s tongue delves deeper into your mouth and he uses an arm to wrap a leg around his waist. it’s only then when the gravity of the situation hits you. you panic and katsuki can feel you stiffening up.

katsuki pulls apart from the kiss and the hurt of the constant rejections is apparent through the furrow of his gold blond brows and the slight, dejected frown stretched across his lips.

“i get it,” katsuki huffs, breaking apart from your hold to get up and leave.

you panic again, and this time your heart sinks at the thought of katsuki leaving because of your constant shot downs and you sit up to pull him back down but the man is fast and he’s practically hulk so you decide on running in front of him to stop him.

you know you should’ve explained this to him before to prevent all of this stupid confusion but it’s embarrassing; the idea that you’ve never gotten off through sex even though you’re the furthest thing from a virgin. and even if you told him this half baked story, what would change? would he be any different from the others?

looking up at the red irises that bore into you so deeply and expectantly, you sigh. you finally tell him why you’ve been so avoidant to his advances with an indignant, worried wave of your hands, “it’s not you, it’s me”, and ,“i’ve never orgasmed through penetrative stimulation.”

katsuki raises a brow and you have to cover your face to hide the blooming pink spreading across your face when you tell him that “sex has just never been enjoyable for me… ‘m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

much to your surprise, you feel two hands pull at your waist before pulling your hands down off your face and the blond above you is smirking, so deliciously that your thighs subconsciously rub against it each other to prevent the ache that’s growing between them.

it’s also how you found yourself sat opposite his bedroom mirror, leaning against his bed with spread legs and with your back pressed against katsuki’s bare chest and your hands resting on his muscled forearms. all of your clothes are somewhere strewn across his bedroom - honestly, you can’t even care to remember, with the way your boyfriend has two fingers angled and dipped inside your dripping cunt.

it’s so noisy and so wet, and you should be flustered by it but with every squelch of his fingers dragging along the walls of your pussy, he brushes against that soft, cakey spot inside you and you’re already spasming. is this the third? the fourth? you don’t know how many times you’ve creamed all over his thick fingers and you can’t bring yourself to even look at the mess you’re definitely making.

but you can hear, no, feel how turned on katsuki is behind you. to think he’s the first man to ever make you feel this good, to make you orgasm so many times that you’re delirious with pleasure? he was going to ruin you so that whenever you were out and about without him, you’d think of him pressing his thumb languidly against your clit while he added another finger to stretch you out, to barrage an attack against the gooey spot inside your cunt until you couldn’t take it anymore.

katsuki drags his thumb off your clit to pinch at your nipple and to grab softly at your jaw so that you could see what he was doing to you in the mirror. the constant ministrations already have you hurtling towards another climax, if the erratic movements and heady gush of your cunt had anything to tell him.

“jus’ like that, princess,” he coos, “how about one more f’me? then i’ll give you my cock. how’s that sound, pretty girl?”

your bleary, wet eyes blink up at him and you weakly nod, as if you’re in a trance and katsuki chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before moving his fingers again.

he really was going to be the death of you.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Dinner Time

Summary: Reader makes Spencer his first homemade dinner after getting out of prison, and they both realize he's got some adjusting to do.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content warnings: Eating, mentions of weight loss, hurt Spencer, ambiguous ending

Word count: 1k

Spencer sat at the small table in your kitchen. You set it up with funky-patterned napkins, an extra big spoon, and a used candle lit in the middle; the whole shebang. You prepared his serving of your vegetable soup, the meal he requested to celebrate his arrival home. “Are you comfortable?” You ask as you hover over the stove.

He nods and picks up his napkin, observing the pattern and weight. “Where did you get these?”

“Your mom found them when we were shopping. She said they reminded her of your socks. Isn’t that sweet?”

He blew air through his nose before saying “Wow.” He rubbed his thumb along it, following the vivid stripes. You didn’t want to tell him how she teared up when she spotted them. How she held the set close to her chest made you feel sorry that she remembered without help.

“She took it as a sign you were coming home.” Half true. More like you convinced her it was. She asked you to buy them for that reason, to celebrate. “And now here we are.” You beamed as you say the words.

“That’s wonderful.” He looked up at you and smiled. You saw it in your peripheral as you opened a pack of oyster crackers. You knew he wanted to thank you for making time for her. He wanted to, but you insisted the thank yous were enough after he said it the fifth time in 24 hours. You flashed him a brief grin as a muted response, and he appreciated it.

“Alright,” You held the bowl carefully, mistakenly filling it to the brim. Due to the sheer joy of having him home, safe, and innocent (in the eyes of the law), you almost didn’t notice he had lost weight. The first time you saw his spine after getting out of the shower, you didn't even think it was possible for him. “Extra potatoes, per your request, mon amour.” You emphasize your terrible French accent which makes him chuckle.

“Merci, mon amour.” His flawless accent almost ruined the joke.

“Okay, show off, so happy you're home.” You sneered, and his smile was even wider. You grab your own bowl and sit by his side. His elbows somehow naturally find their way to the table, boxing in his soup like he was cornering prey. Spoon in hand, he dipped in the hefty bowl. Then he shoveled in some of those extra potato chunks with some tomato-y broth. Hungry, you thought, as he leaned over the bowl, steam gliding over his rough stubble. He took a second and third bite, despite his mouth being nearly stuffed.

You didn’t say anything at first. You didn’t want to imagine the food he had to eat or meals he might have skipped because of poor quality (or other reasons). As he chewed hastily, for a moment, it gave you hope he'd gain weight quickly.

But then he reached out for his water to drink like he needed to soothe something too spicy.

Or something too hot.

“Honey?”

Bite four, five, and six. He chewed.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?” Bite seven, eight —

You put a hand on his arm and Spencer’s head immediately turned to you. It made you pull back, not touch him. His face was red and his mouth hung open, similar to a dog sticking its tongue out to cool off. “Spencer. You can let it cool.”

He swallowed, not chewing enough, and it pained him. “I can’t. I want to finish before bed.” His tongue barely touched the roof of his mouth as he spoke.

“Are you that tired?”

“No.” His eyebrows furrowed at the question, looking just as confused as you. “We only have 30 minutes for dinn—” And somehow his face of realization was even more upsetting to witness. There's a silence, brief but heavy as his whole face fell and he covered his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry.” He sniffles.

“It’s not your fault.”

"I'll… take my time." He leans on his elbow and looks down at his meal, staring, waiting for the steam to stop. It was seconds later that his eyes were lined with tears again.

You were afraid to ask the question. “How’s your mouth?”

“It hurts.” He bites his lip as tears trickle.

You drop your spoon and scoot your chair closer to his. You ask him to sit up straight and drink water. Once he’s done that, drinking as much (or as little) as he can tolerate, you gently press his face into your shoulder. Tears collect on your skin, but you keep him close and encourage him to let it out.

And he does. His chest caves with every sob he's locked away for two months. His arms wrap around your waist, the first time he's touched you since he’s been home, apart from the delightfully suffocating hug you trapped each other in when he was released. And for a moment, you’re hit with the reality that the Spencer you’re holding has changed. His survival instincts are still active, you're just now noticing it.

You still hold him as he heaves. You rub his back to let him know you’re still here, but you stare at the blank wall in front of you. Your head is spinning, running through therapists to call and books to read that could help you. To help Spencer. Because that’s what he needs.

Spencer pulls away for a minute to look over his soup.

“It’s still there.” You say, and wipe his tears with your thumbs. “No one’s taking it, I promise.”

“It’s going to get cold.”

“I’ll heat it up again, don’t worry.”

Spencer looks down at you as you hold his face. The dark circles around his reddened eyes were prominent, and you brushed the mess of curls off his forehead. Tiredness isn’t enough. He’s scared. From what he’s seen or become, you don’t know. But his stubble pokes your skin and you realize that you don’t know what to do. As you look at the man you love, you wonder how much you can do to help. You hope you can help.

[vapekingg]

eddie munson x fem!reader

It’s like a fucking skin flick, the scene that you and Eddie create on rainy nights spent in the back of his van.

Windows fogged up, water beating down on the roof above you, Joan Jett playing quietly from the radio up front. Eddie’s all touch on nights like this. All heavy breaths and body language.

He’s long peeled off his clothes, every last article, along with yours, and settled between your thighs. Eddie’s forehead rests at the curve of your shoulder, breath heating your already sweat-slicked skin as his hands explore every inch. He acts like it’s his first time every time, and it never gets fucking old.

“Like that, Eds…” Your nails glide along his bare back, fingers dancing over his flexing muscles like the keys of a piano.

Eddie loves when you talk to him. His hips stutter when you moan his name, forearm bracing his body above yours as he lifts himself up. Not much, just enough for him to pull his lips to yours.

His plush, pillowy lips open against your own, tongues finding each other like moths in the night. Cigarettes, weed, and cherry licorice linger on his mouth. It’s your favorite taste because it’s uniquely him.

Eddie cradles your face in his wide hand as he kisses you, his free palm tracing down your soft body until he reaches your thigh. He wants you closer, wants to be deeper, so he pulls your knee over his hip and slots himself there. His throbbing cock nestling against the back of your cunt, massaging that spot that turns your brain right off.

A slew of curses are muffled by his mouth, and you feel his proud smile grow against your lips.

“That good, baby?” He breathes into you.

It barely registers—his words—but when they do, you know what he needs. Eddie pulls his hips back and fucks into you a single hard, unforgiving time, arching your back off of the makeshift bed.

“Tell me it’s good,” he continues, voice strangled and desperate.

And fuck, is it good. Eddie’s narrow waist fits perfectly between your thighs. He never lets you go without, never allows you to feel unsatisfied even for a second. You were made for each other, combined at the rib for at least these sacred moments.

“So fucking good, Eddie…” your labored words are swallowed by his lips, another snap of his hips against yours.

Eddie moves his hand down your body, cradling your hips in his palms and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. He knows you, better yet, he knows what he’s doing to you. The knot that’s been tightening in your abdomen pulls itself again with each rut, each whimper, every nudge of his veins against your slick walls.

A clap of thunder follows a flash of lightening, and his face is illuminated above you. Bangs dripping with sweat, messy curls tied up into a knot at the back of his head or tucked behind his ears. His cheeks are flushed and mouth ajar, eyes heavy and half lidded.

“Wanna fuck you out here all night,” he sighs, mouth no longer moving with accord from his brain. Eddie lowers his lips to the shell of your ear and breathes.

“Make your folks worry their ass off. They’ll have Hops banging down my uncle’s door by morning, and you’ll still be here coming undone for me.”

You begin to move as one, your hips rolling up to meet his with every downward thrust. It’s frantic, uncalculated and messy. The van around you moves in rhythm with your lovemaking, jarring forward and then sinking back against its tires. It’s all closing in, the walls inside your mind inching closer and closer together as something magnificent builds. If Jim’s red and blue lights were to ruin things now, it might just be catastrophic.

“Need you to give it to me, baby.” Eddie rasps, lips sliding over your collar, chest pressed against yours.

And you’re going to. Every time your eyes flutter open, glitter decorates the corner of your vision. You’re right there, just on the edge of oblivion —

— Until he pushes you over.

