#air pressure and elevation

[bigtreefest]

Biscoff Cookies and the Effects of Airplanes on Food Taste

Posting this bc I promised @krirebr I would. I hope y’all love your weekly dosage of science I’ve gathered in the tidbit below. I also just wanna say, one of my least favorite words is ‘umami.’ It’s been used increasingly in recent decades to describe a certain savory flavor profile amongst scientists and culinarians alike, and tbh, I just don’t like it. Be that as it may, its use is essential for this mini informative post, but I just want you guys to know the inner turmoil I faced every time I had to use that word. 🙄

Ok, so we’re answering three questions here:

1. Why does stuff on planes taste so bad? 2. Why do they serve Biscoff on planes? 3. What is my opinion on biscoff?

Let’s get it:

1. Why does stuff on planes taste so bad?

Well, does it taste bad, or just different? Airplane food is universally known as the butt of the jokes of bad comedians, whether or not they’re telling the truth. Let’s start with the explanation of what happens to our perceptions of food when we get into the air. The higher you climb in elevation, the lower the air pressure. To explain it simply, it’s because there are less molecules on top of you, pushing down, and therefore less pressure. The same effect is seen in how deeper waters have higher pressure, because the weight of the water molecules above adds up the deeper you go. Although most flights reach above 30,000 ft (~10,000m) in elevation, air plane cabins (where you sit) are pressurized to somewhere around the density of air at ~5,000ft (~1,600m). Even at this change in pressure/elevation, there are many changes the body goes through (I went to science camp for 2 weeks to study some of these effects. Ask me about that some other time.). You breathe faster since oxygen does not reach your lungs as easily from the decreased pressure. Essentially, the molecules are not being shoved as forcefully into your body, so they don’t attach and aren’t sensed as readily. The same thing happens with your senses of smell and taste (which are associated). Most of the taste profiles, including spicy, sweet, sour, salty, and bitter, are decreased by the increase in elevation and decrease in air pressure. In contrast, the one flavor profile that is increased is umami/savory. HOWEVER, this can sometimes be difficult to sense if there is a lack of salt (seasoning things with salt makes them taste more like themselves. That’s food science, baby). These considerations go into the preparation of food for planes, where extra spices and salt are added in their preparation so they taste more similar to something you would experience on the ground. A normal meal would lose a lot of flavor, and I’m sure airplane-intended food tastes much better on the ground. But also, at the end of a day, it’s a prepared meal, served in a mobile metal tube, designed to be reheated, so it’s not going to be really phenomenal anyway.

2. Why do they serve Biscoff on planes?

Now, if you ask Kris, she’ll say ‘captive audience’ (and my college roommate agrees), but there could be a few other factors to it. Biscoff has been branded as a staple for several airlines, especially Delta. They come in small packages, which is ideal for serving many passengers while dealing with very little space in the plane refreshment areas. They can be eaten easily out of small packages and easily cleaned up (unless they crumble everywhere, which I have to say, they have a pension for. That’s something I don’t like.). They also have an incredibly long shelf life (likely due to their dryness, along with other ingredients), making them ideal for something on-the-go and to ward off health code violations. And also also, if you think about it, the cookies are highly spiced in cinnamon, allowing their flavor to come through in the higher elevations, which may be pleasant for many. They’ve also been dubbed as the snack equivalent of drinking ginger ale on planes, which is hilariously common. What does surprise me, though, is that to me, they seem like a bit of a luxury snack cookie, so I’m sure they get a great bulk deal from the company with humble family beginnings.

3. What is my opinion on Biscoff?

Yeah, I think they’re pretty good. My first experience eating them was loopy off knee surgery (ask me about that later, too, if you want) and I remember asking for more because I thought they were so good. I’ve been given them a handful of times on planes, but I commonly don’t eat them. They just get shoved in my backpack and never touched because I have to be in the right mood to eat them. I think they’re alright, but they’re far from a first choice. Their grandma-like nature makes me feel like they’re healthier? Yes, the cookies are dry, but they’re not drying to my mouth. Plus I love the spice of the cinnamon. Something about the paste they form in my mouth, too, is nice. Comforting, somewhat. Would enjoy with a glass of tea, but I can see how others wouldn’t like them. Plus, I feel like when they’re put into cookie butter or something, they lose a little character. 5.5/10. But I’ve already spoken about how Ransom doesn’t have the greatest taste. Plus, I’m sure he was eating them because they were what was around. Like I said, grandma food.

I think that’s all I have to say. I will be taking questions. It was nice to research something fun for a change.

References (links bc I know you guys def don’t want APA citation format):

Why does food taste bland on planes? (WONG Tak-kan, 2018)

The reasons airplane food tastes so different than on the ground (Jade Tungul, 2021)

Why does food taste different on planes? (Katie Moskvitch, 2015)

Why Are Biscoff Cookies Such A Popular Inflight Snack? (Matthew Austin Ryan, 2023)

How Biscoff Became the Cookie of the Skies (Lillian Stone, 2022)

How Biscoff Cookies Became the Snack We Crave on Planes (Kaitlin Menza, 2020)

[naomiknight-17]

I am at the eye doctor

I dragged my ass out of bed and made it to the dang eye doctor on time

The hardest part of my day is done

[nopizzaaftermidnight]

[quaranmine]

gods i fucking wish i could do that for ashes au but since its a fantasy world i opted to research japanese and indian geta for two days before writing my chapter instead

L

no but really it is sort of nice for once to have actual concrete things to research! like, my questions have...answers? real answers? that i can just look up? i'm used to doing similar to you. i always have a desire to make things scientifically accurate and omg that just does NOT play well with minecraft sometimes. [stares at moon big]

so. shakes your hand. but it's still fun to try to borrow from real-world cultures and things and try to reimagine them into canon or a fantasy environment. it's like a puzzle...that requires a LOT of thought. i've been there with empires worldbuilding before, i was looking up all kinds of stuff for the cod empire regarding wetland construction, water pollution, etc. i also end up looking at a slightly disproportionate number of NASA JPL webpages sometimes...mcyt fic taught me about the roche limit ldjsfklsfjslfj

[gayarograce]

Honestly, if the boiling point of water at sea level isn't even a clean 100 °C, then what the hell is even the point of arguing?

[nasa]

What We Learned from Flying a Helicopter on Mars

The Ingenuity Mars Helicopter made history – not only as the first aircraft to perform powered, controlled flight on another world – but also for exceeding expectations, pushing the limits, and setting the stage for future NASA aerial exploration of other worlds.

Built as a technology demonstration designed to perform up to five experimental test flights over 30 days, Ingenuity performed flight operations from the Martian surface for almost three years. The helicopter ended its mission on Jan. 25, 2024, after sustaining damage to its rotor blades during its 72nd flight.

So, what did we learn from this small but mighty helicopter?

We can fly rotorcraft in the thin atmosphere of other planets.

Ingenuity proved that powered, controlled flight is possible on other worlds when it took to the Martian skies for the first time on April 19, 2021.

Flying on planets like Mars is no easy feat: The Red Planet has a significantly lower gravity – one-third that of Earth’s – and an extremely thin atmosphere, with only 1% the pressure at the surface compared to our planet. This means there are relatively few air molecules with which Ingenuity’s two 4-foot-wide (1.2-meter-wide) rotor blades can interact to achieve flight.

Ingenuity performed several flights dedicated to understanding key aerodynamic effects and how they interact with the structure and control system of the helicopter, providing us with a treasure-trove of data on how aircraft fly in the Martian atmosphere.

Now, we can use this knowledge to directly improve performance and reduce risk on future planetary aerial vehicles.

Creative solutions and “ingenuity” kept the helicopter flying longer than expected.

Over an extended mission that lasted for almost 1,000 Martian days (more than 33 times longer than originally planned), Ingenuity was upgraded with the ability to autonomously choose landing sites in treacherous terrain, dealt with a dead sensor, dusted itself off after dust storms, operated from 48 different airfields, performed three emergency landings, and survived a frigid Martian winter.

Fun fact: To keep costs low, the helicopter contained many off-the-shelf-commercial parts from the smartphone industry - parts that had never been tested in deep space. Those parts also surpassed expectations, proving durable throughout Ingenuity’s extended mission, and can inform future budget-conscious hardware solutions.

There is value in adding an aerial dimension to interplanetary surface missions.

Ingenuity traveled to Mars on the belly of the Perseverance rover, which served as the communications relay for Ingenuity and, therefore, was its constant companion. The helicopter also proved itself a helpful scout to the rover.

After its initial five flights in 2021, Ingenuity transitioned to an “operations demonstration,” serving as Perseverance’s eyes in the sky as it scouted science targets, potential rover routes, and inaccessible features, while also capturing stereo images for digital elevation maps.

Airborne assets like Ingenuity unlock a new dimension of exploration on Mars that we did not yet have – providing more pixels per meter of resolution for imaging than an orbiter and exploring locations a rover cannot reach.

Tech demos can pay off big time.

Ingenuity was flown as a technology demonstration payload on the Mars 2020 mission, and was a high risk, high reward, low-cost endeavor that paid off big. The data collected by the helicopter will be analyzed for years to come and will benefit future Mars and other planetary missions.

Just as the Sojourner rover led to the MER-class (Spirit and Opportunity) rovers, and the MSL-class (Curiosity and Perseverance) rovers, the team believes Ingenuity’s success will lead to future fleets of aircraft at Mars.

In general, NASA’s Technology Demonstration Missions test and advance new technologies, and then transition those capabilities to NASA missions, industry, and other government agencies. Chosen technologies are thoroughly ground- and flight-tested in relevant operating environments — reducing risks to future flight missions, gaining operational heritage and continuing NASA’s long history as a technological leader.

You can fall in love with robots on another planet.

Following in the tracks of beloved Martian rovers, the Ingenuity Mars Helicopter built up a worldwide fanbase. The Ingenuity team and public awaited every single flight with anticipation, awe, humor, and hope.

Check out #ThanksIngenuity on social media to see what’s been said about the helicopter’s accomplishments.

Learn more about Ingenuity’s accomplishments here. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[st4rbwrry]

   𝐹𝐸𝐸𝐿 𝒮𝒪𝑀𝐸𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒩𝒢.

꒰ eren’s really sore from football practice and you give bby a massage. ꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 3.1k, fem!reader, lowercase intended, body betrayal, submissive eren + whimpers a lot, established consent aka cnc, dry humping, pain kink, eren’s pathetic fr, oral ꒰ m + f ꒱, handjob, love bites, choking, ‘daddy’ said once, creampie, rennie’s embarrassed :( , minors aren’t welcomed! comments + reblogs are appreciated!

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . listened to the nastiest, filthiest sub va audio and babyyyyy, woooo! never been so turned on in my life.

“ughhhhhhh!”

you can hear the painful groans a mile away erupting from the bathroom, eyes peaked over your glasses after you spun around to investigate the suspicious sound. you’re perched up into your soft pink swivel chair where you sat cross legged and comfortably zoned out into an intense mission of call of duty, trying your best not to drool over ghost and konig. the curved monitor in front of your face brightly lit, feminine colors fading in and out from the lights planted around your pc set up. kawaii kitten headphones covering your ears muffling your surroundings.

knocking them off of your ears, you’re able to hear the shower running loudly, the noise cancellation blocking out any movement around you. there’s only one person who could be in your shower right now, and he revealed himself before you could come to the thought. steam flows towards the ceiling as the bathroom door swings ajar, your boyfriend’s sandalwood soap illuminating the room while steam levitates off of his tanned, tatted skin. a pout seeps into your expression when you see the softness in his face, every step he takes towards your bed shoots excruciating discomfort through his muscles.

“baby!” you stand to your feet, the warmth in your chest to see his presence heightening, but the worry in your eyes overtaking all. “what’s wrong, ‘ren?”

“mhmmmm,” he only groans, a towel around his neck and his skin only covered by basketball shorts as he flops face forward onto your bed, hissing from the aches and spasms. accidentally shoving your plushies out of his face and onto the floor from clear irritation.

sometimes forgetting he had a key to your apartment, you’re reminded of him telling you he was coming to see you after practice, overworking himself to the brink of death these past few weeks considering draft season was up and coming. eren needed to make a good impression, and him being an overachiever, it caused his body to slowly deteriorate. waking up at the break of dawn to gulp down green juices and muscle powder before he’s running around his neighborhood for two hours. then he’s going to the field after classes for extreme training with coaches who considered him a son. people who are in his ear constantly worshiping his achievements, including his family — pressuring him to be great. to be something.

the air in the room is cold, and it’s a serenade to his body, like icy hot. he releases a heavy sigh from his pillowed lips as he rests on his stomach in agony.

“i’m so sore, baby!” eren practically whines, the muscles on his toned back shifting as he reaches for a pillow to elevate his head. any small movement is like absolute hell. “fuck, i fucked up.”

“awee, ‘ren. i told you that you needed to slow down.”

sitting beside him on the bed, your knees sink into the memory foam, looming over his figure, putting on your motherly face. relaxing your shoulders, you bury your hands between your thighs, observing him to see what he needed.

“you’ll be limping to the ceremony if you keep this up. there’s only one more game, love.”

“yeah, and it has to count. they’ll be looking at my highlights and shit, and i need to be in their top list,” eren turns his face to look in your direction, his brown hair tied into the back of his head, slightly damp. “once i’m drafted i’ll take a break.”

“okay,” you leave it at that, knowing he’ll pursue a whole rant if you pressed any harder. it kills you to see him hurt, but you know in the end it’ll pay off. you didn’t have faith in him for nothing. “want me to massage you?”

“ooh, yea baby, please,” eren wants to clap to show his appreciation, but can barely move his upper body. he’s clutching a pillow tight to his cheek, lashes kissing his cheekbones with his pretty verdurous irises shield behind lids. lips upturned and his bushy eyebrows furrowed when your hands apply pressure to the back of his calves, kneading the skin with your thumbs gently. “thank you.”

a soft smile tugs on your full lips, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you focus on making him feel better. “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“coach had me doing fucking agility courses today, it feels like my entire body is boiling with lava.”

