#and just being fascinated with how they look under his fingers

[you-know-honey]

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

←←←1/2

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

“Home sweet home…” you hum as Viktor opens the door, letting you in first like a true gentleman. You’re the first to leave your coat on the coat rack and throw your shoes somewhere in the room, walking now much more comfortably towards the kitchen.

Viktor’s home isn’t very big, but it had changed a lot since the first time you went there. Before, everything looked like a scene from the most godforsaken place, with almost no furniture and white morgue lighting. It was hard to convince him that to improve his health he also need to improve his environment. The living room was the largest room, with a functional fireplace, a second-hand coffee table and a sofa so soft it could be a piece stolen from heaven. The kitchen was the smallest, there was no table or chairs, instead there was a breakfast bar and some swivel chairs that you had taken from the academy and that Viktor had fixed. The bathroom started the hallway, followed by his office and finally his room. You had made sure that every room reflected something positive, watering plants or doing crafts like a comfort fairy. Viktor appreciated it, he had told you so many times, he didn't mind that you filled his house with your not so practical decorations, they were your personal brand and he liked it, besides spending all that time decorating, painting and remodeling gave him more reasons to love you, to get to know you perfectly and be fascinated by what he found in your being. Without you he wouldn't have managed to make his house feel and look like a real home in which to rest.

Viktor removes his jacket with precise movements. His long, deft fingers slide the dark fabric over his shoulders, revealing the impeccable shirt that sits tight against his slim figure. He folds the jacket carefully, as if he's in no hurry, and lays it over the back of the sofa. His hands move up to the knot of his tie. His fingers, always so precise, pull at the knot with ease, undoing the pressure around his neck. The gesture, so mundane to him, has a strange effect on you, an electric current running through your body. As if that weren't enough, the top button of his shirt unbuttons under his touch, revealing just a flash of skin on his pale neck. His breathing seems to relax instantly, as if the small adjustment brings him some comfort.

Viktor exhales softly, running a hand through his messy hair, unaware that this distracted gesture, combined with the shadow of exhaustion on his face, makes him look almost unattainable, like a work of art that doesn’t realize its own beauty. You feel trapped in a magnetic web that he doesn’t even know he possesses.

“That was sexy,” you mutter to yourself as you rummage through some food in the fridge.

“Excuse me?” His low voice echoes behind you, you have no idea how he moved so fast, his tone is incredulous, and his eyebrows arch slightly.

You shrug, trying to look casual as you turn to look at him, even though you know your face is probably burning. “What I said. You’re sexy. Especially when you do that without realizing it.”

His brain shuts down for a moment, processing the bold comment. “Don’t joke with me…” he finally says, leaning his cane against the fridge and trapping you in a bear hug, your hands quickly returning his, feeling the medical corset under his shirt.

“I’m not joking,” you insist, your words crashing against his bare torso, causing him to shiver slightly, which only makes his arms draw you closer to his body. “Is it so hard to believe?” you can hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Stop it…” he replies with his lips on your head.

“Too shy to receive compliments?” in his defense you are being a little more daring than usual.

His arms pull you closer to his body as if that were possible, it is clear that he wants you to stop talking, he laughs when he feels you squirm in his arms as if you are complaining.

“Y/N…” he tells you with that tone that you know is a warning, although it is not serious, you know he is having fun.

You sigh and he loosens his hug a little, enough so that you can rest your chin on his chest.

“Shall we make dinner together?” you ask, Viktor leaned in slightly, his eyes half-lidded in a warm gesture, and brushed the tip of his nose against Y/N’s in a gentle movement, barely a whisper of contact. It was an intimate exchange, full of affection and closeness, that spoke louder than any words. It was as if they shared a secret, a moment just for them, full of warmth and sweetness.

“Sure.”

Making dinner together is a very big word for what really happens in that kitchen, you prepare everything and force him to sit behind the breakfast bar to prove that everything is on point once you start the dinner. Viktor is not afraid to admit that he does not know how to cook anything other than toast and sandwiches. The kitchen is his war zone and the oven is the enemy he has yet to overcome, luckily he has you and by the time the timer in the shape of a pigeon reaches zero his stomach growls with eagerness.

“Taran!” you proudly take the lasagna out of the oven, the warm aroma fills the whole house and both of your stomachs growl desperate for food. “How is it?” you look at him expectantly.

Viktor runs his face over the steaming mold, it looks good and smells good “It’s perfect…” although he could perfectly refer to you instead of the lasagna.

“Go to the sofa, I’ll bring the dishes in a second.” still with your gloves on you push yourself over the breakfast bar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cooking always puts you in a good mood, but seeing that he likes what you cook is a reward on another level.

As you serve the plates and accompany it with something to drink, you watch Viktor’s silhouette walk towards the sofa, he limps a little but that gives him a certain charm because he no longer does it in pain, the way he sits, the way he sighs as he leans his back against the back of the sofa, the way he tilts his head to look at the fire. Everything about him seems like a work of art to you, from the veins that run through his pale, thin hands, his moles that you’re sure must be a constellation in the sky, his eyes that remind you of fresh honey in a virgin forest, his laugh, secret but beautiful like the whistling of rivers in the distance. You love him like you have no idea. Thinking about him revives your spirit, releases unbridled currents of adrenaline that die for him, to reach him, to be in his arms and stay there forever.

“Enjoy” he says when he leaves the dinner on the coffee table, letting you fall on the sofa. Using a blanket to cover you both from the cold.

“Enjoy” he answers, using his arm to pull your figure closer to him and rests his head on yours.

You both eat in silence, not because you have nothing to talk about, just that your stomachs really need that lasagna, you are focused on Viktor’s plate, but this time it doesn’t seem like your tactics are needed to get him to finish eating, he really razes the plate with emotion, something that makes you feel proud. With a full stomach it’s easier to think of something to talk about.

“How about a plant?” You ask, resting your head on his chest, there’s something about his heartbeat that works better to relax you than the ocean sound records on the record players next to the window.

“A plant? Where?” he asks with a playful tone “There are already many at home.” he mentioned, pointing with his gaze to the shelf above the fireplace, full of cacti of different sizes.

“For the lab…something small with green leaves maybe with flowers...” He can hear the small tone of excitement in your voice.

Viktor looked at you curiously. “What do you want it for?”

“For you. The doctors say plants help reduce stress.”

He smiled, a wonderful expression on his face. “Do you think a plant can handle that place?”

“I have faith in it. Just like in you.”

He takes a few seconds to look at you, there is tenderness in his gaze. He is not good with plants, in fact he agreed to have cacti only because they were easy to take care of since basically nothing happened if he forgot about it for a few days, a plant like the one you wanted requires more care but… he is not willing to say no to you, if you want it that way that will be and he will take care of that plant better than anyone else.

“A plant it is then.” He sighs. His figure moves beside you, before you know it he’s picking up the plates.

“Leave the plates, I’ll wash them,” you say, quickly getting up from the couch as Viktor begins to stack the cups and plates on the coffee table.

“No need. I’ll do it,” he replies calmly, already focused on the task. His hands move with the same precision he uses in the lab, carefully stacking each plate to keep them from falling.

“Viktor, I’m your guest. You can’t wash the dishes,” you insist, stepping forward to take the plates from his hands.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression reflecting a mix of amusement and stubbornness. “Guest? You’ve been here so many times that I could claim my bedroom. There’s no point in arguing this.” You reach for the last plate, but Viktor pushes it away with a swift movement. “It’s just a small task. It’s nothing complicated.”

“But—”

“There are no ‘buts’.” He gives you a look, serious but not harsh. It’s more like a silent declaration of victory. “I’ll take care of it.”

Resigned, you sigh and cross your arms, watching him from the couch as he stacks the plates like a jenga and heads toward the kitchen. However, as he stands up with the stack of plates in his hands, he suddenly stops halfway.

For a moment, you don’t understand what’s going on. His back is slightly bent, his posture rigid. Then, he turns his face slightly toward you, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving closer with concern.

“A small… inconvenience,” he says in a tone that tries to sound calm, although you notice the stiffness in his voice.

You move closer and see the reason: one of the glasses is dangerously tilted, about to fall. His hands are too busy holding the others and holding onto the cane; moving just a millimeter could lead to disaster.

“Let me help you,” you offer with a smile you can’t help.

“No. It’s under control,” Viktor insists, although his tone lacks the firmness it had before.

“Sure? Because you look like you’re a second away from creating an experiment on the fragility of ceramics.”

His lips curve into a slight smile, but his attention remains fixed on the plates. With a quick but gentle movement, you slide your hands over to catch the wayward glass before it falls.

Viktor shoots you a look, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you admit that you need help from time to time?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he continues on his way to the kitchen. “No. But I’ll let you believe it, this time.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“How about I wash them and you dry them?” he offers.

“Fine.”

You watch him sitting at the breakfast bar watching him thoroughly wash each plate, glass, and cutlery, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“All yours,” he says as he leaves the kitchen, which is too small for the two of them. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Do you want some company?” His figure tenses up like a cat, stopping only to turn around slightly to find a mischievous smile on your face.

“Nice try.” A stifled laugh escapes his lips before he disappears down the hall and it’s not long before you hear the sound of running water.

The dim light of the bathroom bathed the tense lines of Viktor's figure, reflecting his thinness and the sharp features that marked his skin. Viktor took off his shirt with slow, almost mechanical movements. He had always avoided looking at his nakedness in the mirror, the reflection of a weak man made him sick, but this time the mirror gave him a different image. When he took off his shirt he discovered that on his torso his ribs were barely noticeable, his abdomen was no longer sunken and even a tiny roll of fat had formed in the lower part. He was still thin, but when he touched him he felt muscles and not just his bones, his pale skin had taken on more softness and color. The wounds left by his corset had stopped being reddened furrows and were now barely noticeable.

He caressed his neck, slightly hunched, free of tension. The scars on his side, reminders of medical procedures, were no longer like cracks, but just soft marks.

As he unbuttoned his pants, he braced himself with one hand on the wall for balance. His outer brace trembled slightly. With a methodical movement, he removed the metal piece, carefully setting it aside, as if it were an extension of himself that he could not despise.

He felt like a different person, naked in front of the mirror, admiring a more vivid reflection of himself, his hands running over his muscles that were once tired and sore, now looking strong and energetic. He smiled a little, hesitantly. For the first time, he liked what he saw in the mirror and he knew who he had to thank for that.

Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the water to hot for the comfort of his leg. Once naked, Viktor stood still for a moment, letting the moisture envelop his skin. His body, although marked by a certain fragility, radiated an unbreakable strength, feeling each scar with something other than disgust for the first time in a long time. His eyes closed, enjoying that shower like no other.

After finishing putting away the dishes, you peeked into the hallway. You found him sitting on the bed, wearing baggy pajama pants and his shirt covering his naked torso, his head in his hands and his eyes fixed on his leg. His posture was rigid, filled with a tension that you could almost feel in the air.

You didn't say anything at first, because you knew that what he needed wasn't words, but company. You approached silently, crossing the hallway and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his good knee.

"Does it hurt?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Viktor nodded, not raising his head. "A little. There are times when... it feels like it's never going to go away." He internally cursed himself, the whole day had passed without problems, with barely any discomfort, he didn't understand why the pain decided to attack him right now, it was as if it was mocking him.

Your chest tightened at his vulnerability. You knew how much he hated showing weakness, even with you.

"Let me help…"

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering your words. He finally nodded with a sigh. You knelt in front of him, placing his leg over your lap, pushing his pajama bottoms up to his thigh, your cold fingers giving him goosebumps where you touched them. The internal mechanism of the device on his leg was simpler but no less aggressive, as you removed the straps you could hear small gasps coming from Viktor’s mouth, his hand crumpling the sheets beside him, his skin reddening as the pressure of the device disappeared. Once the device was off you followed the usual nightly ritual, sliding your hands up his leg, applying pressure to the right spot and massaging the tense muscles in his leg and foot, you were precise, almost surgical, as you moved your hands up his leg with extreme gentleness. At first his muscles were tense but slowly you felt them relax under your touch. Finally, the tense grimace changed to a placid, lazy expression of relief as the pain faded.

"Better…" he murmured after a while. His voice sounded calmer.

“See? I’m good at this.” you said as you stood up to sit beside him on his bed.

He laughed softly, his low, warm laugh filling the space. “Maybe I should hire you as my personal physical therapist.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” you teased, giving him a soft poke on his nose. “But lucky for you, I do this because I care about you.” Your hands slid down his back, taking the shirt with you, exposing his medical corset. It took you a little more technique to remove it, a couple of twists here and the movement of the levers on his shoulder blades were enough to make the heavy structure give way, pulling it over his head and leaving it on the floor under the nightstand. Your hands caressed his bare back, his skin pale as sweet milk and warm as the first rays of the sun in the day.

He took your hand then, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your fingers and murmur against them, “How lucky I am…”

“You have no idea…” you said, sliding your hand up his arm to his cheek. He looked totally sleepy but willing to simply adjust his posture and have your lips meet his in a slow, delicate brush, more sensation than intention. His messy hair falling over his forehead, tickling the bridge of your nose.

Without saying anything, his fingers slowly slide up your cheek, warm and a little clumsy, as if even in his sleepy state he wanted to make sure he touched you carefully. His thumb traces a small circle against your skin, and his lips, barely curved in a lazy smile, murmur your name, so low it almost seems like a sigh.

You lean into him, unable to resist the closeness he himself seeks. Viktor, so practical and rational during the day, now seems completely given over to the moment. The whole world had been reduced to that single point of contact.

There is no rush in the kiss, only a sweetness heavy with tiredness, as if sleep were pulling at him but he couldn’t help but stay with you a little longer. His lips are warm, soft, and his breathing, calm but irregular, mixes with yours.

When the kiss breaks you don’t know how, but you’ve ended up lying on the bed, his lips barely separating from yours, staying so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His eyes half-closed, they look at you with a softness that melts any thought.

“I have a gift for you…” his voice is barely a whisper against your lips “Can you bring my bag please?” he asked, dragging one of your locks of hair behind your ear. You close your eyes, you're so comfortable that you don't want to separate from him. "Honey... please..." his words completely disarm you, the air leaves your lungs and you have to drag him back inside, it's the first time he calls you that...

You didn't expect it, you don't know what to do or say next. "I... amhmm... I... will go get your bag..." you murmur unsurely as you basically flee the room with your heart racing. You may have heard Viktor's giggle behind you but maybe it was just your nerves playing a bad joke on you.

