#because there is no rest for wicked head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

st4rbwrry · 7 months ago

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𝒟𝑅𝐼𝐹𝒯𝐼𝒩’ 𝒩 𝒦𝐼𝒮𝒮𝐼��’.

✧｡˚ eren’s over just being your best friend.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 8.7k fem!reader, lowercase intended, girly girl reader, friends who rlly like each other, smoking, drifting, fluffy scenes, eren is super soft for reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, car festivities, kissing, neck biting, bits of roughness, multiple orgasms + overstimulation, choking, ass hits, cunnilingus, daddy kink, pet names ex. ꒰ baby, pretty, luv. ꒱ , praise, sub/dom, thicq!reader, goofy loving cutesy shit, minors do not interact! comments & reblogs are appreciated.

"i'm outside."

why is that text always terrifying to receive? it's the quickest way to make your heart fall to your ass in milliseconds. you can't help but roll your eyes and suck your teeth because he's too early, or maybe you were too late. it's only nine thirty so you're confused why he's here already. dropping the puffy makeup brush in your hand, you stand up from your brightly lit royal vanity with intricate carvings in the pearl-toned wood. slipping your painted white toes into a pair of hot pink teddy bear slides to make your way out of your bedroom and towards the front door for this asshole.

eren gets smacked in the face with your prettiness the minute you open your door, smelling like marshmallows and looking like a fucking bratz doll. your beauty stuns him every time. the six-foot-three man before you rests his weight against the wall on the outside, one arm stretched above as he leans over you with a wicked smile on his deadly gorgeous face. he's wearing a white graphic tee with pink graffiti spray painted on reading killer alongside a lavender nissan 350z. it's old merch connie was testing for his line. he also makes eren's shirts for his auto shop.

eren's also attired in black slim jeans and beat up 550 new balances, his signature racing shoes. his silver chain on his neck dangling as he kisses your forehead, the move so slick. you've noticed he liked to touch you a lot, give little indications of affection. kissing your hand, your cheek, your face overall. he grabbed your ass a lot, and it's so excessive you have to give him a hard swat and a death glare to actually make him stop.

"hello, eren," the way you say it has annoyance laced in it. turning away from him and walking away with that salacious sway your hips have. eren tongues his inner cheek, chuckling as he enters your home and shuts the door. he forgets how quick you walk, literally speed walking to your room since by the time he gets there you're already back on your powdered white tufted ottoman doing your makeup. riiverdance by beyoncé plays softly from the small speaker you kept on your windowsill so the music travels better.

"damn, i can't get no kiss? you fussy with me already." eren remarks, looking below him to see the fluffy black cat brushing up against his leg, scooping her up with one hand and petting her as he takes a seat on your bed.

"no. . aht aht! outside clothes, off the bed!" you're snapping your fingers at him as if he's your cat, eren swiftly raising his ass off your bed, blinking slow.

"where am i supposed to sit, woman?"

"the floor like always."

"tryna get cat hair on my shit," eren sucks his teeth, sinking down to the ground and groaning when your cat scrambles to get out of his hold, never liked being touched for long periods of time.

"you literally decided to pick her up knowing you're wearing white. that's your fault."

you were right but he couldn't resist holding her. that's his daughter. he's not giving you the satisfaction of being right though. manspreading, eren cocks his head to the side to watch you closely. you can see his entire reflection in your mirror, quickly glancing his way and ignoring the way he slowly licks his lips and knocks his legs in and out, unbeknownst to you, to chill his dick.

"so fuckin' gorgeous," eren smiles, those bright white teeth making you wanna fold immediately. eren loved watching you do your makeup. eyes softening for you. he found it so mesmerizing. you surely didn't need it but it made you happy so it makes him happy. "you wearin' that white on your waterline like i like. that jus' f'me?"

you pucker your lips. "mhm, nah. i just like it. i do nothing for your gratification."

"ouch," eren holds his tatted hand to his chest, shock overcoming his features. "keep hurtin' my feelings like that 'n your ass won't have a ride tonight. or no food."

that last line alarms you more than anything. one thing you didn't play about, and he knows this especially. . . is your hunger. you honestly haven't eaten much all day. working a shift at the hospital and only having a salad on your break wasn't filling at all. you all talked in your group chat about how saturday's the perfect day to go drifting tonight and grab some chinese at your favorite restaurant in town. your check hadn't hit yet but eren being him since he likes you so damn much offered to pay for you. you declined, as usual, but he didn't give a fuck about what you said, you were coming either way. to be honest, he missed your little sweet ass. a lot. you've been working mostly overnight shifts, being a SPT wasn't for the weak. and he's been busy at the shop fixing and selling cars. your days apart, aside from texting and facetiming made him want to be in your presence. he felt complete with you. you had to know that.

"if you gonna play with me about my food then ima just head to bed right now and starve," you basically threaten him. eren hated when you don't eat enough, makes dumb jokes about how you'll 'lose those thick ass hips of yours.' the boy will make it his mission to grab you something quick. he's your food and weed dealer. also your personal chauffeur, absolutely loving when you're his passenger princess.

"don't be fuckin’ dramatic, brat. i'm playin'. you know i got you," he stands back to his feet to come by you, pressing his midsection to your backside, where you can also feel the outline of his dick, trying your best to ignore the way it makes your face heat up. teasingly, he starts sliding his warm hands over your shoulders and down to your waist. cautiously, you eye him, having a hot wave of panic hit you when he begins tickling your left side. your most sensitive side, mind you. you screech and twist your body into a curling position trying to escape his attack.

"eren! get the fuck off me, bro!" he's laughing hard at your attempt to twist and yank away from his grasp, screeching and biting his arm which he flinches from and moves away.

“oww, fuckin’ gremlin,” he hisses dramatically, as if you’d stabbed him. “next time smile when you see me at that fuckin' door. gimme a 'hey, daddy' with it, too. it'll make my dick jump."

"your dick jumps for me enough."

eren’s eyes meets yours in the reflection of your vanity mirror. he shrugs nonchalantly, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“well,” he begins, dragging the word out as he takes a step closer to you again. “you wanna see it?”

you roll your eyes, his voice dropping lower, becoming more intense as he continues. “know you wanna see it again.”

“says who?” you raise your brow, testing him.

by again, he means accidentally when he was showering at your place and forgot to grab his boxers before he went inside your bathroom, thinking you were sleep when you were in fact up reading on your phone. wanting to laugh at the memory of him turning red in the face and trying his best to shield his dick with his hands. making a snide comment about how badly you wanted to stare at it.

“you heard me,” he states simply, his gaze never leaving yours in the mirror. he's leaning directly over you, forehead nearly touching yours. his presence is overwhelming, filling the small room with his raw masculinity. this is a regular thing by the way. his constant teasing. waiting for you to let up.

“okay, daddy,” you grin mischievously.

“mhm,” he kisses his teeth, and at the same moment his phone vibrates in his pocket. eren fishes for it, checking a text from connie.

"connie’s outside, you done?”

“you rushing me now? i don’t like this rennie tonight,” you tsk, shaking your finger like a disappointment mother. standing to your feet, you brush out the curls in your head by running your fingertips through them.

you do look so pretty tonight. wearing an oversized pink greenbay packers jersey with a flowy white mini skirt, eren watching as you enter your walk in closet to fish for some white socks to scrunch at your ankle, and the same pair of sneakers he currently wore. my little twin.

“sorry, i’ll be on my best behavior.”

you smile, standing on your tiptoes and pinching his cheek, eren liking the view a bit too much, trying to fight the urge to grab your hips and pull you close. “such a good boy. now, let’s go!”

“wait, i want a kiss, wife,” eren smiled, trying to lean in before you pull away and shove your hand in his face.

“leave me alone, pervert!”

connie’s goal tonight was to show off the enhancements he added to his neon green scion frs, the car humming outside of your house when you go to say hello to him. he mentions that he’s going to swing by to pick up his girlfriend before he meets the two of you there. she didn’t live too far so he was able to make it before you two did, eren always having to make a mental note not to drive like a dickhead when you’re in the car. knowing your nerves are bad. they’ve gotten slightly better though since you’re with him all the time.

you loved drift meet up’s because it was a free car show to see all the cool ass cars, most of the models popular in japan. men and women in groups drinking and bumping music as they interact. it’s illegal as hell where you live but sometimes everyone’s able to get away with it if they don’t act too much like jackasses. this spot was mostly secluded from open roads or police.

eren walks alongside you, his arm loosely draped around your shoulders as you both make your way to the forefront where cars currently span in action. his car wasn’t parked too far, planning on performing a show himself in a little. the adrenaline pumping through the crowd as drivers send their vehicles skidding around corners and spinning donuts in the dirt your favorite, and his. connie arrives not too long after, eren going up to talk to him before you’re locked in, excited for him.

“i need to teach you how to drift one of these days. i gotta see your pretty ass behind a nissan 240sx or sum,” he says, pulling you closer into his side so you can hear him over the noise.

“that’s specific,” you laugh, looking up at him while chewing your gum, rocking with him.

eren grins down at you, his hand tightening slightly around your shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. “what can i say? i have a type.”

“you sure do,” your voice trails off, focused on connie’s loud car screeching and swinging before the crowd around you. cheers vibrating your ears like a concert. the feeling like a movie. you don’t notice that eren keeps his eyes on you the whole time, admiring you as you jump, clap, and scream from excitement. pulling your phone out to record your friend.

removing yourself from his arm, you notice the cars currently in the circle beginning to depart and make way for others. “con’s!”

eren shakes his head as he watches you bolt towards connie’s car, jumping up and down like a kid, bending low to give him a high five. “that was fucking awesome!”

“yeah, fuck with me!” he continues to slap his palm with yours. you look over to his girlfriend in the passenger seat, reaching over to twinkle fingers.

“hey girly!” luna smiles, tucking her long dark hair behind her ear since it blew everywhere from the wind.

“hiii!” you giggle.

“shit was good, i taught you well,” eren approaches, their heavy hands interacting, shaking before snapping their fingers.

“yea, whatever. you always want full credit, asshole,” connie sucks his teeth.

“oh my god, we should totally drift each other!” luna suggests. connie whips his head in her direction.

“wha—who said you driving my car?” connie blinks, flabbergasted.

luna goes to hit his arm playfully. “cabrona, i meant she can get in the car with eren and yall do yall lil’ thingy thing.”

“oooo, yayyy!” you approve instantly, clapping your hands together and turning to eren with puppy eyes. “oh, please?! i wanna shotgun!”

“be my guest, sweetheart. but don’t try to hang your head out the window again like a damn dog, or else,” his voice drops low, a warning lacing his words as he gives you a knowing look.

“mhm, i make no promises,” you wink, racing towards his car.

connie laughs at eren’s strained face, his friend knowing deep down he loved it. connie knew a lot you didn’t know. like the fact that eren’s madly in love with you, and has been ever since freshman year of high school. it’s not secret to anyone, really. as eren approaches his parked car you bounced impatiently beside, he opens the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to climb in before walking over to the driver's seat. the interior of his black r34 gtr is pristine, everything from the leather seats to the carbon fiber accents shining under the sunlight. you loved when he picked you up just to take you for a ride. he works on cars practically all day given he owns an auto shop, detailing and adding enhancements being his daily thing.

he’s getting his hands dirty and his mind fried from mechanical work. he customized this car to make it his own, his name written in japanese on the right corner of front window, a front spoiler splitter, apexi gt specthe which makes his exhaust sound like fucking gunshots, which terrifies you. on top of detailing the body of the car with giant dragons painted silver on either side of the vehicle. standing out to the crowd uniquely.

eren makes his way inside of the vehicle, big hands gripping the steering wheel as he adjusts his legs in his seat, your eyes locking there momentarily before he inserts his key into the ignition, firing up the extremely loud engine. an anxious smile shows on your face once you see everyone yelling over the power of his car, having been in it a million times, you still hated the sound, triggering your sensory overload. but, you loved the thrill. swallowing, you turn to him, balling up his shirt on his hip to grab his attention.

“promise me you’ll be safe,” you look up at him, worried.

a soft smile tugs at his lips as he sees the concern in your eyes. he reaches out, brushing a stray curl of hair from your face with his thumb. “don't worry, princess. i'll take care of both you and my baby here.”