“how’d you even make it up the stairs?”

the warmth of your palms soothed his body, aside from the horrible pain running through him from every touch, you made it a little better. eren whimpers softly the higher your hands go, reaching his lower back now, leaning over him some more to reach his tough spots. he nearly forgets to answer, his knuckles turning white and the veins on his hands leading up to his forearm protrude the harder he grips onto the pillow before him.

“nng, fuck,” he gasps out, muffling his sounds slightly by the cotton stuffed fabric, shifting his hips the deeper the pads of your thumbs sink into his hips, dainty fingers feathering along his skin, blood unbeknownst to you, rushing to his dick. those happened to be his sweet spots. “higher baby, please.”

he says it mostly out of panic, and you oblige, smoothing your hands flat on his back to rub there, beauty marks littered on the canvas. “you didn’t answer me.”

“sorry,” he groans when your hands come to his shoulders, applying pressure with the carpal bone of your hand, dragging straight down to his forearms with your stomach laying on his back. smelling your aroma and feeling the softness of your inner thighs. he blushes, hating his body for reacting the way it is currently. “i-i climbed up the stairs. was hunched over the entire walk to the door.”

“flip over for me.”

“shit. m’so weak right now,” eren mumbles frustratingly, trying his very best to turn his full frame, reaching out for your hand to help. you interlink your arms with his, as if giving him a hug, chest on his to flip him onto his back and position him comfortably. it felt like you were his damn caretaker.

“your knees hurt, baby? have you been wearing your knee pads?”

“mhm hmm, yea. i try to stretch a little before i run in the mornings. sometimes i . . . forget,” the salvia in his mouth glides down his throat as he swallows, seeing your spine arched and the darkly inked butterfly tattoo on your lower back as you focus on rubbing on his knees, and up his quadriceps. “unh, shit.”

“right there?” your tone is soft when you speak, doe eyes attentive when you look up at him and it makes his dick grow semi-hard.

“yes, it’s good, mama.” goddamit. he isn’t trying to sound like it’s obvious he’s turned on right now. he’s literally in too much pain to do anything to you, at least the way he wants.

you hike his shorts up for further access, massaging into the tissue to alleviate the discomfort, eren’s head knocking back as he hisses and grips onto the sheets. you watch him deliriously, trying to ignore the throb of your clit from the visual before you. but he’s making it impossible from the noises he makes. it’s not new, you’ve heard him whimper and moan before when he’s fucking you, but it’s rare when it sounds this . . pathetic. his pain shouldn’t arouse you, but it does.

your face is dangerously close to his dick, your black prescription glasses slipping even further as you try to block out the sounds he’s making by working your hands into his frail muscles. you make it back to his hips which stutter from your delicate touch, trying to hide your smirk when he whines helplessly. he’s breathing heavily, biting down on his lip as he covers his eyes with his right forearm, trying to hide his embarrassment. you’re pawing at his chest now, throwing your leg over his waist and sitting on his abdomen, feeling his dick on your ass cheek.

“fuck, what are you doing?” eren stares at you immediately, brows furrowed as you knead at his biceps, smoothing your hands up to his wrists you grip and eventually pin down to the bed above his head.

“making you feel better,” you pout, lifting your lower body to scoot your ass back and foment your pussy onto him, the subtle gasp leaving his mouth like a symphony. “you’re hard.”

“wait, baby,” eren whines again, struggling to fight the entrapment that you have on his wrists, too weak and sensitive to fight you on it. “i can’t right now. i’m too sore.”

“just lay there,” you tell him, gyrating your hips and rubbing yourself over the fabric of his shorts, barricaded by your silk black ones. his eyes glower at you, mouth going ajar and out comes another desperate whimper. “i need it. you sound too pretty.”

“baby, please. this is so embarrassing,” he goes to shimmy free, but whines from any sharp pain hitting him, entwining your fingers to hold hands as you arch over him, leaving a delicate kiss to his lips.

“you don’t want me?” you ask, batting your lashes as you roll your hips a little faster, humping your clit onto the swell of his dick. you moan, burying your face within the crook of his neck to slick your tongue over his flesh, the slow dragging making his dick pulsate.

“i-it’s not that, god,” he’s heaving now, afraid he’s going to break under you. physically, not possible. but mentally? yeah. he’s not usually the submissive one, so this was a bit out of character. “stop grinding your . . pussy on me.”

now his voice is really breaking, his moans growing high pitched and his whines dragged out and subby. you felt a high you never felt before, being the one to dominate is a rarity. it was a small conversation the two of you had briefly, but never did you think he’d actually let you pursue it. taking the lead felt too good.

“but i w’na grind my pussy on you,” you’re moaning in his ear now, eren’s turning his head to the opposite side to let you sink your teeth into his neck, leaving love bites while he groans. he couldn’t keep his composure with you. “you need to be in pain more. you sound too good. i’m so horny now.”

“you have issues,” he shakes his head, gasping when you nip at his adams apple before kissing it. licking your lips and humming, beginning to hear the squelch of your pussy in the silent room.

“you gave them to me.”

eren doesn’t even realize that his arms are free now, laying limp beside his head as he watches you crawl down his thighs to pull his dick free from his shorts, wrapping your hand around his dick that practically stretches over the shape of your face. it’s leaking precum, and you waste not a drop of it, slapping the head of his dick on your tongue. his fingers are grasping the sheets again, stationed beside his waist and watching you swallow half of him into your mouth.

“baby — damn,” his stomach caves in when he hits the back of your throat, esophagus forcing itself to laminate his dick with more saliva. he’s completely devoted to you, staying still and letting you work. if he had the strength he’d lift his hips and fuck your throat till you’re gagging. “shit. shit, i love being in your mouth.”

you moan around him, twisting your wrist at the base while sucking on what you could, his dick fat and blowing up your cheeks. his eyes fall shut to listen to how you take him, pink lips parting with his eyes drooped in pleasure. you get him wet enough for extra lubricant, popping your mouth free and removing your shorts. he licks his lips at your glistening entrance, your white toes touching his leg as you spread your legs next him to finger yourself open. pretty hair cascading over your features in dark curls, slurping up saliva in your mouth as you stare darkly at him while you grind sensually onto your two fingers.

“c’mon, baby. don’t be mean,” eren groans, hand reaching for your ankle to use whatever strength he gained to drag you closer. “lemme see. c’mere.”

whimpering yourself, you scoot closer to his face, gripping at the edge of the bed as he clutches your ankle, the good bracelet with his initial on it swinging. everything else in his body hurt, even his dick ached now and it was your fault for being so fucking sexy. one thing he could use to his full ability was his mouth, and as soon as your folds are spread wider by your fingers, that’s when he’s kissing at your clit. puckered lips sucking and pulling at her with fervor, jaw widening and clenching as his tongue dips into your hole and he begins bobbing his head, the lewd, downright filthy sounds of your pussy creaming on his tongue.

“ooh, eren,” a squeak lets out, your eyes almost falling shut and drowning your vision. the moans from the both of you are guttural, flowing in sync nearly. he’s sucking on your clit like it’s a pacifier, cocking his head back to spit on her before grunting and flicking vigorously. savoring your taste on his tongue.

your hand goes to wrap back around his dick, spitting in your hand after a prolonged moan and jerking him off, the wet sounds ricocheting off the walls.

“ahh, fuck. oh my . . god,” the moans only grow louder from you, face screwed up the faster his mouth moves. jaw shifting even quicker and you match his pace with your hand, making sure to stay near the tip to watch his hips twitch and hear him moan. “i’m g’na cum, ‘ren.”

“unt unt, sit on my dick, baby,” he immediately removes his mouth, licking his lips and laying on his back again. “you wanna tease me, so fuck me.”

your legs tremble as you crawl above him, knees indenting the bed on either side of his waist, looking behind yourself to hold his dick still and slowly slid yourself down. the stretch is always good, adjusting by now after extensive training, aka eren literally making you lay there and take it inch by inch until it fit and felt right. his dick fully sinks into you, your knees buckling instantly from the fullness, hoisting yourself up by clutching onto his legs behind you.

“f-fuck!” it vibrates through your body, that euphoric wave that he’s sucked into your own. sexual chemistry, soul tie if you will. your knees interfere, making your pussy squeeze tight and eren can do nothing but clasp onto his own angelic hair, his tatted forearm with a cuban link on his wrist killing your clit. hair long fallen out of it’s tie.

“she looks so pretty like this,” eren hums, sucking on his lip before spanking the outside of your thigh hard, trying to coax you into moving. “lemme see her suck me in and out.”

rolling your lips inward, you moan as you raise and drop your ass down, skin interacting loudly with his own. eren hisses with rouse, drinking in the view of your juices coating his cock, dripping in fact. the visual evidence of him splitting you open as you rock on him to fuck yourself makes his brain explode, unable to choke his moans down. tossing your head back, he studies the art of contour. your neck, chin, and nose. the curves, the area of fat on your tummy . . . you are beauty divine. and you’re so damn hot.

“you’re so damn hot,” it’s spoken the same way he thought it, perhaps with more vigor.

you feel yourself getting close, so you lean yourself forward and get ahold of his wrists again, that red tint coming back to his cheekbones. your body is flat to his, and you listen to your wet pussy glide up and down as you drop your ass back heavily, his strong thighs hitting it. you’re breathing into his mouth when he goes to kiss you, your pace getting harder and you hear him whimper again and again. the pain and pleasure mixing. that soreness in his body fucking with him, but serenading you.

“fuckin’ get it,” eren grunts in a hushed tone, his words persuading you to bounce harder, making it sloppy and incredulously loud. “get it, baby. make a mess. f-fuckk . . unh.”

“oh my god,” the noise you make is a mixture of disbelief and arousal, shaking above him while he throws his head back into the pillow exposing his gorgeous neck, silver chain sprawled intricately within the contours of his neckline. he’s driving you absolutely insane. “keep moaning like that, baby. it’s so good. i can’t.”

“you g’na fuck it till it hurt, too? you like hearing me in pain that bad?” he locks eyes with you again, body trembling with pathetic whines leaving his throat.

“y-yess, love it,” you admitted, swirling your ass and riding him faster, tears brimming your sockets. “you’re so pretty, daddy. you’re hitting my spot.”

he watches as you keep yourself where you want, his dick curved into that sweet part making your eyes gloss white, grinding harder while digging your nails into his wrist, mouth agape and precious broken moans escaping. that pressure in your tummy bursts, and you’re cumming while still fucking him, squealing and crying as you drench his pelvis. that sends eren to overdrive, muttering a stream of expletives before he’s nearing his orgasm not long after.

“ooh, shit. get up, get up. i’m finna cum.”

“n-no,” you add more of your strength to overpower him, keeping him flat to the bed as you lean up and roll your hips. he looks up at you with warning, your gushy walls sucking him in the more you clench and cum. batting your lashes as his hands wriggle in your grasp, upper body shifting from being overwhelmed with ecstasy. “fill me up.”

“awe, fuck me, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck!”

whimpers, shaky moans, and whines. they’re all playing a part in how he releases and makes you cum again as he’s cumming, screaming in the air as he fights through his aching body to spank your ass fervently. filling you up like you cried for. his noises are dry, like they’re fighting to get out. coming out in weak, fucked out, high pitched grumbles and keens. almost like he’s in goddamn heat. it’s all so hot. he hates his body for the ultimate betrayal of submission. but also, hates to admit he fucking loved it. excruciating pain aside.

“get off me,” eren heaves, swallowing from a dry mouth and his excessive moaning. “please, baby. i can’t take it. i’m sore. i’m asking nicely.”

smiling, you wrap your hand around his neck before sticking your tongue out to glide over his lips, tasting him and begging for entrance, giving him a nasty, overjoyed kiss.

“i’ll give you another massage, sexy.”

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[twinksrepository]

An afternoon at the Lost Oasis

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Sylus X F!Reader

CW: Smut, smut with Feelings, flirting, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Neck Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Big dick, tender Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Finger Sucking, Overstimulation, Creampie

Word count: Roughly 7K

A/N: After a day of letting you use him for lessons as a pretend wander and then using all the water for your shower. Sylus has enough of your teasing, and the man finds he isn't ready to just let you sit back and relax. Deciding it might be time him to be the teacher and giving you a lesson himself.

I needed to write this after that scene in the five star card. Good lord this man is spicy and fine...

Perfer AO3? You can read it here

You gasp as Sylus adjusts the way his arm is curled around you, shifting your legs so he can hold you closer to him with one arm. Forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck to keep your balance, causing him to chuckle as he strides away from the shower. “Sylus!” The fabric of your satin nighty that he had provided is even wetter now, the edge riding higher on your thighs. Feeling the dampness of his skin starting to seep into the material between your butt making you shiver in his hold. 

“I told you the soundproofing here isn’t great.” He still had that edge to his tone just like he did a moment ago. “Or is class in fact over, Miss?” It’s like whiplash how quickly his tone changed back to teasing. He’s so mercurial sometimes, yet the longer you know him the more charming you find it. It also doesn’t help that in the new position his head is just above your breasts, his breath washing over the barely covered skin that has you swallowing while your core clenches. 

You don’t miss the way his fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh through the damp fabric as he walks. “If you mean a class on how to be humble it’s far from over.” Two can play at his game of teasing, and you’re choosing to ignore the fact you might have started it when you were wiping the remaining soap suds from his chest. Dragging your palm down his chest towards the center of his pectorals with just enough pressure to make him wince and make that same groan that makes your belly warm. 

“I had a different lesson in mind.” Pushing a door at the end of the hallway open, you find yourself involuntarily swallowing at the husk lacing his words. It certainly doesn’t have the same opulence you’re used to associating with the leader of Onychinus, but given the location you shouldn’t have expected him to have an entire two floors like he does for most hotels he stays at. Except you don’t get much time to look around from your place held in the air. 