When you returned with the bag to the room Viktor has lifted his torso from the bed and holds a small package wrapped excellently in ornate paper in his hands. You crawl to his side on the bed, cautiously dragging his bag, was sending you for it, a trick?

The air in the room is charged with a quiet expectation as Viktor leans forward slightly, holding a box wrapped in dark, elegant paper. His fingers, always careful, seem a little tenser than usual, as if the act of handing you the gift is more intimidating than he imagined.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice low but firm, though you notice the slight tremor in his words. He hands it to you, but doesn’t look directly at you; his eyes fixate on some indefinite spot, as if he’s not entirely sure how you’ll react.

You take the box, feeling the unexpected weight in your hands. You watch him, searching for some clue in his expression, but Viktor just crosses his arms, adopting a posture that could be interpreted as casual, though his slightly stiff shoulders give it away.

“Open it,” he murmurs, and his eyes finally meet yours, shining with a mix of nervousness and something deeper, something you can only describe as affection.

As you open the paper, you discover a retro-designed camera, impeccable, with a simple elegance that suits him perfectly. You blink, surprised, as he leans over to turn it on. Before you can ask, his hand rummages through his bag, showing you the small Hextech gem and to your utter astonishment he places it inside the camera mechanism. The room lights up for a moment before Viktor presses a button and the magic begins.

At first, music is the first thing you can hear, then like real magic you see a series of hologram images all around the room: you and him together at different moments, some captured in secret, others you remember clearly. Laughter, glances, small everyday gestures. Then, the photos change to your favorite things: books, landscapes, objects you love, letters you’ve never read written in his own handwriting, every detail carefully collected.

And then, his voice.

“My name is Viktor and…” he begins, his tone deep but soft, with that meticulous cadence that characterizes him. “This is for my dear Y/N. A record of shared moments, of laughter, of everything you represent to me, of everything she is and everything she have allowed me to be.”

Your eyes glaze over as the images continue: your first photo together, a romantic poem, even the portrait of you both that an artist had made on your first date after leaving the hospital, your favorite flowers, things only someone in love would choose.

“It’s an archive of memories,” his voice continues, “but also a reminder to me. That no matter how chaotic the world is, there’s always beauty in the small moments. And in all of these moments, there’s her.”

When the voice ends, the silence that remains is overwhelming, laden with emotions you can’t put into words. You look up at Viktor, who now seems unable to meet your gaze, his cheeks totally red.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be too much.." he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I thought… maybe you’d like it. You’ve done so much for me…”

You lean into him, setting the camera aside, and wrap your hands around his neck. “Too much?” Viktor, this is perfect...”

His lips curve into a small but genuine smile, and even though he tries to hide it, you can see the relief and joy in his eyes. This gesture, so meticulous and full of love, is irrefutable proof of how much you mean to him.

The weight of what you just saw is still present in your chest, warm and overwhelming. The camera is off to the side, forgotten for the moment, because now all your attention is on him. Viktor is still in front of you, clearly nervous but trying to keep his composure, as if you don’t know how to handle your emotions at this moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, with that analytical look that never seems to completely fade. But there’s something else in his eyes now: a mix of vulnerability and hope, as if he’s not sure if his gift had had the impact he expected.

You don’t need words to answer him.

You move toward him in one motion, your hands gripping the sides of his face before he can react. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and for an instant, you can feel his breathing hitch, caught between wonder and anticipation.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, and before he can process it, you kiss him.

The kiss is urgent, charged with everything you feel and everything you can’t put into words. It’s like you want to tear down any remaining doubts he might have about how much you love him. Your lips move with a desperate hunger, as if you’re seeking to etch into him every emotion he’s provoked in you.

It takes Viktor a second to react, but when he does, he kisses you back with equal intensity. His hands, ever careful, grip your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he needs to have you closer. There’s no longer any shyness in his movements, only the restrained passion of someone who’s been waiting for this moment without realizing it.

His breathing is fast, ragged, and you can feel his lips tremble slightly against yours, not out of insecurity, but from the torrent of emotions that overwhelms him. One of his arms wraps around you, while his other hand moves up to tangle in your hair, holding you with a firmness you’ve never felt from him before.

When you finally part, you’re both breathless. His eyes, normally calm and focused, now shine with a mix of wonder and devotion. His lips are red, and a smile, small but sincere, forms on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice huskier than usual.

“Did it bother you?” you ask, still panting, your hands still on his face.

“Disturb me?..” Viktor lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, his forehead touching yours. “I couldn’t. But… I might need another demonstration to be completely sure.”

His playful tone, combined with the way he looks at you, makes your heart race again. “Cheeky…” Without saying a word, your eyes drift to the camera still resting to the side. You take the camara with firm but hurried hands, turning it on as he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, tilting his head.

“I want this saved too,” you reply with a mischievous smile, holding the camera in the air, above the both of you.

Before Viktor can react or say anything else, you lean towards him again on the bed, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with all the love you feel. This time, the kiss is more confident, more determined, as if you both know exactly what you mean to each other.

With the camera in one hand, you press the button, the click barely perceptible between the racing beat of your heart and the soft whisper of his breath against your lips.

When the kiss ends, you both stand there, foreheads together, sharing a soft laugh, as if the simple act of capturing that moment makes it even more special.

The photo joins the rest floating around the room, and you see the image: the two of you locked in a kiss, your hand holding the camera, his hair a little messy, and his face slightly tilted toward you, as if his entire world is contained in that instant.

“Perfect,” you say quietly, stroking your thumb along the edge of the camera before turning back to him.

Viktor looks at the photo, and though he doesn’t say anything, the soft smile on his face says it all. You grab the camera and add the image to the video, where that photo now sits as part of the collection. One more memory that encapsulates not only who you are, but what you mean to each other.

He looks at you once more, his golden eyes shining with something you could swear is pride. “I think this is my favorite memory so far,” he murmurs, taking your hand delicately, as if afraid the moment might fade away.

And in that instant, you know that no matter how much time passes, that photo—and this kiss—will always be unforgettable.

N/A: I'm sorry for the delay, my dog died and I didn't have the strength to do anything other than be in bed. I really hope you like it and it was what you expected.

[knickknacksandallthat]

because I know you'd appreciate this, please just imagine, kevin with freckles leading down a side of his neck and jean is stupidly obsessed with it

ANON. I - I just - ugh - *bites fist*

YES. YES. YES.

Kevin with a dusting of freckles that starts at his collarbone and sweeps up the side of his neck and ends right under his ear.

Jean, who's entranced by them, undeniably obsessed with them, who likes to skim the freckled skin with his nose, followed by his lips

Jean, who whispers in Kevin's ear things like my lips touch the sky through the constellations on your skin, and galaxies spun, universes woven on a milky white canvas that I have the privilege of tracing, and I would kiss each one a thousand times over and it would never be enough

And Kevin will melt underneath those eyes, those lips, those hands

His head falling back against Jean's shoulder as the backliner's fingertips trace, as he mouths his way along the marked path until Kevin's lungs are burning and he's breathless and -

YEP. I'M COMPLETELY NORMAL ABOUT THIS.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your older boyfriend, satoru, shows you just how much he adores you in his private office <3

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x virgin!female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). smut, pwp. fīngering. multiple ōrgàsms; overstimulation. mention of corruption kink. dry hūmping. nicknames ‘princess, baby, beautiful’. pls ignore any grammar errors xx

“heh, don’t look at me. look at yourself, princess,” satoru chuckles, easily noticing how your head is tilted in attempt to watch him as he gets you off. you’re sitting on his thighs with your legs spread, shamelessly allowing him to finger you in his office.

your shaky eyes dart down to your dripping cunt—clearly seeing how it’s got a mind of its own. it’s squeezing satoru’s long fingers as he moves them in the speed of light. your limbs are shaking by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving.

“the-the door,” you hiccup. you hadn’t locked the door behind you when you walked into satoru’s office. you definitely wouldn’t want any of his colleagues to walk in on you. though, that didn’t seem to worry your boyfriend. all he’s focusing on at the moment is your perfect pussy taking in his middle and ring finger.

satoru’s glossy lips are parted and covered in spit. he has to lick up the drool from the corner of his mouth so it wouldn’t dirty your opened blouse. he’s quite literally salivating at the sight and feeling of your warm cunt. . .

“the others ‘re busy, they won’t come in as long as you keep your pretty voice down,” satoru promises you in a smooth tone, blue eyes wide with fascination as he stares down at your pussy.

he’s always imagined what it’d be like to be inside of you. what it would feel like to hold you in his arms and make love to you without holding himself back— to show you a world you have yet to discover.

satoru wants to be the first one to do that, though he’ll wait until you’re ready. for now, he’s completely satisfied with just a taste of heaven.

“fuck, baby, she’s beautiful,” satoru praises your delicate pussy. your wet folds continue to make way for more of his fingers, spreading as he tries to enter a third digit into your poor, clingy hole. you whine as you feel satoru prepare you by rubbing your clit repeatedly with his thumb—trying to make you as wet for him as you possibly could be.

you shake your head, “can’t take more, ‘toru.” it genuinely feels like you’re being stretched out. three fingers are going to take you out. “nuh-uh,” satoru mocks you before telling you to look at him. the moment you do, his lips envelop yours in a lustful yet comforting kiss. you moan into his mouth and he does the same back, eyebrows furrowing because of how good it feels to suck on your tongue.

his fingers don’t stop. the third slides in and you jolt back against satoru’s chest. “shh, shh, i got you,” the older man attempts to calm you down. he stops fingering you for a second so you could adjust to the stretch. you’re tight—he can feel his erect cock twitching in his pants, begging to replace his fingers. he can’t, not yet.

satoru cusses under his breath once he feels your ass rub against the bulge in his uniform’s pants. you’re killing him and you don’t even realise it because you’re too focused on his fingers fucking your cunt. shlick shlick shlick — you’re dripping wet.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper through a soft gasp. it would be your third orgasm. you’re sensitive and your pussy feels like it’s on fire. your lower abdomen is tingling and aching. you’re going to inevitably squirt all over his chair, again.

satoru bites his lip as he hears you announce how close you are. his long fingers are already soaked with your juices, coating them with a sticky layer that he cannot wait to taste. “do it, baby. wanna see you cum,” your boyfriend coos.

satoru loves the way your hips circle back to him, rubbing against his groin. you’re driving him insane without even knowing it. he curls his fingers inside you, thumb still circling your clit for extra stimulation. you’re being driven to the edge of insanity.

he bucks his hips a little each time you involuntarily move in his lap. “toruuu, fnnh, so close,” you’re not only moaning because of the fingers inside of you, but also because of the hard bulge rubbing against and between your ass cheeks.

satoru knows your voice can easily carry over to the next room. you’re usually loud when you finish on his fingers. he takes his free hand and pushes your head back against his shoulder, his index and middle finger sliding into your mouth to silence you.

your whimpers are muffled as you automatically start sucking on his digits. satoru kisses your ear and jawline, whispering small words of praise against your skin because of your obedience. “keep it down for me, beautiful. y’re already doing so well.”

your eyes roll back as your saliva dribbles down his left hand. the wet trail runs down his veiny arm that’s exposed to your view. you love it when satoru pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows—it reminds you of why everyone fawns over him. it’s hot.

you’re trying to hold out, not wanting to cum. you wish to stay like this, with satoru’s fingers deep in your cunt and mouth, his bulge grinding against the fat of your ass.

the white-haired man instantly notices this and chuckles to himself; you’re fighting a losing battle. he increases the pace, his wrist working over time so his fingers could reach those sweet spots in your velvety walls. he decides to rile you up some more;

“shiit, just imagine that ‘ts my cock stretching your pretty cunt out,” satoru grins against your ear. he knows you’re weak for dirty talk. you have never felt what it’s like to be stuffed full of a dick, and thus the imagination adds to the raunchiness of it all.

you shiver and let out a small moan escape your mouth before you continue to suck on satoru’s fingers. all this time you’ve settled for make out sessions, grinding and oral pleasure. you’re needy for more than that.

satoru knows what buttons to push. he knows how to make you melt and give in to him and his words. he bites your earlobe after letting his tongue lick the skin, “all filled up to the brim. you’d like that, huh?”

you barely managed to stifle a loud whine at that. your eyes widen and your pussy spasms around his fingers. you know it’s not long before you’re going to cream all over satoru’s hand.

sweat trickles down your forehead.

“yes, yes, yes!” you moan repeatedly, voice muffled by the fingers in your mouth. you can hear your boyfriend grunt into your ear after seeing how enthusiastically you’re responding. he’s totally getting off to you’re desperation.

satoru wants to cum so bad. he wants to shoot ropes of his cum in the pussy he’s prepping to one day take his dick.

you see black spots in your vision because of how hard the climax hits you. your breath hitches and you grip onto the armrests of the chair for support. a spray of clear and watery juices covers satoru’s entire hand and bits of his arm—evidence of just how much you enjoyed your little session with him.

the older man pats your tummy and rubs it, comforting you as the aftershocks of your climax hit. he pulls his fingers out of your messy cunt and brings them up to his glossy lips, thoroughly licking every drop off. his dick pulses in his pants at the delicious taste.

you’re panting as you try to get your thighs to stop shaking. you’re out of energy, drained. all that you hear replaying in your mind is satoru’s dirty talk. you don’t know if you can handle his dick if you’re already overwhelmed by the way he skilfully uses his fingers.

as if sensing your thoughts, your boyfriend smirks and hugs your body tightly to his chest.

“can’t give it t’ ya now,” satoru whispers and pouts, teasing you as if to turn you on again. he takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and presses his lips against yours as a promise, “but one day i will, yeah? one day i’ll fuck ya so good you’ll only know my name.”

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐌𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | gojō satoru

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: bully! Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you + Gojo are college juniors - first kiss - fingering (f! receiving) - sqüiřtıng - virginity loss - corruption kink - missionary + deep impact positions - clitoral play - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - premature ejaculation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, princess) - itty bitty possessiveness - mention of spit/drool and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

“Yo.”

“Yes, Satoru?”

“You never had your first kiss, huh?”

Gojo Satoru takes pleasure in being your bully — nothing in his third year of college gives him much joy than being your one source of torment. Sure, he’s got everything: being the campus’ grounds #1 heartthrob, a star player on the men’s basketball team, and an excellent scholar in all his courses despite being a dickhead. But, even if he possesses the things that put him at the top of the class body, his other fountain of entertainment comes from something - or someone - that playing ball or dormitory parties can’t produce the same level of internal enjoyment. 