With the slightest nudge of his hips, Eddie slots himself against your g-spot. He grinds his waist against your core, pressing himself against your clit and sinking his teeth into your flesh. You feel the heat. Your own body warming beneath him, Eddie’s cum spilling inside of you. His hips stuttered and you’re deaf to the obscenities spilling from your own mouth. All you can hear are his.

All the pet names. All the praise. The whimpering and begging for you to take it all. You’ll take it all for him. You always do.

The come down isn’t as quick.

Eddie’s body heaves atop yours as your mind falls back into place. You’re buzzing, every atom in your body vibrating on a microscopic level.

“I think the rain’s stopped, Eds.” You whisper, but Eddie’s already made himself comfortable with his arms locked around your waist and his head on your chest.

“I’ll drive us back to mine in a minute,” he whispers.

“No, Eddie.” You laugh, fingers combing through his damp locks. “I need to go home, I have a curfew.”

Suddenly, you can breathe. Eddie lifts himself off of you and leans over the front seat, light from the radio illuminating his pretty face.

“Curfew was twenty minutes ago, princess.” He smiles while leaning down again.

If you’re already late, might as well make it count. Right?

[highonakuweeds]

Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness?

Sylus/right hand man!reader Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | ao3

SUMMARY:

You'd been down on your luck for the past few years, scavenging for food no matter how disgusting it was. Anything to keep you alive, right?

That is until you bump into the leader of Onichynus, whose interest piqued due to the odd glow under the skin of your inner wrist, allowing you access to information within a single glance. In exchange for you to be his right hand man, his informant, you'll live under his roof.

ao3

“So, what do you say?” That low honey of a voice echoed in your mind as your jaw clenched, eyes darting around to assess the situation. Your health was as low as your wealth at that moment; you could not spare another day on the streets, else you might fall. Literally.

You glanced at the inside of your wrist, where a small spot in it, right above your pulse, glowed a soft red. Hesitantly, you looked back up at the leader of Onichynus, whose smirk never left him. “I just have to be your… your what— secretary, basically?”

He shrugged, and you envied the nonchalance present in every action he did. “If that’s what you want to call it, then by all means, kitten, yes. My secretary.”

You cringed at the nickname before deeply sighing, shoulders dropping as you lazily brought your right hand up, and the leader of Onichynus eyed your glowing wrist. “Alright then,” you finally said, smiling awkwardly as he grinned, shaking your hand firmly. “But don’t call me kitten.”

Sylus just laughed. “Okay, sweetie.”

“(Name) is just fine.”

“What about (Nickname)?”

You pondered over it, hand still gripping his. It didn’t sound that bad, and no one’s really called you that before. You nodded, shaking his hand once more. “Deal.”

----

If you think that the leader of Onichynus is a mystery, his right hand man is tenfold.

Always in the shadows yet never leaving their master’s side; that’s what others had usually taken note of. To conceal their identity, they wear a dark hood that covers half their face, only revealing a small upturn of their lips if you were truthful or worthy of their master’s attention or a slight frown if they realized you just tried to fool the leader of Onichynus. 

In fact, there would be times wherein he would visibly show care about the verdict of his right hand man. Just a simple shake of their head would send you begging and sobbing for mercy. Some had never even seen the light of day ever again.

Who this person actually was, no one knew. There were no discernable features about them except for one thing: a soft glow that despite the many layers of bandages tried to hide never actually shrouded its light on their right wrist. It would flicker and dim, yet in some cases pulse and glimmer. Was it a protocore imbued in their body? Or was it something else?

Many who lived to tell the tale of meeting the leader knew of his two henchmen, kept always close by their side, but not them. Never their right hand man.

You physically cringed and recoiled at the use of the word ‘master’ before removing your gaze at what Tara was reading from her phone. “That sounds so—”

“Cool? Intriguing?” Tara butted in, eyes gleaming at the sudden introduction to a new figure in the N109 Zone. You deadpanned, leaning down to swipe away from the app she was reading it from. She pouted at you before setting her phone down as you spoke. “No,” you countered. “Edgy.”

Tara’s shoulders slumped at your words. “It is not! This may be new information! Not many people talk about the N109 Zone, you know.” As you rolled your eyes at that statement, ready to refute her, she interrupted you before you even opened your mouth. “And besides, people are going crazy over this. See?”

She opened her phone once more to show you the comments of the post she read the excerpt from. Your lips curled in disgust as you read each one. 

“dont u think thats lowkey really hot” “wait whys that kinda…” “the hood stays on.” “how come we’ve never seen them before?” 

You snorted at the last one. At least they had common sense. “I don’t get the hype. It’s either a myth, or someone just trying to do their job.” You clasped your hands, startling Tara. “Which is what we should be doing right now! Isn’t that right, Tara? Don’t you have a bit of paperwork that you’ve been holding off on?”

She grunted, clearly stunned. “Wait, how’d you know that—”

“I’m off to do mine then! Toodle-loo!” You exclaimed, already halfway to your desk. When your face was finally out of your friend’s vision, you grimaced, a whine coming out of you. Who had the audacity to put that up on social media? You’ll have to ask Sylus to take it down later.

—--

“Okay so,” you started, tapping the inside of your right wrist, a 3D diagram of a tall building appearing. “The auction, as you know, starts in 3 hours. Many of the underground’s elite are joining, and so are some people who got introduced to events like this via the Nest. There will be new faces so I am begging you, please keep your sassiness to yourself for just one day. I know it’ll be hard, but I promise you it’ll be harder if you just have extra nuisances. Oh, and by the way—”

“(Nickname),” his voice snapped you out of your rambling. “I think I’ll be fine.”

You whipped your head at him before scoffing, shrugging as you tapped your wrist again, removing the diagram. “Suit yourself.” As you sat down on the edge of Sylus’ bed (with that, you earned a slight raise of a brow from him, whose back was leaned on the bed’s headrest), you clicked your tongue. “And just so you know, there is a theme to this, so I’d rather you go with cool colors instead of your normal red—”

“Thank you, my right hand man, but I’m afraid I’m sticking with red,” your boss plainly interrupted, irking you. What irritated you even more was the use of your title. You hated being called Sylus’ “right hand man” despite it being true. 

You pursed your lips, nodding stiffly. “Right, about that whole ‘right hand man’ thing, there’s this post that’s been blowing up on social media about me, and it’s making me sound way worse than I am. Could you have it taken down?”

Sylus smirked, tilting his head ever so slightly before picking his phone up from the nightstand. After a quick while, he lazily showed you the exact post. “Is it this one?”

A sigh of relief escaped you as you nodded, lips curled up. That is until you realized he was the one that posted it in the first place. Your shoulders slumped as you quickly attacked him, trying to grab the phone from him as he reached it up. 

You heard a small grunt coming out of him when his back harshly hit the headboard, but you couldn’t care less. “Take it down!” You exclaimed, kneeling on his thighs to reach higher. Sylus swiftly brought it down, however, grinning when he saw the annoyance drawn all over your face. “And why should I? It gives you good face.”

“But it paints the wrong picture of me!” You whined, stooping down to grab his wrist. A shine of victory sparkled on your face when you did, but he only raised his brows, merely allowing you to do so. He’s going easy on you. “There are people thirsting over me!” 

At that, Sylus barked out laughter, ripping his wrist away from your grip. “There are? I haven’t checked the comments yet.” 

Suddenly, a wash of horror swept through you, and your efforts to catch the phone doubled. “Wait no, don’t—”

“‘Is this what the dark romance girlies were looking for?’” He read out, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face. He switched his phone to the other hand as you tried to grab it, but to no avail. “‘Why have the leader when you can have the right hand man?’ Okay, ouch.” Sylus sarcastically remarked, and you winced at the comments. “Enough, Sylus!”

“You should be flattered, (Nickname),” he said, causing you to stop in your antics. “It’s annoying. Now, take it down—”

You yelped the moment you felt his free hand on your chest, flipping your positions with ease. Jaw clenched, you glared at him, trying to pry off his hand. “How about this?” Sylus negotiated. “I’ll take the post down,” with that, you exhaled, a weight suddenly lifted from your shoulders. “If you go to the auction with me tonight.”

…what.

You scoffed as you stared at him, brows scrunching up. “I’ve never been to an auction with you before.”

“You have—”

“Not in person! I was always just a little crow pin on your coat.” You argued, sitting up on Sylus’ bed as he got off on top of you, rolling his eyes at your words. “What’s the difference?”

You blinked at him, scoffing incredulously. “‘What’s the difference?’ What’s the difference? The difference is that I actually have to talk to the damn people! And they’re gonna go all crazy because, ‘ooh, the leader of Onichynus has a new woman on his arm’!” 

He chuckled at your imagination and anxieties, standing up to go fix himself. “Alright then, the post stays up—”

“Wait!” You stopped, a hand out. Sylus looked at you expectantly, as if he already knew what your answer would be. You felt your eye twitch at his expression, and he just “innocently” smiled at it, though there was barely anything innocent about him. You sighed, posture slouching in defeat. “Fine. I’ll go with you,” you mumbled.

A smile of victory that was supposed to be on your face appeared on your boss’. “Perfect. The dress is already in your closet.”

Your face slowly contorted as you processed his words. ‘The dress’? Just as he was about to enter his bathroom to freshen up, you straightened your back on his bed. “What dress? Were you anticipating this?”

No response came from him except for low laughter, mocking you as you grumbled your way out of his room. 

Your boss is going to be the death of you, you swear.

—--

As you walked the long hallway and took a sharp turn to your right to go to your room, you took a deep breath. This is going to be your first time actually showing yourself in public without any disguise, without any cover, ever since you decided to work under Sylus a couple years ago. Sure you knew a bit of social etiquette in terms of formal settings and such, but those were all from books; you never inclined yourself to actually join Sylus in any of them. From what you’ve heard from him, they were usually boring, where the filthy rich conversed whilst participating in illegal activities. And though the filthy rich part caught your attention, the “boring” did not. Nor did the illegal activities. You didn’t give a rat’s ass about what Sylus or people like him did behind the law’s back, but you were still technically a hunter. If word spreads that someone from Linkon City’s handful of heroes is engaging in sketchy weapon trading, then you would be utterly screwed.

You opened the door to your room with a sigh, though whether it was one of relaxation at the sight of your luxurious suite-like room, or one of frustration at how Sylus practically forced you to join him, you weren’t quite sure. Nevertheless, you bee-lined straight towards your walk-in closet, an addition Sylus willingly placed in your contract a week or so after when he realized just how material-oriented you were. 

Ah, right, Sylus loved spoiling you.

You could prove that fact by glancing at your wardrobe. It was certainly way bigger than the room you lived in (stolen) before working as Sylus’ right hand man. Lit up with warm pin lights outlining the perimeter on the top and on the bottom, clothes and jewelry alike made the room look like Heaven. And you would constantly ask yourself if this was Heaven, indeed. To your left were the fancier types of clothing, perfectly tailored to fit your measurements, and to the right were the clothes you would wear for day-to-day (designer, of course. Wouldn’t want Sylus’ money to go to waste). In the middle was a glass island with jewelry that cost more than a fortune, and probably more than your life. It gleamed horribly bright due to the mix of metals and gems. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, you could probably name it all. Though you preferred some over others, a little bit of everything didn’t hurt anyone, right? Certainly not Sylus’ wallet.