Gasping as you drop from your elevated perch before you’re wedged between the door at your back and Sylus at your front, an adjustment on his part with your legs now on either side of him instead of one side. He has you positioned so you’re level with him and your eyes locked onto one another's. You see the sheer adoration hidden behind that smolder in his crimson orbs, the fingers of his hand trailing along your side and gently dragging the hem of your nighty higher. “What happened Sweetie, cat get your tongue?” 

He’s back to teasing you, leaning closer and ghosting his lips along the edge of your cheekbone until his mouth is right next to your ear. Drops of the water still clinging to his hair fall onto your shoulder causing you to shiver as you try to gather your scattered thoughts to retort. Hard to do when he’s making sure you can hear how ragged his breathing is and the way the moist air seems to envelop your skin.  

“What kind of lesson?” The sureness of your voice from earlier is gone, replaced by a hint of trepidation. At least you’ve gotten better at figuring out when you might have gotten in over your head with Sylus. 

“The kind where a certain kitten learns playing with her claws out has consequences.” Trailing his lips along the shell of your ear before he starts to mouth at the side of your neck. His hips are keeping you in place so his hands can delicately dance upward along your side, teasing your skin in a way that adds to the shivering of your frame in his hold. There’s no doubting how turned on he is, the towel around his hips doing a poor job hiding how hard he is. Well and the fact you can feel the heat from it against your inner thigh. “Like finding out the corvid she thought was tame is, at its core.” Dragging his teeth along the tendon of your neck. “A creature of the wild.” 

“I haven’t been teasing you tha-” Gasping your hands fly to the back of his head and tangle in those damp grey hairs that you had been trying to avoid. His teeth nipping against the pulse point in your neck, forcing the crown of your head to hit the panel of the door you’re held against. Sucking on the area and you can’t hide the moan that slips past your lips, your fingers digging more into the back of his skull unsure if you want to force him to remain in place or push him away. 

Your heart hammering away inside of your chest, the tempo steadily increasing as he sucks harder as if he wants to leave a visible mark that will last for days. A reminder for you that you belong to him, and a warning to others with how vivid the color of your bruise is going to be. A soft noise of contentment that seems out of place as the pressure against your neck decreases, only for you to hiss in pain as his teeth sink into your skin just below your pulse. “Sylus!” Screaming his name as your brain scrambles to figure out what your body wants you to do. 

Sliding his palm across your lips to silence you, his tongue licking over the abused area in soothing passes. “This room is better than the bathroom, but the soundproofing still isn’t all that great.” Tilting his head back so you can look you in the eye once more. “So try not to scream too loudly, Sweetie.” Shifting his hand you glare at him, sticking your tongue out to lick his palm and his fingers as they pass your parted lips. Shaking his head at your action and forcing two of his long digits into your mouth and placing gentle pressure on your tongue. “You’re not doing a good job denying my allegations of teasing too much when you do something like that.” Raising an eyebrow at you before he smirks. “But if you want to use that mouth of yours I can put it to use.” Rolling his hips in a way that you feel his length press harder into your thigh, at the same time his other hand ghosts to your chest and gives one of your breasts a squeeze through the thin red fabric. 

Fine. Narrowing your eyes at him you close your lips and suck around his fingers, finally disentangling your hands from his hair. It’s your turn to do a bit more teasing, letting the tips of your fingers of one hand glide across his cheek and down to the side of his neck. Tracing the tendon as if in a caress, the pressure so much lighter than earlier as your other hand wraps around his wrist. Using it to keep his hand in place as you move your head as if you’re sucking on his cock instead of those long digits. Undulating your tongue along the rough skin as you moan, catching his eyes and sending him your best attempt at a sultry glance with your lids lowered so you see him through your lashes. 

He sucks in a breath in time to the involuntary snap of his hips, a brief chuckle from him that has your insides warming. Trying to roll your hips as well but it doesn’t work because of the angle of your body being held in place against the door by his. “Still teasing I se-” You don’t let him say more, your hand that had been tracing the edge of his collarbone switches from the tender sweep to dragging against his skin. Your fingers move downward over one of his pectorals with enough force to leave a wake of pale skin before the color returns. Hearing that lovely hiss as he inhales through his teeth with his eyes slamming shut. Like early you let your touch grow gentle again closer to the center, using the other hand to tug his wrist away from your mouth. A loud wet pop as his fingers slide past your lips, slick with your spit and a few strands still connecting those lovely digits to your bottom lip. 

“I can’t help myself, you’re just so responsive to my touch.” Your voice has that breathless rasp to it, raising your hand to rest against his neck once more. “I like knowing I can affect you like how you affect me.” You already know you’re in trouble from all your teasing earlier, a little honey lacing your words might save you from being edged several times by the handsome man. 

“ Never.” Placing your hand on his shoulder after nipping the skin of your thumb, that single word makes your face flush and you can feel a dampness forming inside your core. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you during your lesson. ” Trailing his hand down your side to the hem of your nighty and slipping it beneath the fabric and back up your thigh to brush his thumb along the soft skin near the edge of your sex hidden by your underwear. 

The walls of your core clamp down at the soft touch, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you breathe in through your nose to try and slow the hammering of your heart. Moaning when the tip of his finger slips under the band of your underwear, that crimson gaze on his on yours as his face leans closer. “Don’t bite your lip Sweetie.” That deep rumble has you parting your lips, anticipating the incoming connection as your eyelids flicker before closing. The moisture from his breath washes against your face as that lone finger moves closer to your folds. 

Only for both of you to freeze hearing movement beyond the door. Straining your ears to try and pin point the direction it was coming from, it sounds to you like it’s someone walking down to the other end of the hallway. Shuffling along as if they’re carrying something. 

Flicking your eyes back up to Sylus who’s sporting the softest of frowns at the door you find your lips moving, offering an apology without making another noise. The frown on his face was replaced by him raising one of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips tilting to form a devilish smirk. 

Tilting his head and placing a gentle kiss to the inside of your forearm before lifting his hand away from your breast to signal for you to be silent with his finger against his lips. The confusion is visible on your face as you don’t know how you can be any more silent than you already are. Unless he means the pounding of your heart, but that might also just be in your head. 

Still smirking at you, you gasp quickly bringing one of your hands to stifle the noise as he shakes with the force of his silent chuckle. Giving the finger now just past the opening of your entrance a curl, brushing against your damp walls. 

You’re torn between being mad and turning into a puddle. Squeezing his shoulder to let him know you’re not exactly happy with him at the moment. He’s unfazed, which you should have expected. Slipping his finger farther into your slick channel until you feel his knuckle brush your entrance, starting to curl and swirl the lone digit in a way that has you moaning behind your hand. Sylus doesn’t stop, but you’re trying to strain your ears again searching for any indication that the two of you are going to be found out. All you can hear is the haggard breathing that rattles out of him like he wants to do far more than just finger you against the door. 

Arching your back slightly when he adds a second finger, working so the two digits are moving independently of the other. When one curls forward the other shifts back, stretching your walls and tapping the rough tip against any area that has your body involuntary squirming against him. You’re nowhere near your limit but his actions have the ember of arousal in your stomach burning hotter and hotter. As if the added edge of being heard and the potential of being interrupted is adding to the way your body is responding to him. Another soft moan escapes you when one of his fingers hits a spot that has you clenching around him hard enough that he hisses in what you hope is pleasure.

Leaning his head against the side of yours so he can whisper in a voice that sounds like a promise of unimagine pleasure and wrapped in sex that you barely hear. “I want to hear you Sweetie, the way you respond to my touch, my fingers pushing you to the edge.” His lips close enough to your ear that the movement of his lips as he articulates his thoughts tickles the hard inner fold. “But, I want those noises just for myself. I don’t want a single other person to hear how you mewl and pant for me, because of me.” Adding a third finger that has a prickle of tears at the edge of your vision as you bite your tongue to keep yourself from howling at how good he feels. “What a conundrum I find myself in.” 

Pumping his fingers faster now inside of your walls, the sound of squelching seems impossibly loud with the moisture from your pussy coating his fingers. It’s obscene and yet has you even more turned on, the panting and low groans from Sylus right next to your ear like music. The soft gyrations of his hips another indication of how much he’s enjoying the moment, the fabric of the towel has shifted enough you can feel the heat from the head of his cock as it rubs into your thigh leaving a mess of fluid along the skin. 

“Move your hand.” A low command and you shake your head in the negative. He told you to be quiet and there’s no way you can be with what he’s doing to you. “Sweetie.” With the way he says that one word you have no choice but to listen to him, sliding your hand away from your mouth with trepidation. 

His fingers still in your walls, all three are knuckle deep and you take in a deep breath that has your chest expanding to fill the tiny space separating both of your bodies. “Sylus?” It takes effort just to get his name out, like a whisper of a prayer. Maybe it is, a prayer to have him push you over the edge, a prayer to feel his lips along your skin in a way that makes you feel cherished. 

“Not so loud Sweetie.” Trailing the tip of his nose along the shell of your ear before sliding his face closer, his nose pressing along the ridge of your cheekbone a trail of goosebumps following in its wake. “Unless you want to get caught?” Able to see his eyes beneath the mirth shining in those crimson orbs you can see a hint of his adoration. Remember the first time he told you after dragging you to a fight with a gangster how there was no love purer than his. 

“Maybe.” It’s your turn to smirk at him, the smile reaching your eyes as his chest vibrates with another silent laugh. Choosing that moment to slowly remove his fingers from your cunt before slamming them back in with force. You don’t get the chance to scream as his lips slot over yours, swallowing any noises you make in surprise. 

You give up all pretense of being upset with him for all the teasing, you did give it your best attempt at keeping up with his actions. Yet as his tongue sweeps across the inside of your mouth and his fingers pump into you like a machine you’re content to just relax against the wall. Guiding your hands to the back of his neck and up into his hair while he swirls the wet muscle against your own. Playfully flicking the tip to get you to engage with him in a different type of dance. 

His wrist is moving faster, those long digits fluttering along your slick walls that are squeezing around him as if trying to drag them deeper into your cunt. A line of fire starting to race along your spine while your toes curl.

Dragging the edge of your fingernails from the top of his scalp down to the back of his neck, as you coil your tongue with his. Hearing him groan into your mouth has you humming yourself in both satisfaction and pleasure. Your asscheeks clenching as your hips try to roll to chase his fingers, you’re close now. Ready to fall off that edge. 

Sylus is well aware of how close you are if the amount of your slick running down his fingers and wrist is anything to go by. The fluid trailing down his arm in a steady stream before dripping onto his thigh. He wants you, wants to slam his cock into the deepest part of you while you’re against the door and feel you squeeze him. Except that isn’t an option right now. As meticulous as he is with his planning and considerations, he made a small mistake. 

He’d forgotten the condoms. Well forgotten implied he didn’t think about them when the object had crossed his mind. No. He thought that this time he’d indulge in just bringing you pleasure, of making you squirm from his fingers, to twist under the confines of his arms holding you in place while he used his mouth to make you cum over and over again while he drank down your release like a fine wine. To enjoy you like an oasis and him a man that hadn’t seen water in weeks.

He should have known better. You were his weakness and in this moment you were making his resolve to pamper you while denying himself the feeling of being wrapped in your tight heat crumble. The soft roll of your hips following his fingers, the way your hands carded through his hair tugging the strands just enough to make him aware. The dragging of your nails along his scalp had his hips shuddering like he was some teenager getting off for the first time, and your noises. 

Damn, those noises. From the wet squelching of your cunt to those soft little moans and whimpers that were just loud enough for him to hear. He needed you to cum on his fingers. 

Now. 

Now while his mouth is attached to yours, to swallow down your call of his name while you cum. He knew the scream would be loud enough to have someone coming to investigate, assuming there was a danger of some kind. Pumping his fingers faster while pushing his upper body more into yours, sliding his free hand above your head trying to make the space even smaller. As if to make it so you’re both occupying the same space. 

Your fingers start to dig into the meat of his shoulders as he leans more into you, you’re almost there as his fingers pump you faster, the thundering of your heart pounding in your ear as your lungs start to burn. It takes all of your brain cells to still your body and breathe in as deeply as you can through your nose. 

That moment of stillness is what does you in, like you’re hyper aware of the rough tips of his fingers brushing against a cluster of nerves along your walls, of the faint taste of wine on his tongue that you don’t remember seeing him drink. 

Slumping against his body while your hands loosen on his neck, sliding down against the door a small amount so your waist is more in line with his as the liquid pours down your legs and puddles under your feet. 

Pulling his fingers from your quivering core Sylus grins, watching you breathe through your mouth with your eyes closed as he leans back. Raising his hand to see the amount of slick coating his long digits. Smirking as he waited for you to come back to your senses for what he planned to do next. 

You feel like you’re floating with the haze running through your mind from your post orgasm high. The muscles of your body are lax as you take in a long inhale before slowly opening your eyes and sending a soft smirk toward Sylus. You’re sure you look like a love sick fool, but it’s just the two of you here right now and doubt he’d care. If anything he’d take pride at the slack jawed look you’re sporting. Lifting a hand and watching it as if in slow motion before resting it against the side of his neck again. “Was I a good student?”

Sylus chuckles, raising his hand you notice the fluid coating his fingers. Watching him stick out his tongue and lick the inside of his hand from the base of his forefinger to the tip. Humming as the wet muscle slips back inside his mouth. “You mean so far?” Closing his eyes as he shakes his head as if in disbelief his voice still low like he’s worried about being overheard and you remember his comments about how this room didn’t have the best soundproofing either. “I suppose so.” Flashing you a smile that makes your core flutter as the flicker of arousal starts to build in your body again. “Though, we’re far from finished Kitten.” 

Tapping his other two fingers against your bottom lip and smearing some of your release along the puffy skin. “Time for the next part.” A playful whisper to his words and you understand his meaning, parting your lips and shifting your head forward to wrap them around his fingers. The tip of your tongue slips along the edges of his fingers as the taste of yourself floods your senses. “Still a quick study I see.” That deep rasp tells you how as much as Sylus looks unaffected, even as his skin has that flush that he gains when he’s been working out for a while, he’s barely holding himself together right now. 