You and he were alone in his apartment, umbrellaed under the instruction of working on an upcoming project this month. Of course, boredom is evident in the tall one’s heavy sighs as he looks through multiple articles on his laptop. Cerulean orbs wander away from the device’s screen and land on the other side of the couch; another figure glued to the armrest is concentrated on typing their keyboard to notice the prying survey. 

Gojo’s ennui begins to flicker out the moment he sees you, wanting nothing to do with this damn assignment and just to mess with his favorite pushover. This is precisely why he prompts himself to ask you a question, and judging by how quickly your fingers stop typing, now his attention is hooked onto a matter way more fascinating.

He spots your flattened lips. “…Wh–Where did that come from?”

“Just curious, a random thought that came to my head.” 

“Why was that the thought that—“

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna answer the question?”

You stammer. “What makes you think I never had my first kiss?!”

He lifts a brow; his round shades shine when he smirks. “So you did have a first kiss?” Your lips open with no voice, and both silver eyebrows rise from the silent answer you’re giving, only for you to close your mouth and avert your gaze elsewhere. Gotcha, he stifles a chuckle. “Thought so, you terrible liar. Embarrassed I called you out? Haha, hilarious.”

Your eyes may be on the words of your document on your laptop, but the heat on your cheeks and the uncomfortable knot in your gut kept brewing. You chew on your lips to focus on something other than the guy getting a kick out of your lack of experience — the guy you don’t hear close and place his computer on the coffee table.

“Hey,” the closeness of his voice takes you aback, and you’re surprised to see him sit closer enough to bring a hand to close your laptop. “Wanna kiss me?”

Mortified eyelids shoot wide. “Wanna—Wh-What!?!” What the fuck is going on?!? “Why would you ask me—“

A nonchalant shrug adds more weight to your shock. “Why not? It’s just you and me, alone in my apartment at 8 o’clock. Sounds like a perfect opportunity, doncha think?” 

“Yeah, to do work!” Your emphasis fails as Gojo takes your device to add to the table surface. “I-I didn’t come here for you to question me and ask to—“

“You got someone else you’re waiting for?” He uses a hand to cage you from escaping, a knee between your legs. He knows he has the upper hand, observing behind shielded sunglasses as he awaits your response. 

“I–W-Well,” God, what did I get myself into? “Not necessarily…”

“So, do you not trust me with your first kiss?”

“That’s…That’s not the point—“

“You’re deflecting!”

“Satoru,” the way you say his name — low and soft, a pleading whisper — makes something switch for Gojo, looking at your bashful expression with hesitant hands, barely pushing his chest. “We shouldn’t…Let’s get back to the assignment?”

That wasn’t working on him; he’d never want to stop teasing you, especially now when you look too cute. “Let me kiss you one time, ‘kay? Then, we’ll go straight back to work.” He can see the cogs work in your brain, deciphering whether he is genuine. Was he? He couldn’t tell; all he was thinking about was how your lips felt. “I promise, princess.”

You didn’t mean it to happen, but you scan from his shades to his lips; now, it’s all you can see. The bob of his Adam’s apple, when he gulps, has your breath hitch, and after a few silent seconds with no movement, he begins to descend his face lower, and your lids swiftly close. So does his as he gently places his pillowy lips onto your plump ones, and a hushed squeak doesn’t go neglected.

Cherry — that’s the flavor that Gojo can taste. It has to be from the lip gloss you plastered on your lips that made them inviting to gawk at, pretty lips that the tall other couldn’t stop peering occasionally. He licks the bottom, taking in more of the taste with a soft groan. You yelp, gaping your lips further to give the man above an idea, and chew on your bottom lip. More whimpers slide past your control, hands gripping his sweatshirt as he peppers you with soft kisses, latching onto yours for longer seconds from one after the other — so much for one kiss.

You’re the one to break it off, hesitantly backing away from him to breathe. Hot skin returns to the cold air, and intimate huffs fuel into the space. You open your eyes slowly, half-lidded with knitted brows and scorching ears. You examine Gojo’s neutral expression; orbs that were once filled with reluctance are now replaced with a...wonder.

An innocent wonder that nearly has Gojo shut down from seeing as your hands steadily ring around his neck. There it is again, another switch flipped. This time, a spark ignites his brain, curiosity coursed to a more indecent field after what it feels like taking your first kiss. Because the way you’re looking under him — entirely submitted to him and his touch — wasn’t something he expected to rock his core. And all he can think about now…

…Is what taking all of your firsts would be like.

“—Taaahhh, haah…! Satoru, w-wait a min—“

“Hey, baby, tell me, what’s it like having my fingers inside you?”

Gojo’s little experiment delved into different extremes; your first kiss was the starting point of the many thoughts that perturbed his thinking. He wanted to know more about your potential firsts. For example, such as right now, how you’d be if he were the first to touch your privates. 

The atmosphere around the living room became hotter; the tepid silence switched with the erotic sounds and squeals that exited your system. Your legs spread apart, Gojo in between your thighs as his big, calloused hand swims under your panties to shove away and meet the bareness of your cunt. You were so wet, your liquids effortlessly coating his fingertips with barely any push. An entire mess between your inner thighs and labia. And that made Gojo’s mind go wild.

“Holy shit,” he chuckles in a heavy sigh. “So fucking wet and tight…Heh, you’re all like this because of a kiss, huh? So adorably pathetic.”

Refutation is impossible as he curls his forefinger inside, scraping your upper wall in a manner you never envisaged. “Sator—Mmmph…!” He keeps pushing the digit to the knuckle, touching crevices of your inner channel you could never reach. “O-Ohhh, Jesus…”

“Mmmm, fuck, you're twitching like crazy,” and Gojo was loving every second of it. The taller junior then decides to test something and creeps his middle finger near your opening, smearing itself with your come as lube. 

You sense him push the finger in, nerves heightened. “W-Wait, Satoru, I can’t—“

“Oh, yes, you can.” He interrupts you with a cheeky sneer. “You’re practically asking for it with you twitching so much. Watch.” Gojo pushes the middle digit leisurely; your beseeching babbles become increasingly incoherent when he adds the whole thing with the other finger. Now, both of them have you shrilling from their intrepid fashion, grazing on your vaginal walls with every pull and shove until his knuckles smooch your labia.

Good God, the place is so hot, your face is hot, your body’s hot, your insides feel hot — everything is just too hot for you to handle! And your brain cannot hold itself together as the seconds go. You throw your head back, your eyes sewn shut, “OhGod, ahhck! Wait, stooop! Go slow, go slo—Ohhh!” Gojo does the exact opposite; the pace of his fingers surges to a tempo you find difficult to ride through. Your entire frame locks together, preparing for the inevitable to slip past your hold, and tremors course around you as your orgasm hits you like a train.

Simultaneously as Gojo continues to rut your soapy cunt, a clear liquid disperses out of your urethra and sprays outward. Sprinkling onto the skin of your thighs and drenching your underwear. Although you’re not the only one who gets caught, Gojo at the front gets a genuine display of you showering his forearm with your essence, damping his sweatshirt in the process, and even a bit on his sunglasses.

It happens the third time: something snaps inside Gojo once he sees your oddly beautiful teary face. It’s at that moment that something in his core breaks and permeates his entire body with a force that’s been itching to get out when he kissed you earlier. He swallows thickly because the next thing he does after this will eat him alive, a queerly anticipated feeling for the white-haired man.

Of course, Gojo is astonished at what transpired, the shock in his eyes concealed by the shades. “Did you…just squirt on me?” His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine.

Massive tears roll down your cheeks, “I—hic—I told you to wait…!” 

It’s a no-brainer that Gojo pulls you off the couch and leads you to throw on top of his bed, stripping himself off his pants and briefs to free his raging erection and crawling up on top of you after chucking his shades off. A gasp leaves puffy lips when his pink glans meet the folds of your vagina, burrowing between your labia to coat with your slick.

“Satoru, wait,” you voice. “D-Don’t you have a condom?”

“Sorry, ran out of them.” Lies. Gojo knows he has rubbers tucked in his nightstand. However, the intention to use them is nowhere to be found. Because tonight – knowing completely and damn well you’re still a virgin – he had to fuck you raw. The drive to do so sent shivers up his spine. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll promise to pull out.”

Yet again, another deception.

Gojo pushes the tip in as he counts your breaths, watching every wince and contortion of your expression as the cockhead ventures and seeks shelter inside your slit. Your body is squirming through every exhale, and Gojo’s coaxes to relax your rigidness are somewhat helpful as you intake air. Before you know it, your mouth goes to a permanent ‘o’ shape once the tip is inserted, the act of breathing stops, and your body recoils and tenses as he slowly forces the foreign limb to carve your tightness inch by inch.

Oh, fucking shit…!! Oh yeah, Gojo thanks himself for not putting on a rubber. The firm grasp of your walls around his length nearly has him lose balance, sinking into your warm wetness clenching onto him so deliciously. He bites his lip to composure, a futile attempt as he throws in a few slow thrusts, and the snug of you has him in a chokehold. Then, when he hits your cervix, you instinctively grip onto him tighter and wrap your legs around him, and Gojo almost chokes. 

“F-Fuuck, wait, wait..!” He curses, submitting to a release way too early; his hips tremble as his cock ejaculates into your vagina. Shocks rattle his brain, rolling his eyes to the ceiling at the sensation of pooling himself into you. “Shit, oh shiiiit…this fucking pussy is driving me crazy.”

It really does because Gojo, still keen from his climax, dials the cadence, rutting into you with purpose. The sudden movements have your shrieks bouncing across the bedroom walls, and hits to your womb are frequent and cause more tears to strike down without your comprehension. “Nnnmm! OhhhmyGod…! Mmoohh!!”

“Heh, look at you cryin’,” Gojo teases you from above, licking a tear before kissing your cheek and ear. “Guess that’s expected for your first time, huh…Hnnnm, God, you’re clenching my dick so much.”

“Th-That’s because you’re—“The curve of his shaft has the tip graze your walls in an angle that makes your back arch. “Ahhoooo!! I’m fuull; you’re making me fulll…!!”

“Awww, am I making you full, crybaby?” He mocks you in your ear, the snicker sounding too salacious to the drum. “You full with my dick that it got you whining and crying for me?”

I can’t do this! Your brain dissolves into mush, and your face is too hot to construct adequate consciousness. “I can feel it, I can feel…”

“What is it? I can’t hear you through all the sobbing,” Gojo unscrews your legs to maneuver one for him to straddle and the other to lie on his shoulder. The new position gave him a directed way to piston his pelvis into your aching cunt, your squeals turning into screams as pokes to your womb come with the feverish pacing. He’s hitting so deep you can’t catch up! “What, you think you’re about to cum?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes, yesss!!”

“Oh, that’s what you want now?” The snow-headed man chortles before sneaking a hand to your vulva, where his fore and middle finger swipe on your clit. “Tell me, is that what my pathetic angel wants?” You nod again, so he pinches your bud. “Tell me properly~.”

“—Ahhnnn, ohh, Sa—‘Toruuu!!” You pan to him. “Pleaseee, please make me cum, I wanna cum…!!”

God, this was a picture worth savoring. The image of you being all desperate for release, wanting nothing but to succumb to your wanton desire. You looked so ruined, like a completely different person compared to the meek exterior Gojo used to. And it’s all because of him – his words, his touches, his lips, and his dick – that you’re like this. A fact that only propels him to hammer his hips into you harsher. 

“Good girl,” he bends down to close his face to yours. Surveying you make such erotic faces as he keeps playing with your clit is food for his soul. “Enjoy yourself, princess,” and he steals your lips once more for another kiss.

Your orgasm comes to you quicker than ever, thanks to the work of Gojo’s hips, the hits of your cervix, the pinches on your clitoris, and the sloppy makeout session. Your body freezes and lets the aftershocks jolt you to a rocky clarity, your head in a dense fog, and your vision just about blurry. Your legs quiver with heaving breaths, and Gojo keeps thrusting as you soon fall out of your euphoria. 

The cold air blankets both of you once tense muscles calm down and bring you two back to reality. Silence befriends the lack of words aside from the pants of breath, and Gojo sluggishly withdraws his cock out of your wet chasm, whistling at the sight of his load slowly protruding out of your essence.

“Hey,” your face forms into a helpless expression. “Bet you never tried anal before.”

Tonight was dedicated to conquering all of your firsts. And Gojo means that with every bone in his body!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ transparent edit made by me + dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[reidmotif]

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat. 

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil? 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. 

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

 For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid. 

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him. 

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man. 

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

 You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed. 

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

 How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall. 

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship. 

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly. 

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?” 

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him.  “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.” 

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.” 

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation. 

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

 There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?” 

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?” 

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues. 

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.” 

You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead. 

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement. 

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement. 

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at you, as if he was sizing you up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.” 

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning. 

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.” 

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging. 

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it. 

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies. 

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.” 

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left. 

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to. 

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that. 

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read. 

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night. 

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon. 

You shrug it off. All in good time, right? 

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind. 

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here. 

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

 “I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.” 

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal. 

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-” 

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted,  missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you. 

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent. 

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them. 

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.” 

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer. 

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.” 

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent. 

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend. 

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.” 

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words. 

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out. 

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.” 

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. “There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.” 

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness. 

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?” 

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever. 

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You don’t move a single muscle. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again. 

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs. 

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before. 

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening. 

“Need to taste you. Please.” 

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out. 

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?  

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment. 

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly.  You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release. 

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream. 

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you? 

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next. 

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against  his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly. 

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you? 

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly. 

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act. 

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end. 

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this. 

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor. 

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good. 

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked. 

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark. 

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine. 

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt. 

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release. 

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.” 

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to. 

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well,  a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could. 

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything,  and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once. 

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened. 

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers. 

“More than okay.” You whisper back. 

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.” 

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out. 

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.” 

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief  can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out. 

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic. 

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you. 

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

[earthtooz]

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency? 

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation. 

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you. 

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound. 

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks. 

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.” 

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains. 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding. 

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?” 

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies.  Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.” 

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.” 

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face. 

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained. 

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him. 

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you. 

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before. 

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform? 

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head. 

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away. 

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[submattenthusiast]

obsessed

pairings; sub!matt x soft!dom reader (no use of y/n)

contents; smut; boob sucking, mommy kink, cum in pants etc.

summary - matt is obsessed with your tits!

wc; 1.3k

notes; not proofread.

obsessed is an understatement. matt was fascinated, captivated, and fixated on your boobs. anytime he could hold, touch, or suck he would.