You would’ve felt bad for buying more than half of what you have in your closet using Sylus’ money, but his closet cost more than yours ever could. And every time you’d borrow his sweet little black card to go shopping, he never said a word, just a single turn of his lips of approval as you skipped your way towards the most expensive shops you knew. And a good chunk of your belongings were gifts from him, too —”as a token of gratitude”, he’d always say (you never believed him)— so you knew that he didn’t care.

Whether you liked the idea of it or not, you had agreed to become his right hand woman —his secretary, even— so you couldn’t really complain when people called you that (despite not knowing who you really are). Plus, the job came with benefits, so might as well suck it up. 

One thing caught your eye, though, and that was a box on top of a cushioned chair in the corner of the closet. It was beige with a silver ribbon tied on the top, a deep contrast to the darker palette of your room. Stealthily, you walked towards it, brow raised, before your entire body relaxed when you noticed the familiar handwriting on a simple yet sophisticated card on top of it. Only thing written on it was, “wear this.”

You pursed your lips as you rolled your eyes, opening the box without any hesitation. And to say you were impressed at Sylus’ ability to constantly not follow rules he didn’t want to follow would be an understatement.

You scoffed as you brought the beautiful dress out of its cage. This edgelord decided to gift you with a wondrous deep red silk dress, its sweetheart neckline low enough to entice but not low enough to seduce. It accommodated for its lack of fabric in the higher chest area with puffy sleeves that you assumed were off the shoulder, catching the warm light in smooth lines. You brought it out fully, placing it against yourself and relishing at how it looked in the full-length mirror. Bottom-wise, it covered just about everything except for a rather daring slit that ended somewhere around your high thigh. Who did he think you were, a stripper? 

…Well if the money called for it—

You shook your head, carefully draping the dress on the matching chair on the other corner to freshen yourself up. You couldn’t wait to try it on. 

—--

You let out an exhale when the last curl fell from the iron, the heat kissing your bare skin. You hissed at it but solved the problem by brushing it away from your neck. Your eyes trailed towards the faint glow on your right wrist, then the golden jewelry on your vanity table, then at yourself. Hesitance was written all over your features, eyes not leaving yours in the mirror as you place a rather glimmery bracelet on to cover your wrist. You always thought the shinier something is, the more the glow would dim. Would camouflage. 

What snapped you out of your thoughts were a familiar pair of hands gently grabbing the dainty necklace right in front of you, and clasping it around your neck. Your gaze left your own to lock with his, though his eyes were focused more on your hair (or neck?) than on you. 

It wasn’t long after that that he looked back at you with an amused turn of lips. “Are you ready?” His voice reverberated in your head, as it had been a good hour or two without the presence of one, the only thing your ears had been hearing up until his entrance being simple jazz instrumentals from your bedroom.

You glanced at your feet, which were currently bare, before shaking your head. “Give me a minute—”

But before you could even do anything, Sylus knelt down, picking up one red-bottomed stiletto from the pair and slipping it on your foot with ease. To a normal person, that would’ve certainly given them a scary amount of butterflies, having a man on his knees, practically serving you by being the one to put on your shoes for you. However, your boss had done this multiple times in the past. So many times that you’d grown accustomed to it. 

“These heels aren’t that bad, (Nickname), why don’t you use them more often?” He commented, placing the other one on your other foot. You snorted, an opposition to your current elegant figure. “I barely go out. What, you want me to wear these when I’m hunting wanderers or just in the house?”

Sylus shrugged, standing up. He placed a hand on his hip as you stood up as well. Despite you wearing a good couple inches worth of heels, he towered over you somehow. “Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Let’s just go.” 

—--

The moment Sylus stepped into the room, everyone’s eyes were on him. Or rather the pretty little thing linked on his arm.

Sylus’ expression remained that of indifference as he practically pranced around, and most people would assume he was showing you off. You’ve known him for long enough, though; you knew he wasn’t trying to. In fact, you assumed it was probably your stance.

Chin held up high, eyes sharply scanning the area through lazily held up eyelids, chest puffed out, shoulders pulled back, and stride confidently pompous. You were a new figure. Sure, your attitude was something the people inside of the building had seen one too many times; your position, however, was not. 

Who was this new woman beside Sylus, the leader of Onichynus? And why has she just popped up now, out of the blue? 

After a couple beats of silence, whispers erupted all around the two now most important figures of the event. And with that, a small smile ghosted on your lips. One that Sylus noticed.

“Enjoying the attention, I see,” he whispered, quiet enough for only you to hear. “Have I not been giving you enough?”

“Careful there,” you responded through a forced smile, eye twitching. “People might hear you acting like something comparable to a partner. Then I’d have a whole nother problem to deal with”

Sylus just laughed at your statement, unlinking your arms. You glanced at him, confusion clear in your expression. He leaned down, almost as if he was bowing, and you thought that that was exactly what he was about to do… until you noticed a very familiar card slotted between his pointer and middle finger.

Your eyes visibly gleamed at the sight as you gasped. “Really?”

He just shrugged, lips almost forming a pout as he straightened his posture. “Of course, if you don’t want it—”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you, Sylus?” You excitedly said, snatching the black card with the same amount of enthusiasm. He watched you memorize the numbers engraved on it (though he knew you had it burned in your retinas) with a chuckle. “Now, who sounds like a partner between the two of us?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled before changing your entire demeanor. Frankly, it was times like this that slightly intimidated Sylus, how money and wealth could easily change your mood. “I mean, thank you so much! I’ll see you in 30?”

He just nodded, amusement clear on his features. “You’ll see me in 30.”

And with that, you grinned, practically jumping in delight before bee-lining towards a protocore which glowed a beautiful pink, near nude, color. You were drawn to it from the very beginning, but didn’t want Sylus to see just how much you wanted it.

You glanced at the glow of your wrist, which was covered up by black lace gloves to avoid suspicion. It flickered softly underneath its cage, so quickly that the pulses between each flicker of light seemingly disappeared. You braced yourself, crossing your arms tightly to ground you to reality. Whenever you’d find a protocore this powerful, its memories, the things it sees, reels you in so hard, you would faint. Sylus had never seen that part of you before, though your first encounter with him was close. 

Well, it happened multiple times after that, too; you weren’t quite sure why. But after a while, it was habitual for you to feel a bit nauseous around Sylus until you would no longer feel it at all. 

This protocore’s pull was faint compared to that, but it made you falter in your footing nevertheless. You shook your head, taking a deep breath before calling one of the servers nearby. “15 million for this.”

His brows furrowed deeply. “But ma’am, this is only worth 100,000—”

“Then your pricing is foolish and incompetent. When I say something is worth 15 million, then I will buy it for 15 million. Do not doubt my decisions.”

The server froze in his place, and you could’ve sworn you saw the hair on his skin stand upright at your cold words. It almost put a smile on your otherwise apathetic face.

He bowed immediately, quickly following your orders. “Yes, ma’am.”

You nodded your head mindlessly, already striding to another pull. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, cold and… nonhuman. A wanderer maybe? No, this felt different. You felt your body stop in its place, your chest heaving as you tried to gasp for breath. Wait, calm down. You could check what this was with your wrist. But wait, how come nothing was popping up? You— You needed to kill the thing behind you; you needed to—

“Are you okay, miss?” A smooth voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you whipped your head at it. You glanced at the man’s hand, which was clearly pulled back. Almost genuine concern covered his entire face, his eyes shining with care. 

You were quiet for a couple seconds before responding. “I-I’m alright, thank you.”

The man gestured one hand out, palm facing up, as if waiting for you. Reluctantly, you gave your left hand, and he slowly brought it up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. With your hand still quite close to his face, he stared at the intricate lace design of your gloves, and you felt your stomach flip. “I apologize; I did not mean to startle you. My name is Aries. I’m new here.” He admitted, his voice low enough to send your heart racing. 

You’ve never felt like this before. And it wasn’t romance you were feeling; it was something much more… forced. You held your guard up high, allowing him to treat you like this for longer. He might be a danger. 

So instead, you smiled, eyes locking with his as he stood up properly. “(Name). A pleasure to meet you, Aries. So, what brings you to a place like this?”

Aries sheepishly laughed, clearly nervous about the entire situation. You knew he fancied you, especially with the way his face was beet red. “Ah, my— my uncle encouraged me to go with him, even if I didn’t want to.”

You gasped, eyes lighting up when you finally realized that there was someone just like you here. “Me too!”

He tilted his head, brows scrunching together. “...Your… uncle dragged you here?”

A small stifle of laughter bubbled in your throat before you grinned, shaking your head. “Not my uncle. Just… a friend.”

Sylus’ eyes never left you as you strutted around the auction, most especially when he noticed you conversing with a man he had never seen before. He opened his mouth to ask you a question about him, a bit of basic information perhaps, but he immediately caught his mistake. Right. He was so used to having you by his side that he’d completely forgotten.

“I see you’re eyeing my nephew, Aries.” A man, at least a decade or two older than Sylus, approached him, his voice irritating the leader of Onichynus on the spot. He barely glanced at the shorter male, trying to figure out his name. He usually had you whisper it to him. Ugh, what was his name again? It was French for something… Chaton? Chateau? No, he just called this guy ‘castle’. It was a C- something… 

Ah, Ciel.

“Ciel,” Sylus said, boredness crystal clear in his voice. The older man laughed —a forced “rich” one, at that— before responding. “Ah, and here I thought you forgot my name. Yes, I—”

“What do you want?” Ciel flinched at the bluntness of Sylus’ tone, but answered him nevertheless. “So, what’s the deal? Who’s that pretty little minx you brought today? I’ve never seen you bring a plus one to these events before.”

Sylus’ face scrunched up slightly at Ciel’s words in disgust, but his eyes never left the conversing pair. “And why should I tell you?”

Ciel elbowed Sylus as if they were buddies, making the taller man grunt in distaste. “Oh come on, mate! Though she was so cold to everyone when she entered, she seems too bubbly to have been in the N109 Zone for a long while. Where’d you get her from, hmm?” Sylus’ brows raised slightly when Aries accidentally dropped a pen he somehow had (why the hell did he have a pen at an auction?) and you stopped him from getting it, bending down to pick it up. Your front was right in front of Sylus, which in turn meant right in front of Ciel. 

He whistled, grinning at the view you just accidentally gave him. “Now I see why you keep her around. Come on, Sy, mind letting a dear old friend borrow her for the night—”

“I’ve given you many chances to back off, mate. Too many as it seems.” Sylus’ grip on Ciel’s shoulder surprised him, and with how he winced and let out a small whimper of pain, it seemed as if Sylus was slowly getting angrier each second. “I’m being generous today, since it’s not ideal for me to get scolded as of the moment. But if you ever lay a finger on her in the future, I will make sure you never see the light of day. If she doesn’t beat me to it, that is. Understood?”

He could feel the atmosphere around them chill with Ciel’s fear as he nodded vigorously. “Y-Yes, Sy—

“Try again.”

“Yes, sir.”

—--

You sucked in a breath as you watched Ciel and Sylus converse. The moment you noticed your boss’ eyes on you, they flickered away, towards his holster. When he glanced at you again, you shook your head slowly, and you almost cracked a grin when he huffed. It was barely noticeable, but you knew that look anywhere.