“i’m trusting you,” you whisper, biting your lip. “don’t hit anybody, i don’t need you going to jail. and please don’t hit connie, because he will kill you if you fuck up his car.”

eren smirks, his hand dropping from your face to gently cradle the back of your neck. his grip is firm yet tender. “now why’d i risk traumatizing my girl like that?”

you suck your teeth and pull away from him, crossing your arms. he only sets his hand on your thigh now, and you let him. “aren’t you going to start driving?”

eren laughs heartily, his hand tightening around your thigh as he does. he revs the engine, feeling the power beneath them rumble in anticipation. his eyes flash dangerously in the dim light of the cars. “promise me something, too?”

“what?”

“we’ll finish playing mommy and daddy when we get home?” he grins.

“oh please, you know you can’t handle me,” you tease. such a bad habit you two have. joking too damn much. but by this point, from his end especially, you’re aware none of it is a joke.

eren raised a brow, feeling threatened. “oh, i can’t?”

“nope. and you’re too scared to admit it,” you taunt, fluttering a kiss in his direction.

“mhm,” eren kisses his teeth, he gives a curt nod, as if making a mental note. “ima hold you to that.”

“drive the damn car, eren.”

ignoring the warmth in your chest from his flirting, he finally shifts the car into gear. with a roar of the engine, he accelerates onto the street, leaving behind a cloud of smoke. malice at the palace by BONES is bumping through the stereo system as eren expertly maneuvers his car around the road, each turn and drift executed with precision. the sound of the engine reverberating through the car sends a rush of adrenaline through him. you hated to admit how fucking good he looked right now, your hand gripping onto his bicep as you giggle each time he executes a perfect drift, tires screeching, watching connie’s car across from his spin around each other. part of him hopes to impress you. and clearly he has by the huge smile on your face. you’re like a kid in a candy shop, eyes lit up.

“i’m doing it!” you yell, eren watching as you climb up on your seat, skirt rising from the wind blowing, your ass hanging out making his eyes go wide.

“꒰♡꒱, sit your ass down.”

“woo!” it’s too late, now you’re banging the palm of your hand on the outside of the door, staring at others who hollered back at you, your curls flying in the wind. the people screaming and cheering louder the more you raised your upper body outside of the window, being sure to secure yourself. eren’s hand instinctively clutch onto your ankle.

“goddamit,” he groans, but couldn’t help the feeling in his heart from your pure laughter. you’re enjoying yourself, that makes him happy. but your safety is important. given that, he slows down just enough so that it feels safe for you not to jolt and fall out of the car. despite your reckless act, he couldn’t help but marvel at how fearless you truly are.

connie’s car slides vertically next to eren’s, taking your chance to reach out and graze your fingers with luna’s as she leans her body outside of the window like you do, the two of you screaming like fans of your favorite superstar. the adrenaline pumping through your veins is exhilarating.

eren’s hitting on the brakes, causing the tires to yell and the car to skid sideways. with a swift move of his foot on the gas pedal, eren launches his car into a perfect 360-degree spin. the car gracefully arcs around its axis before smoothly coming back onto its original trajectory, all done. the world outside blurs into a whirlwind of colors and shapes as you scream into the wind, lowering your body to take your seat in your original position.

“that was sooo fun!” the sound you make is the cutest, giggling and bouncing your legs, full of energy now. he adores the glint in your eyes, but he also couldn’t hide the upset on his face.

“i’m sure. next time, listen to me when i say don’t hang your body halfway out the fucking car. you’ve never done that before, what if you flew out?” the sudden change in his tone takes you aback.

“i can take care of myself,” you retort, your defiant words making him clench his jaw.

“not saying you can’t. i’m telling you don’t be so fuckin’ reckless,” his hand moves from the steering wheel to smooth down his face, keeping himself calm, despite the current situation being anything but serene. he doesn’t mean to ruin your mood. surely didn’t want to cause an argument. he just needed you to understand where he was coming from. “don’t die trying to show off.”

“don’t die trying to protect me.”

“꒰♡꒱ . . cut that big girl shit, seriously.”

“aren’t we meeting our friends to get food? let’s go.”

connie did mention they’d be grabbing food right after, eren clenching his jaw and pulling his attention away from you. he tries not to keep you at these events for too long, sometimes things get rowdy and guns are drawn and he wouldn’t allow either of you to be around that. shifting his car back into drive, he pulls away from the scene to trail behind connie. you hated the current silence of the car, picking up your phone to distract yourself from any conversation. as you pull up next to your group, onyankopon popping up a minute after, eren kills the engine and opens his door with ease. he rounds the car, opening the door for you. you give a quiet ‘thanks’ before speed walking away to luna. eren sighs deeply, sucking his teeth and locking his car, pulling a puff bar from his pocket and leaning against his vehicle to calm himself for a minute.

“you okay? you look sad?” luna frowns as she holds your hand, ready to cross the street to enter the chinese restaurant.

you make an awkward expression, not really wanting to make it a big deal. “nothing, i’m just hungry! also kind of have a headache from the whiplash.”

glancing beside you, you see eren approaching onyankopon, shoving his keys into his pocket while simultaneously colliding their hands for a handshake, hearing the small ‘yo, wassup’ from the pair before you turn your head away, luna pulling you along with her. the five of you find a booth inside of the almost empty restaurant given its close to closing, being one o’clock in the morning and all. you take the time to catch up with luna since she’s been busy with esthetician classes and try your best to avoid eren . . even if he’s sitting directly next to you. this act can only go for so long before the two of you catch glances repeatedly, still making little interactions with the group together if you had to. you didn’t want everyone knowing that you two had a small fight. was it really a fight? you were fine, at least that’s what you liked to tell yourself.

time passes and onyankopon is the first to leave, mentioning he has to get up early for work and saying his goodbyes. that leaves luna and connie to cuddle up next to one another in the booth, your eyes studying the way his arm is draped around her shoulder while he listens intently on everything she says, bopping her nose with his finger as she giggles cutely. you smile faintly, looking down at the food you’re playing with at this point with your chopsticks.

eren glances at you as he finishes his plate, a finger pressed to his temple as he leans his elbow on the table. you feel his glare, turning his way to see what he wanted. his eyes holding a certain intensity that only you seem to understand. “come take a ride with me.”

you continue to fiddle with your chopsticks, swallowing air. “where are we going?”

“i need to talk to you about something.”

you’ve dreaded this. unsure of what was going to come from him when you two were alone. you’re not sure if he’s still mad about earlier, his reaction when luna brought up your car moment laced with irritation, like he wanted nothing to do with it. honestly, there was nothing more to talk about. he knows you don’t like confrontation, so you hoped he wouldn’t make an entire conversation about why he feels the way he does. a simple apology should’ve sufficed. the anxiety is pumping through you now, wanting to groan from his seriousness. one thing you’ve learned about eren was that he was big on communication. if something bothered him or he felt like certain things needed to be talked about, he’d take that chance to fix it. when he’s serious about something, it gave you goosebumps.

his gaze lingers on yours, the flickering candlelight on the table casting an enchanting glow on his features. you swallow, nodding. “okay.”

“we’re gonna go,” you grab the couples attention across the booth, connie and luna sitting up the moment you and eren stand.

“awe, okay boo! it was nice seeing y’all,” luna waves to both of you. eren’s patting his pocket for his keys, pulling out his wallet to set cash on the table for the both of you.

eren smiles. “you too, love. i’ll see you tomorrow, con.”

“bet, see you. y’all be safe.”

the car shifts into gear and pulls out onto the quiet street, the sound of heavy wind encasing the vehicle the only thing you could hear, blurring out the world. eren drove possibly fifteen minutes to a spot only the two of you go to. it’s secluded, parked under a giant tree in a grass field high on a hill that overlooked the city night. it’s surely a romantic destination. the two of you go here whenever you need to rant about life or just escape. it’s been your spot since high school. the slow melody of rnb fills the interior, creating an intimate atmosphere. the two of you sit for a moment, eren fishing for his puff bar to take a few passes before you finally say something.

“can i?” you ask, voice an almost hushed whisper. gesturing towards the object.

“yeah,” he’s handing it your way, clearing his throat before leaning back into his seat, smoothing both hands down his thighs before adjusting comfortably, closing his eyes momentarily.

eren takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “lemme start by saying i’m not mad at you.”

you blink, shifting your body so all of your attention is on him so he feels important. you tend to stare off into nothingness during these moments.

“yes, are you stubborn as fuck and it pisses me off at times? absolutely. you know when it comes to you, shit like that makes me anxious. i have that urge to protect you, and it’s always been like that. so don’t think i’m being immature by wanting to care for your safety. i know you’re grown, and you carry yourself well. but sometimes i need for you to just listen when i get gut feelings about shit.”

“i know, and i apologize,” you reply almost instantly, the thought being on your mind the entire dinner, but unable to let the words pass. “i do appreciate how you care for me. i was just having fun and didn’t want my mood to be ruined. it was dangerous, anything could’ve happened.”

despite his uncertainty, there's no denying the sincerity in his gaze; a raw vulnerability that contrasts sharply against his usual confident demeanor. struggling to say what’s really on his mind at the moment. “you still have that bad habit of never wanting to be corrected.”

“yeah,” you lower your head to your thighs, fiddling with the fabric of your skirt. “still working on it. i tend to be too aggressive when i want to be right.”

“i’m glad you understand. but, that’s not what i wanted to talk to you about.”

you look up. “what is it? did something happen?”

eren takes another deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to reveal. his gaze never leaving yours as he prepares to lay his heart bare. “look . . i’m g’na be straightforward with you. i don’t need you to take this as something that has to be figured out immediately. i’ll give you the time and space you need to think on it if you’re feeling the opposite. but. .”

his cheeks flush slightly under your scrutinizing stare. it’s clear that whatever he's about to say is far from easy for him. he’s scaring you. “me and you, we been close since kids. i have love for you for life, but i need you to know that it’s been hard just being your friend. my emotions are consuming me, and being around you all the time is only making it more difficult. i see myself being with you, being in love with you. . for a long time now.”

the confession hangs heavy in the air between you both; raw and vulnerable, yet undeniably true. his heart pounds loudly in his chest as he waits for your reaction, bracing himself for either acceptance or rejection. either way, he’d stand by what he felt. and if you didn’t feel the same, it would hurt, but he would respect your boundaries. you’re unsure why you’re not . . surprised? he’s always been extremely affectionate with you, much more than a best friend should be. wasn’t necessarily fond of seeing you with other men or hearing about who you slept with. you told each other everything. had sleepovers. shared beds, and at times when you fell asleep before him, he’d brush a finger along your cheek and admired your beauty.

"my dream is to get you that big ass loft you want with the tall glass windows that overlook the city. decorate it how you want, be my pretty fuckin housewife that gets to stay home and do whatever you want. shit, start your own business. i'll pay for it all. i'll take care of you. i want you to myself, always. never wanna leave you. wanna get your name tatted on me. kiss you all day. cuddle, watch your favorite movies and shitty supernatural tv shows. run you bubble baths 'n fuck you real good every time i come home. buy you that wolf gray kia k5 with pink interior you've been wantin'. send you on vacations. buy you all the sanrio plushies in the fuckin' world. want you to be mine, ꒰♡꒱."

" eren. . . "

"i'll even learn how to cook for you, princess. 'n you know i'm bad as fuck at that shit," eren chuckles, raking his fingers through your hair. you laugh with him, tears in your eyes. "but i'll learn for you so i can always make you some authentic udon ramen or birria tacos, all that good shit you love. cause you're my girl 'n you deserve it all."

eren's hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him. his fingers trace small circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. his touch is gentle yet possessive. a tangible manifestation of the love he's been harboring for you. each stroke of his fingertips against your body feels like an exploration, a journey into the depths of your being that only he has access to.

“talk to me,” he bites his lip, lips nearly brushing your own, unable to help the pure attraction towards you. it’s stronger than ever right now.