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it was beginning to get dark outside and your boyfriend, matt was nowhere to be found. he had been out for a few hours now. before he left the house he told you he was heading to top golf with a few friends. he had kindly offered an invitation but you declined, not wanting to socialize today.

the sound of keys jingling outside the door rang through the house, notifying you that matt was home. you remained in your position on the couch, too lazy to get up to greet him. light footsteps were heard as matt trudged up the stairs. his face lit up as he entered the living room and saw you there. 

“hiya, baby!” he happily spoke. he slipped his shoes off before making his way over to you. “hi babe, have fun?” you greeted with a smile. reaching the foot of the couch, he plopped down on top of you, an “oomph” was heard as your bodies collided. you adjusted your body under him so that he wasn’t crushing you. he attempted to speak but was having difficulties due to his head being smushed in your chest.

“mhm, missed you way too much” he whined. you caressed his hair while he squirmed around, trying to get comfortable. “yeah baby?” you cooed. he nodded with a huff. the huff threw you off. you immediately sensed something was up. “matt.. what’s wrong?” you asked concerned. he shifted around with huffs and puffs, moving his body and head left to right and up and down. as if he were lying on the bed instead of you.

“i want to be closer to you, i need to be closer’’ he groaned, genuinely frustrated. he scanned your body for a way to be closer. “closer??... your full body is on top of mine how much closer can you get?” you said with a giggle. he paused for a second before reaching for the bottom of your shirt. his large hands fiddled nervously with the fabric. he looked at you with the sweetest look but also for permission. “please? want your boobs’’ he pleaded. his eyes were full of desperation. “please what matthew? you know better”. he whimpered before shyly responding. “please mommy?” he practically begged. his cheeks burned bright red. matt only called you mommy or mama during sex. 

“good boy, they’re all yours” you praised. you moved your hands to remove your shirt before getting interrupted. matt’s hand abruptly stopped yours, halting your movements. “keep it on please ma?  just gonna put my head under”. and that he did. he scooted down on the couch, his crotch resting on your thighs and his head on your chest. his brown curls peeked out from the top of your shirt. luckily you decided to wear an oversized shirt today. he sighed contently as he was finally comfy.

“can i?” he spoke, pawing at your boobs. his head was resting between your boobs. he moved an arm up into your shirt. target being your left boob. matt’s calloused hand felt rough against your soft skin. “mhm,” you groaned. you were getting impatient. you loved the feeling of his mouth on your breast. sharp teeth grazing the soft skin just right.

upon your approval, matt attached his mouth to your right boob. massaging with the left one so she wouldn’t feel left out. his tongue explored every inch of your breast, not leaving any spot untouched. you whined out, the pleasure going straight to your core. your hands instinctively reached out for his hair, forgetting his position. you needed something to grab on, and your fingers grip the couch under you.

“thank you mommy” he mumbled. “needed this so bad, need my mouth to be full of you all the time” he moaned. you giggled at his ridiculous statement. you peeked under your shirt to look at the boy. drool was slipping from the corners of his mouth and his eyes were squeezed shut.

lost in the pleasure he was giving you, you missed his growing boner and the slight movements of his hips. he was lazily grinding his crotch against your thigh. you were both in bliss as loud whimpers and moans sounded throughout the room. “fuck you taste so good, could stay here forever” he groaned, finally coming up for air.

“matt?” you whispered, brows furrowed. you moved your hands from your sides to his hair, as you couldn’t before. your words made him stop his movements. nervous and embarrassed that you noticed what he was doing so quickly. “hm?” he tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. “are you hard right now..?” you spoke, holding back a laugh. he lowered his head back under your shirt before he responded, acting as if the shirt would hide his boner. “yeah yes fuck i am” he faintly spoke. 

“i just couldn’t help myself i’m sorry i’ll stop if you want” he babbled assuming you were mad. your face softened at his words. “finish what you started and you better not stop until you cum since you’re so desperate” you demanded. you lifted the soft fabric once more, making eye contact with his blue eyes making sure he understood you. matt nodded eagerly.

“yes, mommy i will” he responded shyly. “c-can i have your boobs while i do it please” he pleaded with you. your soft hands stroked his pink cheeks affectionately. in awe of how good he was being for you. “need them to cum sweet boy?” you cooed. “yes yes mama please” he whined.

matt leaned back down, and latched his mouth onto your left boob now, whispering soft apologies. he tugged on the hem of your shirt, wanting you to pull it back down. obeying his wants you slowly pulled it down, being careful not to hit his head. you opened your legs wider under him, giving him the room he needed to properly move. he began rutting his crotch against your thigh,the rough material of his jeans scratching at the plush skin. you wrapped your hands around his waist, helping him steady his pace

matt moaned at your touch, mumbling a thank you into your boob. you thought he looked so pretty like this. mouth full of your tit,eyes shut in bliss. so desperate. so needy. 

your breathing got heavier as the wet patch on your underwear grew. you were calling him desperate and needy, forgetting about your predicament. his mouth felt heavenly against your nipple. you weren’t gonna cum, this wasn’t about you. 

the hands on his waist to help steady his pace were no help. his hips had a mind of their own. his moans got louder and more high pitched. you knew he was getting close. you were grinning at the power you had over him. making him cum just from your boobs. “mommy— fuck i’m close please let me cum” matt begged, tone full of need. 

“cum for me sweet boy, i got you” you praised. he sped up his movements,eager to cum. a few more thrusts from him did the job. thick ropes of cum filled his boxers, a wet patch forming. slightly spilling through and onto his jeans. lewd moans and groans shot out his mouth as he came down from his high. “ngh- fuck fuck thank you” he repeated.

you moved slighty to push him up off you, causing him to protest immediately. whining at the loss of contact. he attempted to reattach himself to you but quickly failed. “you need to get cleaned up matt’’ you spoke sternly, unimpressed by his behavior. “be a good boy for mommy” you said knowingly. praise was his weakness. 

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notes - ASS ENDING SORRY! i hope you enjoyed mwah <3

taglist; @mattybsgroupie @frnkocnlvr @fratboychrisera @issysh3ll

[hamsternella]

PLEEEEASE a nsfw alphabet for Stanford??🥺

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG

Stanford Pines NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Despite the tiredness and embarrassment once the heat of the moment wears off, Ford goes to great lengths to wrap you in his arms and hold you tight against his chest, where you can hear his heartbeat. He likes to let you know how well you did, and how much he loves you. Caresses and kisses, as well as laughter and sweet whispers until falling asleep are never lacking.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ford would always say his brain. He is a cool, methodical person who almost always finds a way to achieve great results. Thinking and ingenuity are like breathing to him. But of course in this case that's not the answer; considering that the last thing he can use is his brain when he has you in front of him. It is as if only his heart exists, beating wildly at the sight of the most beautiful and inexplicable thing he has been able to witness in his entire existence: you.

That being the case, he can't find any other part of himself that he likes enough. Maybe his hands, because he knows how much you love it when he touches you. And if it's you, it would be everything—Ford is unable to pick just one part of your body. If he had to, maybe it would be your waist; because he loves to grab you with both hands from that spot to keep you still, under or on top of him, and at whatever pace he can best get those sweet sounds out of you that fascinate him so much.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot and hard. Preferably inside you or on your face; sometimes pushing a little with his fingers to fill your mouth with his cum. He loves it when you clean his hand with your tongue.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ford would never tell you—there's a reason it's a secret. But do you still remember those times when you couldn't find your underwear, and suspiciously it was during the weekdays when Ford took care of the laundry, and oddly enough he took all the time in the world to iron and put the laundry away...? Yeah, well. I think you know what I mean. Don't mention to him how obvious it is that he's been stealing your underwear to masturbate with it. Don't tell him, really.

Also don't mention that you've actually felt him cling to you when you sleep; looking for more than just warmth at night. Don't tell him that you clearly feel him down there—hard and warm.

Or do. Who knows what might happen.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Technically no experience at all. Of course he had gotten to kiss other women, maybe a little touch with one or two, but that was many, many years ago; by now he hardly remembers anything at all. Besides he was very young; he used to think differently and be busier with his research. Now that the world is at peace and he can enjoy the calm and family life, it is more than obvious that the only thing he has to defend himself at the beginning of the relationship is all theoretical. It's not a terrible thing, of course. Ford is willing to experiment and learn with you.

F= Favorite position

There are still many positions to try and discover, but the most used —for comfort and practicality— are three par excellence.

Doggy, because nothing is nicer than being able to see you under him, with your ass and waist at his disposal to play to his heart's content.

Cowgirl/Cowboy, because even though he loves making love to you, Ford has to accept that at his age it's hard to stay steady all the time. Sometimes he needs a little help from you to avoid looking pathetic for getting tired after so much action—even if you tell him there's nothing pathetic about it. Besides, don't you look lovely on top of him, with your body shaking and your eyes glazed over? Best view of all.

Spooning, because Ford goes crazy holding you from behind, pushing his hips against your ass; with one of his hands working over your body and his lips on your neck, waking you up from a long night of deep sleep. This man is desperate to touch you.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ford is quite serious during the moment, but this is because he is a very shy person about approaching you to begin with. Even if it comes to playing along with you he is the first and last to get embarrassed. An occasional nervous laugh; sometimes little choked sentences if he notices you looking at him too much, and that makes him lose his concentration. But in general he is someone very focused, who seeks not to lose the thread of the moment. His biggest fear is disappointing you.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

A lot of things happened and he hasn't had the time, nor the desire, to get down to work there. That being the case, I'd say hairy; but at least he's started to take the time to trim it down a bit and make it halfway nice for you. If it's something that would bother you, Ford is willing to trim it further—even all of it.

But yeah. Super hairy.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ford takes care to be careful with everything he does or says, always seeking to satisfy the needs of your body and mind; every fantasy you have closely tied to everything he does to make you feel fulfilled. He is a dedicated man, with nimble hands and a sensitive heart. Sweet and witty words are never lacking, always driving you crazy in his arms and against his lips. Sensuality is never in short supply.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He's been starting to do it more often since he's been with you. Not a lot, because he prefers to do it with you; but once in a while never hurts if he can't get you out of his head. He needs at least something of yours to make him cum—your underwear or the warmth of your body. He needs you.

He cums fast and hard, with the piece of clothing against his face, inhaling intensely; or with a free hand on your body, against your skin.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely role-playing and cockwarming.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Private places, if possible. Ford doesn't want to risk the possibility of being seen by someone else. He loves to have you in the bedroom, or even in his study room. Any place where no one and nothing will interrupt you.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

To see you in his clothes, to hear your voice, to come on to him... to suddenly appear dressed for some sensual and perverse role-playing... My goodness, how you drive him crazy.

Ford is a simple guy: he sees his partner existing and making eyes at him, and suddenly he feels his body warm and ready to go.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, because he can't accept the idea of seeing you with someone else, let alone seeing himself with someone other than you. Ford is also unwilling to degrade you or physically harm you; just as he does not find it attractive to allow the same to be done to him.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ford loves to receive oral, but he prefers to give it. He loves to put his mouth down there, tasting you and pulling out sounds that haunt him in his best dreams. You are a delight. Even if he's inexperienced, he's so desperate to have you in his mouth that the guy learns in no time to meet your expectations. There's no way not to lose your mind when Ford is taking care of everything between your legs; with his hands holding you by the flesh of your thighs, with his fingers caressing your skin.

Imagine his face if you proposed sitting on it. Imagine that, I insist. It's the best.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual; deep and hard. Getting all the way in, Ford always gives a little push to press himself against you, hiding his face in the space of your neck. He will talk to you through this—be prepared for a couple of whimpers and muffled moans.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't like them at all. He prefers to take his time with you. Although if you are very needy, then maybe he can find a way.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ford loves to experiment! And with that always comes risk. But when it comes to sex, this all takes a different turn; and while he's willing to try new things and experiment with you, he'll always be against anything that might hurt you or make you both uncomfortable.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The years and the various experiences out in the open have weathered Ford, and have made him a man with a lot of physical capacity to endure long hours without sleep and with a lot of work. Research work, of course; the physical stuff has always been for fighting or survival.

With this in mind, Ford is able to handle quite a bit of foreplay and sex itself, but he tires quickly after a second round—if the first one wasn't strong enough. Even if he feels he can't go on, he has no problem helping you by using his hands or mouth; as well as any other part of his body that comes in handy. Hopefully and maybe there will be another round if you manage to turn him on one more time.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ford doesn't need toys. He only needs you. Now, if in a hypothetical case you would like to use one, he has no problem even designing his own to use with you. At first you tell him no, because it's easier to buy them; but after seeing some plans and listening to him talk so excitedly, seeing that he even starts to consider the idea of implementing other things when it comes to sex, you come to the conclusion that maybe it's not so bad.

Ford opts to use toys on you, not him. They don't get his attention that way.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not so much, really. He thinks it's cute to see you being so desperate for him. But at the end of the day it's something that makes him desperate too. Ford couldn't stand to play with you like this for long; he needs to accede to your needs in order to satisfy his own.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Whimpers A LOT, and likes to moan loudly—but tries to drown them out, fearful that someone might hear them.

If the two of you are in a place where you can be sure not to be overheard, Ford sets out to talk to you during the act.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's unexpected and always manages to sweep you off your feet, but Ford is capable of the hottest dirty talk you can imagine. When you least expect it you have him with his lips on your ear, his hot breath on your skin, and his husky, deep voice of desire spitting out dirty, kinky phrases that keep you with your hands pushing against his chest; his fingers pressing against the skin of your neck, surprising you with how much this man can separate himself from the real world and let you drown in his darkest fantasies.

Ford prefers not to talk about it after everything calms down. It will take some time.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not as long, but definitely fat. The tip is quite sensitive. Slightly curved downward.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Since he discovered how fascinating your touch is, quite high. Although it's more what he desires than what he can get to do. If he gets careless, he comes quickly. It's fun to play on his desperation and make him wait; that might help him endure his neediness with you a little longer.

Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty fast; but he strives to see that you're okay after all, and that you're resting with him. His priority is you, after all.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

in the quiet section

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, established relationship, college!au, smut, p in v sex, semi public sex, caught, unprotected sex

“i didn't even know this part of the library existed.” rafe looks around at the tall bookshelves holding various very large textbooks.

