#and I will laugh at you as you beg God to take you because you 'followed hia teachings'. only for you to be denied the light of heaven

[jeongin-lvr]

jake head pusher agenda 😙😙😙 cw. he is a WHORE, degredation kink, maybe cnc??? idk.

Imagine sweet boy Jake who suddenly obtains the nastiest potty mouth whenever he’s got you between his thighs. Not only his filthy words, but also his insatiable and uncontrollable urge to force your head down again and again on his cock. Filling your throat painfully, intrusion making you gag as spit dribbles down your face. And you mumble and squeal around his cock, begging for air; meanwhile, all he can do is laugh and mock you.

“Mm, what’s that, slut? Can’t hear ya,” Oh, and his thick Australian accent is dripping with condescendence. His hand on the back of your head, raising his hips slightly each time he brings you down his length. “Fucking filthy, baby. Making a mess a-all over me—“ That’s not to say Jake isn’t a fucking wreck watching you unwind like that. Your face all puffy and covered in saliva, lips swollen, eyes peaking up at him, squinting as you try to gain some sympathy from the man. God, you’re cute. But he simply has to cum. This is the only way. You understand, hm?

“Fuck yeah, baby… look so pretty f’me with my cock stuffed in your mouth,” Jake’s words filled your mind, numbing it. Allowing him to use your mouth and throat like he owned it simply because he had a way with saying nasty words with that soft sweet voice of his… he says it almost casually, though a wicked smile plasters his face every time. “I own this pretty little mouth, yeah? You’re all f’me… aw, b-baby, fuck!” He’d moan so pretty, almost whiny and guttural from the depths of his chest. He’d grip your hair, making a messy knot at the back of your head that you were too distracted to worry about. Every part of you wanted air, your nails clinging into the bare skin of his thighs. While you fought for air, Jake chased his impending orgasm, muttering your name and profanities like a sailor. His tight grip pushing you down, down, down until you really do have no room to breathe and your nose is flattened against his lover pelvis, your hands prying at his, clawing his waist and tummy. His eyes rolled back, litanies of slutty little words falling from his slack jaw.

“Yesss, fuck! Take my cum, pretty baby!”

“Don’t fuckin’ swallow… don’t you dare.”

“Came so fucking much for my pretty slut, hm? Gonna gimme a show, yeah? Open your mouth wide for me. Show me all my cum.”

When he pulls your reddened face back he’s admiring you in all your sweatiness, all your flustered, barely sentient body. His hand clinging to your jaw and tilting your head up until both of your gaze’s locked. It’s a silent moment, finally, no more disgusting words filling the air. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as he admires the work he’s mastered on your tongue, some of it dripping as he grits his teeth slightly.

“Don’t waste any of it, slut,” Jake pushes your tongue back in your mouth, humming in satisfaction, “Now you can swallow. Take it all.” He clamped your jaw shut with a slight click. His eyes trained on you as you gulped, throat raw from his rude intrusion. Your thighs a mess of spit and cum that had dripped earlier. You clenched them together, dizzy and brain foggy but still so desperate. Jake held your jaw tight, admiring you like a doll. Eyes training on your flushed face and messy hair, then on your swollen lips, almost in awe at his work.

“Open…” You opened your mouth, showing off your completely plain tongue, not a single drop of white cum spilling. The bitter-sweet aftertaste lingered, but you only smiled slightly, a little too far gone to be mad.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” He tapped your cheek slightly as a way of congratulations, “Mm, how about I reward you? Ass up, pretty baby.”

[livelaughlovesubs]

Sylus with the prompt: spitting in their mouth and making them beg.

Pls, thank you 🤗 he's a dom for everyone but he's just a lil bratty sub for me 😌

YES YES YES AND I REALLY NEED THIS AFTER HIS MYTH CARD DIDNT COME HOME

Dom!reader x sub!sylus - reader is gender neutral

Warning: teasing, spit, begging, humiliation

Anniversary event

“You are really something, sylus.” You stood in the doorframe to his room, leaning to the side and crossing your arms in front of you, a mocking smile on your face. “I was wondering why you’d invite me to your room, after that little dispute.” The room was dimly lit like always, the furnitures as spotless and elegant as ever, so doubt. But there were rose petals everywhere, really everywhere. On the bed, couch, table and floor. If you took a single step into the room, it’d be like walking on a rose field.

Alongside side the flowery scent caused by the seemingly fresh petals, there were also candles everywhere, lighting up the room. There he sat, on the dark red coloured couch, a glass of crimson wine in his hand, swirling the glass around before taking a small sip. He was going overboard with this ‘bloody red’ aesthetic. “Well sweetie, would you still care to share a drink?” The white haired male said, raising his chin to glance in your direction.

You thought about it for a few seconds, then sat down opposite to him. Then you grabbed the bottle and carefully filled your glass. “So demanding. What have you planned?” A light, calculated chuckle, him with his usual confidence that he’ll get whatever he wants, “you are making me sound like I’m some evil mastermind.” After a quick glance at him, you took a sip as well, it was bitter.

“Sylus, do you really think I’ll forget what happened just because you’ve decorated your room a little?” This time, you were the one laughing, “seriously, you have to try harder than this.” He raised a brow, twirling the glass around in his hand. Then he smirked at you, leaning forward to stabilise himself with his arms, “so? What do you have in mind, sweetie?” You scoffed, “can’t you think of something yourself?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, almost like he was waiting for you to give in, but you wasn’t going to play this game. Instead, you put your focus onto the wine in your hand. “Hah.. feisty kitten.” The male said while fumbling through his white hair. “Don’t call me that.” You snapped, pulling a grimace. He ignored it and stood up from his seat, walking around the coffee table and pinning you to the sofa, “will you accept my apologies now, darling?”

You grabbed his shoulder and pushed down, mumbling, “that’s not how someone asks for forgiveness. Do I really need to teach you?” His eyes had a spark of interest in them, and he followed your guidance until he kneeled on the floor before you. “Try to teach me then.” After a small pause, you leaned forward and yanked his head back, causing him to let out a sharp gasp, he frowned a little at your actions.

“Firstly, you have to show some sincerity and beg.” Even now he hasn’t stopped grinning, and it only fuelled your frustrations. That’s when he said, “alright, I beg for your forgiveness…” he stopped, wondering what nickname he should use “master?” now it sounds like he was mocking you. God bless your patience. “Secondly, don’t act so cocky when you are the one at a disadvantage.” You snarled, grabbing his chin to make him look up at you.

Sylus didn’t resist, he took your challenge head on and nodded, “what else, sweetie?” You sighed and drank the last bits of your drink, putting the glass away, using your thumb to brush against his bottom lip, “thirdly, obey whatever that person has to say.” His breath quickened, and he panted slightly. “Try again.” You ordered, and he stuck his tongue out to lick the tip of your finger, whispering in a soft voice, “please forgive me, y/n.”

It was better than nothing. “Now, open your mouth.” You said, changing your hold to grabbing his chin again. He furrowed his brows at that, and looked at you with a confused expression, “what have you planned?” Instead of answering his question, you reminded him, “rule three.” Though he was a little hesitant, he did as you asked. “Good, stick your tongue out.” You had such a commanding tone, it was fairly foreign to him.

It didn’t take long until he followed that order as well, waiting for what you’ve planned. You leaned over him, looking down, also sticking your tongue out. Saliva trickled from the tips of your tongue. The wait was long, torturous so until it finally dropped down right into his mouth. “You know what to do.” You smiled wickedly, then leaned back against the couch, watching his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.

Soon, your attention turned to his flushed face. A faint blush covered his cheeks and he struggled a little to keep eye contact with you. The act of swallowing it wasn’t even half as shameful as the awkward, silent wait he had to endure moments before. Him, having to wait for you to degrade, to spit in his mouth. The self sure smirk has been wiped from his face, and so you commented,

“Good job, I’ll forgive you.”

[1425fivefive]

Prompt 9 for landoscar👀 you’re amazing by the way!!

lingerie for landoscar!! what a treat! (for the kink prompt ask)

Lando stares at the stockings laid out on the bed, trying to work out whether they’re sexy or ridiculous. The lacy bra and panties are already a bit much but Lando stared at his arse in the mirror earlier, knows the cut of the light blue lace makes his arse look perky and full. Fuckable. The bra’s good too, cups his pecs nicely. Makes them look sort of like tits.

But the stockings. The stockings just feel sort of excessive.

Lando stands staring at them for ages, long enough that he starts to worry Oscar will be arriving soon. Letting himself in with the key Lando gave him a few weeks ago. 

In the end, Lando shoves the stockings in the closet and pulls on a hoodie and sweatpants. Oscar and he had only really chatted about the bra and panties. Oscar probably would just be, like, confused if Lando had stockings on too.

Lando hears the click of the front door and he hurries out to the hall to find Oscar in the front hall, wearing a fucking McLaren polo and khaki shorts.

“Oh my god,” Lando says, rolling his eyes. “I wear lingerie for you and you turn up in a fucking team polo.”

Oscar blinks once, twice. Then: “Lingerie?”

Lando squirms, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. “Yeah, like—we talked about it?”

They had. Not, like, thoroughly or anything, but Oscar had mentioned it once ages ago while he was eating Lando out, talked about how pretty Lando’s arse would look in a thong. Rolled him over and sucked and bit his nipples and told him how good his tits would look in a bra. Lando had come so hard he’d blacked out a bit. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

But Lando’s realizing that maybe it’d all just been dirty talk. Shit Oscar said because it sounded hot, not because Oscar, like, actually wanted to see his boyfriend in a lacy bra and panties. Like Oscar doesn’t even like girls, it’d been stupid honestly to think he’d want to see Lando dressed like one.

Lando flushes, humiliated, and says, “I’ll go— M’gonna change.”