Aries seemed to be looking at them, too. “Yeesh,” he grimaced. “They are not getting along.”

Your head turned to the man you had just met, and your brows scrunched in confusion. “Who?”

“Oh,” Aries nervously grinned, clearly embarrassed and ashamed. Ah, you knew already. “The one on the left, h-he’s my uncle.”

Ciel has a nephew? How come I never knew that? You faked surprise, mouth turning into an “o”. “Oh, that makes more sense. In that case, I think I’ve heard about your uncle before. He does trade in… firearms, correct?” You didn’t want to disclose your relation with Sylus yet; it might backfire on you in the long run.

Aries’ eyes lit up at the mention of “firearms”. “Yes! His newest model was actually one of his best works if I do say so myself. Though I might be a bit biased if I say that because I made the blueprint—” He cut himself off, hand to his mouth. “I was rambling, wasn’t I?”

You giggled at his reaction before shaking your head, playfully hitting his arm. “No, it’s fine! So you work with Ciel, then?”

“How do you know his name is Ciel?”

“I know some figures. And your uncle’s pretty famous here.” You saved, internally cursing yourself at the slip up. You glanced at Aries to see if he believed you, and with that smile on his face it seemed as if he did. Thank God.

—--

Sylus could feel his jaw tightening when he saw you practically flirting with that man. He knew how you were towards wealthy people; hell, you were like that to him a week or two after your deal with him. You were hitting that man’s arm playfully for his money. Totally.

But Sylus could give you whatever that man could possibly offer tenfold.

Wait, why did he care again? Right, he didn’t.

With Ciel finally gone, grumbling to himself as he left, Sylus was able to scan what exactly the auction was putting up for sale. Huh, just some gaudy protocores. It seems as if they finally ran out of things to sell.

His eyes went back at you, and his brows raised up in slight curiosity when you eye a protocore. Sylus watched as you walked towards it, and almost staggered on your footing. With furrowed brows, he walked towards you. Whether it was from concern or something else, he wasn’t quite sure. 

“7 million. Wrap it up.” You demanded, exuding an air of sophistication. The air around you was cold, but that was one of the things Sylus liked about you. “Just 7 million? Do you really want people thinking I’m broke around here?”

You tilted your head slightly, though your eyes never left the protocore. After a while, you shook your head. “And do you really want people thinking you don’t know how to strategize your finances? It’s only worth 7 million at max.”

He just shrugged at you. “Alright, then.”

Once you had the two protocores you needed, you took a deep breath. The tug you felt between the two was too much, and you could not extract information from them now. Plus with how weak you were beginning to feel because of having to keep up socially and physically, Sylus’ pull was getting worse by the second.

“What, tired from spending all my money?” Sylus teased, though even with his words, you could feel the soft heat radiating from his palm on the small of your back, aiding you to the car. You laughed humorlessly, not having any more energy after everything that happened today. “This isn’t even a dent in your wallet. And besides, we’ve been here for a couple hours; my social battery is dead.”

Sylus’ chuckle filled your entire brain, and it may be your exhaustion, but it left your cheeks flushed either way. “Speaking of your social life, who was that… man you were talking to?”

Oh, that left you intrigued. You smirked as he opened the door of the car for you, and you raised a brow. “Why, you jealous?” He scoffed as you sat down, and he closed the door, taking his sweet, sweet time to get to the driver’s seat. “What makes you think I’m jealous?” 

You pursed your lips as your boss started the car, tilting your head. “Maybe the fact that you asked?”

He just rolled his eyes at that, lazily removing one hand from the wheel and resting it on your seat to reverse the car. Sylus looked back, giving you a wonderful shot of his side profile. “Well,” oh dear, his voice was close to your ear. Nonchalantly, you turned to look at him. “For your information, I asked because he’s new— I’m going to assume. I hadn’t seen his face until today.”

You huffed, feeling your cheeks flush at his reversing. That’s such a weird thing to get flustered about, you thought to yourself. “Fine, then. His name is Aries, and… I don’t know anything about him.”

At your words, Sylus’ brows knit together in slight confusion and alarm in his face. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? Use your wrist.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, crossing your arms and your legs as he began to drive. “I tried, but I couldn’t. For some reason, there wasn’t any dirt I could pick up on him. Only info I know is because he told me, like how Ciel is his uncle.”

“I knew that.”

“I saw you two speaking. Had a lovely chat?”

He merely grunted as a way of saying, ‘no, what the fuck are you talking about?’ And at that, you giggled. You kept your eyes on the road, though you slowly felt your lids drooping. “Anyway, he seems… intriguing. He works with Ciel in firearms sometimes. Plus, he asked me out.”

… “He asked you out? Where? When?”

“Oh, now you really sound jealous.” You grinned, leaning onto the seat belt so that you could use it as a cradle for your cheek. “I’m not telling you; you’re going to get Mephisto to follow us. He’s cute; I’ll give him a chance. Now,” you over-exaggerated your yawn, stretching slightly in your seat. “If you don’t mind, though I don’t really care if you do, I will sleep. Very tired. Good night.”

Sylus stayed silent for a moment, and just when he was about to respond to you, you were fast asleep the moment he turned to look at you. He shouldn’t be jealous. Er, was this jealousy? Maybe it was overprotection; Sylus was never keen about sharing what was his. And technically, given how you were his right hand woman, you were his. But then again, you going out with someone shouldn’t be his business, especially if said someone could be a valuable asset to Onichynus. But it didn’t make that uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach settle.

—--

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“Uh, yeah, she is. Are- are you sure I have to do this? She seems like a nice gal.”

“Shush! If we strike a deal with Onichynus, the collaboration would give us so many benefits, my boy! And wouldn’t you like to have a pretty little something by your side at the same time?”

“...I don’t know; I thought she and the leader were—”

“She and the leader are nothing. She’s probably just some whore he took pity on. Now, don’t ever doubt this plan again, okay?”

“...”

“Aries.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

[philistiniphagottini]

To the Anon that came into my inbox the other day and suggested that Boothill had vibrating fingers. I couldn't stop thinking about it. This one's for you baby cakes <3

cw. smut, fingering (fem receiving), boothill's vibrating fingers, squirting, smidge of oral at the end, female reader, MDNI

"Holy fudge" Boothill drawled.

His words were followed by a soft whistle as he cooed your name, the soft metallic whir in his voice causing a pleasant tingle to ripple down your spine. You shivered beneath him, blood simmering hotly beneath the cold press of his metal body as he hovered over you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he watched your pussy swallow two of his fingers with rapt attention.

The tips of your ears burned red hot at the way your drooling cunt slobbered filthy around his vibrating fingers, warmth curling in the pit of your stomach as he buried his fingers all the way to the knuckle inside of you. A salacious moan bubbled up your throat as your long lashes fluttered over your burning cheeks, eyes hooded by Boothill’s favoured hat as it was pulled low over your eyes. Your thighs trembled as long wisps of his hair tickled your bare skin, goosebumps erupting along your arms despite the searing heat of your flesh. The sweat soaked bedsheets clung to your clammy skin as you pulled the material taut between your fingers, nails threatening to rip holes as the knot in your stomach twisted tighter. Your toes curled into the soles of your feet as Boothill massaged his fingers against your soused walls, your plush insides fluttering and pulsing as a third finger teased your sopping hole.

"Good girl" Boothill praised as he soothed his free hand along your hip, fingers digging into the soft pudge of your stomach as he watched your pussy struggle to take another one of his pulsing fingers. "Taking me so well, darl."

You could almost hear the neurons in his brain firing as the circuits in his inorganic body thrummed with energy, the pulsing of his fingers slowly intensifying as he poked and prodded your velvety walls until he found the blistering, gummy patch inside of you that made stars swirl in your vision. You shrieked loudly as a third finger pushed inside of you, a pleasant burn aching between your thighs as more slick dribbled from your pussy, translucent pearls staining the insides of your soft thighs as the beads of your arousal drizzled from your centre. You struggled to peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth long enough to form a coherent sentence, your head feeling dizzy as you tried to keep your eyes uncrossed and prevent them from rolling into the back of your head from the sheer bliss. You swallowed the budding saliva in your mouth, tasting the desire in the back of your throat as your bruised lips parted around his name.

"Boothill…please" you softly begged.

Your poor, neglected clit twitched and ached for attention, the heat simmering in your belly stoked into fiercer flames as Boothill pumped his thick fingers inside of you, your slippery pussy making the slide so much easier as he abused your soft spots with the tips of his fingers. A grin pulled at his lips as he flashed his pointed teeth at you, his tongue peeking out between the seam of his lips as your voice graced his ears like a chime from a shimmering bell.

"Please what, darl? Come on, use your words, pretty girl."

You almost choked on your words as the vibration of his fingers were knocked a notch higher yet again. Your heart droned in your ears like the loud beat of a drum, your pussy squelching noisily as you threw your head back with a piercing cry, your back curved into a beautiful arch as your lungs pinched in your chest. Boothill couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face as he watched your chest heave with exertion, soft tits bouncing and nipples pebbling from overstimulation. He was well aware he was being just a tad bit mean to you. But he couldn’t help it that you made the cutest little noises when you were being teased. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of your lashes as you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, teeth chewing on your lips as another wave of pleasure threatened to steal the air from your lungs.

Boothill leaned forward, fingers still plunging inside of you at an unrelenting pace as his face drew closer to yours. He flicked the rim of his hat up with his free hand, cold, robotic fingers curling around your chin and holding your face steady before your head could lull back once more. He hushed you as a small whimper crawled out of your throat, long strands of his hair spilling over your shoulders in a curtain of black and white as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

"Shh, pretty girl. I’m right here. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you."

A soft noise stirred in your chest as your hands weakly clawed at his arm, nails scratching uselessly at his steel body as you tried to hold onto the fraying edges of your sanity. The heat in your stomach was almost unbearable and you didn’t know how much more you could take as pressure built in your belly, the feeling both foreign and familiar as you twisted beneath Boothill.

"Boot…hill…I wanna- want to cum" you rasped with a breathless whimper. "Aeons above please touch my clit."

"Ohh~" Boothill cooed before he clicked his tongue. "So that’s what my girl wanted."

Whatever retort was rolling around in your mouth was immediately swallowed when Boothill pressed his thumb against the slick pearl of your clit, pressing down on the tightly packed bundle of nerves as it flushed to life. Your thighs tensed as your moans echoed around your stuffy bedroom, the tips of your fingers turning numb as the heat in your stomach started to boil. Boothill swirled his thumb around the swollen nub of your clit, rubbing it in time to the frantic pump of his fingers. The sensations of his vibrating fingers were amplified by how sensitive and wet you were, his thumb bullying your clit with unrelenting attention as your pussy squeezed around his fingers. Your shaking hips rolled into his touch as the sweltering knot inside of you frayed, Boothill’s voice tickling your ear as his tongue swiped at the perspiration clinging to your skin.

"That’s it, good girl…son of a nice lady you’re gripping me so tight. It’s okay pretty baby, I’ve got you. Just let go."