“i feel the same way,” you lean in, moaning from his touch, his hands on you all the time, though somehow now they make you weaker. “i just didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

eren’s breath hitches, a combination of shock and relief consuming him. “why the fuck would you think that?”

your shoulders shrug shyly. “i don’t know,” your voice drags quietly. “sometimes shit like that doesn’t work for everybody. and we have a great friendship. i didn’t want us being together to fuck up the vibe.”

“we not everyone,” he states, brushing a curl from your pretty face. “and we act like we date anyways. wouldn’t be no different.”

you recepriocate the act, brushing a few brown strands of hair that fell in front of his face, locking eyes before your lips press against his in feverish kiss. his tongue parts your lips, exploring the warm cavern of your mouth with a passionate intensity. his hands roam freely over your body now, one tracing delicate patterns on your lower back while the other slips beneath your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin underneath. every touch is filled with desire and longing, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you. the heat in your face blows higher, as if the ache to kiss him was a distant dream. to finally taste him was something you hadn’t known you needed. both of your hearts are pounding in your chests, every beat echoing the intensity of your feelings for each other.

“you have no idea,” he whispers huskily, pecking your lips. you moan, body melting into his touch. you could slip through his fingers like puddy, this center console blocking you. “how much i want you.”

“show me then.”

eren’s eyes darken with desire. his hands slide down to grip your ass, climbing over the console to reach for the recliner on your seat, your flushed face heating up from the close proximity, his hair brush along the apples of your cheek, his smell intoxicating. you giggle when he goes to remove the headrest of the chair, banging his hand into the seat so it’s completely flat and you’re resting on your back. eren hovers completely over you, bringing his body to the passenger side, squeaking when you feel his hardness brush against your clit, a clear indication of just how much he wants you. taking your lip between his teeth, he gives it a playful nip before trailing hot kisses down your neck, going to capture your lips in another hot kiss, rolling his hips into yours making you gasp. you trail your hands underneath his black shirt, hands sliding up his broad backside.

“i need you,” you whimper, knees disconnecting to spread yourself for him, scooting higher up the seat. your desperation makes his control slip further.

“fuck,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, tracing along the curve of your waist before dipping lower to tease at the hemline of your skirt. “you’re making it hard for me to keep my shit together.”

“lick me up,” you whimper, pushing your hips down so your core presses against the bulge in his jeans, eren keeping down the moan in his throat, studying you. your thumbs slip into the band of your skirt, trying to indicate that you wanted them off. “please, m’dripping.”

“fuck,” he whispers again, this newfound sense of lust you had enrapturing him. “anything for you, baby.”

his hands slip beneath your skirt to explore the softness of your thighs, smoothing over your ass as you raise your hips so it’s easier for him to pull off your skirt, his mouth watering at the bare sight of you wearing no panties. you’d slipped off your sneakers, the balls of your feet digging into his shoulder blades as he pushes you further up the chair for both of your comfortability, craning his neck between the plush of your heated thighs. he breathes in your scent, moaning into a kiss he places on your inner thigh.

“c’mon—ah!” your breath is taken from you for your impatience, eren’s mouth circling around your clit for a quick feel before he’s lowering his tongue to taste all of you. locking his eyes with yours as you thread your fingers through his hair to push away, deciding to remove the hair tie from around your wrist to tie his hair onto the back of his head.

the taste of you on his lips drives him wild, craving this for years on end. eren groans from the sweet taste you leave on his fat tongue, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. eren growls in approval at your submission, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer to his mouth, swallowing down your clit, sucking on your pussy to hear you make those pretty noises he’s only heard once in his life. accidentally, of course. maybe catching you fucking yourself coming up the stairs without your knowledge, wanting to surprise you with food while the two of you studied for finals. he’s always kept that to himself, knowing you’d be extremely embarrassed by it. of course, he didn’t know it’s because you couldn’t stop thinking about what he wore in p.e; a black deftones muscle tank he cut as a crop top with gray sweatpants, his hair pulled into a manbun with his skin glistening in sweat from the insane weather out. dark ink around his skin making your mind run rapid.

he releases his mouth momentarily, popping off your clit lewdly to murmur, “you are fuckin’ drippin’.”

your back arches into his embrace, craning your neck as you rock against his face, eren grinning wickedly at your muffled sound, his tongue delving deeper into your folds. he laps at your entrance, thriving for every drop. his hands move to spread your legs wider apart, giving him better access to feast on your needy cunt. you hum in ecstasy, the sensation from the metal ball of his tongue piercing flicking your clit, using it to tease and torment you. his dark eyes watching you like prey, squirming and gasping from every suck.

“fuck, baby,” he moans. “you’re so sensitive.”

his hands move to cradle your ass cheeks as he pushes your ass up to fuck his face better, pussy glistening under the moonlight. his tongue continues it’s relentless assault, curling and connecting his tongue with your aching cunt feverishly while suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. your hands stretch to grip onto the door handle, moaning when his hand goes to smack the back of your thigh. eren growls at your helpless moans, his tongue delving deeper into your slick folds, slithering inside of you to prep you. his hands pinning your legs wide allows him unrestricted access to your throbbing cunt.

“wet n’ pretty ass pussy, baby. so, so pretty. jus’ like you, right?” he groans against you, increasing the pressure on his tongue, thrusting it in and out of you rhythmically. his free hand moves to play with your clit, rolling the sensitive nub under his thumb as he devours your pussy.

without waiting for a response, he resumes his ministrations, his tongue plunging back into your dripping cunny while one hand continues to toy with your clit. his actions intensify as he listens to your desperate whimpers. his tongue laps at your slit greedily, drinking down every drop of your sweetness, thumb working overtime on your clit, rubbing up and down mercilessly.

“stick your fingers in me,” you whine, the brokenness in your tone only making his dick harder. he’d rather shove his dick in you, but he wouldn’t deny what you pleaded for.

eren chuckles darkly at your plea, and within a second, his ring and index fingers are slipping inside of you, eren curling them upwards, searching for that sweet spot deep within your pussy.

“like this?” he sputters against your clit, your juices encapsulating him. your inner thighs tremble from the switch up, biting your lip and nodding. “fuck you up real good? ‘till you cream on me?”

“y-yesss, f-fuck,” your sobs overtake you, his tongue continuing it’s relentless assault on your sensitive bud, licking and sucking it into oblivion. eren hums in agreement, his fingers pumping in and out of your soaked cunt. he watches his fingers pump harder into your quivering cunt with furrowed brows, mumbling expletives to himself in fascination, your cunny squelching and sinking them in each time they threatened to pull out.

“ima sink my dick in your shit, fuck. i’m too fucking hard for you,” he groans against your clit, pace quickening, the combination of his fingers fucking into you while his tongue circles around your clit pushing you closer to the edge.

“keep fucking me, baby. fuckin’ love your tongue.”

eren loves your cries so much it’s hurting his dick bad, his fingers pumping harder into your twitching cunt, begging for you to cum. you’re drenching his fingers. he removes them when he notices your hand is cupping underneath his jaw, pulling his face in deeper and swaying your hips, the balled up expression on your face reading all he needed to know. you stretch your legs high, clamping your thighs shut and wrapping your arms underneath the curve of your knees to angle them towards your chest. eren licks his lips before sinking his tongue deep into you, thrusting his tongue like he’d use his dick.

making a noise of approval, you grip onto his hair while maintaining your position, yanking his head back and forth, screaming as his face clashes with your pussy, tongue fucking you open until you finally cum. your tummy caves in, lifting your head to press into your knees as you catch your breath, streaming out praises of ‘yes, yes yes, baby,’ as he continues to fuck you on his tongue, uncaring of you drenching his nose and chin.

while you take time to recuperate, eren’s leaning his head up to clean his face with the back of his hand, licking off the remainder as he reaches down to unbutton his jeans, slipping them down to his thighs and giving his dick a few slow strokes, the sight of it, thick and long, glistening with precum is enough to make anyone drool. eren holds onto it teasingly, keeping it just out of reach as he watches your reaction. “knew you wanted to see it again.”

you cover your face. “shut up.”

with a lustful gleam in his eyes, he lines the throbbing tip against your wet slit, sliding it up and down to gather your arousal before he’s grabbing the back of your neck to look into your eyes, heavy body hovering over yours, trying his best not to lean all of his weight onto you. granted, that’s exactly what you wanted, to be suffocated under him. feel weak, submissive.

“tell me you’re okay.”

you nod, eyes slowly closing, unable to keep focus. “yes, m’okay. it’s okay.”

the feeling of being sheathed within your tight pussy makes him shudder, removing his hand from your neck to balance his body by gripping onto either side of the leather seat after locking your legs flat. you reach for the recliner to level the seat up a little more, eren kissing your forehead. you drag your body lower so it’s easier for him to move, shivering from the full feeling he gives you, and that’s only half of him.

“fuck,” he gasps, grinding into you slowly so you’ll adjust. you swivel your hips, teeth biting into your lip as you stare at the sharp cut of his jawline, emerald eyes clamped shut. “that’s it.”

with each heavy thrust, eren can’t help the animalistic groans emitting from him, the deep baritone of his voice making your clit pulsate harder as he fucks himself deeper into you. your skin clapping as he pounds into you hard, hitting your spot and making you cry for him. he wheezes within the crevice of your neck, both of your moans colliding within the small enclosure, vibrating over the music flowing from his speakers. he’s fucking you faster with each thrust.

“s’so good, f-fuck,” the wind gets taken from you with every harsh pound, grunting beneath him and taking it all. he felt so fucking good, you couldn’t believe you waited this long just to let him fuck you. too many opportunities missed. for good and wrongs reasons though.

“that’s it, you’re such a good girl,” his mouth gives you a chaste, sloppy kiss to your pouty lips. everything he does makes you want to cum. heavier and stronger than the last. he’s a fucking trip.

“i’m your good girl?” your bottom lip is pulled into your mouth, teeth baring as you smile drunkenly.

“ ‘course you are,” he kisses you again, prolonging it this time, your body slipping lower giving him the chance to fuck you even deeper, stretching you open and stuffing you full. you can feel him all in your tummy, your brows furrowed. “better than that. you’re my baby.”

“i’m your baby?” the drag out of a whiny tone as you grip onto his chin to keep his eyes on yours has the man before you crumbling.

eren practically whines from the way you speak to him, molding your frame into his seat from the strength he fucked you with, listening to your pussy cry for him. “you’re my baby.”

“my pussy loves you,” you move with him, your tight cunt squeezing him, feeling that warmth build up in your stomach.

“it does, huh. tell me how much, love.”

“loves it so fucking much, daddy.”

“that’s what i wanted to hear,” he hisses, groaning and fucking you faster, straightening his legs so he gets a get angle, hitting into you with all his weight. “oh god, baby. you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“yeah, daddy?” you whimper, biting your lip.

“yes, babydoll,” eren groans in agreement, cursing to himself as he slips his dick out, the two of you gasping from the disconnect, eren lifting himself from you. “bend over.”

you use the seat to turn yourself around, hiking yourself further up to give his big body space to settle behind you. you keep your thighs pressed together, shifting your ass back against him and arching your back low. you jump when he lands a heavy swat to your ass, hissing as his fingertips grip your flesh and bounce your ass back, mesmerized by how it moves. he draws his hips back, flexing his dick to make it jump into the right position to easily slide within your wet opening, the angle allowing him to hit deeper within your pussy than before.

“unh, sshit,” eren moans, hands grabbing either side of your hips and tugs you back, your ass clapping amongst his toned abdomen. your forehead is connected with the seat, mouth agape as you feel the swell of him slip in and out of you, eyes scrolling to the back of your skull.

“sshit, you’re so deep, ah!”

his thrusts become more forceful, hitting even deeper within your pussy. with every stroke, he feels himself getting closer to release. eren growls, his canines grazing your skin as he leans in to bite your neck, your filthy whine only serving to heighten his arousal. he continues to thrust hard into you, each movement sending you both closer to breakage.

“g’na cum, baby,” eren whimpers, rolling his waist into you, that pressure in his lower abdomen threatening to break.

“noo, don’t cum yet,” you whine, shaking your head pleadingly. “n-not there yet.”

“i won’t. won’t cum yet, baby,” he hisses in response. “wanna wait for daddy? so we can cum together?”