He turns to go, kicking himself for thinking this was a good idea, but he feels Oscar’s fingers close around his wrist, tugging him back.

When Lando turns to look at him, Oscar’s cheeks are flushed, eyes wide.

“You’re wearing it?” Oscar asks, voice strained. “Like, right now?”

Lando shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, like—thought it’d be hot or whatever, but, like—”

“Fuck,” Oscar groans, tugging Lando closer, slipping a hand down the back of Lando’s sweatpants, running a finger over the lace. “Christ, Lando, that’s—” Oscar trails off, bringing his free hand up to Lando’s hair and pulling him in for a rough kiss.

Lando moans into the kiss, throwing his arms around Oscar’s neck, dragging him closer. Oscar’s hard underneath his shorts and Lando whimpers against Oscar’s mouth, his own cock pressing against the lace of the panties.

Oscar pulls away first. “Bra, too?”

Lando sucks his lip between his teeth but he nods.

“Jesus,” Oscar groans. He tugs at the hem of Lando’s sweatshirt. “Let me see.”

Lando lets out a shocked, delirious laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Oscar echoes. He gives Lando a private little grin, eyes bright, pupils huge and dark.

Lando takes a shaky breath but he tugs the hoodie over his head, revealing the lacy bra.

Oscar moans at the sight, bringing a hand to cup Lando’s pec, running a thumb over the nipple. The rough drag of the lace over Lando’s nipple feels incredible, has Lando letting out a desperate little whimper, eyes fluttering.

“God,” Oscar breathes, staring at Lando’s chest, “look at you.”

“Please,” Lando whines, pushing into Oscar’s hand. 

He’s not sure what he’s begging for but he knows he wants more. Wants Oscar’s hands and mouth on every part of him all at once, wants Oscar to pull his sweatpants down and look at the way his cock’s straining against the panties. Wants Oscar to tug the string of his thong to the side and lick into him, wet and messy and perfect. Wants Oscar to talk about his tight little hole in that low, rasping voice Oscar has right when he’s about to come. Maybe, if Lando’s really good, Oscar will call it a pussy.

A shiver courses through Lando and he lets out a desperate little whimper. “Please, Osc,” Lando whispers, cock aching in his sweatpants.

Oscar groans, giving Lando’s tit one last squeeze, and says, “Bedroom.”

Lando takes off for the bedroom so fast he almost trips over his feet. 

Oscar steadies him, laughing softly. “Careful.”

Normally Lando would roll his eyes, let out an annoyed huff. But as it is he just gets himself sorted and hurries the rest of the way to the bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed.

When Oscar comes into the bedroom, Lando points at the McLaren polo and says, “Off.”

Oscar snorts. “Bossy.” But he does what he’s told, tossing the polo on the carpet. He steps out of his shorts too, leaving him in just his underwear, and Lando’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Oscar’s cock straining against the fabric.

Oscar climbs onto the bed between Lando’s legs, fingers playing with the band of Lando’s sweatpants before tugging them off.

“Jesus, Lando,” Oscar groans, eyes dragging over Lando’s body.

Lando can’t resist showing off a bit, spreading his legs. He wonders if Oscar can see the jeweled plug he pushed inside himself earlier, a light blue to match the underwear. He spoils Oscar, honestly.

Lando brings a hand up to cup his tit over the bra, playing with his nipple through the lace, and spreads his legs, grinning when Oscar’s eyes darken.

“Do I look good?” Lando asks.

Oscar huffs a laugh, stroking a hand over Lando’s thigh. “You know you do.”

“Yeah, but”—Lando whimpers when Oscar bends down to press a kiss to his stomach—“want to hear you say it.”

Oscar glances up at him, eyes softening. “Yeah, Lando,” Oscar murmurs. “You look so fucking pretty.”

Lando whimpers, cock throbbing in his underwear. “Am I—” Lando breaks off on a moan, almost too turned on by the thought of what he’s about to say to get the words out. But he manages to ask, “Am I a good girl?”

Oscar lets out a shocked moan, fingers tightening on Lando’s hip. Before Lando can say anything more, tease Oscar about how crazy it obviously makes him, Lando’s being flipped onto his stomach, face landing in the pillows with an oof.

“Jesus, Lando,” Oscar groans. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Lando lets out a yelp of Oscar’s name when he feels teeth digging into his arsecheek, biting down, but a tongue drags over it quickly, soothing the sting.

“Want me to eat you out?” Oscar asks, voice ragged. “Want me to lick your pussy?”

Lando lets out a hoarse scream into his pillow, hips hitching against the mattress. It drives him crazy when Oscar talks like that, dirty and filthy, nothing like how Oscar normally acts. It’s even hotter because Lando knows Oscar can only manage it when he’s too turned on to feel self-conscious, overthink everything he says.

“Yes,” Lando pleads, grinding against the bed. “Please lick my pussy, Oscar, please.”

Oscar lets out a desperate moan. “Good girl.”

With that, Lando feels the string of his thong being pulled to the side, his hole twitching in the cool air of the room.

"Christ" Oscar moans, and Lando feels the plug being pulled free, tossed to the side. "You're insane."

Lando's about to object, point out that he's only insane because Oscar likes it, but Oscar’s mouth is on him before he can, hot and wet, tongue dragging over him.

Lando can’t resist shoving back against him, trying to get more, desperate for Oscar’s mouth even when he already has it.

“Please,” Lando begs, fingers tightening on the pillow, toes curling. An image flashes through his mind of his feet wrapped in stockings, pretty blue lace stretched around his thighs. He lets out a desperate moan, rim fluttering under Oscar’s tongue.

Oscar whines against him and he licks firmly, hand coming up to squeeze at the meat of Lando’s arse.

Lando feels like he’s shaking out of his body and it’s made even worse when Oscar pulls back and spits on his hole, the filthiness of it devastatingly hot.

“Oscar,” Lando cries, shoving his arse back, begging for more.

Lando feels one of Oscar’s fingers pushing in, nothing but his spit to ease the way. It’s enough though and Oscar’s finger slips in, Lando’s cock blurting in his panties. He wants Oscar to make him come in them, make him ruin the pretty lace, maybe lick him clean, after.

When Oscar lets a bit more spit drip onto Lando’s hole, managing to fit a second finger into him, Lando sobs into the pillow.

“Such a good girl,” Oscar murmurs, voice low and rasping. “Look how well you take it.”

Lando sobs again.

“Reckon I could fuck you like this?” Oscar asks idly. “Just my spit?”

Lando whimpers. Nods, shakes his head.

“Think I could,” Oscar says, rubbing his fingers against Lando’s prostate. “You’d take it so well. Want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lando says, voice wet. “Yeah. Wanna be your good girl.”

Oscar groans, and Lando feels Oscar’s tongue lick over Lando’s rim next to his fingers.

Lando feels like he’s dripping with it, so wet from Oscar’s spit that he almost feels like—like a girl. The thought has his cock spurting pre-come into his panties, his hole clenching tightly around Oscar’s fingers.

“God, Lando,” Oscar says, voice reverent. “You’re so hot like this. Such a good fucking girl.”

“Please,” Lando whines. “Oh, fuck, I—please.”

“Yeah?” Oscar asks. “Gonna come like this? Make a mess of your panties.”

Lando cries out into the pillow. He feels wet and disgusting and hot, his hole dripping, his cock sticky where it’s pressed against the bed, his face soaked with sweat and tears. He’s right on the edge, fucking back against Oscar’s fingers, but he can’t quite get there, doesn’t know what he needs.

“Come, baby,” Oscar murmurs. “Be a good girl and come.”

Lando tries, he tries, but he can’t, sobbing when his cock’s still aching against the sheets, rim fluttering rapidly around Oscar’s fingers. “I can’t,” Lando cries. “Fuck, I—m’trying.”

Oscar spits on Lando’s hole, the spit running down Lando’s skin. “You can,” Oscar says. “You’re a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lando whimpers, sobs. “Yeah, ‘m a good girl.”

“You are,” Oscar soothes. “And good girls always do what they’re told.”

Lando lets out a shocked moan, body seizing up, cock kicking in his panties, hole clenching around Oscar’s fingers. And then it all rushes out at once, pleasure flooding through him, his cock soaking his panties, his hole tightening around Oscar’s fingers.

“Thank you,” Lando whines, shaking through his orgasm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Oscar moans but he keeps working Lando through it, helping Lando ride out his orgasm.

After, Lando slumps against the bed, too exhausted to do anything other than lay in his own mess. But Oscar slips his fingers out and rolls Lando over onto his back, revealing the white stain in his panties, the flush spreading down to his chest.

“God,” Oscar moans, eyes fixed on Lando’s panties. “That’s—fuck.”

“Oscar,” Lando whimpers, not sure what he’s asking for.

But Oscar gives him a soft smile and leans down to press a soft kiss to his panties, right over his spent cock.

“Sensitive,” Lando whines, squirming away.

“Is it?” Oscar asks, giving Lando a cheeky little grin. “I thought good girls could come more than once.”

Lando lets out a shocked gasp, thighs splaying open involuntarily.

“There you go,” Oscar says, laughing softly. “Still need to fuck you in this, anyway.”

Lando whimpers, rim clenching weakly. “There’s stockings too,” Lando whispers. He’s not sure why he says it, knows if he was smart he’d tell Oscar he’s too tired. But instead he jerks his chin toward the closet. “In there.”

“Fucking hell,” Oscar groans, glancing over at the closet. “Want me to get them?”

Lando hesitates for only a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, like—want to be pretty for you.”

Oscar moans, leaning down to press a kiss to Lando’s lips, soft and tender. “You are, Lando,” Oscar whispers. “So fucking pretty.”