His words were the last push you needed. The burning coil in your stomach shattered into a million tiny fragments, your veins flooded with white hot euphoria that made your hips lock into place as your pussy spasmed around his fingers. You squirted on his fingers as they continued to vibrate against your pulsing walls, thin strands of translucent fluid spilling from your core. The intimate press of his thumb against your clit felt heavenly as you rode out the waves of your pleasure high, voice scratching your throat as you moaned and wailed. But the prolonged buzzing against your wet and throbbing sex was quick to overwhelm you, the vibrations amplifying your pleasure to an almost torturous degree as another wave of arousal stole the breath from your lungs. You thrashed in Boothill’s hold as your legs wound around his hips, feet kicking his sturdy back as you squawked.

"Too much!"

The vibrations ceased and a sigh of relief whistled through your teeth. Boothill removed his thumb, fingers still stuffed into the hilt inside of you as he swooped down between your thighs and replaced his thumb with his warm mouth. You sighed and mewled with bliss as his lips pressed soothing kisses to the overstimulated bud of your clit, your fingers delving through his hair as you gently pulled on the long strands. His tongue teased the hood of your clit, scooping up your slick before swallowing thickly. A pleased purr tickled his throat.

"Good girl" he praised before pressing an open mouth kiss to your messy pussy. "Damn, I could stay here all night if you’d let me."

[okiedokrie]

the prefect's bathroom

Summary: Sneaking around in the prefects bathroom with your insanely horny boyfriend

Characters/Pairing: Joshua X F!Reader

Genre: Smut, porn with a minuscule amount of plot if you squint

AU/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Hogwarts Altior!AU, Established Relationship

Word Count: 632

Warnings: Use of the nickname 'baby', praise, exhibitionism, bath pool sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, fingering, marking, overstimulation, hair pulling

Rating: 18+

A/N: Re-upload from my old blog!! I'm re-uploading my own work, I did not plagiarize. @hogwartsaltior au!!

Maybe sneaking around in the prefects bathroom wasn't the best idea you and Joshua ever had, but his long fingers rubbing your clit managed to snuff that last bit of hesitation out of you.

"Ah- Shua-" You breathe out, low and airy, his hair tickling your cheek as he sucked harsher at the skin just below your collarbone, making sure that your uniform would cover it.

"Shhh, try to keep quiet for me baby. We don't want anyone catching us here like this." He whispers into your skin, looking up to make eye-contact with the mermaid mural who looked flustered witnessing you two's actions.

The hand that wasn't prodding at your folds rested behind your head, fingers running through the roots of your hair just to grip it and give it a harsh tug, the stinging made you gasp in surprise and pleasure, Joshua using this opportunity to kiss down the valley of your breasts, moaning into your skin.

Joshua enters his fingers into your heat, the feeling of his fingers scissoring your cunt open was enough to pull a loud moan from you, the sound vibrating and echoing around the bathroom. Joshua closes his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and slightly pulling it with his teeth as his fingers start a steady pace pumping into you.

Joshua hitting the spongey part inside you was enough to almost make you forget where you were, not caring about being loud anymore. Joshua smirks at this, pulling his fingers out of you and placing his hands on the ledge of the pool, letting go of your hair, he pulls you in for a heated kiss, your arms wrap around his neck as you massage the roof of his mouth with your tongue.

Joshua grips your hips as he pushes his fat dick into you, the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out more than his fingers made you gasp and whine into his mouth, Joshua drinking up your sounds of pleasure.

"Please, please, move Shua, I need you-!" You whine into his mouth, horny out of your mind, Joshua just pecks your cheek and tightens his grip on your hips, starting a slow and steady roll of his hips.

You gasp and whine everytime his hips meet yours, the water moving is slow waves around you, occasionally splashing out. Soon, both of you get impatient, the force of Joshua's harder and faster thrusts basically pins you the the side of the pool, your nails dragging on his broad back leaving angry red lines in their wake.

You moan loudly, string of curse words and Joshua's name almost being covered by the sound of the water being disturbed so much that its splashing almost everywhere. "Shua- clit-" You gasp out, Joshua groans into your ear, fingers finding your swollen bud to rub it harshly in tandem with his powerful thrusts.

The tip of his fat cock keeps hitting your sweet-spot, your legs around his thin waist shaking with anticipation, a tight, hot coil tightens in your abdomen as both of you keep moaning in a higher and higher pitch.

"Fuck, baby I'm gonna cum, you want me to spill my load into you?" Joshua says, biting his lip after.

"Yes, Joshua, please give me all your cum-!" You moan, clenching around his cock like a vice, trying to milk him for his worth.

Both of you cum with a whine and a groan, the force of your orgasm causing you to sob out a strangled string of curse words as you feel Joshua's load filling you to the brim. Joshua takes his hand that was on your clit to feel your abdomen, he feels a bit of resistance as he smirks at the thought of it being his cum filling you good.

[ebodebo]

Red Is Dead

previous

—you find a familiar friend in an alleyway

—red hood x f!reader

—2.4k

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The rain fell gently, a soft patter that barely disturbed the stillness of the evening. The smell of damp soil and blossoming flowers filled your nostrils as you made your way home. You felt a sense of calmness wash over your body as you walked. It was honestly pretty surprising that a city as crime-ridden and lively as Gotham could invoke any serenity.

You weren't even from the city, but people talked. They criticized the city for being perilous since it was full of criminals and villains alike reaping havoc on the city every night—well, except from the looks of it, tonight.

Maybe tonight was their night off, you thought, before following with a small laugh.

You glance at Tom, your newish bodyguard, steadily walking behind you—poised as always. Your father had insisted he hire one since Gotham was unsafe, and some people would love nothing more than to see your father hurt—even if it meant going through you to do it.

Your father had insisted, more like forced, that you take him with you on your little expedition. Truthfully, you had really no idea why you had decided to leave the apartment you stayed in when you were in town and walk down the strip.

It was most likely to try to get a certain blue-eyed boy out of your head. It was odd; you couldn't get that guy out of your head since Bruce's gala. You two had slept together—on a roof. It was a one-night stand, and you couldn't forget about it. What was wrong with you?

"It's quiet," you say, trying to hide your embarrassment from laughing at seemingly nothing.

"Quite," Tom agrees. You sigh as you drudge your legs, irritated by his lack of conversion.

"Did you have to take a communication class before you got this gig?" You offhandedly ask as you walk past an apparent new burger place with a flashy sign that reads 'Between The Buns.'

"I don't believe so," he hums, not sparing the tacky sign a singular glance. You glance back at him, humming a sound of acknowledgment.

"You didn't need to trouble yourself with walking me home, Tom," you assure, stopping in front of him to admire another storefront, this time of a flower shop named 'The Flower Pot,' which is oddly next to an alleyway.

"It's my job to protect you, Miss," he informs, voice steady.

"I know, but—" you begin, turning your head to look down the alleyway, noticing a figure hunched against the shop's bricked wall, softly cursing. Your eyes widen, taking note of the reflective shiny red of his helmet that you could see even in the shitty lighting.

"What's the matter?" Tom questions, wondering what you're looking at. You spare him a glance before sprinting over to the hunched-over figure. Tom yells your name, trailing behind you.

Once you reach the figure, chest heaving, you look over the side of his abdomen, seeing blood spatters seeping through what looks like a shirt. You breathe out, hand coming to cover your mouth.

"Oh my—oh, he's, he's dead! Oh my—Tom! Tom!" You squeal, pointing at the bloodied and beaten person in front of you—that looked a helluva lot like a certain vigilante you spotted in a tabloid. Tom stepped closer to the guy, carefully observing him to see if he was in fact dead.

As he tried to reach down and grab the guy's wrist, his hand came up to grasp Tom's.

"Not dead," the guy murmured, moving his hand to hold his abdomen. "Kinda wish I was, though." Your eyes widen again, eyes scanning his helmet and the guns strapped to his thighs, and ears taking notice of the modulation of his voice.

"Hey, wait. You're that Hood guy," you announce, pointing a finger at him.

"Maybe, maybe not," the guy shrugs, clutching his side tighter, clearly trying to suppress losing any more blood.

"No, you're totally him," you tilt your head, bringing your hands to rest on your hips. "I heard about you from the Gazelle—Red Hood, right?"

"Hey, hey. Keep your voice down," the guy urged, slightly sitting up, hissing at the action. He leaned back against the wall, throwing his head back as he did. He flicked his eyes back to yours, briefly taking note of your soured expression.

"Fine. You caught me," Hood groaned, raising his hand to observe it and cursing as he saw it caked in a mix of fresh and old blood. You look at Tom before bending down, putting your body weight on your toes.

"Fuck. You need to go to the hospital," you murmur, looking into his eyes.

"No hospital," Hood's gaze flicks to yours; his tone is unmistakably serious.

"You'll bleed out and die," you attest, eyes glaring at his.

"I'm not going to a hospital," he says, turning his head away from you.

"I can't—are you serious?" You dryly laugh.

"Dead," he insists.

"Well, I'm not leaving you to die," you cross your arms over your chest, clearly not budging.

"Why? Would it hurt your feeble conscience?" He gibed, hissing as he brought his hand to grip the gash.

"I—you can't just ask me to let you die, Red," you affirm, bringing your hands to put more pressure on where blood seeps out.

"I'm not," he hisses. "I just said no hospital."

"So, then, where do you suppose we take you? You hiss, agitated at his lack of cooperation and appreciation that you didn't just leave his ass to bleed out. "That fucking burger place across the street?"

"Wouldn't chance it," he begins, wheezing as Tom picks his shirt up a little to expose the bloody gash, carefully pressing his handkerchief that was tucked nicely in his coat pocket onto it to try and stop the bleeding. "They might put me in the burgers."

"Gross," you roll your eyes at Red before turning to Tom. "What the hell are we going to do with him?" Tom takes a breath before pulling his phone out to text someone.

"No, seriously, they would put me in that meat grinder," Red deadpans.

"Shut up," you grumbled, pressing his abdomen harder. "Let me think."

"And then feed me to everyone," his voice is indifferent before it turns curious. "Wonder if I'm tasty?"

"Oh my god, you're impossible," you deeply sigh.

"The limo is pulling up," Tom supplies, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket and glancing at Red and then at you. “I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but I work for your family, so it's your call. Where do you want to take him?" Tom says coolly.

You look back at an anguished Red, silently cursing from pain. Taking a deep breath, you look at Tom, nodding towards Red.

"I'll take him to my apartment," you declare. Red lets out a dry chuckle as Tom helps him up, bringing his arm to grip Red's lower back tightly, while Red's arms drape over his shoulders.

"Woah, woah. I'm not just some stray cat you can take in cus' I'm cute," Red groggily says.

"I don't think you're cute," you plainly say as you and Tom guide him into the back of the limo. The driver holds the door open, paying no heed to what is happening.

"I actually think you're a bit of a dick," you shrug, getting him situated in his seat as you sink into the seat next to him, gently placing your hand to put more pressure on his wound.

"Do those things have to be mutually exclusive?" Red quips, tilting his head back on the headrest.

"To me, yes," you simply say, hearing Tom mutter something to the driver. "To be considered cute, you can't be a dick, and if you're a dick, you aren't cute."

"Mhm. You're an odd one, alright," Red murmurs, putting pressure on the wound himself. Your eyes flick to his as you feel his hands lay on top of yours on his abdomen, surprised to find his eyes already dulling into yours.