“mmnh, wanna cum with you, baby,” your head nods drunkenly, sightly blurry. your body aches from the lack of space in the car, but it felt so good to be overpowered by him. drilling his dick into you harder.

“take it f’me, ꒰♡꒱.”

“i’m taking it, baby. for you.”

“moan f’me,” his lips get closer to your ear, eren’s eyes squeezing tight, jaw wide as he fucks your pussy open.

“m-moaning for you, babyy-ah!”

“fuck it back f’me, act like you wanna get fucked,” eren growls in pleasure, his thrusts continuing.

“i’ll fuck it for you, fuck it for you,” you’re straight up sobbing now, rolling your ass back to meet his rough strokes, dripping down your inner thighs. you’d never been fucked this good before in your life. could have possibly been the chemistry, or the longing for him. “ooo-mnmg, i feel it.”

eren smirks, his hands moving to encircle your throat. his grip tightens slightly, cutting off your air supply, his clothed chest on your back and the coldness from his silver chain tickling your flesh. “eren, ima cum again. k-keep it there.”

your body shudders beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing as you feel your orgasm breaks through you, pussy clenching tightly around his cock and whimpering vehemently in his face, sobbing from your inability to withhold your orgasm as well as the overwhelming way he fucked you.

“ren,” you weep, reaching your hand behind yourself to try to push his hips away. but he doesn’t budge. eren grips your wrist to bend it still behind your back, slowing his movements the last motive.

“you came without me, baby. bad girl,” he tightens his grip on your wrist, giving an open mouthed kissed over the side of your face.

a small cry fell from your lips. "s-sorry. fuck, rennie . . please.”

"please, what?” he grits his teeth, the shortest hairs in front sticking to his forehead while the others threaten to fall loose from the small bun on the back of his head. the silver bracelets on his wrist clanking as he yanks you back to meet his aggressive thrusts.

"please, eren—s-slow. i’m sensitive.”

"that's not my name. what's my fuckin’ my name, ꒰♡꒱?" he grunts dominantly, pressing a harsh kiss to your temple, knowing what he needs.

"s-shit—daddy, please!”

despite your pleas, he keeps fucking you mercilessly, his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy with ease. the sensation of being buried within you is too intoxicating for him to stop.

“jus’ a little more, baby. please take it a lil more,” his hand lands heavily on your ass, slowing his thrusts a bit for your sake and to feel your pussy constrict and beg to swallow him deeper as he shifts his hips slightly back, the tip of his dick kissing your entrance before he’s shoving it back in. circling his hips, ass flexing and becoming apart of you, pushing him towards another climax.

“ooo, you fuckin’ me so good.”

“ ‘cause it’s you, ‘cause i love you.”

with a final powerful thrust, eren buries himself deep inside you. his cock twitches within your pussy, reaching in between to pull his dick out just in time, spurting his cum directly on your backside. your scream is deafening, covering your mouth and grinding your ass back as you cum again, unsure how that’s fucking possible. your body betrayed you, acting as if you’ve never been fucked in your whole life. but, truth be told, you’ve never gotten fucked that deep, or that good.

“fuck!” eren’s tone is deep, stroking his dick while his other hand held your ass, thrusting into his hand to draw out every ounce of cum you wanted out of him. eren nearly collapses onto you, panting heavily as he recovers from his orgasm, slowly softening but knowing he can go another round. maybe at your house this time.

he kisses your neck softly. “are you okay, love?”

you nod, heaving, mouth dry. trying to regain your vision. “y-yeah. m’good.”

before rolling off of you, he gives you another kiss before he’s climbing back into the drivers seat to pull his pants back up, fishing for a wipe inside of his center console.

you’re laying on your stomach now, cheek resting on your arms as you catch your breath, eren smiling down at you, kissing your spine as he wipes up his mess. “so pretty, baby.”

that makes you weaker than anything he’d just done to you, hiding your face within your arms, still looking at his gorgeous face. he loves you so much, it’s always been clear. you hate how long it’s taken you to realize that.

“i don’t have to think on it,” you suddenly say, eren staring intensely. your lips curve into a smile. “i know i love you too. for a while now.”

the sparkle in his eyes makes your heart absolutely melt. “for real?”

you nod. “yeah. my dream is to get you that big ass loft you want with the tall glass windows that overlook the city. decorate it how you want, be my pretty fuckin housewif—”

“shut. the. fuck. up,” eren sounds out, smushing your lips together so you wouldn’t see the redness in his face. of course you’d mock him. you giggle into his mouth, squeaking when he goes to tickle your hip, eren laughing when you turn to hit his arm.

“seriously, eren, i hate that shit!”

“blah, blah, blah. love you too.”

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hoshigray · 9 months ago

Note

reader flirting with some random guy for toji to fuck her senseless 🙏🙏🙏😭😭 really mean and sadistic toji with a really submissive reader

sorry for tbe filth im ltierally dying i want that man so bad

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: fuck yessssssss!! lmao not me writing this in a day

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: hard dom! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - rough sex - Daddy kink - choking - spitting - impact play; spanking - degradation (bitch, cumslut, fuckhole, slut, whore) - minimal praise - missionary + backshots/leapfrog positions - dumbification - pinching - pet names (baby, good girl, mama) - Toji is a bit mean here - mention of blood and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

Toji didn’t like what he was seeing.

You knew better, yet you still misbehaved.

Your boyfriend sees you from across the pub, mingling with some random guy at the bar top. You were smiling and laughing at the dude’s jokes, prompting the man to treat you to some drinks. To say that the display left a sour taste in Toji’s mouth would be an understatement, especially with how you would place your hands on the chump’s arm or lean into him to rest your head. How brazen of you.

Oh, but what really sealed the deal for him would be the occasional glances you’d throw his way. Your eyes honed on him briefly with a mischievous smile to complete the look before you went to your business — you knew what you were doing. And it made the older man’s brow twitch, rich green eyes observing your every move.

Just wait til’ we get home, brat. That’s all he can think of as you deliberately flaunt your autonomy. Because the moment you have your purposeful fun and return to Toji’s side, ready to go home, he takes you without a word. He doesn’t have to say anything, letting what will happen once you step inside the house speak for itself.

“—Ahhch!! Fuhucck!! Harder, Daddy, harder…!”

Have you ever been choked while being fucked into like a toy? That’s the treatment you’re receiving as you lie on the bed, Toji’s tough, calloused hands wrapped around your throat to restrict your breathing while he pistons his cock into you with inhumane force.

“Harder, they say,” he chuckles. “Who told you can boss me ‘round, huh?” His hold on your throat gets tighter, and the limitation of air becomes hard to avoid while turning you on even more with the clamp of your walls around his fat dick. “You got some nerve, actin’ like a real fuckin’ slut tonight, huh?”

The snap of his hips makes it difficult to respond to him appropriately, his girth stretching your insides so euphorically, and the scrape of your g-spot has you shaking. Fuck, it felt so fucking good, so rewarding to be used like this!

“Hahh…To’jii—Ehhck!!”

“Wrong name, whore.” His eyes narrowed, hands getting tighter and tighter that his fingernails pierced your skin, the pain adding to the suffocation.

Your watery orbs roll to the top of your head as dizziness creeps in. “Dad–dyy, I…can’t brea…” your lips agape, trying to gather whatever air you can.

Toji sees your open mouth, and with a wicked snicker, he spits into it. Your eyes widen instantly, but Toji uses one hand to squeeze your cheeks roughly. “Swallow,” he demands with a dark glint in his eyes. There’s a bit of a struggle, yet he senses you gulp his saliva down from the bob of your throat, and a shiver crawls down his spine when you show your clean mouth. “That’s a good girl…”

Don’t get blinded easily because he is not finished with you yet.

He’ll have your back faced to him, face down to the sheets, and butt up for him to plow. His hands keep your lower half to him at all times, rutting his pelvis so hard to your wet cunt that it rocks you against the mattress. Your asscheeks rebound with every smack of his hips, taking your breath away.

“Ooooh, hoooh, mmaahhh!” There is no way you could even make out a proper sentence, Toji grinding into your soapy slit has you shrieking from his cockhead grazing those sweet spots your could never reach.

Unbeknownst to you, the older man surprises you with a hard slap to your ass. The action pulls you out of your daze for a split second to scream, and your vagina inherently contracts onto his length. He hisses, “Hssshhiit, baby, fuckin’ grippin’ on me and making so much damn noise like a bitch in heat...Hey, I’m talkin’ to you.” Another smack to your butt for not responding to him, prompting a rushed wail to leave your lips. “Heh, damn slut, can’t even talk to me; all you’re thinking about is my dick, right?” He slowly pulls his cock back to hear your whining, a salacious grin grows by the inch when he snaps the limb back inside your warmth, and you grip the sheets. “Mmmph, fuck, this pussy is too crazy…”

Another slap to your butt makes you tremble and twitch, peering over your shoulder to look at the man behind you. Jesus, he looked so hot the way he was drilling his dick into you. The sounds of skin slapping against each other brings the room to life. “—Fuuahh, haahnn, Daddyyy…!”

The raven-haired man notices you observing him, chuckling before placing a hand on your head to smoosh it back down to the sheets. “Who the fuck told ya to look over here?” He strikes your ass once more, his fingertips stinging crescents into your hot skin. He's so rough with you that you know there will be blood from those scratches.

The weight of his hand on your head feels so strong, unable to move as his entire brawny frame has you submit to his bow. “Daddyyyy, ohh fuuuck,” you mewl for him to hear. “It shfeels sho g’ood…!” God, you sound so fucking stupid. Your brain dissolves into mush, and your body corrupted by his powerful dominance. “God, it sh’o gooood! Give me more, pleaseee!!”

“There they go asking for more, fuckin’ fuckhole,” he groans under his breath, grinding his pelvis to your chasm to listen to your sweet begs for pleasure. “Easy there, mama; I’ll give ya what ya want...Hgghh…You wanna cum for Daddy again, right?”

Drool streams down from your lips to stain the sheets beneath. “Yesshhh, yes pleaseee…! Ohhh!” He slaps and pinches your asscheeks again; Good Lord, his strikes were not meant for the weak.

“Then stay still, look all pretty, and keep wringin’ me out like the cumslut you are, got it?” You babble more sounds of agreement, thoughtless on whether they are actual words. You amuse him to remove his hand from your head and back to your hips, propelling you to stick to him again as his hips strike your ass with a hungry vigor.

“That’s my girl…”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

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chikaras-garden · 1 year ago

Text

Batboys as your sugar daddy

What’s the point of all this money if you don’t have someone to spend it on?

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem!reader

Contains: Sugar daddies. Possessive, controlling men. Power imbalances. They’re all a little toxic. These relationships are not aspirational babes. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Dick’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.

BRUCE WAYNE 💋

“Wear the diamonds,” Bruce rumbles from behind you, lips right next to the shell of your ear. Before you can answer, his warm hands are already on your throat, and cool platinum touches your skin. A hundred diamonds arranged in three dainty layers sparkle in the low light of Bruce’s bedroom, clinging tightly to your neck.

With the choker clasped in place, one of Bruce’s hands traces up and down your neck while the other rests heavily on your hip, holding you flush against his chest. His touch is hypnotic, pulling you in like a planet pulls a moon into orbit. Your whole world revolves around him—and that’s exactly how he likes it.

But like the moon, the subtle gravitational pull you have on him keeps him in place, keeps him stable, calms his most wicked of storms.

He bows his head. The way he looks at you through his eyelashes is almost reverent while he kisses your bare shoulder, skin interrupted only by your dress’s hair-thin silk strap.

“Beautiful,” he says, and you know he’s not talking about the necklace, the dress, or any of the other jewels and silks he’s drowned you in over the last year.

When your eyes meet in the mirror, one corner of his lips quirks up into a smirk, which he buries under a kiss to your jaw.

There, with a quick, sharp nip of his teeth, he lays his claim. “And all mine.”

DICK GRAYSON 💋

Dick’s on his knees, head buried between your legs when you hear—feel—him say, “I need you to take a week off work.”

Well. What he really needs is for you to just quit your job already, but you got upset the last time he suggested it. Baby steps. For now.