“it's all the polisci books, hence why no one is over here.” you say as you move deeper into the section, to the isolated grouping of tables. you knew you already got lucky convincing your boyfriend to study, you don't want to push your luck by having him get annoyed with other students watching him.

rafe sets his computer bag down and pulls out his laptop, putting his back to the windows so he can keep an eye down the aisles of books, just in case anyone comes wandering by.

“okay.” you sit down next to him, pulling your chair closer. “i know your physics class is hard, but i also suck at physics so i don't know how much help studying im gonna be.”

“just having you here…” rafe trails off. you feel a flush come to your cheeks, rafe always managing to give you butterflies even though you've been together on and off since high school.

“okay.” you clear your throat, knowing you don't really need to be quiet with no one around. only the top floor of the library ever manages to stay silent, all the serious studiers know to immediately take the elevator up. “let's get started on the study guide i got from tiffy.”

your friend had a friend who had a friend who took the same physics class rafe is taking, and of course you convinced them to give you some study materials. it's not like you had to work hard, with rafes reputation on campus being what it is.

rafe nods and turns his attention to the crisp stapled together papers. you work with him through the questions, learning yourself as well for when you have to eventually take the class, wishing you chose a degree that didn't require so much natural science.

your focus shifts between sneaking looks at rafe and helping him, his brow furrowed and jaw hard set as he studies, making him look even more handsome than you thought possible.

“baby-” rafe groans, resorting to a pet name to get your full attention as you blink harshly. “you're distracting me.”

“you're the one being distracting.” you argue back, placing your elbow on the table and resting your chin in your hand, admiring your boyfriend unabashedly now that you've been caught.

“you're the one sitting there with that look on your face.”

“what look?” you hum out, lost in the thought of ripping rafes pants down and-

“that look.” rafe groans. “that fuck me look.”

“well i do want you to fuck me.” you smirk. “i always do.”

“shit.” rafe leans back in his chair, and your eyes naturally move down his defined body, his loose shirt falling into his muscles, his jeans already starting to tent at the crotch.

you move your chair even closer, pressing your lips against rafes jaw. “i want you.”

you place a hand on his thigh, leaving it still for mere seconds before moving up, rubbing over his hardness, feeling ever inch of his length as it grows.

you know he needs relief from pressing against the zipper, undoing the button and pushing the two sides of his jeans further open so you can reach in, gripping his cock over the fabric.

“you're so naughty.” rafe tsks. 

“you're just too hot to resist.” you kiss rafes jaw again, knowing you can't be too obvious above the table, just in case.

your hand moves under the waistband of his boxers, feeling the warmth radiating from his body as your palm presses against his cock, watching with fascination as rafes eyes flutter closed.

“god you can't even go 24 hours without needing me.” rafe smirks, his voice dripping with cockiness.

truth is, it's been less than 12 hours since you spread your legs for rafe last night, moaning and holding back screams as he pumped into you in your shared dorm room, having paid off the university to get you on the married couples floor despite not having a ring on your finger.

you ignore the urge to pull rafes cock out and drop your mouth around him and slurp and suck for anyone to hear.

you stand up suddenly, making rafes body physically jerk as he loses the sensation of your touch.

you move around the table, humming softly to yourself as you make your way down the aisle directly in front of rafe, bending down, feigning looking for a book on the bottom shelf.

you know damn well your short skirt is putting your underwear on display for rafe as you grab a book with one hand while pulling your underwear down with the other, revealing your already wet pussy.

you let your panties fall to the ground as you stand up, book in hand. you snatch them off the ground and make your way back to rafe, whose mouth might as well be watering with the intense look of hunger and need on his face.

you drop the book onto the table, letting it clatter as you stuff your underwear into rafes jean pocket.

“cock out.” you hum.

rafe listens quickly, not usually one to follow yours or anyone else's orders, but he certainly won't push back against this one as he shoves his underwear down to underneath his balls, his cock standing at attention and ready for you.

you step between him and the table, rafes hands coming to grab your hips and stop you from sitting down too quickly. he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your cheeks over your skirt, hard enough to leave a bite mark and have you swallowing a moan.

rafe tugs you down, retaking control of the situation as he pushes you onto his cock in one smooth motion, and this time you can't help the sound that escapes your mouth, a whine of pleasure and pain as your walls are instantly stretched.

“you think you'd be used to me by now.” rafe chuckles in your ear, pushing you forward to rest your elbows against the table.

to anyone walking by, it would look like you were studying while sat on your boyfriends lap, and with your boyfriend being rafe, most people would scurry quickly away, not paying enough attention to realize your hips are moving up and down and rafe is gripping one of your thighs tightly while his other arm is wrapped around your waist.

“shit.” rafe moans quietly. “you're so warm.”

the air whooshing over your behind every time your skirt flounces as you move up and down adds to the shiver that runs down your spine.

“this is why-” you gasp as you sit up a little straighter to make it easier to bounce on his cock, feeling your pussy swallow him in with every movement inwards before gripping like your body doesn't want to be apart when you try to move. “this is why we never get any studying done.”

“because you're a whore for my cock?” rafe chuckles, his voice quiet as footsteps are heard, but they continue up the stairs to a different floor.

“because you always look too fucking good to not let you fuck me.”

rafes hips begin to snap upwards with the compliment. he's never had a problem getting girls, and experimented with other women during your breaks, but nobody moves him the way you do, you're the only one he can stand being with for any time longer than a night, the only one whose opinion he really cares about.

you're no longer being so subtle as your fingers dig into the wood grain of the table as rafes hands grip your hips, helping you move up and down in time to his hips raising up off the chair.

“you're gonna walk out of here filled with my cum.” rafe says, and you can practically hear the smirk on his face, knowing how much he loves marking his territory and leaving his claim on you.

“and you're gonna walk out of here with my wetness covering your cock.” you also smile, just as territorial as rafe is. you knew he was the one for you when no other cock could satisfy you, always wishing it was rafe until you got back together, your very last time apart.

“damn right.” rafe hums, hands fisting and gathering bunches of your skirt up so he can watch your ass as it moves, jiggling every time you sit fully down on his length.

“fuck.” you groan, body drooping forward as the elevator dings. you can hear the doors open as someone gets off on your floor.

you sit up straighter as rafe leans in, letting your skirt fall back around you, hiding the fact that he's inside of you at this very moment.

you listen closely as whoever it is walks down an aisle before getting a book off the shelf. you hope they'll walk away, but instead they continue towards your table until you see a college kid with headphones on you've never seen before.

you hope he'll see the two of you and flee, but he doesn't seem to notice as he sets his bag down on a chair before pulling out the one next to it.

“rafe…” you whisper as you feel his hips start to rock back and forth. “ssss… stop.”

you're not really concerned about a student seeing you, but you really don't want anyone to report you to the library.

“hey, kid.” rafe calls out, making the student jolt in surprise and look up, eyes widening as he realizes who he's looking at, but hopefully not what.

“fuck out of here.” rafe says, and the kid runs away and down the stairs faster than you thought possible.

“such a dick.” you chuckle, immediately beginning to move.

“says the one bouncing on my dick right now.” rafe chuckles. “you wanted him gone too.”

you place your hands on the table, ignoring rafes teasing as he starts to push up into you, putting all the strength you have left in your tired legs into your movements.

rafe reaches around your front and presses two fingertips against your clit, rubbing harshly knowing he can't last much longer and needs to get you there too, wanting to cum together.

“f-fuck.” you whine out, voice turning high pitched. “please. close.” you manage to say.

rafes cock swells inside of you and you can tell that he's not far either as he delivers a few finishing thrusts into your wet pussy before he bursts with a moan of your name, cum pumping into you as his fingers continue at the same pace.

you smack your ass down against his lap as you cum, his cock pushing so far inside of you that you swear he's in your womb.

his fingers play with your pulsing clit as you ride out your highs together until you suddenly become sensitive, having to shove his hand away to keep from crying out.

you are both breathing heavily, you slumped forward against the tabletop while rafe is slack against the back of the chair.

“shit.” rafe chuckles. “i completely forgot everything we just studied.”

you clench your pussy to keep from leaking as you pull off his cock, moving quickly to the seat next to you as your thighs almost immediately give out.

“well.” you lean back, both looking exhausted. “i'm gonna need a while before i can walk, so get back to it.”

rafe redoes his pants and leans forward to look back at the study guide, resigning to his fate as your eyes droop closed.

[chiumii]

run ~ sunghoon x reader

ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ sunghoon can't help but watch his favorite little toy go absolutely crazy, you unbeknowingly give him exactly what he wants; not only your blood , but your pussy as well.

word count ; 2.6k

sunghoon x reader | heavy cnc , slight manhandling , smacking , dacryphilia , mask-kink , fingering , stalking , chasing / prey + hunter , blood consumption, slight knife play, degrading, slight praise, sadism / masochism, you live in the woods , you're also kinda dumb... sorry . not proof read. since its spooky season and I felt like sharing my thoughts.... enjoy you fucking freaks.

sunghoon kept quiet as he stalked through your house , making sure not to step on the places where your floorboard squeaked. you were fast asleep under the covers , breathing steady and your eyes fluttering as they moved behind you lids. sunghoon liked watching you sleep , it almost made him feel as if he were sane.

he'd been stalking observing you for a while , his interest peaking when he saw you working your little day job in the book store down the road.. you were oh so kind to him; helping him find everything he needed, walking around the store with him in order to find a book he had been wanting, you were just so sweet.

he caught on to the hidden compliments you threw at him whenever he would come into your book store, making him smile and blush like crazy. you would even try flirting with him a little. you started looking forward to the times sunghoon came in, the way he would talk to you made you feel like you were special, and you were honestly thinking about asking him out on a date.

he liked watching you walk to and from your job, playing with your dog when you came home, he liked how you would light a candle and read in your room before bed right after doing your skin care routine and oh how he loved watching your dainty little fingers fuck your pussy. your nails freshly manicured in your favorite color.

ever since his little, fascination with you, a side of him was unlocked that he never new about. a side of him that he hides from everyone. you know what one says though; the more you keep things bottled up, the bigger the explosion was going to be.

now here he was, watching you fast asleep in bed, as your parted lips let out breathy sighs. he wonders what you're dreaming about.

maybe you dream about him the same way he used to about you. oh he doesn't sleep anymore unless he quite literally passes out. you've consumed so much of his person that its like the two of you are one now !

his hand brushes over your soft cheek delicately, coming down to the skin of your lips as he presses his thumb down onto your bottom one, feeling your breath fan his digit. he shudders, taking in every single one of your features

that was until you started to stir awake. sunghoon curses for being in your room for too long, knowing that you normally get up at 3:30 in the morning to go pee and get a glass of water. he shuffles out of your room quickly before your eyes fling open.

you heard something.

you could have sworn it. you sit up, your eyes adjusting to the dark room before they land on your bedroom door.

it was closed.

you always close your door before you head to bed. here it was, wide fucking open. fear runs through your veins, your hand shaking as you go to lift yourself up off the bed. you slip out of bed, wary of your surroundings as you make your way around the house. sunghoon can see your figure in the dark as he hides himself behind your couch, crouching down so you couldnt see him. you walk into the kitchen, flicking on a light and turning around to observe your area.

sunghoon has a clear view of you, watching as you shakingly look around for any sign of break ins or anything. you turn around and stare at your front door.

its open.

wide fucking open.

the darkness from outside seeping into your home. you just stare at the front door, your hands folded into your chest while your eyes are as big as the sun, staring straight out of the door and into the darkness.

sunghoon chuckles at how cute you are.

maybe you shouldn't have left it unlocked

sunghoon shifts slightly, but just enough for your head to snap to his. you scream as soon as you see the masked man in the corner. you dart behind you counter within a fraction of a second and run to grab a knife. sunghoon is quick on his feet, meeting you in the kitchen and trapping you in the room. you scurry around your silverware drawer, not finding any of your sharp knives.

"what the fuck!" you scream in fear. you never touch your sharper knives unless you have to. sunghoon chuckles behind you, and you swear you can just fucking die on the spot. you spin around, the tall man stands inbetween you and the rest of the house. your eyes dart around looking for something- anything to use to defend yourself that you can reach for quicker than he can.

nothing, not a single fucking thing in sight. you suddenly get an idea; the only way out was to run turn around and run out the back door, having a small chance of survival if you were to run into the woods behind your house.

"dont be stupid.." he warns, your biggest knife sliding out from his belt loop, his fingers coming to play with the pointy end of it, twisting it in his fingers. you hesitate, your body shaking as your mind screams at you to run.

your eyes drink in his figure. the shape of his arms defined by the black shirt he's wearing and a black pair of jeans that match. under different circumstances, you would be unbelievably turned on due to the ghost face mask covering this mans face. you breathe in through your nose, holding it as your body spins around, acting before you can think.

you work fast to unlock the door, swinging it open and slamming it shut behind you within a second.

"I said dont be fucking stupid" he leaps over the counter, beginning to run after you, his long legs and toned figure gaining distance on you quickly. the light from your house disappears as you make it to the tree line, your feet beginning to scrape against the ground of the woods. your breathing is heavy as you move as you run for your life. sunghoon watching you disappear into the shadows, following in after you. he listens to your feet hitting the ground, twigs and leaves crunching under the pressure of your body weight.

you turn around to see if you had gained any distance, but scream as you see him hot on your tail. your body feels like its going to give out underneath you at any given second and your feet begin to bleed against the rough ground. tears stream down your face as they blur your vision.

you're terrified.

you grab onto a small tree and make a sharp turn, hissing as the bark cuts into your hand. sunghoon follows you, watching your every move like a hawk as he does so.

"you can't run from me, y/n" you hear him tease you. you spot another tree to make a sharp turn at, but before you can reach out to grab it, you trip on a huge tree root that's growing above the ground. you stumble, your body hitting the ground in a tumble, leaves get in your hair and you feel your nose start to bleed. before you can process what happened, you feel a hand on your throat. your eyes shoot open as the masked man now stands in front of your aching body.

his fingers press against your artery, threatening to cut off your oxygen.

"no no please, please dont hurt me" you say as he places the tip of the knife on your thigh, trailing it up your skin and under your night gown. your breath shudders under the cold metal, your arms feeling weak after you just landed on them, your full body weight crushing them in an instant.

"aww, begging already sweetheart?" he coos at you, his knife finding your clothed clit and you can't help yourself when a whimper exits your throat. your head hurts as he throws the knife to the side, his fingers coming to rub against your clothed heat instead. your hands fly up to grab his arm, attempting to push him away.

sunghoon's grip on your throat disappears, a harsh sting on your cheek making you gasp as he slaps you across the face before grabbing both your wrists in his hold and pushing them into the dirt above your head.