It just makes you suck all the harder, curling your tongue before flattening it as if scooping every drop off his digits. Humming as you swallow the last of your release from his fingers, at some point you had closed your eyes, slowly opening them to peer up at his face through your lashes. Making a show of pulling your head back so his fingers fall from your mouth with a pop. “I do my best to impress.” Licking your top lip before smirking at him, feeling like you want to try and push his buttons. “Was that it?” A breathy exhale accompanying your words, letting the tip of your tongue poke out of the corner of your lip.

“You say it like you’re not impressed.” Sliding his hands down your sides and giving your hips the slightest of squeezes, hoisting you into the air once more. “I still have another trick up my sleeve for my favorite student Sweetie.” Striding towards the bed that’s against the wall and thankfully far from the door. Flashing you a smile that makes you wonder if you’re floating in a dream after that orgasm or awake. 

At least until he drops you on the bed with no amount of decorum. “Sylus!” At least you remember his words from earlier as you hiss at him with your voice low. “Why are you always dropping me on the damn bed!” 

“A good hunter should expect the unexpected.” Kneeling on the edge of the bed he motions for you to move backwards so you're more in the center of the mattress. Sliding back on your elbows you let your eyes wander down to the towel still wrapped around his waist, hiding his length from view. 

“Well I expect my boyfriend not to throw me around like a rag doll.” Pouting up and him as he shuffles more of his body onto the firm surface. 

“I'll keep that in mind, Sweetie.” Tilting his head so those gray bangs fall across his forehead and briefly hide his eyes. “Now.” Dropping his voice as he lowers himself down with his arms beside the edges of your stomach. “Spread your legs, I want a taste.” His voice is sinfully low and you feel a twinge in your belly as it tightens in response along with your core. 

“What about you?” You're not against him eating you out, more than once now he’s left you an incoherent mess with his tongue curled inside your slick walls. It can do a lot more than just sweet talk you and talk his way out of situations when he doesn’t blast his way out. 

Shaking his head just enough to make his bangs shift once more. “It's not about me right now, I want you to relax. I've missed you these past few weeks.” Sporting a smile as he says it that makes you sink more into the mattress, except you aren’t sure how you feel about his answer.

Pushing yourself up as best as you can using your elbows feeling the press of his arms against your stomach keeping you in place. “Sylus.” It’s awkward as you reach out to run your hand along his cheek, trying to remain upright with one hand. “I’ve missed you too.” Brushing the tips of your fingers along his skin while focusing on his crimson orbs. “I wanna feel you, all of you. Please Sylus, don’t make it about me.” You have missed him and as much as you like the idea of just letting him pamper you right now, you’d rather have both of you enjoying your time together.

Letting out a long exhale Sylus drops his head against the skin of your thigh, his eyes flicking from yours to his hands along your stomach rubbing the thin fabric serving as a flimsy barrier. One of his cheeks is pressed against your skin, distorting his face as he pouts before opening his mouth. “I don’t have any condoms here.” It comes out so flat and low you aren’t sure you heard him correctly at first. 

Furrowing your brow as you blink, trying to understand the problem. “Why does that matter?” The confusion you feel lacing your words as you watch him blink at you in surprise. “I mean I’ve been on birth control for a while.” A thought crossing your mind that you find tumbling from your lips before you can think about it. “Unless you’re seeing someone else.” That has your heart beating painfully in your chest, with all his sweet words and tender actions you don’t like the idea of him dating more than just you. 

“Did you really just ask me that?” Lifting his face away from your thigh and using his arms to slide up your body until he’s towering over you not truly giving you the chance to answer him. “I thought by now, you’d understand I adore you.” Letting his weight settle onto your body his face in line with yours. “There is and never will be, anyone else.” Every time he says something like that it makes your heart race, from the way his voice carries no hint of hesitation and the steady cadence as if he’s stating a simple fact. 

“Sylus.” Your voice sounds soft, even to your own ears as you slide your hands along his shoulder. A hint to get him to move closer so you can kiss him properly. Unlike all the others so far it’s soft and tender, a reminder that his words are true and you love him all the more for it. “Please Sylus, I wanna feel you.” 

Humming as he runs his nose along the side of yours, opening his eyes slowly and you see the burning desire deep in those crimson orbs. “It certainly isn’t what I planned, but you’re hard to deny when you ask me like that Sweetie.” Rolling his back to create some space between the two of you. Grabbing the edge of the towel still wrapped around his waist and tugging the knot loose so the fabric falls away revealing his hard length. 

You make a noise much like a mewl at the sight, reaching out and taking him in hand. Your core clenching as you slide your palm along his velvet like skin, the heat of him sinking into you. The tip of his cock red and weeping, your eyes trailing upward when he starts to chuckle again. “What’s so funny?” 

“Just how eager a certain Kitten is when she wants something.” Tapping your side but not stopping you from giving him a hand job. “Not sit up, unless you want me to rip this lovely little piece of lingerie from your body.” Sighing as his hands hook the hem of the thin nightwear, brushing along your ribs as she moves it higher. 

You have to let him go so he can fully remove the garment, and when he does he’s quick to place his hands over your breasts. Teasing the skin between his fingers with a raised eyebrow. “No matter how often I see these, it’s not enough.” 

“So the leader of Onychinus is a boob man?” A teasing lilt to your voice as you go back to pumping his cock with a twist of your wrist near the head, using the precum seeping from his head as lube. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Leaving the tissue of your chest alone, seemingly happy with the way your nipples have hardened under his touch. “More.” Trailing off until his eyes lock with yours. “I’m a man that knows exactly what he wants, and takes steps to ensure I obtain it.” Using the heel of his hand to push you back into the fabric of the bedspread before hooking a single digit into the band of your underwear and tugging it down your legs, only for part of the material to snag and in his haste force it to snap. He’s as smooth as he can be removing the tattered scrap of fabric and your hand from his cock, adjusting his position to toss your underwear to the floor. 

“Hey!” 

“I’ll get you another pair later.” Laughing at the indignation on your face as your nose quirks at the man. Another adjustment and Sylus pauses, his cock heavy as it rests against your thigh. “Tell me what you want.” That husk is back in his voice and you wonder if he’s wanted to have you with no barriers before now. 

“I want you Sylus. All of you.” Smiling up at him as you place a hand on his chest, adding enough pressure as you drag it along the skin to make him hiss just like when you were both in the bathroom. “I want to feel you deep inside me with nothing between us.” 

“Tell me if it’s too much.” Using his hand to guide his cock between your legs, but he doesn’t move to enter you right away. Sliding his tip along your folds as he gathered some of your wetness, his hand working your slick along his length. Grinning down aware you’re watching him and making a show of tapping his dick against your clit so you let out a soft little gasp as it sends shockwaves through your stomach and your thighs to clench. “Ready?” 

He’s watching your face, waiting for you to either speak or nod for him to continue. After taking a deep breath you nod, trying to will your body to relax for the incoming stretch. You can’t help the long sigh that leaves your lips as he lines the head of his cock up with your entrance and starts to press inside. You gaze firmly on his face now as he stares at where your bodies are joined and watches as his length disappears inside of you. 

“So good.” Panting as he starts to pull back somewhat before plunging forward once more, he’s still not as deep as he can go, maybe a third of his length stretching your slick walls. It’s far from the first time you’ve had sex, even farther from the last, yet it feels so different without that thin layer of latex separating you. Every bump and vein seems more prominent as he splits you open with his dick, his gaze unwavering from where he’s connected to you.

If you weren’t already starting to squirm from the heat radiating into your pussy from his dick you might have noticed the damp skin at the edge of his hairline. Sylus is struggling to stop from snapping his hips forward and slamming his length balls deep, he wants to savor this. The way your slick walls suck him in and how warm and tight you are with that direct skin to skin contact. One word runs through his mind on repeat as more of his dick slides inside of you. 

Heavenly.

You gasp, your hands writhing and you flail, trying to grab something, anything, to ground you. He feels so good, the veins along his shaft rubbing against a bundle of nerves that has your cunt clamping down. The firm muscles of his forearms end up being what you find, grasping them as the tendons shift. “Alright, Sweetie? I’m just past halfway.” You whine hearing that, squeezing his arms a little harder than you meant to. 

“Sylus!” Bawling his name in a whisper, still aware you don’t want to make too much noise even without the door against your back. “More.” Arching your back as you try to spear yourself more onto his cock. “Please.” You’re ready to cum and you want to feel him in the deepest part of you when you tip over the edge. 

“Hang on, I’ll get us there.” His voice sounds clipped, opening your eyes that you don’t remember closing. His cheeks painted a vibrant crimson to match his eyes, and you notice a single bead of sweat form between his brow and trail down to the tip of his nose. “I didn’t think the lack of a condom would have me this close when we just started.” Hooking his arms around your thighs briefly to lift your legs, allowing him to move closer. A few more thrusts before he stops and you start to tremble, the head of his cock just brushing your cervix has your core burning like an inferno. 

Your walls clamped around him tightly enough you could have sworn you felt his heart beating inside your pussy, throbbing in time to the pulse in his neck as he remained stationary. The only part of Sylus moving was his chest as it expanded with the force of his inhales. “Damn Kitten.” Watching you through lidded eyes. “You feel like a vice.” Trailing one of his hands from your hip to the soft skin of your abdomen, placing his palm just above your pelvis. “Just relax, I want this to last.” 

Easier said than done when you’re ready to cum, softly whining as you lift your hands higher along his arms. “Hard to do when you feel so good Sylus.” Reaching his shoulders and giving him a small tug hoping he’d get the idea of what you want. “Wish we’d done this a while ago.” 

A playful smile on his rosy features, Sylus does understand, leaning forward so his upper body presses against yours. Giving his hips an explorative roll as if to ensure he could still move while checking to see if one of you was close enough to reach your orgasm. Letting out a soft whine, the pressure against your body makes you feel even more of him than before. “As much as I don’t like waiting, this might be one of the few times it was worth the delay.” Framing your head between his arms you swallow, the sight of those veins along his upper arms gets you every time. Licking your lips and unaware you’ve relaxed more as you’re distracted by the thought of running your tongue along those veins and the muscles of his arms. 

This close to your face, Sylus starts to rock his hips just enough to move his cock along your walls. The last time he was this gentle when he fucked you had been the first time, and the similarities weren’t lost on him. Just after a few thrusts, he can feel your walls quivering around him, the trembling of your body under his. Closing his eyes as he focused on how you felt around him for a few breaths, listening to the sound of your pants and the hammering of your heart almost lost to the low slap of skin. 

You don’t know how much longer you can last, your fingers dragging down along the muscles of his back as you arch into him. Seeking more of his skin against your body as your breathing becomes more labored, you’re so close. “Sylus.” Trying to warn him of your oncoming orgasm, but it’s too late. Slamming your eyes shut and gripping his back hard enough to leave crescents where the tips of your fingers are. 

“Fuck.” Hissing through his teeth as he opened his eyes to watch your face as you came around him, keeping that gentle tempo as he fucked you through your orgasm. The blissed out expression on your face made him grin, knowing that look was all because of him. 

As the flood of pleasure passed you hummed, loosening your grip on the meat of his upper back just enough to drag your fingers downward. His skin is just as slick as it was when he stepped out of the shower, allowing your hands to ghost over his skin down to the curve of his ass. Grabbing both cheeks and giving them a squeeze, feeling them clench at the sudden grope. Hissing your name through clenched teeth, opening those crimson orbs you can see how much he’s holding himself back. 

“Don-” 

“Where?” 

Cutting you off the way his face is strained makes sense, the way his whole body is taunt as he tries to hold himself together just a little longer and you feel your heart flutter inside your chest. “Inside.” He doesn’t show any sign of surprise at the world, nodding to let you know he heard you. “Don’t hold back.” Saying what you wanted to moments before, it’s like the floodgates are released as he starts to pistol his hips even faster and harder. 

Practically jackhammering inside of your walls, those heavy balls of his slapping against your ass. One of his hands tangles in your hair, tilting your head so he can smash his lips to yours. A messy sloppy kiss that has you reeling as his tongue plunges into your mouth in time to his cock. Groaning into your mouth as he starts to empty himself inside of you, spurting his cum in the deepest part of your sex. 

The sensation of that warm fluid gushing inside of your walls sends you over the edge again, your final movement curving your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. 

Sylus keeps moving, churning your insides as he keeps pumping into you aware of his seed dripping out of your cunt and between your bodies. As much as he’s thought about this moment now that he’s finally having you bare for the first time it's even better than he had imagined. Slowing his hips after his cock is finally done spurting his release, lifting his head and taking in the sight of your bruised lips. You look as exhausted as he feels, tenderly removing your arms from his neck Sylus leans back, licking his lips at the sight of your folds after his softening length slips from you. Your sex is a drenched mess, a steady stream of his thick cum pouring from your entrance and down to your ass before dripping to the sheets. 

Swallowing as his cock twitches, growing hard again. “Sylus?” Moaning his name as you rub your face, pushing part of your hair back away from your slick skin. 

“Yes, Sweetie?” 

“I think I need another shower.” He starts to chuckle, giving his head a shake because you’ve clearly forgotten how you used the last of the water even before he got his shower in. 

“How about a bit of cuddling, hm? Since someone used all the water earlier the best I can offer is a damp cloth in a little bit.” Teasing you as he moves to lay down beside you, aware of the sweat clinging to both of your bodies but wanting to feel your body along his even if it didn’t help him cool down. 

“Fuck.” Sylus just laughs all the harder as you realize the predicament you placed yourself in. 

Later after you’re both dressed again outside on the terrace and you’re tucked against his side Sylus finds himself looking up at the stars while you snore away. Thinking back to the conversation about what he once had been, and how that monster would have never been as gentle as he had been with you today. You don’t belong in his world, but he’ll be damned if he gave you up now. His hand gripping your shoulder a little harder, tomorrow he’ll take you back to the airport with just the memory of this afternoon to keep him going through the coming days. 