“Why?” you gasp, blinking hard as you try to focus on the fact that he’s starting a conversation now when his tongue is making you smart and shake with pleasure.

“I want to go to the Maldives,” he says as if it’s the most inconsequential thing in the world, as if he’s saying he wants to go across town, not across the world.

His tongue flattens out and dips into your weeping hole, and your thighs tighten around his head in response. He groans, and you choke out, “A week for the Maldives?”

You feel his lips twist and curve around you, paired with a little graze of teeth; he’s smiling, and the sensation makes you dizzy. There it is, he wants to say. You want more. Finally, your expectations are starting to match his bank account.

But he decides to play the dumb, pretty boyfriend he likes to make people think he is. “You don’t think it’s enough time? Wanna take two weeks?”

“I don’t have the—” He kisses up to your clit and gives it a tentative little suck, which makes you fist his hair. “—vacation days.”

“Why don’t you just take them without pay?” he proposes as his tongue laves up your swollen sex. “It’ll be okay, just this once. You’ll feel so much better after some time off; I promise.”

JASON TODD 💋

Jason is currently scrutinizing the contents of your pantry, a box of macaroni and cheese in his hand. After seeing the scowl on his face, you’re not surprised when he starts to lecture you. “You eat this crap?”

You raise a brow because he’s one to judge. “I’ve seen you eat an entire party box of tacos.”

“I’m not you,” he fires back. His voice is still low, still calm, but you can sense an edge in his tone; this conversation is about a lot more than boxed macaroni and cheese.

In the beat of silence that follows, his heated gaze dulls to a smolder. “You don’t know how precious you are.”

You open your mouth to reply, but whatever retort you were going to argue back with is silenced when Jason’s big hands cup your face, tilting your head up so he can kiss your forehead. He lingers there, and you feel him tremble. His breath is ragged, rough—as if he’s afraid.

“I’m not you,” he repeats in a whisper. It’s like he’s talking to a child, like he knows you don’t know any better. Poor little you—you need him. “Just let me take care of you like always, okay? How about I sign you up for one of those meal prep kits? No more processed food; it’s not good for you.”

When he pulls you against his chest and strokes your hair, you feel yourself nod, unable to disagree. You know he’s right, after all; and isn’t it sweet that he treats you like a delicate angel even though he’s seen the worst of the world? That nothing without his stamp of approval is good enough for you?

TIM DRAKE 💋

“Oh, you’re all set,” your manicurist smiles at you as soon as you take out your wallet, nails freshly done.

Caught off guard, all you can reply with is, “Huh?”

She just smiles a little brighter, and there’s a sparkle of something in her eyes. It looks a little wistful, but also a little vapid—is that jealousy? “Your boyfriend paid already,” she explains as her eyes not-so-subtly look around, trying to catch a glimpse of said boyfriend, but you’re just as surprised as she is.

“For the next year,” she adds in a dry tone. Slowly, you drop your wallet back into your purse. There’s only one man alive who could figure out where you get your nails done, what day and time you like your appointments, and call ahead to pay off your manicures for the next year without you ever finding out about it.

So when you get back to your car, you call him.

“Do anything fun today?” he asks over the phone, pretending to be way more innocent than he actually is.

“Tim—”

“Actually,” he cuts in, and you hear a bashful tremor in his voice. That tremor makes your stomach do flips, which beckons you to give in to whatever he wants. “I was just thinking about you. You’ve got the prettiest hands.”

“Tim—”

“Let’s go shopping later,” he rambles on, completely ignoring you. “I think you need some new jewelry. You’d like a new set of rings, wouldn’t you?”

🔖: @mrs-kurooo; @lovely-loren05

#bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #red hood x reader #batfam x reader #🌸— mine.#🌸— bruce wayne.#🌸— dick grayson.#🌸— jason todd.#🌸— tim drake.

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syluslnd · 4 months ago

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hi hi! i really like your works! 💓💓 hehe can i request fluff (not smut) sylus who love to... lean into mc's breast? like, using her breast as a pillow! fluff yes! thank you 💓

sylus who loves to use your breasts as a pillow

You're focused on cooking, minding your own business when suddenly, two familiar arms wrap around you from behind. You barely have a second to react before you feel yourself being effortlessly lifted off your feet.

"Sylus!" you yelp, laughing in surprise as he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. His strong grip is unyielding as he pulls you close to his chest, that familiar smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Sorry sweetie but l've decided you're done for the day”he says casually, as if this whole thing was part of the plan.

You squirm a bit, though you know full well you won't be escaping. "I was cooking! You can't just-"

"I can and I did." His voice is smooth, teasing, with that unmistakable edge of dominance as he strides toward his bed.

"Besides, you're far more important than whatever you were making."

Before you can protest further, he lays you down on the bed with a gentle but purposeful motion, immediately following you down so that his weight pins you beneath him. You feel the warmth of him pressing into you, his chest flush against yours as he props himself up just enough to look into your eyes, that mischievous glint dancing there.

"Mmm, this is much better” he drawls, leaning down to nuzzle your neck, his lips grazing your skin. "I think you make a perfect pillow, kitten."

You can't help but giggle at his words, though you shoot him a mock glare. "I was in the middle of something important."

His grin widens as he shifts his position slightly, laying more of his weight on you until you feel completely enveloped by him.

"Not anymore, you're not. Now, you're all mine." He leans in closer, whispering in a low, teasing tone, "You're not leaving this bed anytime soon."

Your heart skips at the playful threat but there's no denying the comfort in how he's settled against you, his body warm and heavy, keeping you right where he wants you and then, without warning, his hand slides to your chest, fingers tracing along the curve of your breasts, his touch light but undeniably intentional.

"Perfect" he murmurs, his voice teasing but his gaze intense as he gives you a playful squeeze. "I could stay like this forever."

You squirm under his touch, your cheeks heating up. "Sylus, seriously..."

But he's not having it. "Nope. You're my pillow now, sweetie." He punctuates his words with another squeeze, clearly enjoying the way your breath catches. "Can't have my pillow running off, can I?"

You huff, knowing full well you're not going anywhere. His weight keeps you pinned and the way he's playing with you-both physically and with his words-has you feeling light-headed. "You're impossible” you murmur, though you can't hide the smile tugging at your lips.

His grin turns wicked as he brushes his lips against your ear. "You love it." His fingers lazily tease along your sides before returning to your chest, cupping you with a mix of possessiveness and playfulness. "These are perfect. I think I'll keep you right here for a while, kitten."

You try to shift beneath him but he just presses down a little harder, effectively trapping you. "Where do you think you're going? I told you, you're not leaving." His tone is sweet but firm, a soft command wrapped in teasing.

You sigh, half-annoyed but mostly amused because, really, there's no escaping Sylus once he's got you like this. He leans in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, his weight still fully resting on you as he lets out a satisfied hum.

"Get comfortable” he whispers, his voice low and playful. "You're mine for the rest of the night."

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #sylus #sylus x you

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lilislegacy · 5 months ago

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leo: you know it’s funny when i see all my friends fight monsters. because as the most powerful demigods alive, everyone gets the job done. but everyone does it so differently

chiron: how so?

leo: well jason is like a robot, or some fighting machine, because with all his training he’s so programmed and concise. frank is basically the bipolar animal version of the hulk. piper is weirdly calm and seductive with her “you think what i tell you to think” voice. annabeth is methodical and sneaky and alarmingly brutal. nico is just creepy as hell. and hazel’s like a freaky witch with all her voodoo magic shit

chiron: all great descriptions. and percy?

leo: oh percy’s just a crazy son of a bitch

chiron, chuckling: and you’re not?

leo: hey i may be ADHD off the walls, and i do make some crazy plans, but that dude should be deemed legally insane. i once saw him jump onto the back of a giant sea monster, stab it with a narwhal’s tusk, and then ride a great white shark around as he lassoed monsters with kelp ropes. and the entire time, he was singing a cage the elephant song

chiron, nodding thoughtfully: “ain’t no rest for the wicked?”

leo: no actually it was “around my head.” guy’s got great taste

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another-lost-mc · 7 months ago

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Welcome Home: When MC returns from the past.

Featuring: The Demon Brothers x gn!Reader

SFW // Content: Bittersweet angst with a happy ending. It's implied that MC has been gone for a significant amount of time and that the demon brothers spiraled after MC disappeared. Includes mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms including: drinking; implied self-isolation, depression; destructive or violent behaviour; mention of blood/injuries; mentions of Lesson 16 events. 6.9k words.

Read The Worst Goodbye (part one) here.

LUCIFER

Lucifer glances at the clock on his desk and sighs wearily, rubbing the heel of his palms against his eyes.

He already knows it’s going to be another long night of forcing himself to focus on filling out paperwork, on preparing student council memos and the countless other tasks he’s taken upon himself since you disappeared.

A cursed record plays quietly and the fire in the hearth crackles each time a log shifts or splinters.

A nearly-empty glass of Demonus leaves a rim of condensation on the dark wood desk. He used to keep track of the days that have passed in your absence, but now he counts the empty bottles of that bittersweet amber drink instead.

It’s not only his own vices that weigh heavily on his mind; his brothers aren’t faring any better without you. Their behaviour swings wildly from bored indifference to reckless abandon. He’s not sure what’s worse: forcing them from their rooms when some of them refuse to go to class or work (or eat and bathe or shower), or dealing with their chaos when they decide to replace grief and misery with the wicked temptations and misdeeds of their sins.

You would be disappointed in them, he thinks. You would be disappointed in them all.

But what else can they possibly do while they wait for some glimmer of hope that you’ll come home again?

He remembers the tense conversation he had with Diavolo about your situation after you disappeared with barely a hint of warning. All he had were Solomon’s vague assurances of your eventual return to comfort him.

Lucifer listened to Diavolo’s insufficient apologies and condolences, but he couldn’t help but glance at Barbatos whose sharp gaze was at odds with the neutral expression on his face. He wondered how much the butler knew about your misfortune, and he’s wondered since then if he should’ve fought harder to force him to bring you back from wherever you were.

Now he passes his time with busywork because he has no one to remind him not to work. He drinks too much to dull the pain in his head and his heart. He sleeps on the couch in his office, or sometimes he slumps on his desk when exhaustion consumes him, because it’s better than lying in his large, empty bed alone.

It shouldn’t have surprised Lucifer that Cerberus eventually realized you were gone too. He went to the family tomb one evening, startled awake by three mournful howls that shook the foundations of the house. He used the bit of magic that gave Cerberus a manageable house-friendly size and without warning, the dog ran past him up the stairs. When Lucifer found him again, the three-headed dog was whining pitifully and pawing at your bedroom door.

Lucifer hadn’t entered your room since you left, but he had to prove that you weren’t there. That didn’t stop his hound from searching the rest of the house before returning to Lucifer’s side, ears drooping and each head whining in confusion as they bumped against his legs.

Cerberus has barely left his side since, trailing after him and sleeping in front of the fire while Lucifer’s pen scratches quietly across the papers on his desk.

Lucifer contemplates giving up on his work for the night and resting on the sofa, but he frowns when Cerberus stands up suddenly and trots across the room. The door must not have been closed tight because he nudges the door open with one of his snouts. All three heads tilt curiously and he sniffs noisily. Lucifer rises from his chair with a curse when the hound bolts out of the room, howling as he runs out of the library and into the dark hallway past.

Lucifer’s steps are slow and clumsy at first as he shakes off his desperate need for sleep, but he needs to catch the noisy creature first. The last thing he wants to deal with right now is his brothers waking up in the middle of the night in foul moods and causing even more of a ruckus.

The dog’s strange howling stops somewhere near the front of the house, and Lucifer freezes when he turns the corner just in time to see Cerberus knock someone to the floor.

You.

He knocked you to the floor so each of his heads could yip excitedly and lick at your face. When you laugh and try to push the animal away, Cerberus plops down on your legs and seems content to keep you trapped there.

Lucifer, staring wide-eyed and speechless, takes a hesitant step, and then another, before breaking into a run.

It’s not long after that when each of his brothers each stumble drowsily into the hallway, grumbling and snarling and glaring because of the loud disturbance that woke them from their sleep.