[knivestothroats]

The Professionals - Overdraft Fee

(Because it comes after Withdrawals) The Pros Masterlist || ITWS Masterlist || Pro/Vic Masterlist CW: drug addiction/withdrawls, vomiting, hallucinations

Fletcher eased the door open and peered in at Tommy. He was pale and sweaty, squirming in discomfort on top of the bedsheets.

“Hey,” Fletcher shut the door behind them. “How are you doing?”

Tommy’s eyes snapped open to glare at Fletcher, but he held his tongue.

“Drink more water,” Fletcher said, nodding to the still mostly full bottle on his bedside table. “You don't need to ration it. It’ll help with the aches.”

“It’ll help with the aches?” Tommy repeated scornfully. “I can think of something that would help more.”

Fletcher put their hands on their hips. “Okay, I understand that you’re going through it right now, so-”

“You don't understand what I’m going through!” Tommy snapped. Some of the anger dissipated from his features under Fletcher’s cold stare, replaced by fear and misery. He pressed his hands over his eyes. “I’m sorry, just… I can be useful to you if I’m not sick. Please, just… give me something.”

“Look, I can get you methadone tomorrow - probably. You just have to make it ‘til then.”

“I don’t believe that you don’t have anything.”

“Why would I withhold that?”

“No, drugs!” Tommy snapped again. “You have to have something!”

“I never said that I don’t have any painkillers,” Fletcher responded evenly. “I don’t keep recreational drugs in the house, though. So no coke. And no antidepressants, either, although we can… figure that out later if we need to.”

Tommy scoffed. “Maybe you should.”

Fletcher stepped closer. “What?”

Tommy scowled and looked away. “Nothing,” he muttered.

“No, what did you mean?”

Tommy looked at them now, hate burning in his eyes.

“Maybe you should be medicated. Or at least take something that makes you fun to be around, instead of being some sad asshole who lives in the woods out of-”

Fletcher slapped him hard enough to make his head spin. Before Tommy could curl up in a defensive position, Fletcher grabbed his face and brought it close to theirs.

“Out of what?” they hissed.

Tommy averted his eyes and gritted out, “Sorry,” despite still looking pissed.

“No,” Fletcher gave his head a little shake. “Out of what? Tell me what you were gonna say.”

Tommy wasn’t out of his head enough to finish his sentence. He knew it was better to keep his mouth shut. But they were digging their fingers into his cheeks and demanding a response and they weren’t even letting him beg or bargain for pain relief and….

Tommy began to cry, still caught in Fletcher’s grip. He didn’t mean to, but his head was pounding and his body ached and he was hot and cold at the same time and he never stopped feeling like he was on the verge of throwing up and Fletcher wouldn’t even let him do anything to get drugs. They wouldn’t give him anything at all. 

Fletcher made a noise of disgust and released him.

“Give me a shout if you think you’re gonna die,” they said over their shoulder as they stormed out of the room, leaving Tommy alone again.

I just have to get through the break, Tommy kept telling himself. This fever - the withdrawals - they had to break at some point, right? 

God, he missed the internet. WebMD, save me now. He wasn’t sure what would happen, or how long it would take. Would he really die? 

The idea of Fletcher letting him die, purely out of spite, just because they wouldn’t give him drugs, was a funny thought. Funny enough that he laughed about it. It felt like a real possibility, real and close to happening, and he was just snorting and giggling about it on his sweat-soaked sheets. 

Maybe they’ll do it. It might as well happen. He’d had his fun, got to play for a few hours thinking maybe this new life could be okay, could be better. Only to have it snatched away, the dwindling drugs leaving him dying here would be a poignant last kiss goodbye from Caius. He stopped laughing. He laid there in silence and wished things were different. That maybe he could have been someone else.

He hated Caius. He hated Fletcher. To his surprise, Caius visited first. 

Tommy didn’t hear him come in. There was a hand on his face, cradling his chin, another pushing the hair back from his sweaty forehead. He smelled like clean cotton and sandalwood. He was put together as always, beautiful as he was the first day they met. He was wearing that soft linen shirt Tommy liked, that he would rub his cheek on when he pulled it out of the laundry just because it felt nice. So few things in Caius’s home made him feel nice. 

There were no eyes past his clear rimmed glasses, replaced with glowing circles, just like spots in his vision when he’d stared at the sun for too long. The hands on his face were hot, too close, his skin felt unbearably sensitive to his touch - but Caius had come back for him, he wouldn’t let Fletcher leave him to die.

“Caius,” he breathed, and a sob of relief bubbled in his chest. “You - you came back for me.”

“You look awful. Is this any way to behave for one of my friends?” His tone was deceptively gentle, the way it always was, chastising him softly.

“Nooo,” Tommy wheezed, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“They’re sending you home with me. They don’t want you, either.”

Tommy whimpered, sneaking a peek back at the window, at the sunlight streaming in. He felt a pang of remorse for snapping at Fletcher, after all they’d done for him. Caius’s hands pulled his face back, forcing him to stare back into those hollow eyes.

“It’s okay now Tommy, I can make it stop.”

Tommy clutched at his wrists, needed to feel he was real.

“You can?” The whole room was swimming, and all he could do was drown. 

“Please, please, make it stop, please, I’m so sorry,” he begged. He could go home with him happily if he would just stop the pain.

“What are you sorry for?”

Caius’s voice turned cold. So did his hands, suddenly freezing against his skin. He feared they might stick, like a tongue to a frozen pole. He couldn’t speak. He was frozen, too.

“For ruining everything we had? How about that, Tommy, is that it?”

“Yes,” Tommy gasped, as Caius’s nails grew into talons sharp against his face. “Yes, Caius, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Look at me,” Caius snarled, and he gripped the sides of Tommy’s face, looming in closer. Those fingernails burrowed into his scalp. Tommy couldn’t look away, staring into the blinding suns of Caius’s eyes. It burned a searing pain, his eyes were on fire, but he was paralyzed with fear. Caius pressed his thumbs under Tommy’s eyes, pulling the lower lids down as if to peel them from his face. His fingers were long and needle-like now, the sharp tips hovering only a hair’s breadth away from Tommy’s eyes. 

“I’m going to make sure you never see the sun again,” Caius hissed, and he plunged his armored thumbs into his eyes, turning the whole world black in an explosion of pain. 

Tommy screamed and thrashed. A shadow moved in Caius’s eyes and suddenly he wasn’t there. Forming in his place was Fletcher leaning over him, blocking the harsh glow of his ceiling light.

“Hey, hey.”

The hands on his face were human again. He reached up and grabbed onto Fletcher’s wrists. They felt more real.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wailed. “I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t want to go back, I don’t want to go back in the dark…”

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Fletcher assured him. “You’re not going anywhere, okay?”

Caius peered down at him from over Fletcher’s shoulder.

“I can make the pain stop if you come home with me,” he promised.

Tommy wanted the pain to stop. He wanted it more than anything. But he knew going back with Caius meant being locked back in the dark, cold basement. He knew he would be trading this pain now for more pain in the future. He had made Caius so angry… but still…

“How could you get rid of me?” Tommy sobbed. “How could you… how could you not even say goodbye… after everything… after everything you did to me…”

Fletcher’s brows knit together as they watched Tommy babble to no one, eyes unfocused and drifting. His body jerked suddenly and he rolled over to throw up into the garbage. 

At least he had the wherewithal not to asphyxiate. Fletcher pushed his hair off his face as he heaved again. He was hot to the touch.

The door opened and Williams poked his head in.

“What’s going on in here?”

“Do you need something?” Fletcher asked impatiently. 

“I heard screaming; are you torturing him or something?”

“Willy, you thought I was torturing him in here and you just walked in?”

Williams bristled. “It’s Billy.”

“What do you want?” Fletcher repeated.

Williams nodded towards Tommy. “What’s the matter with him?”

“He’s going through withdrawals.”

Williams blanched slightly. “Oh, yeah? What, uh, kind of stuff was he on?”

Fletcher sighed and shook their head, watching Tommy spit into the can. “I don’t know. Opioids mostly.”

“Methadone helps with that.”

Fletcher sighed louder. “If I had methadone, I would be using it. I have a hook up, but I can’t get it until tomorrow.”

Williams studied Tommy for a moment. “You buy this guy on the black market or something?”

“…Something like that,” Fletcher conceded. “Last time I’m going to ask you if you need something, otherwise leave.”

Williams put up his hands in surrender and left, closing the door once more. 

Fletcher turned their attention to Tommy again. He seemed to be done retching, and at least wasn’t begging to empty air anymore. 

“Okay, try to stand up.”

Fletcher took Tommy’s arms and gently pulled him up. They put an arm around his waist to guide him onto his feet. Tommy grabbed onto their shirt to steady himself, leaning against them as he wobbled through the first few steps across the room.

“Easy, Model-T,” Fletcher cooed. They kept him steady as they led him to the bathroom and shut the door behind them. 

“Alright, get out of your clothes.”

Numbly, Tommy disrobed, refusing to look at Fletcher. He was sweating and shivering at the same time, too empty to retch again. He was distinctly aware that he was not impressing Fletcher. 

Fletcher looked him over with a clinical eye. They’d noticed the new scar on his face, and some uneven marbling of his skin, but they had assumed them to be more scars, or a skin condition. Whatever it was, it was brought to stark relief with him nude in the bathroom light. He was dappled all over in patchy white marks, so bleached they looked almost translucent. His ribs jutted out, clearly underfed and malnourished from years of neglect. Whatever the hell they had done to him, his body had taken a severe toll. But now was not the time to interrogate him.

“Okay, get in the tub. You can sit if you need to.”

Fletcher turned the water on as they gave the instructions, putting their hand in the stream to check the temperature. 

Tommy teetered as he lifted each leg to step into the tub, and kept a hand on the tiled wall as he lowered himself down. 

“Okay, it’s gonna be cold,” Fletcher warned before pulling the diverter and switching the stream of water to the shower head. 