Masterlist

[luveline]

helloooo, how are you? i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i finally got to the post-prison part, so i’m really missing shy!r and post prison spencer <33 if you’re felling up to writing something for them again, i would love to see it!! maybe when they kiss for the first time or something else (completely up to you, i would love anything that you write hahah) but if you’re not really feeling it at the moment, please don’t worry about it, it’s so understandable 🩷 have the best day!!

ty for your request I love first kisses <3

Spencer takes you for a walk and explains a couple of courting rituals. shy fem!reader, 1.5k

Profiling is still very hard, but seven months into your new job at the BAU, you’ve become proficient in Spencer Reid. You can tell when he’s eager to work, when he’s down about something, when he’s feeling good. He holds himself differently on his good days, he takes care to coil his hair and wears a clean pair of shoes. 

In the bullpen, he’s sitting at his desk beside yours, craned over a desk covered in loose papers, books, and files. You attempt to hide your approach, lest he startle. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

“Good morning.” Can’t hide anything. He’s been an agent for ninety percent of his adult life. “What are you doing?” 

“Just reading.” 

You sit at your desk, clearing a space for your bag among your own mess of files and books. Your monitor turns on with a nudge of the mouse. Your screen is filled swiftly by notifications and Outlook, then the FBI messaging system, and then the ‘filing cabinet’ Garcia built to help you understand the insanity that is the BAU online system. It submerges you every morning regardless. 

“What are you reading about?” you ask. Your emails can’t wait, but you don’t want to read them, so you won’t for another ten minutes. 

He stumbles over a breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“It’s courtship rituals.” 

You regret asking. Whenever you and Spencer talk about feelings, or love, or romance, you end up hot as a kettle on a stovetop, steam billowing from your ears. You choked on a mouthful of lukewarm tea a few days ago when he’d mentioned America's developing hook-up culture. 

He doesn’t tell you any more, which is unlike him. Spencer Reid loves to talk, or loves to share what he’s learned. You looked it up —it’s called info-dumping, and it’s usually because the person telling you is so deeply fascinated by the topic they’re investigating that they can’t contain it. It’s a common symptom of ADHD, or autism, or both. Spencer’s done it since the day you met, which is nice. You feel like he trusts you. 

And so you’re wondering now if you’ve done something to make him think he can’t do it today. Or maybe he’s not feeling well. 

You prop your face in his hand and watch him. 

He doesn’t look upset, only focused. 

You hate quiet. You love not talking, but gaps of silence have you overthinking things. Maybe he’s mad. Maybe you’ve finally pissed him off. 

It’s scary because he’s amazingly kind. Overwhelmingly nice. He’s lovely and good looking but it’s his heart that shocks you every time, how he’s looked after you, defended you.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you ask. 

He blinks to attention. “What?” 

“You’re not talking.” 

He grins. “I’m thinking.” 

His smile when he looks like he’s about to laugh is everything. 

“Don’t think too much,” you say as you play with a button on your coat. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?” 

“Don’t think too much because you think about things you don’t need to,” he amends. “You worry about everything.” 

“Well, so do you.” 

“Exactly. I’ll worry enough for you, too.” Spencer gives you a smile you don’t understand. “Will you come to the archive with me? I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Spencer…” He just acknowledged that you worry about everything. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Something with no pressure. I’ll explain it as we walk.” 

You shed your coat and walk together out of the BAU offices down a long hallway. You take the elevator down to the ground level, spring air in the hallways, early morning sunshine lapping at your shoes where it’s settled golden against the marble floor. Spencer professes that it’s nothing to worry about again, but he doesn’t elaborate, and your heart begins to pulse too quickly. 

You can’t look at him. 

“I’ve been reading about these courtship rituals and… looking at which ones are the best. There are thousands of them, but contemporary courting isn’t easy. It confuses me. With my last, my only girlfriend, we wrote each other letters. But I wanted this time to be different, because– because love is different?” He grimaces. 

“Love is different,” you agree. You’re not sure who he means, your chest panging in two different beats. Is he… talking about you? “It’s different every time.” 

“I was looking for the more subtle rituals. I kept thinking I’d find the right one, and that I’d know it when I saw it, but I can’t find anything suitable and I might need your help. Um, if you even want to help me.” 

“Of course I do.” 

Spencer slows just outside of the archive’s door. “Everything I read about feels like it would just embarrass you. I picture buying you flowers and I feel like you’d just– just explode.” He says it with affection and apology alike. “I wrote you a poem. Emily told me not to give it to you, though.” 

“You wrote me a poem?” 

“I made you a love spoon, too, but I can’t whittle, and it looks terrible. I even cut my hand, and if you rejected me you’d have to give the spoon back and I think that would make it worse.” 

You turn completely still. The last thing you expected that morning was for Spencer to confess. And he is confessing, a small smile on his face, patience, nervousness, close enough to feel the heat of him beside you. You short circuit in an attempt to compute the magnitude of it; Spencer wants to court you, and you can’t handle it. 

Your exhale shudders out of you. Goosebumps attack your arms. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “are you okay?” 

“Spencer, I don’t think you could ever find a way to tell me that wouldn’t make me feel like this.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“How am I supposed to feel?” 

Spencer’s smile fades a touch. “I don’t know. You can feel how you want to feel, it isn’t up to me. But I have feelings for you. I thought you knew.” 

It’s like knowing that the lottery numbers were chosen specifically to match your ticket. The thing he’s talking about doesn’t make sense. 

“Are you kidding around?” you ask. 

“What? No.” He holds your wrist gently. “Of course not.” 

You swallow a lump and try not to overreact, though you’re already doing that. This is a good thing, it is, but he’s him and you’re you and every time he touches you it’s like fireworks are bursting warm and tingly over your skin. You smile at his chest, cheeks dimpling from how wide it stretches. 

“You don’t have to court me, um. Not in any way like that. I’m just like every other girl, you know? I like flowers. I,” —your cheek lists down toward your shoulder bashfully— “probably would feel a little embarrassed, but I like flowers. I can get you flowers.” 

Spencer really laughs. “You want to get me flowers?” 

“Maybe?” 

He laughs again. His eyes lock onto you and his open hand closes on the opposite arm, putting you face to face. “It was my idea,” he says, playfully argumentative. 

“Okay.” 

“You want to hear the poem?” he asks, quietening again. 

You nod slowly. “N’I wanna see the spoon.” 

“Can I please kiss you?” He takes a breath, like he’s been running. “I know this isn’t the right place, but I didn’t expect to want it this badly.” 

“I don’t think there’s a wrong place…” 

“So I can?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek, to hold you with care. 

You nod into his approach, find yourself kissed and held tightly in a split-second of warmth and warm smells. His nose touches yours in a kiss of their own, his lips part lightly before pressing in again. Two kisses lend to a third, but then he pulls away to look at you. As quickly as it started, it’s over. 

“You're overheating already,” he says, thumb rubbing a sweet path under your cheek. 

You don’t know what to say. He ducks his head just that little bit to make sure you’re okay. Understanding flows between you both. His hand falls behind your back to pull you in for a hug. 

“I’ve never been the confident one in any of my relationships,” he admits. 

“I usually am.” 

Your deadpan lights him up. His hug turns strong armed, and he walks you back, giggling, arms a comforting vice around you. “You can be the shy one this time,” he says, seemingly unaware of how his using the word ‘relationship’ has thrown you for another loop. 

You’re hot as a furnace all morning. Spencer makes excuses for you, but Emily’s amazing at her job. 

“Jesus, Spence, you didn’t read her the poem? I told you it was too much.” 

[anantaru]

DAY 17 — VIRGINITY LOSS

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — neuvillette, heizou, wriothesley

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, first time, virgin! reader, taking your v card, soft & passionate, pussy drunk genshin men

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

neuvillette was always tender-hearted and caring with you— nonetheless, this specific night, he was burning up through his entire nervous system— only a minimal glance of your body was able to drag him into such brimming state with sweat spouting down his back while only inches away from feeling your skin on his hands— just the whisper of your soft words scurrying at the head of his sinful imaginations.

at the present moment in time, there were no thoughts other than doing this correctly, no focus other than the one centered on your angelic frame— a crucial need, as much as air and water, sewed up within the pain of anticipation simmering over his psyche.

you can feel how his fingers silently curve over the flesh of your thighs before he inches you closer to his bare body, "voice any discomfort to me—," he pauses before coughing out, barely breathing as his heart thuds hard against his chest from how tight your legs were wrapped around his hips, "—immediately."

you nod in compliance, and you rest your head against his broad shoulder before feeling neuvillette's complete weight shift, soon after caging you beneath him as he towers on top with a new perception prodding at your wet core, his cock gently resting between your silken pussy lips— it's unique to any other feeling you have ever experienced before and your thighs instantly clamp around his hips harder, your ragged breathing tottering over his neck and shoulder.

you try to relax yourself, letting your hips fall into the mattress before suddenly trembling at an increasing pressure on your cunt— you hear a whimper as neuvillette rests his forehead on yours, holding his gaze on your eyes, the force of the increasing press precise and cautious as your hole parts around the intrusion.

it seems to be everywhere, all at once trapping your body and you suddenly feel so hot inside, then cold, then hot again, the way it manifested so quickly in you like a spumming inferno that imprisoned your body before your mind floats in the air, above clouds— again, it's hot and cold, hot and cold, the pressure in your lower area penetrant and heavy, and you're becoming dizzy by just focusing on how his shaft was stretching you out as neuvillette fills your cunt to the hilt.

neuvillette notices an immediate reaction from his elevated senses, in the way a strong current of oversensitivity stung along his thick, sheathed shaft like a bee stinging their victims— nullifying his pace as his hips stutter before coming to a hold, reveling himself into the warm hug of a wet, gushing pussy enveloping him.

it's just too much right now, for the both of you— or how your body was beginning to smell just like him, your pussy shaping over his length and casted all around it— as if the both of you, had claimed each other entirely.

𖧡 — HEIZOU

"squeeze my hand if it's too much or uncomfortable,"

regardless of heizou's confident and soothing sentences towards you, before smirking down and giving you the feeling that he had it all figured out a long time ago— was in reality, a helpless attempt to hide his genuine panic deafening his inner spirit, and even though the detective believed he did a good job at concealing it from you, the way he'd awkwardly scrunch his brows together or stumble over his own words aired his self parading nervousness spotless for you to see.

despite that, it's a heavenly sight to have you splayed underneath him, bare and exposed— untouched, so hot that it has you clench around his waist as he first slips himself in, his cock immediately showering your warm walls with love. your heart was racing and so was his, yet it was impressive, his self control, slowly pushing in and out of your little hole and leaning his head down to plant a soft, tender kiss on your lips.

"you're so beautiful," heizou praises as you part your lips, "you're mine," and wait for heizou to slip his eager tongue deep into the warm cavern of your mouth, your mind lost in a swirl of senselessness by his gradually fastening thrusts and the mild pain accompanying them— yet such, didn't matter in this moment, because your thoughts travelled up the soul-deep river over emotions unlocking deep inside that bonded your bodies in a new sense of awareness.

𖧡 — WRIOTHESLEY

watching you smile filled wriothesley with a love he never thought he was capable of feeling— and it's warm, as he believed love should always be perceived as, with your bodies moving unitedly, ugh, archons, he was obsessed with this intoxicating feeling.

“f-fuck, fuck, princess, fuck," he stumbles over his wet trembles, his mouth parted and forehead bedding a film of sweat as wriothesley persistently grinds into your sensitivity, his voice raspier than usual and for once he wasn't cracking occasional jokes, instead he hold your gaze forevermore, groaning out a shaky heave as you mewl out from the deep-rooted press on your core— it's a little uncomfortable you won't lie, and wriothesley being above average wasn't aiding you in that particular battle.

despite that you welcome him completely, no matter the circumstances you keep your legs pressed around his thighs when he tirelessly embeds himself so far inside your cunt that you're nothing but a babbling mess, hardly capable to breathe nor voice your pleasure due to the lingering compression on your slit being penetrated for the first time by a large, thick length, so perfectly shaped and harboring a soft pink on the bulbous tip.

he didn't believe he'd ever become so devoted towards another human being and utterly revel inside pleasing you for the first time, through your body and your soul and ugh— that you wanted him to be your first and no one else, how such reason alone was growing the addiction inside of him, his hips grinding inside your warm hole as his lower abs constrict at the pleasure.

wriothesley licks into your mouth in desperation, and each moment he pulls his hips back only to slip inside again, it’s so much better and it seemed like there wasn't a chance for it to subside, the sensation was growing between both your bodies rubbing over each other, his hips twitching with the sudden thud of vibrations due to your creamy walls clamping down on him.

your soft frame squeezes underneath his rough one, hot walls and wet taste, your slit gripping him just the right way and swallowing him till overcrowded with his heavy length, stimulating the veins sloped over his shaft like you were made to do this with him and only him.

truly, there was no comparison to this, nothing would make him get bored of doing this with you.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Touch (Part 2)

Miguel O'Hara x reader

GIF by milesmoralespilled

(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel tries to win you over. It doesn't go as planned.

warnings: pwp!!, light f-dom, praise kink, fem receiving oral, slight m-sub, lots and lots of begging. Miguel is a switchy mess bc i said so. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I am so normal about him!

wc: 2.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You avoid him like the plague. 

The next day, he wakes up to an empty house with you leaving for work earlier than usual. He traipses around the apartment, looking for you before he realises he is chasing your ghost: the traces of scent left on sheets. And he is shameless when he walks into your shared bedroom, rolling around in your heady perfume and pressing the rumpled bedsheets to his nose. Aching, always. 

His own work takes him out of the apartment for most of the day, but he makes a point to slip away early. Little things, mostly: the bodega down the street for your favourite noodles, fresh lilies from a florist on the way, and some chocolate and sweet things to say sorry. He sets up in the kitchen, putting the flowers in water; hands flying on the chopping board to make dinner in time for when you come home. 

Miguel is a careful man; very particular about the way he lives his life. As such, he hunkers down a plan to apologise, showering you with affection and attention to make up for the past few weeks. He wants to be home when you get back, welcoming and warm before he slips out for his… night shift. His other job, that you are just as important as, a fact he wants you to remember.