Their tempers die down and it's utter chaos when they process the sight in front of them: Lucifer chuckling while you hold each other in the middle of the hallway floor near your bedroom, the Avatar of Pride wearing a rare smile and with even rarer tears shining in his eyes, and Cerberus panting happily nearby as if he was the one who brought you home for his grumpy master to find.

MAMMON

Mammon spins in a slow circle where he dangles from the dining room ceiling. The rope binding his hands behind his back doesn't budge no matter how hard he tries to rip it apart and set himself free.

"Yo, someone get me down from here, will ya? All this spinning's makin' me dizzy!"

But he knows it's useless. None of his brothers will test Lucifer's short fuse by setting Mammon free, and there aren't any brave humans around to help him anymore.

"It wasn't even that bad. I swear I was gonna return it..." Mammon grumbles to himself. So what if he's gotten a little reckless lately? He's no worse than his brothers are, but that arrogant prat Lucifer doesn't tie them up like this.

He braces himself for a long, boring day, spinning for hell knows how long, until Lucifer remembers to set him free.

"Oh no. Mammon. What did you do to upset him this time?"

His body jerks when he hears—thinks he hears a familiar voice. He recognizes the silhouette of the shadow that stands in the doorway briefly before stepping towards him, but he shakes his head like it’ll make the illusion fade away.

That's gotta be his imagination, right?

"You son of a—this is a cheap shot, even for you," Mammon snarls, cursing Lucifer for teasing him with an illusion of all things. Why else would you suddenly appear before him like a dream - or a nightmare - except to taunt him?

Isn't suffering without you punishment enough?

“Here, let me help you…” The voice is quieter now, but close. Gentle hands tug uselessly at the cursed rope holding him in place and he clenches his eyes shut tight and reminds himself that you’re not here.

But then he recognizes the sound of a tongue clicking in frustration, the barely-audible murmurs about Lucifer needing to loosen up, and he crumples in a heap on the floor when a spell he doesn’t recognize causes the ropes to vanish without a trace.

He bumps into someone’s legs when he rolls over, but he doesn’t get up. He throws an arm over his eyes instead.

It's not you, it's not you, it's not you—

But he grunts when a heavy weight suddenly plops down on top of him and he can’t help but breathe deep when a familiar scent tickles his nose. It makes him shiver, gives him hope, and he whimpers.

You nudge his arm aside so you can cup his cheeks in your palms and force him to look at you. Your thumbs swipe away the tears that slip from the corner of his eyes; you're not sure if the sound that rips from his throat is a sob or a laugh.

He stares at you for a long time before he speaks again, and for the first time in ages, he feels something other than pain.

"Don't you dare think of leavin' me behind the next time you decide to disappear like that," he threatens. There's no heat in his voice, only slow acceptance and relief that you're finally back where you belong—with him.

He crushes you against his chest in a tight hug while you whisper apologies into the crook of his neck, and you stay that way - curled together in the middle of the dining room floor - until the others find you later.

LEVIATHAN

Thump-thump-thump.

Levi's TV across the room drones on quietly, a random anime DVD playing on repeat for the dozenth time, but he doesn't pay attention to it.

Thump-thump-thump.

Levi's computer pings faintly, barely audible over the hum of Henry's aquarium. He hasn't sat at his desk in ages, he hasn't logged in for any of his gaming events or guild raids and he stopped keeping track of what his favourite idols are up to. Notifications on his social media accounts and emails are ignored and left unread.

Thump-thump-thump.

His D.D.D. vibrates somewhere in the tangled mess of blankets and pillows underneath him but he ignores that too. It's probably Lucifer reminding him that he needs to go to class sometime this week.

Unlike his brothers, Levi's not going to pretend he's fine.

He hasn't been fine for a long time.

Thump-thump-

A knock on his door startles him and his tail stops thrumming against the side of his porcelain tub. He pokes his head out from the nest of blankets he buried himself in and glares at the door across the room. The orange of his irises flare in a menacing glow from underneath the hood pulled over his head, the drawstrings chewed and frayed ages ago.

Everyone knows not to bother him. It was a very simple request.

Are they stupid?

He pulls himself out of the tub with his teeth bared. Maybe a little scuffle with one of his nosy siblings will make him feel better—will make him feel something.

He yanks the door open but freezes when he recognizes you, standing in front of him as if you didn't vanish from his life without a trace. Your knuckles are raised like you were about to knock again, and you rock back and forth on your heels as you lower your hand in embarrassment.

Levi's mouth flaps open and shut, but before you can say anything, he lets out a high-pitched squeak and slams the door shut in your face.

That's not the worst reaction you imagined, so you consider it a win.

You press your ear against the door. There's shuffling inside his room, the faint sounds of something hitting the sides of his tub. You knock again softly to warn him before you push the door open and let yourself inside.

Aside from the glow from the aquarium, his room is dark and suffocating. You step gingerly over the piles of books and movies strewn haphazardly across the floor; he never used to be so careless with his collections. An empty food wrapper crinkles under your foot and you hope he hasn't been surviving only on his private stash of imported candy.

There's a familiar lumpy shape laying across the bottom of the tub when you peer over the edge. His sniffles are muffled by the blankets and pillows he's hiding under. The only part of him you can see is his tail that dangles limply over the side.

You sit down next to his tail, careful not to touch it in case he doesn't want you to. It was always a sensitive part of himself and he didn't like others touching it so freely; you're not sure he'll grant you that privilege again anytime soon.

"Levi?"

His tail twitches at the sound of your voice. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes peer out from a gap in his little hideaway. There's a lot of emotion swirling in the gaze that narrows at you suspiciously: pain, confusion, anger—all tempered with the tiniest bit of hope.

You lean forward and press your hand against him where you think the curve of his shoulder is. You're gentle enough that he can ignore it or shake you off if he wants. His body deflates under your hesitant touch like he finally let go of the breath he's been holding for so long. He blinks at you, eyes widening as he dares himself to believe you're actually there. More of his face peeks out at you when he slowly peels the blanket away.

"I'm back." The words croak out of you, and your voice is watery like the tears that sting your eyes. His only response is a wounded noise he makes at the back of his throat. You recognize it instantly—you made sounds just like it when you were first torn away from here. Away from him.

You know you have so much to explain and apologize for, and you don't even know where to start, but before you can say anything else, his tail coils around your wrist. You tumble forward when he pulls you down into the tub with him. His arms and legs and tail curl themselves around you, and if you didn't miss him as much as you did, you might complain about how uncomfortable it is.

He mumbles apologies into your chest because he was convinced that whatever happened to you was his fault somehow.

You spend a long time trying to reassure him it wasn't his fault at all.

SATAN

As soon as you get your bearings, stumbling in your room where the portal suddenly dropped you, you want to see Satan. You need to see him.

You love him. You missed him. You worried about him, and you worried for him. He might not always show his rage or act on his violent impulses with you anymore, but you can only imagine what he must've felt when you disappeared.

You saw what he was like before—young, lost, bewildered and so unspeakably angry—and you need to see for yourself what's happened since your untimely absence.

It's disorienting trying to make your way out of your bedroom. It's dark and a bit dusty, and the furniture isn't quite where you left it. You bump your knee and trip more than once making your way to the door. The knob sticks as if it hasn't been opened in ages.

Part of you pushes down the sting that maybe the brothers abandoned your room completely and tried to pretend you didn't exist since you’ve been gone.

(If you could see better in the near darkness, you'd know that most of your bookshelves and drawers are almost empty, picked clean by each of the siblings who took your belongings to keep in their rooms instead.)

Nothing can prepare you for what you find when you head up the stairs to the second floor and stop in front of Satan’s door, or what's left of it. There's giant gashes in the wood and you're careful not to scratch your arm on the sharp splinters where claws (or perhaps his tail) broke through it.

You used to tease Satan about the stacks of books he kept on the floor, organized chaos to anyone but him because he could tell you exactly where each and every book was kept. There's no wobbly piles of books on the floor to stumble into now. Broken book spines and torn pages litter the ground beneath your feet, and you can feel the crunch of glass that you assume are the remains of his old lanterns. Even his bed is barely recognizable—the mattress is ripped to shreds and the frame is bent and disjointed.

His bedroom is the embodiment of the fury deep inside him when he realized you were gone. Missing. Taken. And for all his power and his intelligence and wit, even he couldn't find a way to bring you back.

It wasn't your fault either, but faced with the evidence of his misery, you can't help but feel guilty.

You leave his room and in your daze, your feet lead you to the library next. There's a small part of you that fears Satan might've laid waste to another precious room in the house, but there's a flickering light underneath the doorway and you're hopeful it might be intact after all.

Like your room, the library's not quite the same as it was before. The shelves aren't as orderly, as if whoever's been reading the books and ancient tomes couldn't be bothered to put them back properly. There's a small stack of dishes piled on the table near the sofa—a strange sight because everyone knows it bothers Satan if they eat or drink in here. He hated the idea of spills or greasy fingerprints ruining the books by accident. Next to the sofa, a pile of books catches your eye because they're yours, taken from the bookshelves in your room. The spines are creased as if they've been read over and over again, acting as a poor replacement for your company.

There's a soft groan and you suddenly notice the figure laid back on the sofa. A familiar tuft of Satan's blonde hair rests on your pillow and your blanket spills over his legs and waist and onto the floor. The library is his temporary room, the sofa a makeshift bed where he keeps reminders of you close by, and he breathes deeply while he sleeps. His brow is creased as if he's unhappy even in his dreams.

You take a step forward and debate whether you should wake him up or not when the air shifts around you.

He moves faster than you can track with your eyes, launching himself off the couch and pinning you to the floor before you can even stutter out his name. His emerald gaze flickers with fiery rage, his hot breath fanning across your face, and his chest rumbles with a deep, predatory warning. His tail rises menacingly behind him and your throat runs dry at the very real threat hovering over you.

"S-Satan..."

It's almost comical, the way his eyes widen with recognition when you stutter out his name. He drinks in your appearance and by the time he scrambles off you and his demon form is gone. When he was confident in his anger moments ago, now he hesitates when he reaches out to you. He's not sure if you're really there or simply a mirage, the remnants of a dream he wishes he didn't have to wake up from.

As soon as you open your arms to him, he's in your embrace and nearly topples you both over in his haste to be close to you. His hands smooth up your arms and he cradles your jaw, tilting your head slowly as he checks for any sign of injury. He bumps his nose against yours when he's satisfied that you're unharmed, whether by his own hand or from someone else's, and he smiles a bit sheepishly when you do.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"I'm sorry I left you."

He seems content holding you on the library floor, nuzzling against your temple and inhaling the familiar scent of your skin. It's such a simple thing, but he enjoys it.

He hasn't felt this relaxed in ages.

"I saw your room." You're not sure why you blurt that out of all the things you could talk about instead. "I went there first to find you."

He clears his throat and turns away as pink dusts his cheeks. "Ah, well...I might've gone overboard." He's quiet for a moment before he looks at you, feigning a look of innocence that poorly masks the amusement underneath. "If I told you it was Lucifer's fault, would you believe me?"

Laughter bubbles out of you and he chuckles too. "Not a chance! But I'll help you no matter whose fault it was. There's nothing we can't fix together, right?"

"I'd like that," he murmurs against your cheek.

ASMODEUS

Asmo was heading to the kitchen when he crashed into someone coming out of your bedroom. His arms flailed wildly at his sides while he tried to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling over. He ran his fingers through the curtain of hair that fell into his eyes, and the venomous anger pouring from his mouth came to a screeching halt when he realized the person he bumped into was you.

Your eyes were wide with shock, but you couldn't decide what surprised you more: colliding with your beloved demon after so many dreary days forced apart, or the anger that poured from him in waves.

"I'm back," you explained dumbly. Obviously. But he blinked his eyes rapidly like he wouldn't believe it.

"How?! I mean, when did you—?"

Whatever he was going to say next caught in his throat as his eyes flitted over your appearance. His gaze was critical, honing in on the smallest little details, the things that are different from the way you looked when he last saw you. Something about your hands gets his attention, and he holds them both gently in his palms.

"Oh, hon, who's been helping you with your nails? The polish is chipped."