"You—we probably, um, we probably only need one pair of hands for pressure," you feel your face heat as you pull your hands off of him, laying them on either side of your thighs instead.

"Okay. We'll be there in fifteen," Tom says, turning to look at you and Red. He raises a brow at how you sit straight up in the seat and your hands tightly tucked to your side. You are grateful when he doesn't question why. "Also, just for the record, I had no prior knowledge of this happening. Yes?" Tom asks, tilting his head towards you.

"Got it. You don't want to be my accomplice," you amend, tipping your head towards him.

Once you reach your apartment, Tom helps you bring Red inside to rest on the couch. You assure him you will be fine. He says he is only a call away if you need anything.

You were honestly surprised that Tom willingly left, but maybe he was finally starting to see you as an adult and not a child, or perhaps he didn't want Red's blood on his hands if he did die while under your roof. You hoped the former.

"So, uh, are you thirsty?" You yell from your place in the bathroom, opening the cupboard under your sink and fumbling with the cleaning supplies to try and grab your small first aid kit. "Hungry?"

"Not really," Red gravels, pressing a button on his shiny red mask to open it before ripping it off to reveal a simple black domino mask.

"You should probably have some water at least," you say, heading into the kitchen to fill a fresh glass with tap water from your sink. You walk into the living room, gently placing the water next to him on the side table while you sit on the coffee table, shuffling through the first aid kit.

"Thanks," he gruffed, reaching for the cup of water and chugging down almost the whole glass, wiping some of the water that dripped down his chin with the back of his gloved hand.

You looked up, a hint of humor in your eyes at his chugging before you saw it. His lips. You knew those lips. You were sure of it. You fiddled with a piece of gauze you dipped in saline in your hand as your eyes examined him further.

"What?" Red curiously says, taking notice of fervent staring. You dart your eyes back to his before moving back to the gauze.

"Sorry. You—you just look a little familiar," you admit, moving closer to him. He gently lifts his shirt just high enough so you can clean the wound.

"Ya," he winces as he feels the gauze gently pat around the gash. "Knew that wouldn't last long," he utters as he rips off his black domino mask, tossing it to his side.

You are slightly startled by his swift movement, pulling back. "Wha—Jason," you exclaim, shock and disbelief coating your face. "You—you're," you stutter, unsure of what to say.

"Ya," he awkwardly says, cringing from pain as he scratches the back of his neck. "Fuck."

"Shit. Okay, okay. We need to take care of this before we dive into—you use your hand to gesture towards him—that." He lightly nods as you delicately place the gauze onto the gash.

"Fuck—fuck!" He curses, throwing his head back, jaw clenching as he grinds his teeth.

"You okay?" You halt your actions, staring at him with more gauze in hand.

"Does it look like I'm okay?" He grits, tipping his head down to look at you. Your eyes are wide at his tone. He sighs. "M'sorry. Just—just keep going," he exasperates, laying his head back down, inhaling and exhaling slowly as you finish placing the gauze and taping it thoughtfully to ensure it was secure on his skin. He pulls his shirt down almost immediately after you finish.

"It should be okay tonight, Red. But you should really get it checked out tomorrow," you begin, closing up the kit. "You know, by a doctor."

"You can," he pauses momentarily. "Just call me Jason."

"Okay, Jason," you smile a little, "Please get it checked tomorrow." He nods as you get up to put the first aid kit back in your bathroom. You come back to see him staring up at the ceiling.

"I, uh, died," he mumbles as you take a seat on the couch cushion farthest from him. You let out a laugh, turning your head to look at him. His face is still looking at the ceiling, but it lacks humor.

"What do you mean?" You question.

"Just—I don't know," he raises his hand, trying to shoo away the question. "Forget it."

"Jason," you softly say, hand lingering closer to his own. "Tell me." You bring your hand to lay on top of his; he turns towards you swiftly at the contact. You lightly smile to let him know it's okay. He takes a deep breath before revealing more.

He doesn't go into detail about what occurred during his time in Arkham, but he did talk about his resurrection from Lazarus Pit; you didn't even know what the hell that was. He just said it can revive someone from the dead if they have just died.

"Then you became Red Hood?" You quietly asked, your hand gripping his tighter. You had not even realized it, but sometime during the conversation, you had scooted closer to him.

"Then I became Red Hood," he agrees, a light glint of humor dancing across his face. You hum a sound of acknowledgment, contemplating your following words.

"Does your dad know?" You ask, tilting your head a little. He raises a brow, clearly confused.

"Does my—" he begins to question before he lets out a slight huff, "Bruce?" You nod.

"He does," Jason affirms without the sarcastic commentary he would typically enforce since you just looked so sincere.

You both sat in silence for a bit, heads leaned back on the headrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling, fingers now interlaced. Oddly, it felt so casual—like you had just done this a million times before. You had only met him once before, but you felt like you could just trust him with your life—I mean, he had trusted you with his.

"You should sleep," you break the silence, slowly turning your head to face him, cheek smushed against the leather of the couch.

"Nah. Sleep is for the weak," he mumbles, turning his head to look at you. "Would you mind just, uh, staying here?" He awkwardly asks. "Please."

"No need to beg, Jason," you snicker. "I won't leave. I promise." He slightly flinches at your words. You don't question why; instead, you interlock your fingers tighter so he knows you aren't fibbing.

You get the feeling he's never really had anyone to take much care of him. So, you'll sit on the ugly brown leather couch you despise while the air conditioning turns on, sending shivers and goosebumps down your bare arm because everyone deserves to have somebody.

Even if that 'everyone' just so happens to be a stray vigilante with a massive ego.

a/n: posting this then running away (also still very new to dc so plz don’t be mean to me about the lore if it’s inaccurate)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[darylssunshine]