"stop fucking squirming and take it" his fingers pull your panties to the side as he enters two of his digits into your wet cunt, and you feel embarrassment rise to your cheeks at the squelch your wetness makes.

"you're so wet, you like it when I use your body? what a fucking whore" you squirm under his fingers, your hips grinding into his hand and your legs kick out as he pumps your pussy, his fingers curling in and out of you.

"please" tears cloud your vision again and all you want to do is disappear.

"that's right, squirm for me a little more" a sob racks out of your throat, your wetness increasing as his fingers work inside you. your walls clamp down on his digits. you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood and you can taste the iron on your tongue.

you squeal out when you feel the coil in your tummy, your back arching off the ground and your legs begin to shake. sunghoon chuckles to himself, your pussy sucks in his fingers almost as if they're begging for his cock.

he knew today was the day he was gonna use your body. the way you purposely left the door unlocked and your curtains open, the way you looked outside longly before you had gone to bed, your bedroom window being cracked as your fingers fucked your pussy pathetically. he does it better, and you knew as much.

he sees your change in demeanor, your walls flutter around his fingers and your arms buckle in his hold. he tongues his cheek before he rips his digits out of you, your orgasm being stripped away from your body and you dart your head up, a scared whine leaving your lips as you hear the buckle of his belt come undone. you begin to thrust your heels into the ground, an attempt to get away from the man once more.

he looks back up at you, shaking his head with a 'tsk' before his hand comes away from his belt to slap your puffy cunt, a squeal erupting from your mouth. he takes his belt off completely, working to undo his button and zipper. when you hear his pants shuffle, that's when you know you're all done for, but that doesn't stop you from putting up a fight.

you kick his leg, earning you a loud "fuck" from the man and your wrists slip from his grip, but before you can claw your way out from underneath him completely, he grabs you ankles and drags you against the hard ground, your body under his as you notice his hard cock sprung against his abdomen, pearly beads of precum leaking out of his pink tip.

you whine as his free hand comes to wrap around your throat once more, squeezing down and you almost lose all ability to breathe. your head feels fuzzy, but you still fight anyways. your hands grab at the mask and rip it off, your eyes widening when you see who it is.

"s-sunghoon ?" you choke out in surprise. he chuckles at your reaction, his fanged teeth on display. his fist pumps his cock as he leans over your trembling figure, his face coming down to yours as he licks the blood off your cheek, a scratch littering your face from your earlier fall.

you whine under him as he pushes his tip against your sopping hole, your pussy wet enough he was able to slide in with ease. your back arched as you curled into him, your hands coming up to grip his hair in your fingers and yanking, attempting to pull him off. he hisses under your grip and his hand lets go of your throat, earning you yet another slap across the face. just as his palm met contact with your cheek, he began to thrust his dick inside you roughly, his thrusts demanding and concentrated. you scream at the pain of the stretch, his cock splitting you open in a sting.

your hands fall from his hair, moving towards his hips to push him away

"s-stop f..f p lease ! h-hoon no !" you squeal as his tip presses up against your cervix. his thrusts dont falter at your desperate attempt to get him away from you, your pussy clenching down on his length as your moans fill the cool, autumn air. the trees hum in tune with your beautiful melody, sunghoon groaning.

"shut up and take it and I might let you live" his threat hangs in the air over your head and you whine, your hands letting go of his body, coming up to grab his biceps, one holding your legs apart and the other is digging its palm into the ground, holding him up above your frame as he fucks himself into you.

your jaw slacks open, the prettiest of whines and whimpers dance off your tongue in pleasure. sunghoon drags his lower lip inbetween his teeth, your cunt sucking him in as he graces your sweet spot with every thrust.

"please f-fuck oh my god" you beg- not having a clue in the world what for. your body is tingly and your head is light. your head turns to the side and tears roll down your cheeks, your mouth kisses sunghoons hand that holds himself up, and he can't help but laugh at your cuteness.

"god you're so fucking adorable when you cry, pretty" you hum at his words. his hips rock against yours, your hole fluttering around him like a butterfly's wing. the coil in your stomach tightens and you feel your orgasm approaching, and sunghoon can tell because you get that look in your eye as your body begins to convulse. he curses under his breath as he sits up.

he grabs your legs and forces them over his shoulders, his body pressing down on the back of your thighs as he brings your knees to the sides of your head, folding you in half. your eyes widen at the deeper angle, your hands moving towards his back as your nails dig into him.

"you still want me to stop, precious?" he looks into your eyes and you can't help the pathetic way you shake your head slowly, a hushed whine fills sunghoons ears as a protest. his thrusts pick up pace again, fucking you into the dirt beneath you.

"that's what I fucking thought" your legs feel like jelly as sunghoon presses them up against you, your orgasm from before begins to wash over you.

sunghoon snakes a hand down in between your sweaty bodies, rubbing sloppy circles on your clit and you finally feel yourself begin to spill over. with your legs wrapping around his head, you cream all over his dick with a scream, his cock hitting all the right angles.

he doesn't care. his pace doesn't let up as he fucks you through your orgasm, overstimulation beginning to make your body convulse in his hold, your pulse picking up the pace even more.

"n-no , 's too much pl-please !" your hiccuped sobs of desperation egg sunghoon on further, your clit pulsating against his fingers.

"we're not done until I say we are, understand?" you nod your head, taking his dick pathetically, your eyes begging and your mouth telling him to continue with your sounds.

"you're gonna take my cock like the pathetic little girl you are" he spits at you, venom in his tone.

you might be just as sick as he is, purposely leaving your doors unlocked knowing who was going to be barging in this late into the night.

[heartmaddie]

cuddling with the haikyuu boys ! ushijima , suna , sakusa , hinata , oikawa

incl post timeskip and pre time skip , oikawa's one is a tadbit sad , gender neutral reader (except the last of ushijima headcannons where reader is pregnant but everything else is gn)

ushijima wakatoshi °˖➴જ⁀➴‎‎‎‎ ㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎chronic big spoon

⋆ he loves big spooning so much ; especially after finding looking at you face to face a little bit awkward when cuddling

⋆ in the early relationship stage he didn’t touch you often, so cuddling sort of opened that gateway for him

⋆ even then, he loves feeling your head against his chest while it beats embarrassingly fast against your ears

⋆ he’s not opposed to being the little spoon, but once he’s back from practice you’d likely be asleep by then, so it’s easiest to just slide into bed from the back like so.

⋆ before he realises that you like the feeling of being squished he’s probably a bit concerned that he’s holding you too tight

⋆ post time skip he doesn’t care as much and just squeezes you tightly until you tell him to stop

⋆ he’s the sweetest, he only started cuddling for you but then continued because he fell in love with the way he could bury his nose against you while palming at your soft skin.

⋆ if you do decide to have babies then he likes running his hands against your pregnant stomach and feeling the baby kick and squirm against his large, rough hands.

⋆˙⟡ —

ushijima doesn’t necessarily convey his affection through physical touch, he’d much rather tell you how he adored you straight to your face with no miscommunication, that was just how he functioned. but while your relationship developed overtime, he would start to notice how often you’d cling onto his arm, or during movie nights at his dorm you’d tuck yourself under his bicep, so he started to worry that he wasn’t providing for you enough in a physically affectionate manner.

the first night you stayed at his dorm was when tendou was at his family home for the weekend, so he decided to invite you over for the night. your laptop’s perched on his lap and you’re laying against his hard chest, the both of you eagerly watching your favourite movie. around the halfway point, ushijima takes note of the intimacy between the two characters, how their bodies would intertwine on the soft mattress, and he yearned to embrace you like that too.

his olive eyes flicker down to your figure, how through your blue light glasses, you’d watch the film with fascination in your eyes, you’ve watched this film hundreds of times so to ushijima this long-standing attachment was quite strange. he raked his thick fingers through your hair, gently running them through each strand before catching your attention, looking up at him curiously you ask him what’s up.

“oh, nothing,” the vibrations of his thick voice ripples through the air as he pulls you a bit closer, “i’ve never held someone like that before.” he gestures to the screen. 

you smile up at him, gently closing the laptop and carefully laying it on the ground, 

“okay, we can try now!” you say happily, sliding your arms around him and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, which he’d happily return.

soon enough, ushijima found his head nestled against your ear with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, your back pressed up against his chest as he held you tight. 

“i’m quite fond of this.” he murmurs in your ear, pressing his thin lips against the skin of your neck.

he shut his eyes tight, inhaling your sweet scent while he felt himself slowly drift off to sleep, finding it a little bit easier with you curled up in his arms.

suna rintaro °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤbear hugger

⋆ even in a non-cuddling sense, suna loves wrapping his arms around you and making you feel small in his embrace

⋆ even in the early relationship stage, he’d be pulling you into his arms and pressing kisses against your neck while you giggle

⋆ and he does it everywhere, he’s a big fan of pda.

⋆ when you’re cuddling, he likes laying right on top of you with his arms wrapped around your waist, your head buried in his neck while he rubs your neck

⋆ he’s so touchy its insatiable, he’d always have his arm around your waist ready to pull you into his arms

⋆ after a long day of work all he needs is to be wrapped up in your arms, squishing against your shoulders and breathing in the accords of his favourite perfume before he’s easily knocked out for hours.

⋆ sometimes it gets so bad that you literally can’t breathe so you have to roll him off your body and he’d pout about it for a couple of days

⋆ he likes laying his head on your chest too, so he can listen to your heartbeat as it lulls him to sleep

⋆˙⟡ —

suna felt all the stress upon his shoulders, head slouched down as he attempted to type the password into the apartment door before it opens gently before him and he perks up immediately at the sight of you in your pink flannel pajamas. you’re embraced by his sweaty body, and he’s pressing kisses against your neck as he uses his foot to kick the door shut, lifting you into his toned arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

“missed you so, so much.” he murmured between pecks, his voice muffled by the warm skin of your nape.

“go have a shower rinnie, you smell like sweat.” you huff, sitting up on the bed as you tried to push him off you, he pouts before pressing a soft kiss on your cheek, standing up to strip his shirt and walk into the bathroom. in your moments of solitude, you reach for the book on your nightstand and work through it, encapsulated in each page, not even realising when rintarou exits the bathroom. 

he gently takes the book out of your hands, placing the bookmark between the pages fold and leaving it on the nightstand, pressing another kiss to your lips as he slides into the bed. 

“i missed you soo much.” rintarou mutters as he lays next to you, pulling you into his warm arms as he snuggles into your neck, “lemme lie on you, pleasee.” he begs, and you look at him with a sidelong glance.

“just wait a bit, we can cuddle like that right before we go to sleep.” you hum, looking over at him and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, making him melt into the soft mattress with a dorky smile.

“i love you.” he’d murmur, pulling you tight against his chest and capturing your lips in a soft, chaste kiss. 

“i love you too.” your voice is muffled against his lips, but he still smiles against you, nuzzling his head against your cheek while your arms move to wrap around him tight.

suna takes this as initiative to lay right on top of you, your head nestled against his chest as his arms snake around your upper torso, squeezing you tight as he knocks the wind out of your chest. he lets a deep sigh of relief escape him, holding you close as he falls into deep tranquil.

sakusa kiyoomi °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤaddicted to your warmth

⋆ he hated the idea of sleeping in the same bed as you during your early relationship stage

⋆ but a couple months into your relationship he starts getting used to your warm body wrapped up in his sheets

⋆ soon enough he’s addicted to your warmth, always recaching out for you in bed so at least one part of your bodies are touching

⋆ at first it’s more that you’d sleep back to back, so he could still soak up your warmth without being entirely in your warms

⋆ but as your relationship progresses he starts getting used to the idea of placing his hand on your face while you sleep

⋆ he faces you while you sleep so he can watch you during the late hours of the night

⋆ sakusa values his sleep, but he definitely used to be an insomniac before you started dating

⋆ having your warmth next to him helped, it lulled him to sleep with ease.

⋆ he likes draping an arm over you in the winter, on good nights he’ll pull you into his arms and lean against your neck

⋆ in the summer he’ll stay away from you though, you overheat frequently and he prefers staying cold in bed.

⋆˙⟡ —

it’s so cold.

sakusa’s shivering on his side of the bed, the thick covers of this hotel bed not keeping him warm like the ones at home do. he pulls the sleeves of his flannel shirt down, trying to cover him whole as he looks outside, the snow gracefully falling to the ground as he contemplates his misery. he looks over at your sleeping body, dressed merely in his sweatshirt and pants as you slept soundly, clutching onto your pillow tight. he’s jealous, he wants to be able to sleep so calmly like that as well, but of course the cold weather had to bar him from that.

sakusa hesitantly shifts closer to your side of the bed, and he’s temporarily shocked by the warmth which radiated off your soft body, but he shouldn’t be surprised, you were always warm to the touch. a hint of guilt hits him when he notices you stirring awake, rubbing your eyes before they flicker open to look at him.

“is something wrong, kiyoomi?” you ask, the tiredness evident in your voice as you look up at him with soft, sleepy eyes. he shook his head, gently placing his hand on your cheek and gently caressing the smooth skin, smiling softly.

“can’t sleep, it’s cold.” he explains, shifting closer to you.

“wanna try this?” you sit up and wrap your arms around his waist, letting him have the time to pull out, but instead he melts into your embrace, holding you tight as you fall onto the bed from his weight.

“thank you.” he whispers against your neck, seemingly addicted at the way your soft body would wrap around his. sakusa would lay his ear against your pulsating heart, the steady rhythm calming himself as he soaked up all the warmth you’d offer him, occasionally pawing against your soft skin as he watched you fall asleep once again.

sakusa inhales your soft scent, and he realises that he’s never held you so intimately before. he wondered if you noticed that too, but it was likely naught. his dry fingers rubbed up and down your skin, feeling every bump and crevice before he himself fell into the deepest sleep he’s ever experienced.

hinata shoyo °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤlittle spoon :p

⋆ he likes being the little spoon because it makes him feel safe in your arms

⋆ he’s a very physically affectionate boy, so when you started dating he’d always want you clinging onto his arm

⋆ he thinks you smell really nice, so when you spoon him it always rubs off on him

⋆ it’s really grounding for him when you hold him 

⋆ when you were in brazil together and he started growing a bit more, it was difficult for you to hold him as such, which how you shifted into him laying on your chest with your arms draped around his neck

⋆ he thinks you’re heaven when you run your fingers through his hair.