His mood shifts so rapidly that it gives you whiplash, and you glance down at your fingers. Maybe it has been a few days, and sure, they might look a little worse for wear, but you're baffled that he noticed that of all things.

"Well, technically, you've been doing them for me." You smile gently at the joke because his past self was just as attentive to your needs and loved taking care of you in the simplest ways.

It might be the wrong thing to admit out loud, though. The guarded look Asmo gives you is so cold, so detached that the amusement fades from your expression.

"The least I can do is help clean these up for you now that you're back, hmm?" His voice is loud and a bit shrill, cracking on some of the words. He spins on his heel and tugs on your hand as he heads towards the staircase.

He doesn't notice - or maybe he just doesn't care - that the commotion reached the dining room. His brothers stumble into the hallway and you can't make out anything they're saying as they all rush towards you and try to talk over each other.

A terrifying growl rips through the hallway and startles them all into silence. it makes your skin crawl because you know the sound came from Asmo. His brothers don't seem impressed by him attempting to keep you to himself when you've just returned, but his aura crackles with something menacing and even Lucifer thinks twice about trying to stop him.

"We'll talk to you after you've had a moment to catch up in private," he suggests loudly. Asmo huffs in annoyance but his pace doesn't falter. He holds your hand tightly in his grip and you have little choice but to follow him up the steps towards his room. You shoot Lucifer and his brothers an apologetic glance before they disappear from view.

You're nearly at the top of the steps when a flurry of movement on the ground startles you. Familiar black shapes weave between your legs and snap teasingly at your ankles. You curl against Asmo's back with a nervous little yelp.

"They won't hurt you, you know that," he reminds you with a coo, and there's a gentle cadence to his voice that reminds you so much of the demon you missed all this time. He winks at you over his shoulder before he looks down at the scorpion familiars skittering on the floor, each of them radiating the faint pink glow of his power. "They'll make sure my brothers don't bother us."

As soon as Asmo ushers you into his room, he steers you gently towards his bed. The smile curling his lips looks strained. "Wait for a moment, darling, I'm going to—"

You reach for the sleeve of his dressing gown and stop him from leaving to do whatever he had planned. "Asmo, wait." You pat the bed. "I don't care about that right now. My nails can wait until later."

He bites his lip and his eyes are glassy as they fill with tears. He sniffles a little under his breath and wipes his face with his sleeve. "But I'm the one who's supposed to take care of you, not—" he looks away as his cheeks turn splotchy. "It's not fair that he was there for you when you belong here with me." He bites his bottom lip when it starts to quiver and he chokes out a sob. "I missed you so much."

You glance around his bedroom and his strange behaviour starts to make sense when you notice all the small things he's changed while you've been gone.

His vanity and closets are cluttered and not organized flawlessly like usual.

Your eyes pause on a strange, heart-shaped stain on his vanity mirror that you’re too nervous to ask about right now.

(In a moment of frustration, he smashed his fist into the glass the first night you disappeared. He repaired it with magic but smears of blood remained even when the cracks in the mirror vanished. He drew the little heart with his fingertip while he whispered your name like he thought it might summon you back to him, and he cried when it didn’t.)

His bed smells like the fragrance you normally wear, something you brought with you from the human world and he claimed he didn't like very much.

He removed his pillow cases and slipped some of your shirts over his pillows instead.

You wonder how you didn't realize sooner that the dressing gown he's wearing is yours, one of many gifts he gave you after you started dating.

His room is filled with your belongings, things he clung desperately to while he hoped and begged for you to come back to him.

"I think tonight we should take care of each other then, don't you?"

You hold your hand out to him, and it only takes a moment for him to stumble over to the bed. He gathers you in his arms and holds you so tightly that it's hard to breathe, like he's scared to let you go. You tangle your fingers in his clothes because you're just as needy as he is.

He whimpers your name against your neck, interspersed with little kisses that are featherlight but still enough to make your head spin; your tears roll down your cheeks and mix with his, and they're wet and salty on his lips. He murmurs an inaudible mantra as he drags his mouth over your jaw so he can kiss you properly, and it leaves you both breathless.

—I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

The others aren't surprised at all when you and Asmo lock yourselves away in his room 'til morning.

BEELZEBUB

The joy of returning home turns bitter in your heart when you realize Beel isn't there. His brothers are in the dining room and hear the noise when the portal unceremoniously drops you in the middle of your bedroom floor. They hear a thump and a soft oof! and by the time they scramble out of their seats and into the hall, you're already stumbling through the door and rubbing the soreness from your back.

The weight of six demons attempting to hug you drags you back down to the floor, but this time you're cushioned in someone's lap and suddenly the floor doesn't seem all that bad. Even though you're being squeezed within an inch of your life and they're all talking (and crying and stuttering) over each other, their voices are similar yet so different from the ones you heard in the past, you can't bring yourself to care.

By the time they quiet down to give you a chance to get a word in, you're hugged and warmed and loved like you haven't been in a long time.

The only thing that's bittersweet about your long-awaited reunion is Beel's absence.

"He's at Fangol practice," Belphie says. His voice is slightly muffled since he can't seem to stop nuzzling your shoulder. "He should be home soon."

Asmo's fingers are already tapping quickly across his D.D.D. "I tried calling already but he didn't answer. He'll want to know you're back."

"He might not see the message in the middle of practice," Lucifer warns him from somewhere at your back. "Perhaps one of us should go get him?"

There's a tinkling ping not long after and Asmo waves his phone in your face, but you can't possibly read it.

"Ha! And you thought it would be a waste of time, hmm? Well, I'll have you know that Beel said...'ok'? Huh." Asmo winces when disappointment flickers across your face at Beel's lack-of response. "I'm sure he's excited to see you! You know he's not very fond of texting."

"I think I'll wait for him in his room." The brothers slowly detangle themselves from you and return to the dining room to give you some privacy. They might not like it, but they know that something happened between you and Beel before you disappeared.

You turn around at the sound of footsteps jogging behind you and see Belphie trying to catch up. "I didn't want to say anything with the others around," he says quietly, "but you don't have anything to worry about. I already know he's rushing home to see you even if he didn't say he was."

"How can you be so sure?" You sniffle quietly and stare at your feet. "We had the worst fight before I—before what happened, and he was so angry."

Belphie glances at you over his shoulder as he pushes open the door to the bedroom he shares with his twin. “Trust me when I say that he’s not angry anymore, alright?”

You step into the room behind Belphie and instantly glance at the side of the room where Beel sleeps. You didn’t realize that your bed was stripped before but your pillows and blankets ended up on his bed. There are framed photos of you and Beel on his bedside table, and the sign you made for his last Fangol game - the one you missed when you disappeared - is hanging on the wall.

“I can’t believe he kept that,” you whisper. The bright, sparkly paint spells out Beel’s name and jersey number in large, bubbly writing. The edges of the poster board are frayed and bent, but it’s obvious he tried to preserve it.

Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him after all.

Thundering steps outside catch your attention and you turn around in time to see Beel lean against the doorway like he sprinted home.

There are bags from Hell’s Kitchen hanging from Beel’s arm but Belphie hops off his bed and plucks the bags from his brother with a hum. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for later.” He pauses and gives his brother a pointed look, nodding not-too-discreetly in your direction, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

You’re not sure how long you stare at each other. His eyes take greedily over your face and body and he frowns like he’s scrutinizing your appearance, trying to see how—if—you’ve changed, searching out any potential injuries you might be hiding and how he can punish those responsible.

Likewise, you take in his field-worn appearance, the grass stains and dirt that clings to his uniform and skin. His hair is matted down and he smells strongly of evening dew and sweat.

He’s filthy and grimy but you’ve never wanted him more in your life.

He grunts when you nearly launch yourself into his arms. Maybe later he’ll feel guilty about ruining your clothes with mud from the Fangol pitch, but when he breathes in deep and soaks in the familiar scent of your skin, all those insignificant problems melt away.

“I brought dinner for us,” he murmurs quietly as his cheek nuzzles against you. “If you don’t mind putting up with seeing me like this a little bit longer, I’d like to eat with you before I shower.” His chapped lips brush over your brow. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You cup his cheek and offer him a bright and teary-eyed smile. “And you know what? I think I’m starving.”

It’s not long after that containers of your favorite takeout are spread out on the dining room table. The others have vanished, probably at Belphie’s insistence, and you’re grateful to have this quiet time together.

If you end up in his lap while he practically feeds you, sneaking little tastes for himself with lingering kisses he presses gently to your mouth, that’s no one else’s business but yours and his.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie can't remember the last time he's gone this long without a proper night's sleep. When his brothers have trouble sleeping, plagued by haunted memories and their most insidious fears, he can put their minds at ease.

He tells himself it's a selfish gesture, because if his brothers' dreams are too vivid or too disturbing or too terrible for him to ignore, he can't sleep either.

The truth is, he doesn't want them to suffer.

Unfortunately, the Avatar of Sloth has no such saviour to save him from his own bad dreams. He can't call them nightmares because that's not what they are. They're fragments of memory and echoes of his deepest desires that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

More often than not, his brothers’ dreams are haunted by the ghost of you that disappeared without a trace. Every night when someone dreams of you, Belphie dreams of you too.

It reminds him of the cold, slippery sensation the night that your consciousness was dragged away into the unknown. The place in his dreamscape where your little pond of dreams and nightmares used to be is a black void in his subconscious, a gaping wound in his mind that rivals the empty spot in his bed where you used to sleep. Your warmth is gone and it leaves his sheets and heart bitter-cold.

Today, Belphie wakes up from a rowdy disturbance coming from somewhere else in the house.

His brothers can be so loud sometimes.

The voices downstairs that wake him quiet into an excited hush when they notice his arrival.

"Belphie!" Asmo cries happily when he reaches the bottom of the attic stairs and steps out into the hallway. "We were about to come wake you—look who's finally come back to us!"

Whatever his brother yammers on about next is drowned out by the static ringing in his ears; Belphie stares at the awkward group hug on the floor in front of him and has no idea what to say.

You looked a little embarrassed sitting in Lucifer's lap while Mammon clings to one arm and Levi holds the other. Your eyes are bright and watery with tears and a wobbly smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you realize he was there.

A trembling hand reaches out to him, uncertain but inviting. A hopeful gesture.

Countless times, Belphie imagined what he might do or say if–when–you finally came home. He was ready to spill his guts at your feet and beg you not to leave him like that ever again. He would apologize over and over again for all the terrible things he’s said and done before because he couldn't help thinking this was somehow his fault.

For reasons he can’t explain, unexplainable anger rises inside him and smothers the impulse to celebrate your return. The desperate urge to crawl into your lap and cling to you fizzles into nothing the longer he stares at you.

You know how badly he sleeps when you're not cuddled in bed next to him. It’s your fault he feels so awful, isn’t it?

He can only imagine what he looks like now, with his bedhead hair and pouty lips and the flaky crust of dried tears still clinging to the corners of his eyes. He rubs his face to wipe away the remnants with sleep, but he feels the familiar sting of hot tears building up instead.

Your love has made a terrible mess of him, and he’s not ready for this after all.

Someone shouts after him when he turns on his heel and heads back up the attic stairs without a word. He keeps walking and ignores the soft, wounded noise behind him; his brothers were quick to try and comfort you where he cannot.

"Let's give him a bit of space," someone suggests quietly.

Slamming the attic door doesn’t feel as satisfying as Belphie hoped it would. He collapses back onto the bed and throws the blanket over his head. He tosses and turns and by the time he falls into another restless sleep, he still can't decide whether he's relieved or devastated that you didn't follow him.

It's deep in the twilight hours when Belphie senses a familiar dip of the mattress when someone slips into bed beside him. He tries to stay submerged in the weightless realm of sleep, but the sudden warmth of a hand resting hesitantly on his back ruins that plan.

"Isn't there someone else you can bother?" he grumbles into the pillow. He fell asleep face down and he stubbornly refuses to look at you. “Go away.”

"I’m sorry.” A heavy pause. “I couldn't sleep." Your voice is quiet but it shakes with something vulnerable that catches Belphie's attention.