A Little Bit Dangerous, But, Baby, That's How I Want It

warnings: stockholm syndrome, f in v, swearing, TWD violence

genre: smut

era: reapers

word count: 2.1k

a/n: no I don't condone actual stockholm syndrome obviously, but I am deranged and have Fantasies.

~~~

The tightness of the ropes was harsh against your wrists, the skin growing red and raw. Your ankles were bound as well, to the legs of a metal folding chair, with your hands behind your back and a rag fastened over your mouth. You moved your hands around again, trying to find a loose spot, but it was to no avail. Those ropes held you, and held you down good.

—

The Reapers had found you in the forest, scavenging for food with Maggie and Gabriel. You had gotten separated from your companions to avoid a herd of walkers, finding an abandoned cabin in the process. Musty and ever so slowly falling apart, but it had four walls, a roof, and it hid you from the dead, so you were sold. 

The herd was almost past your cabin when you saw a couple of masked figures dressed in all black stride towards your cabin, knives in hand. You quickly ducked behind a tattered recliner in the corner of the room. The sound of knives plunging into rotted flesh sounded off before one of the masked figures opened the creaky door of the cabin and entered, with the other following suit. They padded their way through the cabin, making stealthy footsteps and slamming open every door to check for scavengers.

Just as the two of them were concluding that there was no food or supplies left in the cabin, one of the mysterious figures caught your reflection in a nearby window and dashed to your so-called “hiding spot.” You realized your mistake a second too late, and suddenly the base of a pistol came in rapid contact with the back of your head, feeling yourself fall forward and the world go dark.

—

Your wrists were getting more and more irritated by the second, so you stopped the pointless struggle and looked around to get your bearings. There was a window on the right wall with blinds that were shut, providing not a lot of light, but enough to see what was around you. Though, there wasn't a lot to see. It was a gray, brick room. It was presumably built for the torture of others, considering how empty it was, and that there was a window next to the wooden entrance door so that people on the outside of the room could see whatever sick and depraved things were happening on the inside. 

As soon as you were about to try to get the leg restraints loose, you heard heavy boot steps just outside of the door and the click of the lock being unlocked. Your breath hitched beneath the cloth that binded your mouth. You stopped whatever movement you were doing to stare at the door, waiting for the masked people to come and kill you slowly and painfully.

What came through that door wasn't a menacing looking masked figure, however. It was a tall, broad shouldered, brunette older looking man. He was dressed in a long sleeve button up black shirt, black jeans, a black leather vest, and dark brown combat boots. He had a hunting knife sheathed on his belt. His face was rugged and wounded, the most noticeable being a red and jagged scar cutting through his left eyebrow, the rest of the scar being about an inch from his eye. It was the face of a man that has seen, and done, a lot of things. 

You were taken out of your thoughts when you heard the stomping of his combat boots come towards you. Before he even stops walking, you spit on the ground in front of him and mumble, “I’m not telling you anything, you sack of shit.”

“So tha’s how ‘s gonna be, huh?” He questioned, one eyebrow raised. 

He began slowly walking around the metal chair, reading you, drinking you in.

“Wrists hurt?” He asked rhetorically, noticing the harsh rash blossoming from the base of your wrist. He watched the back of your head as you were unresponsive, refusing to give him anything to work with. 

He leisurely walked around to your front, with you looking back at him, trying, and failing, to look intimidating. He got down on one knee to speak with you face to face, eyes stern and unwavering. “Jus’ tell me where yer friends are. It don’t haveta be like this.”

“Go to hell.” You responded immediately. The brunette man sighed and gave you a rough punch to the jaw. You yelped and lolled your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“I can go all night, Gimme a location, sweetheart.” He said lowly, flexing the hand that just pounded into your jaw. 

“Go. To. Hell.” You emphasized through gritted teeth. The next punch was straight to the left eye, so hard that it was sure to leave a nasty black eye. He then suddenly unsheathed his silver hunting knife and started flipping it in his hand absentmindedly.

“We saw who they were. A country girl ‘n a preacher. We can either find ‘em with yer help, or we’ll find ‘em, and before we kill ‘em, I’ll tell ‘em both how I killed ya, nice ‘n slow. Yer choice.” As the man was saying this, he leaned over, painstakingly slow, to put his knife to the base of your neck, his face inches from yours. 

Unfortunately for you, your stern demeanor faltered. Your breath hitched when you felt the cold blade pressed firmly to your neck combined with the man’s warm breath hitting your face. You were so scared that you were trembling, but also there was another feeling you had in that moment that you couldn’t quite place. “I’m n… not telling you anything.” You avoided his gaze like the plague, knowing that the man was catching on to how he was already breaking down your walls. 

“Huh? What was tha’? Use yer words.” He interrogated. He placed his hand on your knee and used it as leverage to lean impossibly closer, the knife nearly breaking the skin. Almost unconsciously, your eyes drifted from the man to his hand. It was so large, it could easily surround your relatively small hands. His fingers were so long and thick, and the veins. He had too many for you to count. There was dirt and a small amount of oil under his fingernails, implying that he worked with his hands every day. Maybe a car guy? Those hands could easily snap your fragile neck without a second thought, and it made you breathe heavier than you already were.

“Hey. Hey!” He moved his hand from your knee to roughly pull your hair back, causing the back of your head to slam against the back of the chair you were tied to. That got your attention. Also, earned a high pitched yelp from you. 

“Did ya even hear wha’ I jus’ said?” He asked, not as rough as just moments before but still firm. 

You decided to finally tell the truth. “No… I was… looking at your hand.” You said sheepishly, not looking him in the eye.

This time, the man falters, leaning back to get a good look at you. He eyed you up and down and smirked. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“N-Nothing. No reason.” You blabber out, honestly a little embarrassed that you told the truth, considering that you were supposed to be getting tortured at that moment.

He roughly tugged on your hair again, your head coming in violent contact back of the chair again, making your head fuzzy. Your eyes were half-lidded when they find the man’s piercing blue ones. “I… uh… think it’s hot.”

It looked like something clicked with the man in front of you. He eyed you once again while unconsciously licking his lips and smoothly resheathing his knife. He got down on both knees to properly look you in the face. To properly get you all hot and bothered. The same hand that was on your knee mere moments ago raised up to your throat, squeezing hard. Your eyes became wide and he chuckled maliciously. 

“Tell me what you want me to do with ‘em then.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly becoming very dry. You very much noticed the resistance on your throat when you swallowed, and he knows you did too.

“Touch me.” 

The man gave another laugh in response with how brazen you were with your desires. With one had still clutching your throat, he moved his other hand up your leg in a teasing manner. 

“Here?” He rubbed his thumb on your knee before continuing.

“Here?” His calloused fingers rubbed the inside of your thigh, and he could feel them tremble at his touch.

“Here?” He rubbed the crotch area of your thin shorts, already feeling how wet you were from him. For him. He thumbed at your clit, earning a soft whine from you. 

“Yeah? This where ya want me?”

“Yes.” You responded desperately, letting him know that you do, in fact, want this.

He then slowly removed his hand from your throat, resting both hands on your hips for a moment before starting to lower your pants and underwear. The process is excruciatingly slow, his hands rubbing up and down your ass and then your inner thighs. He finally gets your pants and underwear down to your ankles, then yanks both articles of clothing off. Your silky, red panties get shoved in his back pocket while your shorts get thrown behind him haphazardly.

His calloused hands then started making quick work untying the restraints around your ankles, getting them both off in about ten seconds. Without even exchanging words, you knew what he was doing. You swiftly wrapped your legs around his torso, adjusting so he would have the best angle.

“Good girl.” He rasped. You clenched over nothing.

He rubbed his hand dangerously close to your cunt, while his other arm was casually resting on your other leg. Like this is just a normal night for him.

“This hand? Ya want this?” He motioned to his hand with his icy blues.

You languidly nodded.

“Then beg.”

A strangled gasp forced its way out of your mouth at his comment. You then forced your brain out of its lust induced haze to come up with a coherent thought. “Ple… Please.”

He smirked, teasing your folds. “Name’s Daryl, by the way. Say my name if ya wanna be a whiny bitch.”

You were getting more needy by the second, trying to buck your hips to get even a little friction. “Please, Daryl.” Your voice was airy and you struggled to get your breathing under control.

He then shoved two shoved two fingers deep into your pussy, not even caring to stretch you out first. 

A strangled scream forcefully leaving your throat, you throw your head back in ecstasy. His- Daryl’s long, thick fingers fit perfectly inside you, almost like they were two pieces of the same puzzle. You arched your back as far as your arm restraints could let you, craving even more of his touch. You needed to feel his bulging biceps. You needed to pull and tug at his hair in desperation. You needed him. 

His pace was slow and excruciating.

Daryl spoke with a rasp. “Ya like bein’ tied up like this? Bein’ exposed? Huh? Little slut?”

All he got in response were fast deep breaths.

“Answer ‘n I’ll go faster. Told ya ta use yer words.”

Your brain was temporarily paralyzed hearing his accent get thicker, so you had to physically shake your head to snap out of your daze. “Yes. Yes, Daryl. Yes. I’m your slut.” You struggled to breathe out.

His eyebrows raised in a smirk as he quickened the pace. Unholy moans and whines left your mouth, not caring if anyone else hears. High pitched yelps and a tight feeling in your gut started when he continuously hit your sweet spot, his finger curving inside you. Your eyes were beginning to roll back, completely consumed by your hunger for Daryl. For only Daryl. 

“I- I’m gonna-”

“‘S fine. Let go, sunshine.”

With a few more pumps to your sweet spot, you did what you were told and let go. Your whole world was blurry and you felt lightheaded, but it was the best you’ve felt in a while. And no one has ever made you feel quite that good.

Daryl stood up and waited patiently for you to come down from your high, licking his fingers clean and grabbing your discarded shorts. 

You finally came back down to the same astral plane as the man now standing next to you and gazed at him with adoration. “Holy shit.”

The brunette chuckled and your dazed state. “‘Holy shit’ is right.”

He then suddenly went behind you and loosened your arm restraints. You looked over your shoulder in surprise. 

“What happened to wanting to know information?” You cocked your head.

He kneeled back down to caress your face. “Fuck yer friends. I only want you.”

[ilovechuuy4]

Touch me, baby, put your lips on mine

BSD X Reader, SHORT DRABBLES

warnings; slight description of s3xual intercourse, kissing, vague talk about penetration, snow balling/snowball kissing, head/bj, swallowing sperm, ERM sex..?

How they would kiss you during sex ;3

Characters; Chuuya, Dazai, Akutagawa & fyodor

A/N; GUYS I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING I'VE LITERALLY HAD ZERO MOTIVATION WHATSOEVER AND LIKE I'M WAILING BECAUSE I DON'T POST ENOUGH FOR Y'ALL. SORRY I LAV YEW ALL. (creds to @anitalenia for ribbon banner!

Chuuya - Needy & Passionate♡

"Nggh, cmere, doll. Please" Chuuya panted, you were sat on top of him the two of y'all stripped naked, flesh against flesh. He was burried deep inside you, your hips grinding down against his. "Mhm? Do you want kisses..?" You say with a smile, slowly leaning down to give the ginger what he wanted. Before you could even brush your lips against the other, his lips were slammed into yours until it turned into a needy kiss. His hands trailing down, gripping your thighs tightly.

"Ouhm.. Fuck you taste amazing, darlin'." Chuuya groaned, his tongue pushing past your closed lips. His tongue roamed in your mouth rubbing against the roof of your mouth before tangling with your tongue, yalls saliva mixing together. The kiss was so needy and passionate, as you slow against chuuyas hips causing chuuya to groan loudly, thrusting up inside you.

"Phaw.." You gasp as you pull away from the kiss, a soft whine escaping you at you could feel chuuya pulse inside you. A smirk spread against chuuyas lips as he looked up at you, his hands sliding up your hips before lifting you up before he thruster deeper making you choke on your saliva before letting out a loud moan that echoed through the quiet house. "Let's finish what we started, shall we doll?" Chuuya teased with a sly smirk.

Fyodor - Gentle & Breathy

You were squirming under the russian man, whoms fingers were deep within you. Soft whimpers and whines escaping your mouth as you felt the others fingers withdraw before pushing back inside. It didn't hurt but his bitten nails scrapped lightly against your walls, it just felt weird.. But a good weird. You let out staggered breathes as your hands shakily cup your boyfriend's face. "Kiss me, please my love?" You spoke softly between soft moans of pleasure. "Of course, a kiss for moyo lyubov, always." He spoke softly, his thick accent rolling off his tongue as he leaned down kissing you slowly. You allow your eyes to drift shut your arms wrapped tightly around the others shoulders. You couldn't help but arch your back off the bed slightly as you feel his fingers curl inside you rubbing against that one spot that felt immaculate.

The kiss was so slow and gentle compared to how he was basically massaging your insides with his long, boney fingers. Every twist and turn made you gasp into the kiss. You watched him slowly pull away, your lips centimeters apart as you panted. You could feel his breath on your face before he spoke. "You're all prepared now, yes? Let's get into something more, intamite." He said, kissing slowly down your neck.

Dazai - breathless

Dazai was panting softly, one hand holding your leg up while his other hand held his erection that was pressed against your entrance. "Babe, don't worry there isn't anything to be stressed about." The brunette spoke tenderly, gently easing your leg down, cupping your face with that same hand. "I know, I know.. It's just been a bit. I trust you, 'samu." You mutter softly your face painted with a red hue.

"Look at you, so pretty and ready for me." Dazai teased, leaning down pressing a slow kiss to your warm lips. You arched into the kiss, your hand cupping the back of his neck. Your eyes widen as you felt his tip push inside you causing you to whine into the kiss, your nails digging into his flesh. The other's eyes squinted, your nails digging into his skin causing a slight pain but he put through with it.

He gently pushes his tongue in your mouth, roaming around not once pulling back as he sunk his cock inside of you and before y'all both knew, he was in to the base. You quickly pull back breathless from the passionate kiss, saliva connecting the two of yalls mouths. A smile spread across the brunettes lips as he looked at you "Lookie there, it's all in. I told you that I'd be gentle hm?" Osamu said rolling his hips slowly in a nice and slow pace.

Akutugawa - snowball kisses & aggressive/rough