Tommy flinched as the water hit him. It wasn’t hard, and it wasn’t freezing, but it was a shock against his feverish skin. After a moment, it became a relief, grounding him. 

Tommy leaned against the wall, resting his temple on the tiles. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms under his knees.

“‘M sorry,” he murmured.

“You don’t have to keep saying that,” Fletcher responded, sitting on the closed toilet. “I don’t even think you know what you’re apologizing for.”

“No… I’m sorry you have to do all this for me. I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted… when you bought me.”

Fletcher said nothing.

“I, um,” Tommy swallowed. “I’ll make it up to you. When I’m better.”

Fletcher sighed. “Alright. I’m sure you’ll be cussing me out for not giving you drugs in like ten minutes.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the rush of the falling water.

“Are you going to send me back?” Tommy asked in a small voice.

“No.” Fletcher didn’t hesitate.

All things considered - at least until the next wave of pain and nausea hit and the cravings took over his system - Tommy hoped they were telling the truth.

Fletcher stopped the shower before Tommy got too cold. They let him towel off and returned with clean clothes before leading him back to his room. 

“Try to get some sleep. I’ll be back around.”

Sleep wasn’t on the table for Tommy. Not in this state. He tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable.

When the door opened again, it wasn’t Fletcher - it was Williams.

He slipped carefully into Tommy’s room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“What were you on before?” he asked. “Percs, oxy?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy groaned, turning his head away. “Probably.”

Williams leaned down close. He took hold of Tommy’s chin with two fingers, turning it towards himself and guiding it down. Tommy dutifully opened without much thought. Williams placed something on his tongue.

Tommy’s eyes widened.

It was a pill.

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya.”

Tommy grabbed his water and drank down the pill as Williams slipped out again.

Maybe it was foolish not to spit it out and check what it was. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to tell. But at this point, he didn’t really care. He just wanted to feel good enough to return to his chores. 

Whatever happened, he couldn’t lose the light again.

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @pretty-face-breaker @thesuffererrrr @victimeyez

[sirxlla]

A Little R & R

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: NSFW, Fluff

Prompt: Downtime with Buck (request by anon)

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

(Now proofread and the endings not so rushed imo)

-With that said it's all under the cut-

You had begged him for months to take a vacation, it wasnt hard to get him to say yes but for him to actually do it? That was a pain in the ass and eventually you got tired of it and with how close you were to Bobby you went in, requested the days off for him. Bobby told him about his days off with a knowing smirk.

Suprisingly now you had him sleeping in in the first day. God, did he snore like a firetruck when he was tired, this was long time rest he needed so desperately. God, did he look like an angel all wrapped up, naked in those white sheets.

Your hands traced up his naked back causing him to gently stir. You lips left light little butterfly kisses down his spine which made his lips twich up into a smirk as he let out a mumble. Butterfly kisses turned to hickies and open mouthed kisses after he turned over.

"You think you can go another round after last night?" Evan asked with a cocky tone.

"I wasn't the one who couldn't hold out last night, Baby." You gently smacked his chest with a smile before climbing ontop of him, straddling his naked waist.

"Smartass." He squeezed your ass as that killer smile he had just got even wider and brighter. You leaned down and peck his lips slowly before pulling away just to do it over and over again just as languid as the last.

In your mind this man was the living and breathing and bodyment of a Michelangelo sculpture, His hands hands found themselves on your cheeks as he chased every kiss you'd give him.

It was still dark in the room so the only thing you could see you were a few shadows it was intimate and passionate but so slow and so meaningful. You sat up and gently pushed the sheets down off his hips. He was hard, he woke up that way and any thought of that going away went very far away after you kissed him.

Since the both of you were naked and already halfway there Buck's hand guided himself into you, not a kiss was interrupted. Sex with him always was so...so familiar but never got boring or old.

Of course the language and tired sex completely started to vanish the more energy he had as the week passed. The two of you tried to make cookies, which seems pretty straightforward considering the fact that he has been baking quite a bit because he got back in the kick of it.

After y'all got the dough mixed into the bowls and had started making the icing he smeared icing all over your breasts with that horny and playful look in his eye. You let out a gasp and shoved icing down his pants with a laugh. Quickly he took your shirt off and started licking at every little tiny bit of sugar on your chest, he laid you down on that kitchen table causing the bowl of cookie mix to fall on the floor but it didnt catch the attention of either of you.

"Wait, I have an idea..." He pulled your panties and sleep shorts off of you so slowly.

"Close your eyes...Come on, close em." A mischievous look was gracing his eyes.

You closed your eyes and your mind filled with nerves and anticipation which just had your body on fire, there was a need for him...I mean there always was but this was much more primal and lust filled.

Evan slowly poured the cool icing over your skin. You wanted to open your eyes but you knew what it was and it was more fun this way for him and you. He had control and you got to be submissive for a while, a win win. Buck's mouth trailed over every bit of icing that was poured over your body. He started with your neck then moved down to your shoulder... he knew that's not where you wanted him to go immediately but he wanted you to wait a little longer.

A needy sound of plea escaped your lips, you were whiney but just not enough. He needed you to be filled with complete desire, your body demand for him and only him.

His lips moved lower, this time they found themselves on your stomach, sucking and lapping at the icing below them. You back was arching your stomach twords his mouth, he wanted you to reliquish control to him just for a while...

As sticky as it was he took his clothes off as to not get them covered in the icing the two of you had already made a mess of and since you hadnt fully reliquished control he decided he needed a few things.

"Stay where you are, dont move. I mean it." He said before he walked himself into the next room when he came in you could hear a bit of metal clinking.

"You know the safe word?" He asked and you nodded.

"Words, Baby...You gotta use your words."

"Yes." You were excited and your eyes were still closed.

"And what would it be?"

"Grapefruit for stop, Pineapple for no." You were smiling, it had been a while since he'd pulled out any toys or anything even remotely. Yes, you were sticky and yes it was annoying but it was pushed to the bad of your mind as you thought of where this might lead.

"Good girl...Remember, you can always tell me to stop or say no but I gotta know you're serious. Okay?"

"Okay..." You told him as he slipped on the blindfold.

"Not too tight?" He asked, Even when Buck was dominant he was so caring.

"It's good." You nodded against the sticky kitchen table. His hands found yours and lifted your hands above your head before slipping on the soft fuzzy handcuffs. He wanted power over you and this was the best way to get you to not try to switch on him.

Evan continued the kisses, licks and hickies. He wanted to get you all hot and bothered again before he fully startes anything. Rounding the table he moved himself between your thighs, his index finger found your slit and collected the wet arousal there.

"Already so wet for me?" He asked as you nodded. You were such a picture like this to him, no one else saw you like this. This was his...you were his and the idea of it all just made him even more turned on.

Evan moved his head down to between your thighs, the smell of it combined with the icing was just making him hungry in both ways, he was always sweet in eveything his did. He kissed your thighs before licking slowly over you, you found your thighs being placed over his shoulders and you whined and moaned.

All you wanted now was to touch him, the cuffs made it impossible and usually you watched his eyes as he went down on you. This was so much different, different in a good way, you had to rely on sound and the precise and planned touches he gave you.

His thumb gently rubbed your clit slowly with just the right amount of pressure. Buck's tongue savored every drop and when you tried to lift your hips he held them down with his forearm.

The pleas and whines were just so so overwhelming. He could tell how needy you were and without warning he stood and pushed himself into you causing your back to arch again. Evan held onto your sticky hips as he kisses along your icing covered chest.

You had came and usually it was over after that but his hips didnt stop. You were tired after such a long week of pure bliss. He wasnt done not until he knew you'd walk funny tomorrow which he could tell after the second time you came. He followed shortly after you.

Of course this meant you were done for, fucked out of your mind. Evan looked at all the mess, he told you to stay put followed by him leaving to get you in the bathroom. Evan was always always good at aftercare. He placed you into the bath before climbing in behind you, slowly cleaning the stickiness of your chest and from between your thighs.

Masterlist

[littlexlioness]

His heart was lead. His arms and legs dead weight for him to drag about when he infrequently dared to leave to his room – doing so only on his days to cook. It has been two months since she disappeared. Two months with a gaping hole where his heart has been.

He was empty most days. Hallow. Which, he supposed, was better than the raging blackouts of sorrow and despair he had experienced the first few days she was gone. Spite has taken over then when the feelings became too much. He hadn’t been able to hold the demon back, when he felt the earth slip out from underneath his boots. He felt his heart drop to his stomach. Felt reality being to fade away, again. It has been months since he’d felt darkness like this. Since the Ossuary, when he’d last lost all hope.

But back then, there had been Rook. Her high cheekbones and shinning green eyes had blasted part every dark cloud he’d surrounded himself with. She has been the light he had so desperately needed. Had been the light he’d been begging the Maker to bring into this life, his hope. And now she was gone. Swallowed into the Fade, never to be heard from again.

He knew better than to hope now. Knew nothing good would come of wistfully waiting around for her to storm back in through the pantry door and declare that she was fine. Never again. His chest ached with a familiar emptiness that, for a while, had felt foreign to him. But heartache could not change reality, and the reality of the situation was that Rook was gone. For good.

No matter how much he raged, how he shook, screamed, and sobbed – nothing would bring her back. And the idea of seeing her again, holding her the way he had dreamed of one day doing – would have been enough to end him right then and there.

So he didn’t hope. He couldn’t. Couldn’t imagine her fighting back, tooth and nail, scrappy till the very end – like she always had been. He couldn’t imagine her laughing with the team or rejoining them for dinner. Because any more hope for happiness would likely be his last.

Compartmentalize. That’s what he’d been taught as a Crow. Shut down your feelings and finish the contract– no matter the cost. And right now, that meant taking out the Gods and finishing Rook’s final mission. It was the least the team could do, having lost her in the line of duty. Carrying out her legacy would be his greatest honor. His most important Contract.