⋆ sometimes if you’re sitting on the couch together hinata will casually lean against your lap as you scratch his head

⋆ when you’re not laying with him, he’ll clutch his pillows really tight and pretend that it’s you

⋆ he loves sleeping in your bed because it’s a lot softer than his futon

⋆ he’s such a loverboy - always wanting to cuddle and hold you in his arms

⋆ brazil hinata likes when you squish on his biceps………..

⋆ ok but when shoyo and natsu were a bit younger natsu would curl up near him and he felt like a very proud big brother

⋆˙⟡ —

hinata shoyo smells like the sunshine.

it didn’t matter how much bergamot scented soap he’d lather onto his skin twice a day, the smell of sea salt and sand were deeply engraved into his natural musk, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. you gently run your fingers down his arm, frowning of the remnants of the sand which would scrape at him during his time at the beach. 

“sho, what did i tell you about sunscreen?” you scold, voice quiet as you rub aloe vera gel on his tanned skin which glowed pink, dead skin rolling into little balls under your fingers and you groan in mild disgust.

“i always put it on at the start of the day, i swear!” he looks back at you, obviously in pain as his eyebrows knit together, “be gentle!” he whines, wincing as the soothing cream would sting his sensitive skin.

“this is the consequences of your actions.” you mutter in response, continuing to spread the cold gel across his shoulders and back, but you comply against your words, slowing your movements and massaging the aloe vera into his skin with care.

he groans and whines, but his hand reaches yours when you finish, and he’s gently pressing his lips against yours, gel from his nose rubbing off onto yours.

“i’m so tired.” he huffs, pulling an old shirt over his head, the fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably. “hold onto me for a bit.” you nod, shifting behind him and letting him curl his back into your chest, you take his hands and rub small circles on his palm. 

“you’re so good to me baby.” he hums, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing soft kisses against the skin. you smile against his nape, inhaling his spicy salty musk with your eyes closed, relaxed against the boys skin as you held him tight.

oikawa tooru °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤeager for your consolement

⋆ he’s also a very affectionate boy, even when you weren’t dating he’d ‘platonically’ pull you into his arms tight

⋆ so when you do confirm that you’re officially a couple, he’s more intimate in the ways that he’d hold you

⋆ his lips are glued onto your cheeks, he thinks those kisses are sweeter than the ones on your lips

⋆ when you cuddle, he’ll lay his head on your chest with his body off the side of yours

⋆ he likes feeling smaller in your embrace, even if he’s much larger

⋆ tooru likes looking up at you and telling you all about your day, letting you run your fingers through his thin strands of hair

⋆ he loves pda, because to him, you’re so gorgeous and he’s scared that someone will take you away

⋆ when you’re asleep and he’s on your chest, he likes reaching up and gently stringing your hair between his fingers

⋆ sometimes when he’s sad he likes curling up against your side as you console him

⋆ his love languages are a mix of everything, so when you’re the one being held, he’ll pull you close to his mouth so he can whisper how much you mean to him straight into your ear.

⋆ he also loves listening to music with you, so he’ll cuddle against your warmth while your record player spins in the background.

⋆ also films, he’s a big fan of watching all the films you love.

⋆˙⟡ —

he lets out sobs against the warmth of your chest, letting your arms gently cradle his head as you whisper affirmations into his ears.

“i’m so sorry.” he’d mutter repeatedly against your chest, “i’m so sorry i lost.” his tears wet the fabric of your shirt, you gently patted the expanse of his back, offering your physical affection as a means to calm him down.

"oh baby, you don't need to apologise" you hum, pressing your lips against his forehead and your nose brushes against his hair, temporarily stunning your senses with his sweet scent. but tooru felt weak, although, finding your words somewhat comforting as he’d look up at you, his eyes rimmed red and snot falling from his nose. you gently rub his cheek, pressing your lips against his scalp.

“but i lost? and i promised that i’d take everyone to nationals - and i didn’t.” his words were choked, spaced by sobs as he’d lay against your chest, your heart swelled with sorrow, chest tightening up as you witnessed tooru’s expression. even with his tear stained eyes and splotchy red face, he was more beautiful than you could’ve imagined.

“oh tooru,” you whisper against his skin, “everyone’s so proud of you regardless, if it wasn’t for your support, no one would’ve gotten here anyways.” you pull him closer to your upper body, burying your face into his hair as your fingers traced up and down his arm. “you’re a good player, and an even better captain. the sport is more than just winning, it’s like the relationships that blossom from it.” you try to explain, gently stroking his hair.

“you really think?” he asks hesitantly, letting himself be pulled closer as he shivers within your embrace.

“i know, baby, i know.”

against his red face and snotty nose, he lets out a small smile when he looks up at you, sitting up to wipe his nose with his sleeve.

“i really love you, yn.” he mutters, letting you embrace him as he cries, “i really think you’re the best thing thats ever happened to me.”

contradicting the situation, you let out a soft laugh, making him smile against the nape of your neck.

“i love you too, tooru.”

and with your arms wrapped around him tight, tooru knew that everything would be okay.

please like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed !!!

i think i mayhaps cooked with this one

sorry i was supposed to post this like yesterday night but i got distradcted playing dress to impress

maybe i wrote hinata in for one of my moots,,, mayhaps...

[reidrum]

you say ‘what a mind’ | s.r.

A/N: she’s back and with fluff! (?) exams were really putting me through the ringer but i missed posting so i fixed up this draft i had, i hope you enjoy :D ive been listening to sabrina 25/8 since she dropped so hopefully song inspired fics coming soon 🤞🏽

summary: you get really excited about something new you learned and spencer gets really excited about you

wc: a short n sweet 1k

cw: none, tooth rotting fluff

_______________________________________________

With Spencer's extensive knowledge of just about everything, you had assumed that there wasn’t much you contribute to his abundant learning.

You maybe weren’t three-PhD’s smart, but you were smart, averagely speaking. But you knew Spencer was smart, and truth be told it intimidated you. He never made you feel bad about not knowing something, ever. Anytime he gets to talk to you about anything his face lights up like the night sky.

There was, however, one time you had come home all excited to explain a concept from class that finally clicked for you. And the first person you wanted to tell was Spencer.

He watched you bound up to him with a spring in your step, bright eyed and wide cheeks as you told him, “I have to tell you about what I learned about today, it finally made sense to me. Like it felt like a real life light bulb final puzzle piece fitting type moment!”

He smiled warmly down at your eager face, “Alright angel, lay it on me.”

“Okay, I know it’s a little stupid it’s taken me this long to get it, but it’s—“

The call of your name sternly yet fondly falling from Spencer’s lips interrupts your self deprecating preamble, “Hey, we don’t do that, remember? We talked about this.”

Your rants almost always started with some self deprecating remarks, and he would always frown and try to interject and shut them down, to which you’d wave him off under the guise of, “If I stop, I’ll forget!” You were smart, but stubborn to a fault. He loved you for it, but it was hard for him to see you not understand the value you held, the value that your voice and your words and your opinions held. The value that he knew with all certainty you possessed.

A sheepish blush rises on your cheeks as you mumble, “Sorry.”

His fingers trickle closer to yours and wrap around them firmly, bringing you to sit on the couch next to him as he pulls your legs over to rest on his.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he says saccharinely, “We’re working on being nicer to ourselves right?”

You nod, he smiles softly back at you and continues, “Okay, tell me what you learned today.”

You start on your long explanation of the inner workings of the nervous system and its intricacies, explaining details and anecdotes that really showcase the inner workings of how your mind processes information.

Spencer can’t help but stare at you in deep fascination, complete with an awestruck smile and glimmering eyes.

He’s met hundreds of scientists, specialists, celebrities even, and listen to them talk about their research in extensive detail and with expansive knowledge. Hell, he’s had to do it himself with his three doctorates.

But as he sits in front of you, watching the person he’s most fond of on this planet watch you talk with so much speed, conviction, passion, with your hands move with purpose and excitement, he truly swears he has never been more in love with you than that moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask cautiously.

“You,” he moves closer, “Are so intelligent, did you know that?”

“Spencer, I’m not in the mood for jokes plea—“

“No, my love. You are brilliant,” he moves closer to be an inch away from you, placing his hands on your cheeks, “The way you process information is fascinating. When I watch you explain things to me I can see you organize it in your pretty head. It is actually mesmerizing watching you absorb knowledge the way you do. You’re like, a beautiful puzzle all undone, but by the forces of nature you’re able to put yourself together and bear the finished product to me, to anyone.”

Your eyes tear up, “Spence…what the fuck.”

He chuckles softly, “I mean it,” he holds you firmly, planting you in the roots of his belief, “What a mind you have, darling.”

It’s enough to make you tuck your head into his chest, obstructing his view from your imminent tearfall.

“You can’t just say things like that.” you mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around your torso, letting the other hand take purchase in your hair, gently stroking it down, “Why not?” He speaks softly.

“Because…I might think you're like, in love with me or something.” You joke.

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into your rested head, “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s going to be another whole moon cycle before I have another a-ha moment like this again. I’ll have nothing to impress you with.”

Spencer smiles and sighs, squeezing you tighter against him, “You always impress me.”

You groan, “Ugh, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“You do know that you’re really smart, right?” you open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off, “You always underestimate yourself, but you’re really one of the smartest people I know. And I know a lot of smart people.”

A deep sigh leaves you, but he continues, “And you don’t have to believe me. I’ll believe it enough for the both of us. You and your brain are remarkable, so when you come to me with your a-ha moments thinking I’ll be impressed with your spark of knowledge, just know that I am impressed with you, but it’s more because I get to see you realize just how capable you are yourself.”

The calming motion of his fingers through your hair tether you back to this world, your insides fluttering about like butterflies in an open field. It was hard not to believe his words when Spencer was always so kind to you. It was always so easy for you to play it off like you didn’t deserve it.

But Spencer knew wholeheartedly that you did deserve it, that you were even entitled to it. And he’d spend the rest of his life reminding you. That, you knew for a fact.

“I love you,” you say softly, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me angel, I love you too.” He mumbles in your head, his hand trailing down your sides in comfort.

[raestromboli]

plug!chris catching you riding his pillow ᡣ𐭩

coming to your place after a long day of dealing was a natural thing for chris to do. so when he and some of his friends that tagged along with him had no more clients left, they suggested an evening at some fancy restaurant to spend their money. chris, of course, quickly waved them off because he wanted to spend his time with his pretty little girlfriend after being so busy the past few days.

so imagine the surprise he felt as soon as he heard the most lewd noises coming from your bedroom . . noises that he’d recognise anywhere.

he feels like a perv, but that’s the least of his worries.

chris peeks through the small gap between the doorway and your conveniently opened door; it’s just enough for him to see just how perfect you look. the pillow, the one he usually sleeps on, between your thighs, a wet spot visible on its pillowcase, your tits free from any restraint, with your finger cradling them gently, and your face . . . fuck, your face.

your have the most vulgar expression imaginable. god, you’re better than any wet dream he ever had. your face is tilted to the side, eyes closed with pleading brows pinched upwards. your cheeks were dusted with the prettiest shade of red. his fresh love hoodie is bunched up and being held up by your teeth to expose your pretty tits bouncing every grind of your hips you take, and you’re letting out the cutest little muffled whines and moans.

it’s no surprise that your boyfriend gets hard instantly, hands flying to his crotch with no hesitation as he unzips his pants, sliding down just enough to take his cock out. his bony fingers wrap around his leaky cock and hisses lowly. his eyes were solely trained on printing the beautiful image right into the depths of his mind.

a pitiful pout grows on his lips. he can tell that you’ve been going at it for a while now from how much you’re panting and how you lean forward on your hands every other minute because of the annoying, yet delicious burn in your fleshy thighs, and chris wishes he could be under you instead of that damned pillow, holding you down because he knows how much you squirm on his dick and pistoning his hips into you just right.

there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s definitely not going to do that, but chris wants to savor the thrill of this a little bit too . . . wants to watch you pleasure yourself without him.

you roll your hips so expertly that chris feels even more jealous of that inanimate object, imaging your slick stained on the pillow glistening on his dick instead. the hurried movements, how you know when to push down further and how to keep the steady rhythm, how your face twists in exquisite pleasure with no care for the world—your boyfriend can barely stop himself from cumming right then and there.

chris strokes himself to match the roll of your hips, teeth digging in his bottom lip helplessly as he feels himself getting closer, just like you do. your hips get more erratic, humping the pillow faster and faster while your muffled whines get louder and longer. chris grips the doorway with his free hand to not go through it and disturb you, completely head over heels from how fascinating you look.

the only thing he’s late to realise is that you’re not even watching anything lewd to help you reach your high, and that becomes clear when you start crying out his name in a high-pitched tone that makes him go weak in the knees.

he thrusts into his own fist uncontrollably, but reluctantly gains the ability to stop himself only after seeing your heavenly closed eyes open, the fucked out look taking over your face as he grips his shaft tighter to not cum in the hallway right then and there.

you cum with a strangled cry of his name, gripping the sheets with shaky hands to ground yourself.

you came thinking about him. that alone makes chris wonder if he should kick his feet up high and giggle like a schoolgirl or burst into the room and fuck your sensitive pussy ‘til your cum completely coats his cock. he chooses the latter.

you pant heavily, little moans slipping past your lips as you lazily rock your hips against the pillow. chris doesn’t let you bask in the post-orgasm haze, however, because he’s barging into your room unceremoniously. with zipped pants of course!

squealing in surprise, you yank your blanket over your body, nervously looking at him with big, startled eyes while he casually strolls over to your bed, hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans and keen eyes focused only on you.

“chris. . i-i can explain!” you try to reason, but when your boyfriend simply smirks at you, you know you should stop talking.

“explain riding my pillow?” he’s only teasing, but it still makes you stutter and stumble over your words. you pout for moment, pulling your hoodie over your body before curling further into your blanket in sheer embarrassment. there’s an apology spilling out of your lips, but chris tuts at you condescendingly as he grips onto the blanket and pulls it away from you.

“fuck you lookin’ at? i want you to do it again.” there’s a smirk rising on his lips as he watches your eyes widen and your lips part to protest.

“but!—“

“nah, you wanna be a slut and ride my pillow. all i’m asking is for you to do it again, a’ight? then maybe, i’ll fuck you if you’re good.”