Starting off with soft thigh kisses that soothed slowly into your head between you lover's legs sucking him off. Akutugawa's lengthy fingers thread through your hair, head thrown back against the headboard. "Fuck, you're really just taking it." The black haired groaned, soft pants following. You suck greedily, your eyes trail up his abdomen before they met his. Akutugawa's face a bright red as he looks away from your gaze his free arm over his face. His entire being was trembling as you sucked him off, it way too stimulating.

"Gah.. I think im going to cum, y/n." He grumbled out and when you took him to his base, a choke came from him as he came in your mouth. You pull back slowly, sitting on your knees. As you went to swallow the thick glue like texture in your mouth, the other that sat breathless in front of you grips your cheeks between his thumb and other four fingers pulling you in for a slightly aggressive kiss.

His tongue quickly shoved into your mouth, your saliva mixed with his own, slightly salty semen, made him shiver. You kiss back, shocked but nonetheless acceptive of the kiss. Yalls tongue mingle in an aggressive dance of love, his pale hands sliding down and gripping your hips, pulling you closer. After a minute or two, he slowly breaks the kiss, swallowing thickly. Akutugawa quickly drags you into his lap, his cock rubbing against your entrance. "Can we get to the best part yet?" He asked before slowly easing his erection inside.

[sageispunk]

are you ever gonna post the method man fics 😩

what's it gonna be? (18+)

pairing: Silas P. Silas x black!reader

↳ When two friends finally get a night alone...

wordcount: 2.5k+

warnings: this is all smut fr, fwb to lovers, daddy kink!!!, P in V sex, reader is referred to as "girl" "ma" "mama" "boo", squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, dom! reader for a sec, light choking, hint at/mention of weed use, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, nipple play...lmk if i missed any!!

A/N: ask and you shall receive!! (sorry for the wait though, i've had this sitting unfinished for a min cause i didn't know if anyone actually wanted it LMAO) i hope u like it anon and anyone else, lmk how u feel in the comments!! pls like + reblog as well MWAH 🫶🏾

“Damn girl…” 

Silas groaned below you, with his big hands gripping your hips as you moved up and down his length. The two of you locked desperate eyes, communicating nothing but everything at the same time.

You needed this as much as he did, especially once that familiar green haze behind your eyes set in. You were on your feet, using the strength in your legs and knees to increase your pace on him. With each bounce you could feel him deep inside your belly, touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. 

You also couldn't figure out how his tall self managed to squeeze into your twin XL dorm bed, but you weren’t in any position to question it either. The room was dark, only illuminated by the dim screen of your television on the dresser, in addition to the red LED lights on the wall above you. Whichever tv show began when your movie went off went unnoticed, their conversations drowned out by the breathy pants escaping your lips. 

The lewd sounds filling up the room had you both in heaven. Beautiful brown bodies under that rouge coloring– moaning, grunting, smacking, and squishing. Like one of those early 2000s classic Ebony films–just nasty. You could only hope no one could hear from outside your door. 

You moved your hips up and down, taking him all the way down to the base each time, biting your lip with a debauched look on your face. You watched as Silas moaned, loud and needy and uncaring, his eyes rolling back into his head. Your confidence shot up through the roof, leading you to take a little more control. You held his jaw with your dominant hand, bringing your lips up to his earlobe and letting your mouth run off whatever popped into your head, not leaving a second to second guess yourself. 

“Does it feel good when I do it like that?”

With your soft, teasing voice in his ears, you squeezed your inner walls, slowing yourself a bit and ignoring that growing burn in your thighs. “You betta stop it, girl..” His voice came out grunted, rough. His fingers dug into your hips as he struggled to hold onto his nut, a deep moan vibrating through his chest. 

“What about when I do it like that? Hmm?”

You felt him nodding against your skin before his hips stuttered, kissing your spot perfectly for only  a split second. Your body jerked up, momentarily frozen around him as your vision went white. “Silas, FUCK, I’m–!!!”

“Yeahhh, let it out baby..” He murmured, a goofy, cocky grin spreading across his face. Even then, you could still tell that he was struggling to hold on, with your pussy pulsing,  nearly suffocating him like a goddamn boa constrictor. 

Silas kept his eyes on you, his focus wandering up and down, and back and forth, his mind too overwhelmed with pleasure to fixate on only one part of you. He loved your thighs–every time you’d wear this particular pair of biker shorts that defined each of your curves, he would have to mentally go elsewhere just to keep from bursting out his jeans.

Your breasts also held a special place in his heart, especially in those times where he’d seek you out for comfort, resting against the soft, cushiony headrest that your chest provided. Similarly, the softness of your tummy was something he could never turn down, he’d be touching on it every time you showed a little extra skin in a crop top or a backless dress.

As you slowed down to a stop on top of him, he let his hands wander. His left hand traveled up your side, slowly, taking in your beautiful map of scars and stretch marks on the way. Once his thick fingers reached your breasts, they traced around your mocha areolas before latching onto your hardened nipples. Silas rubbed and pinched lightly, alternating between teasing each as he watched the euphoric haze grow across your face. 

“Silas…” You still were sensitive from your sudden orgasm, slightly trembling from the aftershocks as he touched you. Nevertheless, that warmth and excitement began to flood your core once again, that hunger taking over your every thought. His hard dick throbbing eight inches deep inside your core didn't help either. But you needed more, you craved to see him, feel him come undone inside of you. 

You gasped as his right hand made its way to your throat, keeping your gaze steadily on his. The grip of his fingers on your skin had you feeling weak, and under his spell. And his voice, all deep and rough and dripping with desire.

“I gotchu mama, just tell me what you need..” Your eyes scanned over his face, taking in the glaze of sweat on his forehead, above his furrowed eyebrows, as well as the slight pout in his plump bottom lip. You wanted to bite it so bad. “Tell daddy what you need, baby, I gotta hear you.”

Silas repeating the nickname you accidentally gave him the first time you’d hooked up made your tummy flutter. You couldn’t believe it yourself when the word flew out your mouth, while you blurredly watched him take you from behind, standing upright in front of the mirror in some frat party bathroom. From then he never let you forget it. He always made sure to remind you of his special status, without fail making you cum harder than anyone else ever had, every single time. 

“Cum in me, Si...please.” 

The plea fell from your lips as you lazily swirled your hips in his lap, enjoying the way his curved length rubbed deliciously against all your inner spots. Like you were made to fit one another. Your hands held onto his right arm as he continued to choke you, only slightly tightening his grip around your throat. The growing lack of air made you tense around his dick, whining and moaning out as he spoke. “You know if I cum in this pussy, that means it's mine, right?” 

Hearing those words with that thick New York accent while he was so deep in your belly nearly made you cum again. Leaning in, you nodded your response with your gaze fixed directly on his brown eyes.

A look of understanding flashed across Silas’ face for a second, before he released your throat, hand settling on the nape of your neck to bring you in closer. Your plush lips met his own as he swallowed down your moans, exploring your mouth with his hungry tongue.

You opened up, letting him take control of the nastiest kissing you’ve ever participated in–tongues dancing, spit swapping, lip sucking until both of your mouths were glistening. Sinful. 

Silas’ free hand squeezed your hip, grounding you on top of him as he began to slowly grind up into you. Your mouths separated but your faces remained close as he held the back of your neck. Silas watched your face contort while he deepened his stroke inside you, letting you feel every single inch in your stomach.

The only thing you could focus on was his mouth, and how much you wanted that bottom lip back in your mouth. Fuzziness took over your brain, your eyes tearing up from the agonizingly slow but deep pace he was set on. 

The moment was intimate, much more than it had been previously, closer and slower than all those other times Silas had you broken you down. For the past few weeks, you resorted to quickies on the bathroom counter if you were at a party, in either of your cars parked somewhere dark, you’d even let him finger you under the table in the library while you were supposed to be “studying”. And now, with your roommate gone for the weekend, you were finally able to have a nice, passionate moment in a bed. 

In a way, the rushed, adrenaline-filled aspect of all your previous entanglements in those less intimate settings kept you from taking a deeper look at your relationship with Silas. You were friends, albeit much, much closer than “normal” friends should be. You met in a shared biology lecture, after Silas showed up late–and high as hell–and the only seat left open was to your right. You eventually agreed to become study partners, and you didn’t mind when some of those late night study sessions in Silas’ dorm turned into heated smoke sessions, which further turned into nasty intoxicated confessions from you both. 

Silas propped his feet up, lifting his hips before flipping you both over. He placed his hands on the backs of your knees, pushing back and kneeling down to lick a slow, wide stripe up your glossy cunt. You cried out from the new stimulation, squirming in his grasp.

“You taste so mothafuckin’ good, girl..” He moaned against your pussy in appreciation, slurping up your juices and rhythmically sucking on your clit with those pretty ass lips of his. You were entranced, eyes stuck on the scene in front of you, wondering what good you had done in this world to deserve all the bliss flowing through your system.

You watched as he pulled back from your pussy, chin glistening in your essence. He spread your sticky lips apart with two big fingers, hungrily watching you clench and pulse around nothing. The ravenous look in his eyes as he stared at your pussy turned you on like no other. They met yours again, and he licked and bit on his lip, letting you know that he was craving more, just as you were.

Your eyes and mouth fell wide open when Silas let a string of warm spit fall directly onto your clit, both the sensation and the view filling you with an immense amount of pleasure. You could feel the electricity flowing from your pussy to your toes, and back up through your spine, a complete shock to your system.

He let your legs fall to the side, big, warm hands on your face as he leaned in, kissing you once more. The sounds of you both groaning into each other's mouths as you tasted yourself on his lips echoed throughout the room. Your hips grinded up against his, needing to feel his length on and in you again. He pulled away first, one of his hands coming down to pin your knee out to the side, setting you still in place. “You want me to cum in this pussy?” 

You nodded, almost too eagerly. There was nothing else on your mind but the vision of him leaking out of you, vanilla cream dripping down your lips, the perfect match for your coffee complexion.

“Use ya words, boo.” 

You reached up, manicured hands pulling his face to just a couple inches from your own. He watched, expectantly, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips and back up again. You could feel him now, twitching and leaking against your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him most. “Cum in your pussy, Daddy.” 

With a curse under his breath, he sheathed himself inside of you in a quick movement, pausing once he filled you to the base. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared into your eyes, mouth hung open like he’d never felt the warm, tight hug of your cunt around him before. His breath faltered, warm breath against your lips and vulnerability written across his face.

Your own breath was caught in your chest when he slid back, and then forced out when he pushed inside, gliding through your slick walls with ease. A wail escaped your lips as he punished your pussy, or at least that’s what it felt like he was doing. Reminding you of who he was. And reminding you of who you were. 

Your eyes clamped shut, toes curling and spine arching up off the bed more and more each time he touched your precious g-spot. Another orgasm began to build within your core, your body tightening up underneath him as you fiercely dug your teeth into your bottom lip.

Curses flew from your lips, broken and jumbled together, barely making any sense. You released his face, blindly allowing your hands to find his shoulders for support. Silas leaned down, moaning and groaning in your ear, filling you up with his dick before taking it all away, over and over and over again. 

“Daddyyy…fuck!!!” 

“Tell me it’s mine, baby, c’mon ma, I’m so fuckin’ close…” 

Your bodies were sticky with sweat and all your juices, creating the nastiest smacking sound each time he plunged inside. “It’s yours, I swear to god, it’s all yours baby, ohmyfuckinggoddd…”  You rambled off, barely even able to hear your own words. Your brain was much more focused on the ecstacy spreading through your entire body, making you tingle from your head to your toes. “I’m gonna cum, daddy, please don’t stop!!” 

“Give it to me, baby, c’mon, gimme that shit!” He kept the pace strong, not letting up until you fell apart on his dick one final time, this time with your juices spraying and splashing between your bodies. Your tightness mixed with the sudden wetness of your squirt sent him over the edge, causing him to yell out as he finally released deep inside you. 

“Fuuuck!!” His hips twitched and stuttered as he emptied himself out, not daring to pull out while you were still grasping onto him from underneath.

You whimpered, your body trembling, shaking like a leaf as your nails dug into his shoulders, deep enough to leave a few red crescent-shaped marks. The feeling of his nut filling you gave you the warmest feeling in your tummy, satisfaction spreading through your mind, body, and soul.

The two of you rested for a moment, the sounds of your heavy breathing became your only focus. The audience laughter from the television was more noticeable now, but neither of you could care less. Silas let more of his weight fall on you, cradling you from above while you calmed down your breathing. You turned your face, tucking yourself into his neck and leaving a few soft kisses on the damp skin in appreciation. 

Silas softly chuckled when you teased him with your tongue against his collarbone, knowing you both were too tuckered out for another round just yet. He pulled out of you, slowly, hissing at the overstimulation on his sensitive length. Sitting back on his knees in between your legs, he watched in admiration as seed spilled from your swollen lips, giving him a perfect view of the most beautiful painting he’s ever laid his eyes on–better than anything he’s seen in the MET. 

Observing his mark on you–in you–was gratifying, a surge of endearment and devotion growing within his own core. “C’mere..” 

You obeyed, lazily allowing him to reposition you on top of his chest, your faces just centimeters apart. 

“Tell me somethin’ real quick...you meant it?” 

That vulnerable look was back, although he did try to hide it by avoiding eye contact, instead focusing on your slightly puffy lips, swollen from all the kissing and biting and sucking. You knew what he was talking about, and you knew it was more than just dirty sex talk–something had been growing between the two of you and it was undeniable at this point. 

“Every word.”

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