He can hear you a couple floors down, the tell-tale click of your heels down the corridor and into the elevator. He scrambles to the front room, lounging on the sofa but ready to take your coat off and ask about your day. To go through the routine you had before all the late nights and lonely evenings. 

"Evening, mi vida." He looks expectantly towards you as you walk in. "How was work?" 

You kick off your shoes and breeze into the bedroom - without so much of a glance at him. Deflating, he watches as you shut the door behind you. Miguel sinks into the sofa cushions, sighing in frustration. 

~~~

And it stays like that for the next couple of days: you make it a point to ignore him. Short curt responses after work; Yes Miguel, No Miguel, I put it on the counter, Miguel. He misses the pout of your lips, the pet names, hell, he'd take it if you shouted and screamed at him to take the edge off. Nary a Miggy in sight. You give him nothing. 

Ever perceptive, he notices the little things. You still make his lunch when you can, and leave out food for him when he has a late night and forgets to eat. Small, gentle reminders that you care for him. Not that he ever doubted it, of course. 

When he clambers in through the back window, the one you always leave open for him, it's late. He clutches his side, groaning at a nasty bruise at his ribs. His mask comes off in the dim light, and he rubs his temples. Sore and exhausted, he pads through to the kitchen. 

Despite the lack of adrenaline, his senses are perfectly attuned. He smells it first: the sticky scent of arousal, so fresh he can taste it in the air. There's rustling, and as he pads closer to the bedroom door, he is almost bowled over by the obscene sounds of your fingers buried in your cunt. The door is slightly ajar, and he watches you on silk sheets with the light of the moon spilling onto your frame. One hand clamped over your mouth, the other curling into your pussy, and your eyes screwed tightly shut. His legs weaken at the knees when he realises you're in one of his sweatshirts, desperately humping your hand for release. 

For the past week, you've barely spoken to him, let alone touched him. He's reminded of that when his cock throbs in his suit. He palms himself absentmindedly, the heel of his hand providing juust the right amount of pressure, before catching himself. He feels like a pervert, watching you get off like this, desperate to bury his tongue between your thighs. Space, you need space, and he is trying his hardest to give it to you. Shaking his head, he tears himself away. 

Until he hears a heart-wrenching moan erupt from beyond the door, that is. You curse quietly, Spanish swear words you've clearly heard from Miguel. He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry when you quicken your pace - trying to chase that high. You're frustrated, he can tell, removing the hand at your mouth to squeeze your tits through his sweatshirt. 

With a flash of pink tongue, he wets his lips and gently opens the door wider, leaning on its door frame. You are too occupied to notice him watching, hand on his cock through his suit. And he just waits for a moment, eyes hungry as he matches your speed when he rubs himself through the fabric. Your hips arch slightly, making his cock jump. 

"Mierda, baby." He breathes and your eyes snap open, as you remove your hand with a hiss. 

Miguel stands at your door, windswept hair, beautifully flushed and ruined - all from just watching. He continues to palm himself shamelessly, never breaking eye contact. 

"S'not enough, is it?" He says, shakily. 

He's right and you know it. You can't cum, no matter how hard you try, because it's not the same. Not the same as your boyfriend's long fingers and thick cock pounding into you, persistent. 

He stalks closer and repeats himself. "Not enough for my princesa, hmm?" 

You groan, covering your face. "Miguel-"

"-fuck off, I know, I know." He sinks to his knees in front of you, by your side of the bed. "Let me help you, mi vida."

You hesitate. He looks gorgeous in the half light: hair tousled, looking up at you through heavy eyes. Despite your better judgment, you get closer, legs spread and hanging off the edge of your bed. 

"You want me to beg? Because I will, princesa, I will. Te necesito tanto, tan desesperadamente. I need you so much it hurts. Look, please," He reaches over to paw at your thighs with big, gloved hands. The scent of your cum is overpowering this close - heady and addictive with his enhanced senses. 

"...l-look at what you do to me. Turn me into a mess, can't think about anything else. Solo en ti, princesa. Only you." 

You card your fingers in his hair and he is reverent. Migeul babbles in broken English like a madman, barely taking a breath. You feel the familiar heat of arousal in your gut. He's making you wet, without even trying. 

Cruelly, you jerk his head into your pussy, and he laps you open with a ready tongue. He moans into it, sucking at your clit and lips as you hump his face. His own hips cant at the same pace you've set, rubbing his tented lower half onto the bed frame for some relief. 

Slobbering and messy, he moans into your cunt - hands on your ass to push you further onto his face. He's eating you out like a man starved - and the noises he makes are pornographic. You squeeze your thighs around his head, and he almost cums right then, his hips bucking dramatically upwards with a groan. Watching him unravel is too much to bear, and so you tug at his hair, separated with a wet pop. Head tilted slightly back, chin and mouth glistening with your wetness, he flashes his fangs at you with a lazy grin. You're both panting, breathless from the carnality of it all. 

You clench around nothing; so, so close. 

He wipes his slick mouth with a forearm, before placing his head by your knees. 

"Look how pretty you are, mi sol." He slaps your pussy, watching it pulse in response. "So wet. Is this all for me?" 

Hesitantly, you bite your lip and nod. Miguel rubs circles into the meat of your thigh, sucking hickies into the skin. 

"I can make you feel so good," He whispers into your skin - so tender it makes you shiver. "I just want to make you feel good. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Sé que soy tuyo para siempre mi señorita hermosa. I'm yours… fuck… I-I'm yours…"

You won't be able to wrench him from your cunt; you know that much. When he gets like this, delirious from the heat of your two bodies together in the low light, he turns into something else entirely. Maybe it's to do with his changed DNA, something more than human at the crook of his chest - animalistic and primal. 

You cradle his cheek, so he's forced to look up at you. 

"I want you in me, Miggy. Want it to hurt."

His eyes flutter shut as he nods frantically, moving to stand up. You help him out of his suit, snug around his crotch until his cock springs free. His tip is an angry red and weeping so much precum it spills onto the sheets. His frame is delicious; broad shoulders and strong arms, stocky with the muscle of his thighs and solid middle. Miguel is beautifully tan, with the prettiest cock you think you've ever seen. Long, thick, and curved to the side. You've dreamt about the way he hits your spongy walls in all the right places. 

He helps you out of his sweatshirt, with expert fingers. He practically drools at the swell of your tits, kneading them with one palm as he clambers over you. There's a content sigh as he rubs his cock, sticky with precum, over your slit; head back and hips moving like water. He pulls a moan out of you when he finally - finally - fills you up in one swift movement. 

"Mierda, baby, does that feel good?" He croons, rubbing slow circles into your clit. His answer comes when you clench around his cock, creating a creamy ring around its base. He crouches to nip at your skin with his fangs, rolling his hips into yours. 

He knows your body better than you do, and it feels good. You claw at his back in pleasure, babbling his name into the crook of his neck. But it's not enough. It's like he knows when you're on the edge, about to come, slowing his hips until they simply grind on your clit, rutting against you. It's cruel, and it causes tears well up in your eyes. 

"F-Faster. Please." He just keeps grunting, barely speeding up. A slow, steady, relentless pace, picking up his hips until his cock is almost out of your hole, before filling you in one firm movement. 

He keeps going, and going, until your hips shake and your bodies heave with the effort. His back is red and raw with scratches as your pleas fall on deaf ears. 

"Harder, Miguel. Please, baby, I need it. F-Faster. Want it to hurt." You sob softly, drunk on pleasure.

He kisses up the tears that fall. "I know, mi vida. But it's not what you need right now, hmm?" 

He whispers soft praises into your tits, your collarbone, the fat of your cheeks. Anywhere and everywhere that needs it: so he can tell you how beautiful you are and how much he cares for you. He swallows up your moans with his lips on yours, sending you over the edge. That tight string at your gut snaps, and you cum so hard you see stars. 

He doesn't stop, picking up the pace in the aftershock of your spasms. You can tell he's trying hard not to follow, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. When your orgasm subsides, he pulls out with a shaky moan. 

"One more, f'me, baby. Una más para mí, just one more." 

You hum into his kiss, and he hooks his hands under your knees. Placing your legs over his shoulders, he sinks back into you with a satisfied grunt. Now, he pounds into you - the slap-slap of your ass against his hips resounding in your little bedroom. You make a mess, creamy cum spilling where your bodies connect. You force him deeper, harder, with a hand on his neck. 

"M'close, Miggy." You tug the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

"Good girl, good fucking girl." His hips stutter when he feels you clench at his words. "I want to cum with you, princesa. Can I cum? Please, baby, c-can I cum?" 

Gently nodding, you wrap a hand around his throat and pull him in for a kiss - so consuming and heady it makes you want to sink into his skin. You clamp down on his cock, and his pace slurs; before Miguel spills his warm cum deep into your cunt. His hips still, and he curls into you, deepening the kiss. 

Exhausted, you separate, side by side. Still sticky with his cum, he wraps you up in his arms, pressing shaky kisses to your temple. 

"I love you." He says, gently. 

"Doesn't feel like it, sometimes." You breathe. 

You both lay there, completely still. He furrows his brow, terse with the words he wants to say but can't. All he can do is pull you closer, and envelope you in the warmth of his skin. 

"Miggy?" You say after a while. 

He hums. 

"I love you too." 

_

_

_

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hello! I love your writing. Can I request an actress y/n story of her doing the Vogue 73 questions interview and some of the questions being cute stuff about her relationship with Tom and the interviewer going viral on social media.

73 Questions with Vogue || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

A/n: this was so fun to write, thank u for the request anon :)

Warnings: none

Wc: 606

Tom Blyth x actress!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

You step into the grand foyer of your opulent home, adorned with exquisite art and gleaming chandeliers. Vogue’s cameras follow your every move as you prepare to answer their 73 questions. The air is charged with anticipation as fans worldwide await a glimpse into your glamorous life.

"Mind your step," you caution the interviewer, noting the subtle elevation that often catches people off guard. "Oh, thanks," he chuckles in response to your warning, and a reciprocal grin plays on your lips. The interviewer then dives in, initiating the conversation with, "What's your morning routine like?"

You flash a radiant smile, “I start my day with a strong cup of coffee and a walk with Tchai.” As you speak, you gently caress your spoodle, cozily curled up on the sofa.

"Tchai is so adorable! How long have you had him?" The interviewer questions, giving your dog an affectionate pat. "I've had Tchai since I started dating my partner Tom, it was actually his gift to me for our one year," you share with a smile, recalling the moment Tom surprised you with the dog of your dreams.

As you stroll through the expansive living room, the camera captures the elegance that surrounds you. A question about your career follows, and you share anecdotes from your latest film.

“I actually took this from the set of tbosas, it’s a photograph of my character and Coriolanus that was on Coryo’s bedside table during the first scenes,” You show the camera the photo, your grin reflecting the fond memories associated with it.

“Texting, calling, or FaceTiming?” The interviewer probes further. “FaceTiming for sure! I’m too slack most of the time to text, so I'd rather FaceTime people because then I can see their reactions,” you share, casting a glance over your shoulder as you navigate through your hallway, adorned with captivating artworks.

The interviewer then delves into a more personal inquiry, asking, “How do you handle the pressures of fame?” You take a contemplative pause, “I’ve learned to prioritize my well-being and maintain a grounded perspective. Surrounding myself with genuine people helps.”

Entering your plush home office, you take pride in showcasing the awards adorning the shelves. The conversation seamlessly transitions to your personal life, and a subtle smile graces your lips.

“Congratulations on reaching your three-year anniversary with Tom!” The interviewer beams, and you reciprocate, “Thank you!” “Could you share a bit more about your relationship with Tom?” the interviewer inquires.

Your eyes light up, “Tom is incredible. We support each other’s dreams and share a deep connection. He’s my biggest cheerleader. And I'm genuinely grateful to have someone like him in my life.”

The camera follows you into the stylish kitchen, where you casually pour a glass of water. “What’s the key to a successful relationship?” He asks. “Communication, trust, and a lot of laughter,” you reply, your tone sincere.

The resonant creak of the front door interrupts the air, and a familiar voice follows, causing an immediate and infectious smile to light up your face. “Oh, there’s Tom right now,” You chuckle setting the glass down before you make your way to the foyer, the camera effortlessly trailing your every move.

“Hi sweetheart,” Tom removes his sunglasses, drawing you close for a tender kiss before casting a warm smile at the camera. “Go, continue your interview,” He encourages, his eyes filled with affection, as you return the grin and redirect your attention to the ongoing interview.

Moving towards the sunlit terrace, you reveal breathtaking views. The interviewer probes further, "How do you maintain a work-life balance?" You chuckle, turning your gaze towards the camera, "It's a juggling act, but quality time with loved ones is non-negotiable," You point out.

As you ascend the staircase, your eyes meet Tom, engrossed in play with Tchai on the couch. A soft giggle escapes your lips, captured by the camera momentarily fixated on the fleeting connection.

"What's something people don't know about you?" You ponder on the question before replying, "I'm allergic to most flowers," You reveal as a soft chuckle leaves your lips. "Really? I wouldn't have known," The interviewer comments, surprised at you revelation.

"Oh, absolutely! During the filming of tbosas, I couldn't escape the constant sneezing, and my eyes were continuously watery, especially when shooting scenes outdoors in the district. We had to take a lot of takes with those scenes" you confess with a sheepish smile, casually walking backward while maintaining a steady gaze with the camera.

The tour continues through a luxurious walk-in closet, filled with designer attire. "Favorite fashion trend right now?" You gesture to your chic outfit, "Effortless elegance. Comfort meets style."

"What are your top artists that you listen to?" You walk over to your vinyl player, hands flickering through the vinyl records. "That's a tough once since I listen to a wide range of music. But I think I'd have to say my top three would be Olivia Rodrigo, The Neighbourhood, and the Smiths," You smile, picking out the 'Louder than bombs' vinyl and playing 'back to the old house'

"This is actually Tom and I's favourite song from the Smiths," You reveal with a grin. "You seem to have quite a collection of hats, care to share some light about the meaning behind your huge collection?" The interviewer points to a wall where about 20 cowboy hats were hung up.