He heard a loud clank of pots and pants on the other side of the door, and knew Bellara should be done cooking any moment. He cringed at the thought of having to pretend to be fine in front of the team. He’d taken to eating alone after the first few days. He still cooked when it was his turn, and when it would have been Rook’s but taking his meals in the pantry, alone. Trying to put on a brave face inspite of Spite’s constating roaring had become altogether too much for him. And unless the team wanted to watch him try to leash the demon and fail horrifically, he wouldn’t be joining them.

He felt most guilty on Bellara’s days. She was the only other member who could manage to put together something actually edible, and those big, brown eyes of her staring up at him when he murmured, he would be taking his meal alone only furthered the pit in his stomach. Too soft, too fragile. They all were. And damned lucky to have even made it this far alive and in one piece. At least, most of them had.

A soft knock at the door had him turning over in his cramped cot and facing the door. Only to see the small elfhen he  been thinking of.

“ I know you prefer to eat on your own. But I tried my best to make crow feed, and I’d really like it if you’d join us for family dinner tonight.”

He could tell she was nervous, her eyes darting around the pantry trying to look at anything other than the shell of the man he was – lying lifelessly in the corner.  She had a small, sad smile and a tried her best to laugh at the last part- referencing Rook’s joke about them being a family. Rook always called mealtime, “family dinner” and demanded they were all present. No Excuses.  

She’d told him once, in confidence, that she’d dreamt of finding her own family someday. After growing up as an orphan and being taken in my the Mourn Watch. She’d dreamed of finding her place, her “people” someday. It had been a quite night, after a mission to Nevara with Emmerich that she’d told him. They’d sat closely together that night, sharing a cup of coffee in her rooms as the fish swam around.

Now, he’d do anything to get those quite moments back. To feel her warmth against his skin again or hear her voice whispering secrets to him in the early morning hours, too raw to speak to anyone else. The hollowness in his chest throbbed, and he felt Spite thrash against his control shouting at him

“ROOK. SHOULD BE HERE. FIND ROOK.”

He shook his head, trying to clear away the voice of the spirit, as best he could. Spite was getting louder, and angrier with every passing hour. Holding the demon back had begun to physically pain him. It took everything ounce of control he had to not relinquish his restraint.

Taash had been the one to find him, the first night after Rook disappeared. He’d spent hours searching the area, looking for clues, daggers in hand, eyes frantic and glowing,  all but begging the power-hungry Gods to let him join her. To let him trade places with her, to do anything to bring her back.

But there was nothing to be done.

Rook was gone.

That night they had barely crossed the threshold of the eluvian before Spite had snapped the withering leash of control he’d held over the demon and broken free.  There wasn’t much he could remember other than the overwhelming darkness of it all, the pit in his stomach overtaking him, his heart shattering time and time again, as wails he couldn’t control broke from his lips. He could feel his limbs trashing, as Taash held him close to their chest ( either in comfort, or to restrain him from hurting himself – he’s still not sure).  Spite had taken over for hours, hours of screeching and shouting unable to accept she was gone. Unwillingly to accept that there was nothing more to do to rescue her. It seemed Spite and he had very different ways of handling her loss.

He’d tended to his injuries in solitude and shame later, when he woke up.

“…..- Anis?”

He’d lost himself in thought. It had been happening more often lately, more often that he would like to admit. He looked up at Bellara with a sheepish, soft, smile.

“I’m sorry. What was that?” He was sorry. Bel had the softest heart of their team, and he knew she was hurting just as much as he was. He hadn’t meant to get lost in his head again – had meant to let the memory of losing control distract him.

“It’s okay! I asked if you needed anything. If I could do anything to help?” This time she looked him in the eye, honest and direct. He knew it was difficult for her, putting herself out there just to be shot down. The least he could do was throw her a bone and offer up a conversation.

“I’m as well as I can be Bel. But I could use the comforts of home, crow feed is perfect.” He said with a sigh, as he willed him legs to a standing position. Bellara’s surprise was palpable, and a grin broke across her face with satisfaction. He smiled back at her, halfhearted and empty – it was better than nothing.

“ Everyone is already at the table; we were just waiting for you to pick which wine we should have.”

She was trying to butter him up, and he knew it. Knew had it been any other night, Bel would have picked the first bottle she found and announced it good enough. Or worse even, Neve would have brought out that horrific box of “wine” swill from Minrathous and insisted it was “just as good”.

He trudged to the door, holding it open for the small elf and peering into the stagnant dining hall. Dinners used to be lively, with Rook and the team. They’d telling stories of their most recent adventures, or read letters from the members who were out on mission and making up stories about what they were facing.

But tonight, just like every night since she’d disappeared, it was quite. Too quiet. It made the hair on the back of his neck rise – he’d walked into a trap. And it was too late to turn back, as he head the soft click of the door behind him and saw Bellara walk towards the table where the head seat still sat painfully empty.

He took his seat, the seat everyone else had purposefully left for him. Ever since the night they’d caught him baking, and rebaking, and rebaking again the hazelnut Nevarran torte for Rook. He’d never admit how much effort he’d put into the dessert - but the team knew. He’d never outright told them about the conversation that followed that night. But, it felt as if they already knew something had been growing between him and their fearless leader.

He took his seat to the right of the head of the table. The seat still empty, no place setting laid out for its occupant.

He could feel their eyes on him, drilling past his defenses, staring daggers into his soul, as he looked anywhere else. Compartmentalization was one thing. Confrontation was another, and he was not ready for that discussion just yet. Not today, after a particularly long fight with Spite that had landed him with a particularly bad nosebleed, and a splitting migraine.

“YOUR FAULT.”

The demon shouted.

“YOUR FAULT. ROOK GONE.”

“FIND HER. FIND HER!"

He would do anything for 15 minutes for true, uninterrupted silence – without the team, or the spirit demanding something of him. With a relegated sigh, he looked up catching the eyes of the team boring into him.

“I’m fine” Even he didn’t believe himself.

“That’s not what people who are fine would actually say.” Taash threw back at him, without an ounce of careful caution.

Not like Bel who had been walking on eggshells around him for the past few weeks. Taash was always like this. Brash, but honest. He liked it, usually. They were an open book to read, no games to play, or mind tricks. Another other day it would have been refreshing.

But today, they was a nuisance..

“You’re right Taash, I’m not fine. But I will be – with time” He kept his tone even, his responses short and to the point. No need to get emotional, no need to let the team how badly he was falling apart, or how frayed his control had become.  He needed to put his feelings aside, in order to complete the contract. That was all he could focus on.

“Why not just be just be honest, for once.”

His head snapped up at that, of course it was Davrin who felt the need to make a dig at his behavior. He’d had a hard time letting go of his grudge against the warrior ever since the siege at Weisshaupt. They may have shared a drink together, but that didn’t erase their strained history.

“What would you like me to say, Davrin? That I’m upset? I’m sure you’re all more than aware of that by now”

No need to be subtle, the whole team has watched Taash restrain him as he clawed at his own skin. Spite desperate enough to take out it’s anger on anyone or anything. It was a moment of weakness he’d tried hard not to think about, embarrassed at the glaring weakness and shame of having to be held against his will like a child acting out.

“ So that’s it? You’re just going to give up? You’re not even going to bother fighting for her? Bother trying to find her? You claim you love he---“

The warrior was sharply cut off as a knife soared through the air, grazing across his left cheek, and embedding itself in the wall behind him.

“You know nothing of what I feel. Don’t’ you dare speak of it again!” He shot back his tone razor sharp, eyes subconsciously flashing midnight as his restraint faltered and Spite snuck into control.

The elfhan face was apparent with shock, morphing into a grimace, and then nothing put pure, unadulterated rage begin radiating from him.

It happened in quick succession, Davrin forcefully pushing back his chair, the flipping of the neatly made dining room table, and then the shouting as the elf charged at him eyes full of ire.

“WE ALL LOVE HER YOU COWARD, AND YET YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO’S GIVEN UP ON HER”

He grabbed at a chair that had been haphazardly thrown to its side. Needing something to use a weapon as the warrior charged at him. Ready with a steely look in his eye for a fight. He could feel himself give in, let go of his tether on Spite as his eyes glowed dark and wings appearing behind him. If Davrin wanted a fight, he’d give it to him.

That hardheaded idiot knew nothing, NOTHING, about how he felt! What had been racing through his mind every day, every moment since Rook had vanished. Davrin knew nothing about the gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be, how he would never feel the same, never smile the same, never think the same without her by his side. He’d rather the Fade take him, than lose someone as precious as her. At least someone like him deserved to disappear. All he knew was death.

He barely heard Bellara suck in a gasp, and the two men went at each other. Nothing but wrangled limbs, and rage as Davrin threw a solid punch, connecting with his left eye and he brought the lone chair down hard, against the elf’s head – shattering it to splinters. It seems Davrin really was as hardheaded as he seemed. His face throbbed, but it was a dull pang compared to everything else. He felt the wind knocked out of him as the elf rushed at him again, locking his arms around his waist and taking them to the ground. If the warrior wanted a brawl, he’d be more than happy to oblige. Sprawled out on his back, he reached around him searching for anything to use as a weapon. Smirking, he his hand connected with cool silvery metal. He grabbed the instrument and jabbed down, hard and fast into the other man’s shoulder stabbing the utensil deep into covered skin.

Davrin let out a howl, hollow and angry as he began throwing punch after punch into his stomach, his chest, anywhere the elf could make contact. He could barely heard the horrified shouts of his team mates around the sound of Spike finally being let loose.

“BREAK HIM.”

“KILL HIM.”