[areislol]

‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ— soft like sunday

thinking about sunday and his wings—so fluffy and... cute—has become your new favourite pastime. there’s just something mesmerizing about the way it shimmers in the sunlight, soft feathers shifting as he moves.

their white hue has a faint, almost ethereal glow, making him look like he stepped straight out of a fairytale.

but the most fascinating thing about them isn’t their beauty. no, it’s the fact that he never lets anyone touch them.

not dan heng. not welt. not even march 7th, who can charm just about anyone with her bubbly personality.

yet, here you are, fingers brushing gently against the delicate feathers as sunday sits cross-legged on the couch, his back turned to you.

"you’re spoiling me, you know," you tease, a playful lilt in your voice.

sunday huffs, but his wings twitch ever so slightly under your touch. "don’t let it get to your head," he mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words. "you’re the exception. don’t expect this kind of treatment to extend to anyone else."

you smile, pressing your palm lightly against the back of his head where the wings connect. the muscles beneath his skin are taut but relaxed under your familiar touch. it feels intimate—more so than any hug or hand-holding ever could.

"how do they feel?" you ask, curiosity winning over.

he glances over his shoulder, his golden eyes soft with an expression you rarely get to see. "why don’t you tell me? you’re the one touching them."

you roll your eyes but oblige. your fingers weave through the downy feathers, marveling at their softness. "they’re... really warm," you murmur. "i didn’t expect that."

sunday chuckles, a low, pleasant sound. "of course they’re warm. i’m not some cold-blooded creature."

"you’re a lot of things," you tease, "but cold isn’t one of them."

he lets out a soft laugh before leaning back into your touch, an unspoken signal that he’s comfortable. it’s rare for sunday to be so open, so vulnerable, and you savour every second of it.

the room falls into a companionable silence, the only sounds being the faint hum of the train's engine and the rhythmic swish of feathers under your fingers. you trace along the edges, careful not to pull or snag, and he shivers.

"that tickles," he murmurs, a rare hint of shyness in his tone.

"sorry," you say softly, though the smile on your face says otherwise.

his wings unfurl slightly, almost as if they’re responding to your touch on their own. the gesture feels instinctive, protective, like he’s letting you into a part of himself that no one else gets to see.

"you’re... different," sunday says after a moment, his voice quieter now.

"different how?"

he shrugs, his wings brushing lightly against your arms. "different in a good way. you don’t push or prod when you want to know something about me. you just... wait until i’m ready."

you lean forward, resting your chin on his shoulder. "maybe that’s because i know you’ll tell me eventually. when you’re comfortable."

sunday tilts his head, just enough for your eyes to meet. there’s something unspoken in his gaze, something tender and full of warmth.

"don’t go anywhere," he says softly, almost as if the words are a plea.

"i’m not going anywhere, sunday."

he sighs, a contented sound, and leans back against you fully, his wings wrapping slightly around your form. for a moment, you feel like you’re the one being protected, cocooned in his warmth.

and as you sit there together, touching his wings and basking in the quiet intimacy, you realise there’s no place you’d rather be.

i really like sunday and his wings... and sunday.

[dcxdpdabbles]

It's all Fun and Games Kids! Part 2

#HolidayRequests First off absolutely love your work and I'm so happy to show that by sending my support. I am not at all requesting all three just one of them. So dealer's choice. Congratulations! It's Triplets!, It's all Fun and Games Kids, or the Missing Half

Danny was buying some groceries when five armed men rushed in and demanded everyone to get on the ground. He stood by the milk, watching in fascination as the men gathered everyone near the back.

It didn't seem any of them were affiliated with big rouges, which could mean this was either a gang-related power grab or a couple of men looking for a quick buck.

They were likely taking hostages because they had messed up their big getaway and were now trying to make desperate leverage against law enforcement.

"I said get on the ground!" A man shouts behind Danny seconds before he is smacked with the butt of a gun. He hits the ground with a slight oof, but otherwise, he is okay. The same can't be said for his milk carton.

It splats in one large puddle, landing on the side and ripping a hole in the bottom corner. Hmm, that was a cheap carton. He should consider switching over to a different brand. He is then dragged to his feet and led towards a group of cowering people.

They were pushed against the vegetable bins and ordered to sit right under them so their backs were against the wood and the guards could limit their movement. It was brilliant, too, as being under the bins made it harder to see them for anyone attempting to rescue them.

Danny is shoved next to a trembling woman under the tomatoes, holding her hands against her mouth, muttering something low in Spanish. He doesn't know enough to translate what she says, but he figures it must be a prayer.

He offers her a smile. "First time?"

The look she sends him could have curdled dairy. He gives a small laugh, crossing his legs and getting comfortable. She returns to his prayers, and the two don't speak after that. Danny watches the armed men and realizes they're not new to this but aren't good at it.

These are the type of men who joined gangs for glory. The kind that would report violence at the drop of a hat and didn't care who they hurt in the process. Or worse, they enjoyed when they hurt people in the process, even if those people had nothing to do with them.

Danny frowns after a while, realizing that the men haven't looted them or emptied the cash registers. What were they after?

The store employees were all moved from the back of the store, their matching lime green uniforms an eye sore. They all wore the same horrified expressions as the group was forced to sit between the tomatoes and the onions.

The youngest one, a teenager who looked no older than eighteen, was wearing a black shirt with stripped lime lines, and Danny quickly figured out he was the manager. He was sobbing quietly, bruises on his face and around his neck indicating that the armed men had identified him as well.

Danny felt a spark of protective rage.

The manager sat beside Danny, so the Halfa scouted over, eyeing the men with the guns as he carefully slid his hand into the boy's palm. It was a testament to how scared the poor kid was when all he did was curl his fingers around his, tears rolling down his beaten face.

It made him wonder why, seeing as the other shoppers and employees did not have any indications that they had been attacked. It couldn't have been retaliation for trying to be a hero. No offense to the teenager, but he didn't strike Danny as someone brave or stupid enough to try to fight back.

If anyone, he looked more like someone who would hide in situations like these.

That's it. He realizes, watching how the men make head gestures at the manger. This isn't some off-chance hostage situation. This is a revenge plan. The kid's the target and these idiots are too low in command to realize it. No way they would have brought him out here if they did. Someone will come for him soon.

The teen had dark raven hair and the same pale skin as Danny, but his eyes were as black as coal compared to Danny's aqua blue. It might not work, but he was better equipped to handle whatever they threw at him until the bats or the police arrived.

He carefully lets go of the hand in his hold, running his fingers up the arm of the teen, keeping his eyes trained on the gunmen. He's doing it slowly, worried any sudden or fast moves will convince them to pull the triggers on their assault rifles.

The boy's breath hitches but thankfully doesn't blow their cover. The tremble in his limb has increased, and Danny wouldn't have felt bad about it had he not been on a time crunch. Eventually, his fingers brushed against the short sleeve of the manager's uniform.

"Listen carefully. You were just here to buy some groceries. You never worked here." He whispers, curling his fingers around the fabric and turning the polo shirt intangible. He pulls it right off the teenager's body in one quick swipe.

It slides off the boy's skin like water, and the second he slides it through him, Danny returns it to solid, letting it settle on top of his clothes. He quickly covers the teenager's naked chest with his own long-sleeve shirt, using the same method.

The boy's mouth drops, but he doesn't get a chance to respond before the armed men walk over to them. Danny pushes his head down, hoping to hide the bruises while hunting his own, using his hair to curtain his face.

Just in time, too, because the Halfa is yanked to his feet by two of the men, who sneer at him, and he lets the proper amount of whimpers when they backhand him and bang his head on the bin.

Danny is dragged out of the room while the third man threatens the people. He'll come back for them the second he has a chance.

"You thought you could hide in Gotham, Eric?" One of the men hisses, "After what your Daddy did? Half of my boys are rotting in cells for life because of him! "

Eric was likely in witness protection or had wronged a powerful man he shouldn't have. Maybe he was in an organized gang and had ratted someone out. There was no way Danny was letting these men get away.

They drag him towards the back, where a group of similarly dressed men and women are waiting. Glances at everything through his hair, wondering how long he had before someone realized they got the wrong person.

Maybe they wouldn't notice before they shoved him into the ain't oven; they were obviously planning on burning him in. Which would be the perfect place to shift into Phantom out of prying eyes. He had spent months chasing Batman as a regular love-stroke citizen.

He couldn't let all those dramatic swoons and pathetic flirtations go to waste by revealing he was a powerful meta now! Plus, how else would he be rescued by a hero if the man knew he could just do it himself?

He was forced to stand in the room with two guards gripping is his shoulders hard enough to bruise. Danny doesn't raise his gaze away from his shoes, so even though he knows someone is standing near the oven to give him a dramatic monologue, he won't look.

A minute passes before someone clicks their tongue.

"Nothing to say, brat!?" A kick to the back of his knees has Danny falling to his knees, gritting his teeth to stop himself from going ghost immediately. "Do you know what I'm going to-"

Whatever the man was going to say was cut off by a figure launching itself from the ceiling railing and kicking him in the back of the head.

Danny flinches as a body drops right next to him. There is a splash of blood as one of the men wails. Danny offers him a cheeky grin once the man rolls over and looks up into his face.

His wide eyes are stomped on by a dark boot surrounded by a fluttering cape, and the second pair of hands on his shoulder vanishes. Danny listens to the sound of battle, keeping his hair in his face and his eyes on his folded knees. He could get up and hide, but where would the fun be?

His favorite pass time has arrived.

"Are you alright?" The familiar voice growls, but Danny doesn't respond. It was too far away. The man needed to get closer.

Eventually, the boots and the cape returned to his line of vision, a hand slowly reaching for him, and Danny flung himself toward them. He must have caught the vigilante off guard because when Danny wrapped his arms around the legs, he did not dodge in time despite the jerk that indicated he was moving.

Dramatically, Dann wailed, still on his knees, pressing his cheek against a muscular thigh. "Batman! You saved me! I was so scard but you came to rescue me!"

A hand landed in his hair, pushing Danny away. That only made the ghost in him grin as he fought to hug the man closer. It must have been a shock to find that Danny had a lot of strength despite his young appearance.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. I was so scared!" He bawls, hiccuping for good measure as he rubs his cheek against the meat of Batman's left vastus laterlis. The man must do insane squats.

"Get. Off." Batman grunts, now using both hands to try and push Danny away. It's too bad for him; Danny has super strength. "Let. Go!"

"Mr. Fenton, everything is alright! You don't have to be afraid. Please let Batman go." Spoiler shouts, appearing in Danny's line of sight. He almost breaks character to pout at her intrusion. He can't, though, as that would ruin the game. So he lets her gently pry off his arms and helps him to his feet.

He shoots Batman with looks of undying devotion, though, which might have actually made the Dark Knight shudder, and that was all he wanted in life.

"You have real bad luck, huh?" Spoiler comments, rubbing his back like a small, scared child.

"I just wanted some milk for my Oreos." He hiccups, wiping at his eye. He then ends a watery smile towards Batman, who is helping Red Robin and Robin secure the gang that had snuck into his city. "But I did get to see Tall, Dark, and Daddy, so today is not a total bust."

"I'm going to be sick," The girl in purple mutters under her breath, and Danny nearly loses it right then.

He is distracted by Eric rushing towards them, a look of hero worship on his face as he slams into Danny with a loud but sincere "Thank you!"

Phantom purrs from inside his protective core. He should shop here more often. This place is a riot.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hm… Have you ever think about Aventurine, Sunday and Dan heng with fem reader that has chubby cheeks?

When you’re eating, they can’t stop looking at your cheeks that keep puff and being squishy. You remind them of small hamster, really cute.

Give your cheek a playful bite, squish your cheeks like a stressball for him, or nuzzle his cheek against your?

I love chubby cheeks… and my hsr husband and waifu;)

Aventurine would absolutely adore the fuck out of your chubby cheeks, especially when they’re being squished and tugged between his fingers.

It was his favourite pastime that he’d gladly trade everything else for if he ever were to choose to do one thing for the rest of his life.

He’d prod your cheek if you weren’t giving him enough attention for his liking and find himself fascinated at the way they recoiled.

If Aventurine were a cat, you’d be the laser of the laser pointer that he’s trying his hardest to catch because that’s how invested in your cheeks he was.

Now would Aventurine nibble your cheeks? Yes and he would act indifferent about it too as he shrugs his shoulders as a mischievous smile graced his lips. ‘I must’ve mistook your chubby cheeks as a sweet treat, oops.’ He’d say and you knew he wasn’t in any regard remorseful of his actions.

He’d do it again in a heartbeat but he really does love your cheeks and won’t let you or anyone say anything bad about them, ever.

Sunday

Find your chubby cheeks endearing and cute.

He gives your cheeks the most affection, whether it’s kissing them, caressing them with his fingertips or even giving them a playful nibble as he laughs when you squeal.

‘I cannot help it my sweet, your cute plush cheeks were left unguarded to my attack.’ He chuckles as he kisses your cheeks again, loving how they felt under his lips that he couldn’t help but take another nibble.

When he’s stressed, he would sit himself in front of you, hold your face and begins playing with your chubby cheeks with the most focused look on his face. It would’ve been cute if he wasn’t playing with your cheeks as though they were mouldable as clay.

You: hard day sweetie?

Sunday, pinching and prodding your cheeks: what gave that away my beloved.

You: just a guess.

Your cheeks would be aching for days afterwards but at least Sunday makes up for it by massaging them and smothering them in affection.

Dan Heng has found himself developing cuteness aggression because of your cute fucking cheeks! How dare you!

He tries to act nonchalant when staring at you when eating, his eyes focusing in on how your cheeks would puff up, much like a chipmunks would when stuffing their cheeks with food for the winter. However he must’ve not been subtle enough for the lenses of march’s camera with the amount of pictures taken that day.

He just wanted to squish your cheeks really, really badly and maybe even chomp on them a little, a thought brought about thanks to his dragon noodle side, but he restrained himself from doing so out of respect for you and your boundaries.

However don’t be surprised when he goes and nuzzles his cheek against your own in his sleep and purring a little also. He may even lightly bite your cheek in the process while you were unaware, so when you bring up the teeth marks on your cheek, Dan Heng felt his face flush with heat as he looks away from you and scratched his nose.

You knew it was him but found his expressions of getting caught too adorable to scold him for the fact that you now had to spend the day with people asking if you been bitten by a cat or something in your sleep.

‘Yeah…sure.’ You’d trail off as you side glance Dan Heng, who kept his back to you, knowing damn well you were staring at him as his movements came off as more stiff than normal.