"Funny story actually, these are hats that Tom and I have either taken, or were given from the set of Billy the Kid." You pick up Tom's cowboy hat, "Those who have watched the series, which you definitely should, would recognise this hat to be Billy's," You showcase the hat to the camera.

"This one I was gifted to by the director," You point to a white hat, "And these ones are from other cast members like Daniel, Alex, Ryan, and a few others," You gesture to the others.

A sudden knock at the door causes you to look at the door where Tom peaks his head around, the camera zooming onto him as he grins. "I made some iced chai's, your with oat milk" He walks in, handing you yours and one for the interviewer, "Awe, thanks babe," You gratefully smile at him.

"Yeah, thank you Tom!" The guy smiles at Tom who smiles warmly before leaving. You take a sip and let out a satisfied sigh from the cold beverage. "Mhm, this iced chai is delicious! Is this something you drink often?"

"Oh I love everything and anything chai. That's why I named my dog tchai cause I love it so much," You chuckle, "Do you usually have it with oat milk?" The interviewer asks as you hum, "I'm lactose intolerant so I drink oat milk,"

“Oh I see, I can tell Tom is very thoughtful, what’s your favourite trait that he has?” He asks a difficult question, “You can’t make me choose, I love everything about him!” You giggle.

“Okay, okay, sorry just say one that comes to mind then,” He chuckles, “hmm, I love the little things he does like putting medicine and a cup of water on my bedside table when I’m sick, buying chocolate for me when he knows I’m not having the best day, braiding my hair when I’m in my office doing work because it de-stresses me.”

“He’s the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for,” You smile like a schoolgirl thinking about him. As the interview concludes, you step into the sunlight, the epitome of success and poise.

The Vogue 73 questions interview becomes an internet sensation, captivating audiences worldwide. Your fans celebrate not just the actress but the genuine, relatable person behind the glamour.

In the days that follow, headlines laud your openness and authenticity. Your relationship with Tom Blyth becomes a the talk of the internet once again. The internet buzzes with admiration, turning the Vogue interview into a timeless moment in your career.

[aerynwrites]

Losing You

Halsin x GN!Reader

A/N: based on these three requests! Halsin would definitely flip out if you were injured in battle - so here’s a little insight into that scenario. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning: canon typical violence, blood, injuries, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort.

You knew the shadow cursed lands were going to be a completely new trial all together, but you weren’t prepared for this. 

The first ambush by the shadow creatures when you first arrived hadn’t been something to cause you great worry. But after reaching last light and venturing out once more, another ambush had taken your group by surprise. 

You’d all been doing fine, Gale and Halsin’s spells holding the most of them off and Shadowheart keeping you all safe and healed. You’d just managed to take out one of the shadows before a panicked call of your name reached your ears. 

You turn just as a creature materializes in front of you, its clawed hand swiping upwards in a flash. 

You don’t even register the pain at first, the creatures strength sending you flying through the air until you land harshly against the cold ground. 

The wind is knocked from your lungs, and it’s then, as you struggle for breath that the pain washes over you in an agonizing wave. 

You faintly register the way you cry out Halsin’s name on instinct, and you hear the way he calls for you in kind. 

But the only thing you fully recognize is the pain. It’s all comsuming, starting in your abdomen and radiating outwards as you try in vain to sit up and turn yourself over to asses the damage. 

Your futile efforts are stopped by a gentle hand on your shoulder, slowly helping you to roll over. 

“My heart…” Halsin’s voice is calm at first, but even in your dazed state you don’t miss the way his words pitch upwards as you finally settle into your back, the sudden movement making you gasp as another wave of pain shoots through you. 

“Shadowheart!” Halsin calls for the cleric, and you can faintly hear Gale telling her to go while he deals with the few remaining enemies. 

Halsin hands are on you now, flitting over your body worriedly as you finally manage to raise your head enough to try and take in the damage. 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you see the damage done. Or rather what you can’t see. There’s so much blood. It runs in thick rivers from the deep wound in your stomach, and seeing the wound just makes the pain elevate. 

Your can feel yourself start to hyperventilate, panic settling in full force as Halsin hovers over you, pulling out what little healing supplies he carries in his pack. 

“Oh gods…” Shadowhearts gasp meets your ears as she finally appears your side. You watch through bleary eyes as she shakes her head. “We have to get them back to last light I…my magic is sapped - I - I don’t have enough power to heal something like this-“

“Then help me with whatever magic you do have,” Halsin barks, voice unusually panicked. “They won’t make it to last light like this I-“ he pauses, eyes flitting over your form. “We must stop the bleeding.” 

“Halsin…” your voice is weak as you call out for you lover, but he is quick to respond, his gaze turning to you as he reaches to take your hand in his bloodied one. 

His eyes look panicked as he gazes down at you and you can see the apology before he utters it. 

“My heart, we…We must stop the bleeding before we can move you. This is going to hurt, I’m so sorry-“

You don’t even have time to question anything before you feel a firm pressure on your wound, the action sending fire through your very veins. 

A scream tears from your throat, hands scrabbling for purchase against the assault. Your fingers finally find Halsin’s familiar form, pushing uselessly at his arms, tears now streaming down you cheeks. 

You can register nothing but the pain, your mind clouded with it, your muscles locking down against the waves of it. 

You feel the pressure shift, another wave of agony pulsing through you before Halsin face is hovering over your own, brows pulled together, eyes glistening with worry. 

You reach up for him then, hands landing on his shoulders as your fingers dig into him, anything to try and relive the pain. 

“It hurts,” you whimper, fear now creeping into your hazy mind. 

He reaches a hand up, cupping your face, and you notice his hands are shaking as he wipes the tears from your cheek. 

You can feel the way your lower lip wobbles as you speak again. 

“Am I going to die?” 

Halsin’s lips set in a firm line then, eyes full of determination. “No, you will not die this day, or you any day I am by your side.” He pauses for a moment, and you see the moment an idea comes over him. 

His eyes slip closed before the familiar golden glow of magic envelops his hand as he reaches it up over you. “I will take your pain away, my love. Then I will be at your side when you wake.” 

You don’t protest as his magic flows through you, pain ebbing away almost instantly as darkness clouds your mind. 

The last thing you feel before unconsciousness consumes you is the gentle press of lips to your cheek.

———

You wake to weak candle light and, surprisingly, little pain. 

The room you’re in is dimly lit by various candles littered around the space, and as it has been since you’ve arrive in these cursed lands, the sky outside remains dark. 

You recognize the last light inn, even in your bleary eyed state. You take a deep breath and close your eyes again, trying to ground yourself. 

The air is cool but not uncomfortable. Your fingers twitch against soft sheets atop an even softer bed. Though you suppose anything is softer than the bedroll you’ve been sleeping on in the last weeks. 

It’s also quiet. Much quieter than your used to for the only safe haven in the shadow cursed lands. Which means it must be well into the evening, everyone having retired to bed. 

You only open your eyes again when the gentle rustle of fabric meets your ears. You turn to the source of the sound, only to be met with the familiar sight of a certain Druid sitting by your bedside, his hand clasped loosely with yours as he leans back in his chair, eyes closed in what you assume to be the trance he falls into at night. 

You squeeze his hand in yours instinctively, seeking out that familiar comfort as the memories from before come slowly back to you. 

Halsin’s eyes open the moment your hand stirs against his own, hazel eyes widening as he takes you in. He lets out a small sigh, lips tugging upwards ever so slightly. 

“You’re awake,” he says simply, scooting closer to your bedside. 

You nod and move to sit up, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the pain that shoots through your abdomen at the action. 

Halsin is reaching out immediately, hand on your shoulder as he urges you to lay back down. 

“Careful, my heart, your injuries are still fresh. You must not move too much until Shadowheart or I are able to heal you further,” he explains, voice gentle. 

You give him a small nod as you rest back into the pillow, grimacing at the pain now blooming in your abdomen. 

“Gods…” you whisper, “It landed a solid blow, didn’t it?” 

Halsin’s lips fall into a frown, brows drawn tight. He says nothing at first, instead standing to turn to the table near the bed and grab a small cup. 

You watch in silence as he mixes something into the cup before moving to the small fire in the hearth and the pot hanging over it. He dips a ladle into the pot before transferring the contents into the cup and stirring it before returning to your side. 

The cup is steaming, and you catch the faint smell of medicinal herbs and something slightly sweet. 

“Here,” he says softly, holding the cup out as he reaches for you with his other arm. “It should help with the pain. I will help you drink.” 

Halsin slides one arm under your shoulders slowly, delicately lifting you up just enough so you can drink comfortably. The small movement bring no more pain, so once you’re sure you’re secure in Halsin’s hold, you reach up for the cup. 

It’s warm in your hands, and it’s then that you realize just how cold you are. Even with the blankets draped over you, a persistent chill nips at your skin. 

You blow on the still steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip, expecting it to be too hot and also not pleasant in taste. 

You’re surprised on both accounts. 

It’s the perfect temperature, not too hot at all and it actually tastes pleasently sweet. It tastes like…

“Is there honey in this?” You ask, eyes flicking to your lovers only to see his lips twitch upwards. 

“There is,” he smiles now. “I know the taste can be unpleasant and you already know of my penchant for the particular treat…I thought a little something sweet couldn’t hurt.”

You smile at him in return, already feeling the affects of the drink. “Thank you.” 

Halsin continues to support you as you finish off the concoction, and then he takes the cup from you before slowly helping you lay back down. 

The blankets shifted with the small movements, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs down your spin as the cool air kisses your exposed skin. 

“Are you cold?” Halsin asks, concern lacing his words. 

Nodding, you pull the blanket up to your shoulders again, silently taking note of the banded covering most of your torso. 

“It is a little chilly in here,” you admit softly, trying to hide another shiver. 

Halsin turns to look at the fire, the flames dwindling and embers glowing softly. 

“I’ll stoke the fire,” he tells you, turning back to face you. “I need to change your bandages, so I’ll try to make it warmer.” 

He squeezes your hand gently before turning to his new task with you watching on in silence. He pokes the burning logs already in the hearth before adding a few new ones. The flames lick eagerly at the new fuel, and you can feel the room rise in temperature just from that. 

Once Halsin is satisfied he walks to a table across the room and washes his hands in a large bowl of water sitting atop it. 

You watch silently as he goes through the motions, and despite your silent admiration of your lover, you can’t help but notice the stiff set of his shoulders, or the way his lips stay pressed in a thin line. 

When he finally returns to your side, his hands are full of supplies. New bandages, a small bowl that once again smells of something medicinal, and several other items. 

He sets them all down on the small side table next to your bed and gestures to the blanket covering you. 

“May I?” 

You nod, “Of course, Halsin.” 

He nods and folds the blanket down to your waist neatly, finally giving you a clear view of what hid beneath. 

Bandages span from just below your chest all the way below the waistband of your pants. You briefly realize these are not the pants you were wearing when you got injured - the leather armored pants being replaced with simple cotton ones. At least the fact that Halsin was probably the one to change you nullified any embarrassment you may have felt otherwise. 

Neither of you speak as Halsin begins unwinding the old bandages, the white cloth getting more discolored the more he unwraps. When it’s finally fully removed, you’re able to see the full extent of the damage. 

By all accounts you should probably be dead. 

There’s four red, angry claw marks coming from your left hip all the way up and across your stomach to the right side of your ribs. The blood has been cleaned off, but a flash of the pools of crimson liquid pooling on the ground makes you tear your eyes away from the stitched up wounds. 

“H-how…” you trail off, unable to voice the question. 

How am I still alive?

Halsin is quiet at first, focusing instead on cleaning your wounds and gentle applying what you assume to be a healing poultice. 

He lets out a quiet sigh as you flinch against his minstarations, even his earlier concoction not enough to numb the pain from direct touch. 

“In truth…” he pauses. “I was afraid you were going to die on that shadow cursed battlefield.” 

He doesn’t look at you as he continues his work, being even more gentle this time. 

“I…I do not feel fear often. Having had centuries to master that specific part of myself, but…” his words die on his tongue, and you can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. 

“I have not cared so deeply for someone in many years, and the thought - the thought of losing you was more than enough to bring that unfamiliar fear to the forefront of my mind.” 

His words settle into the quiet room, the fire crackling the only sound to penetrate the silence. 

Finally, he speaks as he begins wrapping the new bandages around your middle, hands moving slowly as not to aggravate the wound. 

“Shadowhearts magic was depleted, mine was about to be as well. We used what little magic we could conjure to stabilize you, and then Gale managed to open a portal here to the inn,” he focused on his work as he continues. “I was afraid you were going to die, my heart. And there was little I could do about it.” 

He secures the final piece of cloth before his hands fall back to the bed, fingers digging into the sheets. 

“I would not have survived that.” 

You let out a shaky breath, reaching out to take his hand in your own, unfurling his fingers from the covers to lace them with your own. 

“Hey…” you whisper, gaining his attention enough to tug him towards you. “I’m here. I am alive because of you. I’m okay.” 

Halsin shakes his head, eyes falling closed, “But you could have-“ 

You shush him softly, tugging on his hand more intently. 

“Lay with me?” You ask. “Please?” 

Your lover hesitates, eyes opening to look down at your bandages before looking back up to your pleading eyes. 

You pull him closer again, his thighs now pressed against the edge of the bed. “I’ll be fine I just…” you trail off. “I want you close.” 

Halsin sighs, but not in anger or disappointment. In fact he sounds…relieved. Like the fact that you are alive and no longer on deaths door has finally settled in. 

He nods, helping you adjust to the other side of the bed before he slips in beside you, pulling the covers up around your waist once you’re both settled. 

You want to roll over onto your side and curl into him, but you know you can’t. So you settled for the way Halsin lays on his side instead, his arm draped carefully over your hips, thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the unmarred skin of your right side. 

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” you whisper, one hand falling to cover Halsin’s. 