“HE THINKS. HE KNOWS ROOK BEST. END HIM”

And for once, he agreed. Davin thought he knew everything, thought he deserved to know everything – when really he didn’t know when to let things go and admit defeat. He wasn’t a leader; he was a fool. A hopeful, childish fool who would only have those hopes crushed when he realized there was no getting her back. They couldn’t. She was stuck in the Fade with no way of making contact, no way of freeing her.

The sooner Davrin learned to accept reality and cut his losses the sooner the team could move forward on their mission. The sooner he could complete the last contract he had, the last piece of Rook he had to hold onto.

As he reared back his head, ready to bash the elfhen man square in the face – he felt a chill. Something cold and foreign holding him in place, holding him back. He looked up to see Taash had quite literally picked Davrin off the floor, holding him like someone may hold a misbehaving kitten by the scruff. Davrin trashed at the restriction, and Taash let out a strained grunt as the man struggled against them.

He whipped his head to see the source of the chill holding him in place, came from none other than Neve as she stood Infront of a horrified looking Bellara and a disappointed Emmerich. She’d had to use magic to freeze him in place he realized with an annoyed grimace. But at least he wasn’t being held at bay by Taash, again.

The shouting continued, getting louder and louder as each man hurled more colorful swears than most of their team had ever heard. Davrin being especially creative, and his being mostly in Antivan. He could make out the sound, in the back of his mind, of Bellara begging them to stop. Emmerich holding her close to shield her from the sight of the fight.

But it wasn’t until a green rip opened in the middle of the dining room that the two men went silent. It was a fade tear. Totally uncontrolled, and random. Something the team had been trying to conjure on demand for the last few months to get back to their leader.

He could feel the heat creep red hot up his neck, across his cheeks as his heart pounded so wildly he was sure the elfhen in the room could hear. This----this was impossible. The only thing that could tear into the fade was the dagger, and the dagger was last with……..

No.

It couldn’t be.

And yet there it was. The rip opened wider, growing until it was the size of a doorway, big enough for an adult to walk through – and through the rip he saw a shadow. Short in stature, with same tell-tale red curls and a mischievous grin slashing across her face. And with one step, out of the green haze and into the shaken dining room – she was there.

It was her.

Out of now where, like an angle she just – appeared. He couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t process what was happening, as the feel the cold around his arms and legs melted away as Never lost concentration on the spell.

He couldn’t think straight. His heart thundering– hard and fast like he’d been running for his life. Some part of him recognized he was shaking, hands quivering as he reached out to her like she might disappear again if he were to touch her. Reverently, as if she were too pure, like she would break if he was too rough, too good for this world.

“I’m home! Did you miss me?” Was all she had time to get out before he was on his knees, and then rushing across the room.

Unbothered by what the team thought, unbridled by what a Dellamorte should act like, inhibitions running lost as he threw himself around her – wings blazing bright in the soft light of the Fade tear, before wrapping around her gently. Cocooning her in a shield of protection. He would never let her go. Never let her leave, never go another day without seeing her, hearing her, holding her. Never again.

His shaking worsened, and his face felt wet and he gripped her tightly around the middle – arms locking in place. Gingerly, he felt her arms raise up and hold him in return. He let out an uncontrollable sob, wet and loud. He hadn’t cried since he was a child, not since he lost his mother. But today, here- seeing her again? This was worth it.

She laid her head gently against his chest, and likely heard how deafening his pounding heartbeat was. He was fighting for control now, eyes flickering between purple and brown as Spite pulled at the fraying tether of restraint. He knew the spirit was just as excited as he was to have her back- to have her in their arms once again. But he couldn’t give up, couldn’t give up this moment. He’d rather die than lose this.

“I’m sorry” She whispered in his ear, softly enough that only he could hear, and another sob wrecked his body. He’d never live this down if Viago or Teia heard.

“shhhh, shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.  I’m home now. I’m safe. We’re safe.” She continued rubbing his back gently, as she repeated the soft words to him. As his grip tightened, and ratcheting around her until he thought for a moment that she wouldn’t be able to breath. But she let him continue, knew he needed this just as much as she did.

“ROOK.NEVER.LEAVE.AGAIN”

“Never leave us again, not like this”

He begged softly, words heavy on his tongue as he held her tightly in their cocoon. No one could see them, they were safe, protected here. She couldn’t leave, couldn’t disappear into the Fade, couldn’t fall through his fingers into nothingness. He drank in the embrace, the feel of her short frame against his, the smell of her messy curls against his cheek, the feel of her heart matching his thrumming in his chest. If it were his choice, he’d never leave this moment. Never let her go again.

“….Love.”

It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. She’d never called him that before, and it added a warmth to his chest that was sorely needed. Love. He loved her. He’d always known, he could tell he was falling for her weeks ago despite how badly he wanted to distance himself from the feeling – he’d known. And when she’d gone missing? The largest regret he carried was never telling her, never being a brave enough man to accept the fear in his heart and tell her the truth. He’d never let that happen again.

“I love you, Rook. And I’m never losing you again”

He shook, out of fear or overwhelming joy he couldn’t be sure. He’d never said those words to anyone, not since he was a boy saying them to his mother. He’d never expected how terrifying it could be to say aloud to another person. But today, for now, he could be brave. He had to be, Rook deserved it. She deserved honestly, she deserved truth, and even if she deserved more than the love of a broken man – he would still offer all he had and more to her.

“I love you too, sweetheart”

She carded her hands through his hair softly, bringing a hand down to rest a warm palm against his cheek, eyes raising up to meet his wet gaze. She was beautiful, perfect, deadly. Everything he could want in partner, everything and more than he deserved.

“May I?"

She asked softly, not needing to even ask before he gently leaned down to meet her lips. It wasn’t perfect, his cheeks still wet with tears, his breath ragged with fear as his heart was still thundering in his chest. It was messy, and imperfect. But it was him, honest and present – everything he could offer to her.

He’d once told her that a good coffee tastes like a kiss goodbye, bitter and then sweet. But this, this was better. This was a welcome home kiss, a reuniting kiss, and kiss of endless opportunity and hope. Like honey and lavender cream, and so much more than he could have ever imagined.

A cough rang out from somewhere in the room, and it took him a moment to notice that Spite’s wings had disappeared – leaving the kissing lovers exposed to the rest of the team and the disheveled dinning room.

“Well, I supposed that settles that.” Never said as she let out a chuckle, at the sight of the embracing couple, both wearing matching pink cheeks.

Rook was mindful enough to let out an embarrassed chuckle, as she loosened her arms around his shoulders. She stepped to move out of his embrace, only for him to tighten his grip around her – he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anyway.” Rook whispered to him softly, reaching to grasp his hand in hers tightly. He reflexively reached out to grab hers, squeezing tightly, not wanting to be separated from her yet.

“Sooooo, so wants to tell me the story of why our dinning room looks like a war zone?” She quipped softly, trying to lighten the mood in the already awkward hall.

“You’re boyfriend was acting like a kicked puppy, I told him to grow up, and then he stabbed me with a fork” Davrin tossed out casually, pulling the offending cutlery out of his shoulder blade as proof of the indiscretion.

“And the chair. Don’t forget about the chair he broke over your stupid thick skill” Taash added in, with a look of amusement and a chuckle.

“ Ah yes, a true assassin’s way of showing affection. I should have known. If only I were so lucky.” Rook laughed disbelievingly, not quite sure of the statement had Davrin not been ready to show her the blood-tinged fork for herself. But she supposed there had to be more to the story, there always was.

But for now, she was content to laugh at the antics of her lover and their oddly mismatched family. Perhaps they weren’t prefect, or well behaved. But they were hers, and she loved them – no matter what.

[sris-skies]

FRIENDLY NEIGHBOUR- nicholas &team

the first time that he saw her, he dropped his mail. she was just carrying her groceries up the stairs to her apartment in a very casual outfit- a completely ordinary occasion, but there was just something about her that made him stop in his tracks, she was just so ethereal to him. nicholas watched her go into her apartment and felt his mouth go dry. since when was such a gorgeous woman living next door to him. he picked up his mail dazedly and walked into his own apartment, his dazed smile scaring the shit out of his roommate. “yo… dude, are you.. are you okay?” euijoo said hesitantly from his spot on the couch, watching nicholas all but float around their apartment. “I think i just saw a goddess” nicholas said dreamily, flopping onto the couch dramatically, his head falling into ej’s lap. “oh god not this shit again, get your delusional ass out of here” ej said, scrunching his nose and pushing nico’s head out of his lap as if repulsed by what his friend was saying. 

the second time that he saw her, it was two weeks later. she had wormed her way into his brain and stayed there for the entire time- to the point where his friends were sick of him, all of them groaning the minute nicholas opened his mouth to talk about the beautiful woman next door. this time that he saw her, nicholas was coming back home from the gym, begging internally that he didn't stink and end up grossing her out- oh god what if he smelled so bad that she decided to move out and he’d never see her ever again. in his flustered state, nicholas and the pretty woman next door made eye contact, which prompted the human embodiment of an angel to smile so sweetly at him, sending a rush through his body, his ears obviously flushing a bright red. “hey! did you just come from the gym?” she asked nicholas in a friendly manner. what. she.. she was talking to him?? him?? his mind ran blank at that realisation, only snapping out of his trance at the feeling of her gaze on his face. “uhm. oh! uh, yeah i did, sorry, do i smell bad?” he responded finally, cheering internally that he didn’t fumble the conversation with the gorgeous woman in front of him… that much at least. “no no! you don’t smell bad, i just thought that you were coming from the gym because of your clothes” the pretty and sweet woman said, reassuring him. god she was perfect. nicholas could feel cupid’s arrow shooting straight through his heart (again). he wasn’t even sure how the rest of the conversation went, but by the time he walked into his apartment, euijoo, maki and yuma took one look at his face and immediately groaned, ej holding his head in his hands, maki getting up off the couch as if to leave and yuma falling dramatically off the couch. was he really that bad? yes. yes, he was. 

the third, fourth and thirtieth time he saw and interacted with her went by in a similar fashion, the two speaking more with every interaction and nicholas- without fail- ranting about each and every one of their interactions to his friends at any available opportunity (forcibly removing decades off of their lives). it wasn’t even until three months after he’d first saw her that his little bubble was popped. there she was… the most beautiful, funny, perfect woman he’d ever met, going down the very same stairs he’d first seen her on, carrying… boxes? why the hell was she moving boxes labelled ‘glassware’- oh. oh that’s why. y/n was moving away. nicholas felt like his whole world was crashing and burning around him, his motivation for going outside of his apartment was leaving? 

y/n flashed him a quick sheepish smile as she carried the box down the stairs. “hey nico! sorry I’m taking up the space on the stairs” she laughed awkwardly. god he loved the way his name sounded falling from her lips. “oh! hi y/n! no, no that’s ok! do.. do you want some help carrying these boxes?” he responded instinctively, his soul’s need to be helpful and near to her, kicking back in. “really? oh my god, thank you so much- that’d be so helpful” y/n said, sounding so relieved, her eyes lighting up at the sound of his offer. shit she was so cute (and leaving him). not trusting his voice to not crack embarrassingly, nicholas just nodded his head, going up to climb the stairs in order to grab a box for her, his eyes widening slightly at the weight of the box as he picked it up. y/n soon joined him once more, picking up one of the bigger boxes with an ease that made his throat dry up. lord save him, she was strong too? god, this crush wasn’t going to go anywhere any time soon. 

nicholas helped y/n move her boxes silently, listening to her talk about her day and why she was moving (she’d found a better apartment for a cheaper price a few streets down from where they were now). his silence was mainly in part due to his eyes being glued to her form as she lifted and carried heavy boxes up and down their stairs, feeling so enamoured with her every second that passed, but also because he loved the way that words sounded when they rolled off of her tongue. somehow, they’d managed to bring the last two boxes down the stairs, just about to load them into the car. nicholas panicked, fuck. he didn’t have her number or even her instagram, how would he be able to keep talking with her- “would you like to go on a date with me?”- yeah, that’d do it. he opened his mouth to ask her the fateful question when he was interrupted with; “oh finally, I thought you’d never ask me out”. he blinked. he blinked again. what. oh fuck oh shit, he’d actually said that out loud and to her- oh god he was such a loser, no wonder she just… accepted it? “w-wait… you’d want to go on a date with me?” he asked, seeking confirmation that this was in fact actually happening. “well yeah, of course I would, i’ve been waiting for you to ask me for at least two weeks now” y/n laughed, shoving the last box into her trunk. “oh! oh uhm, yeah okay, erm well, i’ll pick you up on saturday at 6pm?” nicholas stammered his way through this- praying to every god out there that he didn’t fumble this heavenly opportunity. “sounds like a date, nico! see you then” y/n said, subtly flushing shyly, waving goodbye as she got into her car and drove off- leaving nicholas to stand like an idiot on the sidewalk outside their apartment complex. 

“yo! hey nico, whats up?” “i’m going on a date with y/n…” “this again? stop being so fucking delusional please it is physically paining me” “but I’m being serious!” “sure sure, we’ll just pick up some extra anti-psychosis meds on the next grocery run” “im not joking!!”

merry christmas y'all! uhm, i wrote this in the midst of moving house el oh el (hence the theme of this fic erm)

this was written as a present for @chiiyuuv as part of secret santa hehe (i was so locked in trying to finish this on time for you pookie- hope you enjoy it xx)

I did write this highly sleep deprived so I’m praying that it is actually a good piece of writing 🥰🥰🥰

[dogsrot]

thinking about how scary it is when fenrir goes mute before he just starts to laugh . .

[abyssalpriest]

Damnit lev lmfao. I was thinking about Shiva wearing corpse ash being resonant for other reasons, something about his relationship with the Bright Skinned Ones and death and whatever. No, no. More fucking importantly: Oh I wonder why Shiva is known for. you know. wearing bodies. his appearance is a mass of bodies joined together. yeah

[actual-corpse]

Telling people you're Christian: Blasè, dated, wrong. Instant dislike.

Telling people you're a true follower of Christ: Idk... What I'm saying but I'm trying to make a point about Christians not actually following the teachings of Christ and if they were True followers then they wouldn't be so far up everyone's ass with controlling and hateful policies like...

Homophobes think more about gay sex than actual gay people! And they're way too concerned about genitals.... and they're really creepy about children... ACTUAL children.

The projection is REAL. The call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE! You're the problem! You're the person you're scared of!

They freak out over people "forcing trans on kids" as if they themselves aren't forcing unnecessary surgeries onto Intersex babies!!! Transphobes are the ones forcing kids to transition!!

If they truly believed in their "God" then they would not mutilate intersex babies! Because they would believe God made them that way and that they were special or whatever idfk.

IT ISN'T ABOUT THE BIBLE! THEY JUST WANT CONTROL!!! How the FUCK are you gonna say something was "God's plan" and then mutilate a baby?!?!? They deny their children life-saving medical treatment bc it's "God's plan" but then in the same breath mutilate intersex babies... put them on hormones that make them sick... just so they can be "normal".

[arminsumi]

cws; smut, rough s*x, mentions sq**rting, milkman cliché, namecalling, sum back scratching, this is goofy asf LOL 🐥

Milkman!Gojo who doesn't just 'dick you down'; he fucks you into the 4th dimension. His strokes are actually insane. You can't keep up with him and he's laughing about it because up until now it's been you who's the horniest — the lonely single hottie flirting obnoxiously with the way too fuckable milkman. Shit, it was you who begged him to fuck you dumb in the first place. He's jus' delivering! One second he's giving you milk and the next he's stripping his uniform off and letting his cock spring out to give you... well, more milk?!

Locking you into the nastiest mating press you've ever endured, milkman!Gojo's slamming into your sensitive pussy so hard and fast at the perfect angle that you're actually scared of your orgasm — how he works it out of you with such violent thrusts that you hiccough and feel like you're about to cry. He just gives it to you without mercy, no breaks no bullshit he is dicking you the fuck downnn

"Holy shit! Nng! Fuck! Don't you fucking stop!" you squeal, clawing desperately at his back and leaving raw red lines, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Ahhh ummm I'm gonna c-cum?! Nnn!! I'm gonna cum... I'm cumming on your cock... I... um... shit, I-I'm ahh cumming...!"

His dick has you stressing out — like actually. Your pussy's under pressure like she's taking a big dick exam. Each inch he packs into your spasming cunt is changing your world perspective. Did you squirt? You can't tell. But you came without touching your clit for like, the first time, which is insane to you. His cum is pumping into you and he's shuddering, calling you a slutty bitch or whatever other foul names — with affection, you know, he's a charming guy. And he's left you with a charming creampie to ooze out your abused cunt.

He's stifling laughter once he's done filling you up with his milk, sliding his cock out with a nasty squelchy pop! and he's asking if you're okay after literally ruining you; you can't move a single muscle, you can only "bask" in the afterglow which feels more like an aftershock because that orgasm was some high-level earthquake shit.

"What the fuck... I need t-t-to lay here and think about life for a bit..."

He's howling with laughter, "Damn, did I fuck your brains out or what?"

"Nah, shut up with ya bullshit — your dick is insane, no wonder you can't keep a girlfriend. Like, there's dicking down and then there's whatever that was — plowing me into the fourth fucking dimension... don't laugh!"

So now after that, you call your milkman up whenever you need "insane 4th dimension dicking down" and he snickers, ready to deliver — knocking at your door and waiting to cum inside.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?” 

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?" 

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip. 

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick. 

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji." 

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” 

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good. 

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.” 

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you. 

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading. 

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!” 

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time. 

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Oh God. You were going to die. This was it. It wasn't demons or Muzan that take you in the end. It was your damn husband and his insatiable lust and stamina.

Lying face down on the bed, you panted against the mattress, your face a mess of tears and sweat, hair sticking to your forehead, eyes rolled up and cheeks painted a bright red. Behind you, tugging at his cock and eager for round...whatever the next number- was your husband.

Maybe you shouldn't have riled him up the way you did. You know how possessive he can be so why on Earth did you purposefully get him jealous by flirting with another man? Oh, right. Because you wanted to get fucked rougher. Well, you got what you wanted and now you're going to die.

You jumped as you felt the familiar sensation of a fat cock press against your entrance, your stuffed cunt instantly begging for mercy. You swore that if he fucked you one more time- made you cum one more time- filled you with his seed even one more time- you'd see the pearly white gates call for you.

You gripped onto the bedsheets and pulled yourself away, your body working on autopilot as your husband had successfully fucked the brain cells out of you. You heard him chuckle as you tried to crawl away, your body feeling like jelly, your arms and legs numb and barely capable of getting you to the edge of the bed before:

A pair of hands grabbed you by the hips and dragged you back, laughing at your whine of protest. Uzui reeled his hand back and smacked you across your already beaten ass before he spread your legs and gave an equally painful spank to your pussy, making you scream. "Now, what made you think that was a smart idea? Try running away again and see what happens."

Obanai lets you think you escaped before he grabbed you by the ankles, ignoring your cries as he pulled you back towards him. He flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, making you squeal as he took a nipple between his fingers and twisted, your back arching off the bed. "Are you trying to piss me off even more?"

Just as you reached the edge of the bed, wondering if you could make it, you felt Rengoku press himself against your back and- oh- fuck! He slid right inside you! You gasped as the man pushed his cock in with one fell swoop, taking your breath away as he instantly started moving his hips, preferring to fuck you where you were instead of dragging you back. "Get comfortable, baby. I'm not done with you."