You turn to look at him when he doesn’t respond. Leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He responds in kind, lips molding against yours before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own. 

“And I won’t let you,” he promises. 

You smile as Halsin captures your lips again. The action is full of so much. So much love and care and affection. 

And most importantly, promises to keep you safe. 

A promise you know he’ll fulfill. As many times as it takes. 

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 2•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

You find out the walls are thin in your new apartment.

Roommate!ghoap/fem!reader

*

It’s the hottest day of the month when you move in. If you use that as an excuse to wear your shortest pair of shorts, that’s all it is—an excuse, flimsy as the floaty, sleeveless, polyester top that skims your navel. Even dressed light, the sweat drips down the small of your back and slicks your palms as you work on moving boxes into the elevator and up to the top floor. Every step inside is a blessing, the air conditioning bursting over you, sweet icy bliss.

Johnny opens the door. He’s wearing a tee shirt stretched thin across his chest and a pair of loose cotton pants. He leans against the doorway, reminiscent to how he had the day he showed you the apartment. You had thought he was showing off then, but now you think that maybe it eases the weight off his leg.

“Well, what a bonnie sight you are. Here, let me.” He tries to take the box from you.

“No, I’ve got it—“

“I insist—“

“Really—“

“Lass, I will hit you with my cane—“

You gape at the threat. The box comes loose from your hands and he tucks it easily under one arm, giving you a smug raise of his brows. “I’m disabled, but I’ll have to be dead before I let a pretty girl carry her own furniture.”

“Consider yourself iced,” Simon says, appearing as if from thin air. His arms are bared by his tank top revealing one impressive sleeve of tattoos—as if he wasn’t painfully attractive enough to begin with. Down below his chin is a black surgical mask, ready to be tugged over his mouth and nose out in public. “No moving furniture, Soap.”

“You’re worse than those nurses at the clinic,” Johnny chides, picking up the freshest step of what must be a long, frustrating dance between them both. “I know my own limits better than anyone, don’t I?”

“Wrong,” Simon chuckles darkly. He takes a step closer to Johnny and puts a hand on the nape of his neck, calloused thumb moving along the smooth muscle of his trapezius. He stage whispers: “I know you better than you know yourself, Johnny-boy.”

He takes the box from Johnny’s lax hands. Both of you stare after his figure as Simon turns to walk the box to what will be your bedroom from now on. Judging by the heavy, heated look in Johnny’s eye, you aren’t the only one affected by Simon’s display.

“Did he…call you Soap?”

#

“It was his callsign in the military,” Simon explains, patiently waiting for you to find the perfect grip on a box of your toiletries. He has three boxes—of your book collection no less—stacked in his arms with all the ease of Jenga pieces. But you know these won’t come tumbling down. Heaving the box into your arms, you shift it to your hip and wipe the hair from your forehead.

“What’s a callsign?”

“A simple identifier that can be used over radio or transmitter. Safer sometimes than using names.”

“What was your callsign?”

“Ghost.”

“Ghost.” You roll the name around on your tongue as you both walk into the building, the doorman politely holding the door open for you both. You glance at Simon out of the corner of your eye, the mask drawn up to hide his identity. “You know—yours makes a little sense. But Soap?”

The corner of Simon’s eyes crinkle. “You’ll have to ask him about it. He loves to talk about himself.”

With Simon’s help, you are able to empty the moving truck by early evening, just in time to enjoy the coldest shower of your life (the first of many in your new apartment, you’re sure). The water pressure is excellent, beating down on your flushed skin until your teeth chatter and you turn the temperature to something less punishing.

By the time you walk into the living room, convinced you’ll have to make a run for groceries of your own (or just Door Dash something—but fuck if that wasn’t an allowance in your joyless budget), the smell of pizza reaches your nose.

Johnny and Simon are on the loveseat, an open pie on the coffee table in front of them. There are a few toppings you’d have to pick off, but nothing that wasn’t salvageable. Simon is freshly showered as well, hair a shade darker blond than usual, the ends curling just a bit.

“First dinner in the new place, on us,” Johnny explains, passing you a slice. He scoots over—clearly expecting you to take the narrow spot between him and Simon, though that’s the last place you would have thought to seat yourself.

“Thank you,” you say, touched. Simon slips off of the couch, giving you plenty of room. Your heart plummets for a moment—except he’s only gone to grab you a beer. But even after cracking it open with his bare hands for you, he sits in the armchair closest to Johnny and leaves the couch for you both. Sheepish, you say: “Sorry I stole your spot.”

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, sipping from his own bottle. Then he hesitates and reaches out, stretching one long arm to clink bottles with you and Johnny. He mutters, not unkindly: “Cheers.”

#

That night, you can’t sleep. The first night in a new place is always strange. You had hoped that the physical exertion of the day would tire you out, but your brain felt wired, eyes floating around the room to take in the new space and commit it to memory. You’re still awake when you hear the quiet hum of the television shut off in the living room. You hear quiet voices—a door open and shut. A shower runs for a while.

If today was any indication, you truly had high hopes that you would get along well with Simon and Johnny. Perhaps you could even grow to be friends and not just roommates. And maybe eventually you wouldn’t be thirsting after them like a dog—

—a sound on the other side of the wall, the one separating your bedroom from theirs. Your breath catches. Surely you had misheard. But then it comes again: a throaty, masculine groan. Immediately you flush hot all over, rolling onto your belly and burying your face in your pillow. Surely they aren’t—?

There’s a rumble of voices, just loud enough for you to make out Johnny’s name, and it is answered by a filthy, breathy moan. They are. Holy shit. Your hot roommates are having sex in the next room.

Your cunt aches, glaringly empty. You’re not going to do anything about it. That would be insane, wouldn’t it? To touch yourself while your neighbors fucked on the other side of the wall? But God, your body had no sense of morals, not even a daydream of right or wrong. Your nipples had hardened into aching points begging for the dextrous touch of a lover, your entire sex throbbing and flushed. Perhaps you should grab your earbuds and give them some privacy, but instead you find yourself holding your breath, desperate for the next noise.

What exactly are they doing, you wonder? You find it hard to even imagine the two of them kissing, though Simon had leaned in and placed a peck on Johnny’s lips before going downstairs to help you with your furniture. You’d never had a very good imagination. But judging by the sound of skin on skin from the next room, they are doing far more than kissing, and the thought has you clenching your thighs together.

You have no way of knowing how long it lasts. It’s like a fever dream, your head hot and floaty whenever one of Johnny’s moans is answered by Simon’s deep, throaty chuckles. There comes a strangled shout, hastily bitten off (or covered, perhaps by a hand or smothered by a lover’s mouth) and you have to bury your face in your pillow all over again in case any stray, desperate noises come floating out of you, too.

Now you’re free, one hand cupping your own breast through the flimsy tank top you sleep in and the other slipping into your panties. The angle is all wrong thanks to you being on your belly, but there’s no penetration needed tonight, not when a few wet swipes over your aching clit has you climbing that blissful peak and shattering into pieces, all your breathy sounds lost to your pillow.

Rolling onto your back, you suck in air, panting into the darkness. You whisper: “Fuck.”

You’re so screwed, though not nearly screwed as you would like to be.

[transfloridaresources]

[Photo ID: A person standing in daylight amidst dark smoke holding a large, Palestinian flag that obscures their face. Black, white, green, and red text reads: 'Global Strike. Jan 21-28, 2024.' Then more text reads: 'The strongest governments and weapons manufacturers are supporting this genocide against my people, and you are our only hope! STRIKE globally and call for a ceasefire! Strike, protest, stop the economic movements and make pressure on your countries to stand against this and stop it, if ISRAhell don’t find the financial and weapons support, or governments to hide their crimes they will be forced to stop the genocide! Go to the streets, protest and Globally strike for a week, (21-28) January! YALLA Brave and free people of the world, CEASEFIRE NOW! - Bisan Owda (wizard_bisan1). January 21, 2024.' /End ID]

[Photo ID: A photo Bisan took of herself in the smudged mirror of an elevator. She's holding her phone up to face level while looking at the screen. She's wearing a bright blue PRESS helmet and a bright blue PRESS vest. Text over the photo reads: 'Now, we are without any connection, neither the internet nor the cellular, we can’t reach each other’s inside Gaza, we don’t know if our families and friends are alive or not, wounded or not.. still in their places or not! We take hours of walking and searching to reach someone, while moving became very risky! We can’t reach to you as well! The footage, information and news from Gaza are not reaching you as before because the Israeli army intentionally destroyers the signal towers and the servers, even using the E-SIM requires being in a high place which is very risky!. I borrowed this vest to upload this post! - Bisan Owda (wizard_bisan1). January 21, 2024.' /End ID]

TFR is participating in the Global Strike called upon by @wizard_bisan1 for this week. No money will be spent & Palestinian voices will continue to be boosted, alongside other resources for how to best use this week in support of pressuring for a ceasefire.

Bisan's full message from January 21, 2024:

Hi everyone, it’s Bisan from Gaza, I am still alive Alhamdullah.. it’s been 107 days of genocide, 15 weeks, 2568 hours of killing us, taking over our homes and lands in Gaza Strip, and forcing us to choose between leaving or death.. and sometimes we can’t even choose.. the Israeli air strikes simply kill us without any warnings. Now, we are without any connection, neither the internet nor the cellular, we can’t reach each other’s inside Gaza, we don’t know if our families and friends are alive or not, wounded or not.. still in their places or not! We take hours of walking and searching to reach someone, while moving became very risky! We can’t reach to you as well! The footage, information and news from Gaza are not reaching you as before because the Israeli army intentionally destroyers the signal towers and the servers, even using the E-SIM requires being in a high place which is very risky!. I borrowed this vest to upload this post! I am not scared of death, but of being displaced, scared of losing my family or friends, scared of being wounded and can’t have my treatment because the health system is collapsed in Gaza, and to die in pain! I am not scared of the destruction.. I lost my work place.. my home and my family work place and source of income, I am terrified of being killed by an occupier, and to be forgotten, one oppressed Bisan of a whole occupied people. The strongest governments and weapons manufacturers are supporting this genocide against my people, and you are our only hope! STRIKE globally and call for a ceasefire! Strike, protest, stop the economic movements and make pressure on your countries to stand against this and stop it, if ISRAhell don’t find the financial and weapons support, or governments to hide their crimes they will be forced to stop the genocide! Go to the streets, protest and Globally strike for a week, (21-28) January! YALLA Brave and free people of the world, CEASEFIRE NOW!

[yanderenightmare]

Deku - Midoriya Izuku

TW: NSFW, dubcon, f!reader, asshole Hero Deku

Just thinking about Deku’s fangirl.

How lucky you felt when he took you home after you’d asked for his autograph in a bar – thinking about the expectations you had, how many times you’d imagined Hero Deku singing sweet praises in your ear as he made sweet love to you oh-so-softly – and thinking about how hard you choked on your spit when you understood just how far away those fantasies were from the truth as he fucks you like you’re shooting a hardcore porn-video.

His hand presses down hard on your face, mushing your head halfway into the white hotel pillow while his other hand fists the band of your skirt to keep you up in a pretty slope as he pounds your puffy cunt only in harsh slaps – hips clapping your ass as he uses your skirt to pull you back to meet the sharp thrusts as though you’re but a means to an end to make him cum.

Oh, but you’d been Deku’s number-one fan for years, and you’d been so giddy and excited as he’d paid for the hotel in the reception, feeling so lucky and honored, unable to fathom how any of it was even happening. Biting your lip with shy eyes blinking sheepishly, thinking of how sweet and gentle he would be in bed – so, so, so surprised when he had you pushed flat against the elevator wall with two of his fingers hooked on your tongue to make you yelp out a moan while his other hand found your cunt and squeezed the mound as though staking a claim.

You don’t really enjoy it when it’s rough – it scares you, to say the least – but this is the number-one hero, and you’re not so confident to protest when you feel you should be grateful that he’s at all touching you – even though it feels like he’s running your stomach through.

Looking over your shoulder, you can spot tattoos you’ve never seen on screen, the tribal kind that you’d expect to see only on gang members and otherwise other types of bad guys you’d not want touching you at all. He’s also wearing chains, the slim silver kind douchebags wear and compare. He’s even got fat rings on his fingers, digging into your skin where he pressures down on your face with his thumb hooked in your cheek to keep you singing mewls for him while he swings into you from behind harder and harder each time – grinning when watching how you grip the sheets in whitened knuckles as your whole body jumps on every impact.

He tips you over after a while, but missionary had never felt so threatening as he immediately locks your throat in a fist – his lips ghosting your parted ones with grunts and hot air, green eyes salaciously enjoying the show of you gasping for breath as he fucks the moans right out of you in harsh and deep strokes hitting you in new and tender places – forcing your toes to curl in the air, thighs hiked on his hips.

His other hand holds the top of your head, blunt nails push smilies into your scalp – and it all just smothers you enough to make you cry as his lips and teeth graze your cheek with a leer. “I like my sluts like this- submissive. Taking it like happy little whores in love with getting dick in their wet cunt.”

It’s not the type of sweet talk you wanted, but still, his low and gravely grunting voice forms a fist in your belly and makes you tighten on the fat shaft that has you speared. He groans at the tightness, biting your cheek as his hips stutter, shooting his load inside you without warning.

You’re in shock. Feeling the sweat between your bodies and the warmth of it inside you. You can only stare blankly up at the hotel ceiling fan and halfway wonder why you’d not thought better of it when he’d booked you into such a cheap and sleazy place.

You hear the popping of the Sharpie, but it doesn’t register. Nor does how he pushes the felt tip of it down in the softness of your tit. He scribbles something – cap held between his lips and teeth as he asks, “Wha’ was’h your name again?”

You mumble it dumbly without asking yourself why as he writes the letters on your skin. You don’t flinch when he pulls his phone from the nightstand and takes a picture with the flash on. 

He doesn’t stay for long.

Actually, he doesn't stay at all. He doesn’t even shower before pulling his pants on and leaving with his shirt draped over his shoulder.

You look in the mirror after willing yourself to get up.

Your chest reads Deku, number 47, then your name.

tip-jar: Kofi