Sanemi caught you the second you tried to move, simply reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull harshly. You yelped as your neck was forced to snap back, your back arching as your husband pulled at your hair, his other hand looping to the front to grab you by the neck before he leaned towards your ear and growled: "I'm going to give you a choice. I can fuck you here, on the bed, or I chase you and fuck you where I catch you and trust me, I won't be as nice."

Gyomei didn't say anything, even as you got off the bed and onto your wobbly feet. You wondered if you could just leave when he said, in his booming voice: "Are you sure that's what you want to do?" You froze, body trembling. Why was one sentence enough for you to rethink your whole lives decisions? You didn't know what Gyomei meant by it, but you knew it probably wouldn't be fun. With a gulp, you climbed back onto the bed before getting in front of your husband. You spread your legs wide as you lay down in front of him, reaching down to grab at his fat cock and press it against your entrance. The man smiled as he slowly started to sink inside your familiar heat. "Good girl."

Giyuu grabbed you by the legs and pulled you back while also changing his own position. To your horror, you found yourself slung over his knee, a predicament you just experienced an hour before which was why your ass was a bright red already. You started apologizing profusely, kicking your legs like a toddler but your husband simply ignored your pleas and held you down, the task quite easy for him even if one arm of his was free to do the spanking. "It seems one round wasn't enough to discipline you. Guess we have to go again."

[eddiesxangel]

1-800-HOT-TO-GO | E.M

Anonymous asked: Can i request a fic where either the reader reveals during a pizza and beers hangout she was a phone sex operator for a brief time and everyone is shocked and one of them jokingly asks if she was any good and she whispers something dirty in their ear and it changes their friendship

Cw: fem!reader, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk 1.7k words

“Come again?”

“I used to work a sex hotline,” you shrug like it was no big deal.

“No way,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

You hear Steve and the others giggle around you, also in disbelief.

“Wanna bet?”

“Try me.” He wants to call your bluff because no way in hell did he not know this about you. You always were reserved when it came to talking about sex; you never had you seemed promiscuous.

You hold up your hand to your ear, pretending it is a phone, and Eddie follows your lead.

“Ring ring,” he giggles.

“Hello.” You changed the pitch of your voice to be more sultry.

“Hi,” he smirks.

“Can I get a name, handsome?”

“ Eddie”

“Mmmm, hi, Eddie. I’m Candy.”

“Candy?”

He breaks character, but you don’t.

“the boys say it’s because I’m so sweet.” You fake giggle.

“This is my first time calling. I’m not sure what to do here.”

“That’s okay, I’ll walk you through it… you want to get comfortable for me?”

Eddie looks around the room at the others, who are trying to stifle their giggles. This night was supposed to be chill, with pizza and beers. He wasn’t really sure how you all ended up here.

“I’m comfortable.” He says without actually moving.”

“I wish I could see; you sound so sexy.” You sigh.

Another giggle leaves Eddie’s lips because who is this person who’s taken over your body?

“Yeah? you wish you could see be, Dollface?” Playing into it more.

You lean in to whisper so only he can hear it this time. “oh yeah, big boy; I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me.” You sit back, take a loose tendril, twirl his hair around your finger, and watch Eddie’s eyes widen at what you just said.

“Oh-okay, that’s enough.” He chuckles, trying not to give away how turned on he just got. “I believe you!”

You sit back with a giggle and grab another slice of pizza like nothing just happened.

Everyone looked at you with shock.

Eddie quickly gets up and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

“What did you say?!” Robin begs.

You shrug in response like it was another day at work… which it has been.

“Damn, is it hot in here?” Steve pops the collar of his shirt.

“You guys need to loosen up, my god.”

While you were still enjoying your pizza, Eddie was having a crisis. Never had he thought of you in that way until moments ago, listening to those filthy words slip from your lips.

“I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me,” your words replayed in his mind while he tried to fight the blood rushing to his stiffening cock.

He can’t go back out there like this. Eddie splashed cold water on his face to try to snap him out of it, but it didn’t help.

A quick rap on the door startles Eddie out of his inner monologue.

“You okay, big boy? You’ve been in there fifteen minutes.” He hears you laugh from the other side.

Had it really been that long?

Eddie’s issue had not been resolved; in fact, it had worsened as he tried to push down the thought of you naked and spread out for him… talking to him like that.

“Yeah-I-uh- just a minute.” Eddie wanted to pull his hair out at how frustrated you had made him.

You were just pals, bubbies, amigos.

You weren’t attractive… were you?

Eddie never thought to look at you in that way; you’re just a friend, always had been, always will be… unless?

The more Eddie thought about it, the more he realized he did think your hair looked really pretty tonight. The way you always did your makeup really brought out your beautiful features…and when he got a whiff of your delicious perfume when you twirled his hair, he thought his.

“You sure?” You try to jiggle the door handle, but it’s locked.

“Shit,” Eddie curses under with breath.

“Come on, Ed, talk to me, please?”

You hear the lock unlatch and watch the doorknob slowly turn as Eddie pokes his head out.

“Hi,” he’s short and sounds a bit out of breath.

“I hope what I said didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Ed saw the worried look in your eyes.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but…no.”

“Yes, but no?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. He didn’t see a way out of this. He stepped aside to let you in and shut the door behind you.

“Eddie?” You look up at him.

“Hm?”

His eyes snap to your concerned face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was a big deal! It did it all the time for work; I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. clearly, I overstepped a boundary-“

“You’re not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie moves his strategically placed hands to reveal the tent formed in his jeans and watches as your face falls into amused shock.

You cup your mouth to stifle an unexpected giggle.

“That’s not the reaction a guy wants when he shows a girl how turned on he is.”

“I’m sorry, I just!-didn’t think?”

“It’s okay. I’m just trying to get rid of it, but it’s not going away.”

“You mean?”

“I’m waiting it out.”

“Oh, ok.” You nod awkwardly.

An awkward silence washes over the both of you as you try so hard not to stare at his crotch.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for your help if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Ok…”

Another very uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, trying to do everything in your power so as not to look down.

“I um… I guess I’ll just.” You point to the door that he’s blocking.

“Uh. Ok,” he nods and steps to the side.

You close the door behind you but don’t leave. You lean against the door and take a deep breath, trying to make sense of the evening.

Why did the thought of turning Eddie on excite you? He’s a friend. Just a friend. I always had and always will be.

With a deep breath, you go to push yourself up off the door, but before you’re able to, you hear your name being moaned from the other side of the door.

You froze. You knew you should move, but your feet were locked in place. More heavy breaths and the sound of muffled moans seeped from under the door gap, and you pressed your ear to the door.

Eddie was jerking off because of you… and you liked it?

Eddie bit back screaming your name as he finally released himself into the bathroom tissue. Finally, he could return to rejoin everyone without being physically uncomfortable.

He discarded his release, tucked himself back in, washed his hands, and unlocked the door, but he was ambushed when you fell onto him when he went to open the door.

You let out a squeak as you lost your balance, falling into Eddie as the door was opened from under you.

“Woah,” Eddie catches you before you’re able to fall. His rage hands wrap around your biceps, gripping tightly to brace your fall.

“Were you spying on me?”

“Oh god, sorry” you’re so embarrassed. The whole evening has been one shit show. You scramble to find your fitting to create space between you and Eddie.

“You were spying on me!”

“Shhhhh! Keep your voice down.”

“You totally were spying on me!” He accused.

“You’re the one who moaned my name!” You defend.

Eddie’s cheeks reddened.

“You’re the one who said all those… things!” his hands flailed.

“You’re the one who egged it on!”

“So!”

“So?”

“Yeah, so!”

“Woah, guys, what’s going on here?” Steve pops his head around the corner.

“Nothing,” you both glare.

“Ohhhhhkayyyyyyyy,” Steve turns a heel and walks back to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Eddie,” you sigh, “I don’t want to argue. This is dumb, and we can pretend it never happened.”

“We could, but I gotta know.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you like it?” He took a step closer, filling the gap between you.

“What?” You look up at him.

“I asked if you like listening to me?” he brushed your hair behind your shoulder.

You gulp, not expecting Eddie’s demeanour to switch on a dime.

“I… I don’t know?”

“I think you did, and you’re too scared to admit it.” You can smell him. He is so close to you.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You watch as he leans in closer.

“Just trust me.” His hands find the back of your neck, pulling you close.

“Eddie?”

“Let me try something.”

“Kay,” you whisper.

Eddie’s lips graze yours ever so lightly before he presses them fully.

A million and one thoughts run through your mind as Eddie kisses you.

You blame the cheap beer for letting this happen. You blame the beer for liking it. You blame the beer for kissing him back. You blame the beer for the tongue slip and the beer for how you wanted to moan when he pulled away.

“Woah”

“Yea woah,” you repeated dumbly.

“um… did you like it?”

“Yeah… did you?”

“Yeah.”

“cool… now what?”

“go out with me,” Eddie states confidently.

“Like a date?”

“what else would it be?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know?” You shrug, embarrassed that Eddie is getting you all flustered.

“You’re cute when you don’t know what to say.” He smirks.

“I’m cute?” You never thought hearing Eddie say those words would send butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

Eddie doesn’t answer verbally; he leans in to kiss you again to confirm his statement.

“We should get back to the others.” You sigh as you pull away.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Yes, I did. I asked you out.”

“No, you said go out with me. That’s a statement, not a question.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Yes, you were totally messing with him.

“Will you go out on a date with me?”

“Just say yes! You’ve been gone for half an hour!” You hear Robin yell from the living room.

“Robin!” You hear Steve scold.

“What?”

You can’t help but laugh and can’t believe the next world’s coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll go out with you, Eddie.”

[bisexualelphie]

i'm so normal about them (i'm not)

Stay true to yourself~