With an indignant huff, he turns his head and pries an eye open and glances your way. The attic is shrouded in darkness but he can still see the downturned frown of your lips. When he rolls onto his side and leans closer, he looks past the watery film that makes your eyes shimmer and notices the dark shadows underneath them that he didn’t notice before.

Exhaustion radiates off you and he can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since you had a proper night’s sleep too.

He doesn’t ask about the things you did while you were gone or the things you saw. He remembers well enough what his own heart was like back then in that murky stretch of time when he clung to rage and hatred to soothe his own despair.

He doesn’t ask if you still have bad dreams about death or monsters that wear his face and sneer as you struggle against the bruising grip around your throat. He feels guilty that maybe he wasn’t there to save you from the version of himself that lurks in your memory.

The stiffness in his bones deflates as the chill from the attic subsides, replaced by the warmth of your body lying close to his. He places his hand tentatively on your waist and when you don’t flinch or move away, he urges you closer.

"I can help if you want," he offers hesitantly, a feeble apology to start to make amends.

But you understand the meaning behind the gesture for what it is: a peace offering for now until you can talk properly later. Considering his reaction earlier, this is more than you could've hoped for.

“I was scared to ask for help at first," you admit quietly when you rest your ear over his heart and sigh as the soft, familiar rhythm thumps deep in his chest. “You were angry earlier and I didn’t want to upset you even more if you weren’t ready to see me yet.”

Belphie ducks his head low and rubs your back as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. The vibration of his noncommittal hum tickles your skin. “I’ll help you sleep tonight so you can make it up to me tomorrow.”

Tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that–

Convinced that he isn’t going to push you away and judging the coy grip of his tail that’s suddenly found itself wrapped around one of your legs, you let yourself lean against him fully with a long, weary sigh. It doesn't take long for your eyes to slip closed or for your breathing to sync with his as he lulls you gently into a peaceful state of rest.

Belphie feels his eyes grow heavy once he’s certain that you’re dreaming peacefully. He does sleep better when you’re here, after all. He’s held you in his arms like this before, far too many times for him to count, but it feels different than he remembers.

Has holding you like this always felt this satisfying, or did he take for granted all those times he dragged you to bed and assumed you'd still be there when he woke up?

He won’t make that mistake again.

"I missed this, you know," he whispers against the soft spot on your throat where your heart beat is strongest, pressing lazy kisses against your skin. He closes his eyes with a satisfied smile even though you don’t respond; the way your body melts against his is proof enough that you missed him too.

Read More: Obey Me Masterlist

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califwhite · 6 months ago

Text

Biker!Sukuna whose blacked out Yamaha YZF-R1 you hear from a mile away, sputtering and grunting with nothing but 1000cc of raw power down the highway. The empty night air only echoing the sound back at him which gives the man the most wicked grin under the mask.

Biker!Sukuna who can't shake the feeling of somebody watching him and finally gives his head a little tilt to find your eyes tracing the dark ink running across his exposed arms. Your mouth was even dropped open a little in awe.

Biker!Sukuna who looks around before gliding over to the passenger’s side of your best friend’s car, pressing his ginormous, gloved hand to the window to tease you a little. He chuckles when you press your much smaller hand against the glass where his rests.

You, eyeing the thick, muscular thighs of Biker!Sukuna, straddling the beast of a vehicle, pelvis pressed into his seat as he leaned forward slightly and strayed from your window.

Biker!Sukuna who cockily blows you a kiss, bracing himself as he jerks the throttle and speeds off his exit, his bike roaring and coughing flames.

You can barely focus on your book on the way home, plagued by the thoughts of him. And pissed Biker!Sukuna cuts his workout short because everytime he shuts his eyes to push through the end of a set, he sees the face of the pretty girl from the highway. How pathetic.

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tastesousweet · 2 months ago

Text

⭒ blurb : roommate!hamzah goes bald .. & "we listen and we don't judge"

roommate!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : blurb and smau in which hamzah is bald now and roommate!reader begs him to do the tiktok trend "we listen and we don't judge"

mickey speaks : hiii love u slushies & more of my hamzah works can be found here <3

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

youruser

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yourusername this lyfe toooooo sweet 💭❤️

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enyaumanzor hi ur so fucking cute • ♥︎ by author

yourusername MUUAHHHHH

mandys_iphone my heart skipped a beat • ♥︎ by author

yourusername can i get a little kiss kiss?

thatmartinkid Uh well no cus she's actually my Girlfriend 🤓!

yourusername omg go somewhere else lil boy !!!!!

ynfan ooooweeeeee i needed this yes lawdd • ♥︎ by author

hamzahandyntruther RIP HAMZAH CURLS and HELLO HAMY/N CONTENT!!!!!! #loserscanalsobewinners 🤔? • ♥︎ by author

hamzahthefantastic mmmbruh • ♥︎ by author

yourusername mmmmokay

•

--- we listen and we don't judge

you start the video and lean back to get you both in frame, causing hamzah to yelp in panic as he tries to push his beanie down over his head quicker, "wait!" his voice strains and you giggle before cutting the clip.

it cuts to both of you silently staring at the camera before hamzah smirks and makes you both laugh.

"okay this one's serious," you say as you lean back after starting the video once more, entirely overlapping hamzah's space (not that he minds). you grab your notebook from beside you on the couch, "ready?"

hamzah who has been following your movements the entire time, is already looking at you when you look over to him, "girl, i've been ready. you're the one with the giggles"

"the attitude is crazy"

"aht!" he raises a finger while stretching his arm behind you to rest on top of the soft couch, "what do we do?"

you catch on and nod your head with him as you reply together, "we listen and we don't judge"

"right!" he exclaims harshly, catching you off guard, especially when he shakes you by your shoulders slightly. his face drops when you don't laugh and he turns to the camera with his jaw dropped. he shakes his head with a dismissive kiss of his teeth, "wicked reference. you wouldn't get it."

"uh huh, you go first hamzah." he rubs your shoulder before putting his hand back onto the couch to rest.

he clears his throat, "'kay, sometimes when i'm really bored and you're like showering, or something, i move around something in your room. it's like something small you don't notice like switching where a stuffed animal is on your bed or somethin'"

your smile falls the more he speaks, "oh. starting off strong!"

the camera cuts and you're both overly-smiling, "we listen and we don't judge!!"

"when i'm like really hungry..." you look into his eyes, "this is like middle of the night, right, and i'll go into the kitchen and just sneak a bite or two of your leftovers-"

"oh nahhhh, what the hell??? y/n!"

"no! listen! like, if there's nothing else to eat!"

hamzah pouts slightly, "that's just evil, bro"

"you want me to starve? okay, i'll just starve next time and you'll be sorry!"

"no i won't" he squints his eyes, "and don't start that gaslightin-"

the clip cuts to you both excitedly repeating, "we listen and we don't judge!"

"well sometimes when you get home late from hanging out with people i'll hop in bed and fake being asleep because i like it when you sit there and harass me to wake up," he smiles menacingly.

"ew, you're a freak! you like when i beg for your attention???" you question while laughing.

"well yes!"

"we listen and we don't judge!"

"i hid your contacts for like three days once because i thought you looked cute with your glasses on" you say it with a smile as if it wasn't such a devious act.

"what?" hamzah turns to laugh at you, "pardon???"

"we listen and we don't judge."

"well, i got really drunk once and peed in your bathtub."

your face is still before you blink and look at him with a smile threatening to split, "when was this??"

"uhhhh, i dunno. i think like a month or two ago, but martin was using your toilet and i literally couldn't hold it-"

"so you pissed in my tub with martin stood inches away?"

hamzah begins to laugh so hard he can barely get out his breathy, "yes, exactly"

"i actually hate the image you just put in my head oh my god!!!!" you squeal and melt yourself into your cascading giggle-fit and sink further into hamzah's side.

you both laugh together- the kind of laughter that overpowers your entire being, when your eyes are squinted and there is no air in your lungs to produce an abundant sound any longer.

hamzah breaks his hold on you to wipe his eyes and reach for your phone yelling, "turn this shit off"

it cuts to a final clip of you smiling with your head resting on top of hamzah's as you pet his beanie-clad head, "bald!"

"enough!!!" the video gets blurry before cutting off as hamzah manhandles you off of him.

#roommate!hamzah x reader #slushy noobz #slushynoobz #slushy noobz virus #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x y/n #hamzah #martin and hamzah #hamzah imagines #hamzah fic #thatmartinkid #4freakshow #smau #social media #social media au

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jarofstyles · 7 months ago

Note

Blurb idea: Harry fucking y/n from behind as her boyfriend calls and he fucks her hard through the call

STOP!!! Ok I’ll do it. 💅

Check out our Patreon!

warnings- cheating w h, toxic relationship, anal play, spitting, unprotected sex… Oopsies

——

Y/N knew she shouldn’t be doing it, but she couldn’t resist him.

Whenever Harry came back into town… she ended up in his bed. The curse of how rare good dick actually was and the fact that he was her longest hookup, she melted like butter the second he texted her that he had touched down at the airport.

The last few times had been… particularly interesting. She’d tried to cut it off, she really had. She’d said no, said she couldn’t because her new relationship was still in its seedling stage, but somehow she ended up in the hotel bed with him plowing into her regardless.

Sweat beading on her forehead, she gripped the pillow and moaned into it as she felt him spreading her ass open, watching his cock slide in and out of her. He hated condoms and Y/N hated not feeling him, so as risky as it was… she didn’t ask him to wear one. She knew it could make her a bad person, she hated the guilt she felt afterwards but there was something so explosive and hot about their sex, how he kissed like he was devouring her, that she couldn’t stop herself from taking it.

“There it is. Missed this pussy.” He mumbled. “Creaming all over my cock. Think she missed me too, hm?” His low chuckle had her shuddering, the curve of his cock pressing against her g-spot over and over again. It was hard to speak when he gave it to her, the pure primal need of getting back to one another making them both impatient.

It was only when her phone rang with the contact photo of her current boyfriend on the screen that he slowed his thrusts, a wicked laugh leaving his throat. “Answer it.” He lowered himself down to kiss her shoulder. When she didn’t respond, he bit down on the skin to make her jolt. “Said answer it. Talk to him.”

Y/N was making a mistake, she knew, but in the depth of pleasure she listened. Grabbing her phone and scrambled to answer, putting it against her ear as he pumped shallowly into her.

“H-Hello?” She tried to sound normal but failed. Harry felt his cock pulse as she let her eyes fall closed, the phone resting against the mattress as she pressed her cheek down onto it.

“No, I’m on my run. Remember?” There was no hiding the panting as Harry was cruel, holding on her hip as he pulled her back to fuck herself on his cock. It was a glorious sight, in his opinion, her sweaty hair all over, bare body on display, slick all over his cock from how much she loved him inside of her. It was fucked up to feel this sort of thrill, but it felt like a win. A victory.

He may think he had her, but at the end of the day she would belong to Harry. He got to fuck her bare, she came when he called. Ran to him and got on her knees, loved every second of it. It didn’t matter who she dated- she’d give into him every time.

“I’ll be back…. Um.” It was hard for her to talk considering she felt like all thoughts other than how good Harry’s prick felt balls deep inside of her had escaped her head since he had gotten her naked. “I’ll be back later. I may go see my parents tonight, so we may have to um.. reschedule.”

Harry fucked into her harder, leaning his face down to whisper into her ear. “Good girl. You’re not goin’ anywhere.” It had been a bit too long for him to be satisfied by one simple round. Besides… he liked to get his cuddles in with her. Regardless of them not being together, he knew no one would be better than her.

He could hear Y/N rattle off some day she could see him next, but he wasn’t a fan of her attention being elsewhere for too long. Spreading her ass apart again, he spit thickly over her ass and slicked his thumb over it. She couldn’t help the squeal that left her mouth, wide eyes shooting back at him as she brought her hand to her mouth to gather herself as he pushed it inside. The muffled talking and asking if she was okay could be heard on the other line but Harry didn’t particularly care, pulsing his thumb into the tight hole as her poor cunt wept over his cock. This was the fuck he had been desperately needed. “Say goodbye, baby.” He whispered, squeezing her ass.

“I’m okay!! Just twisted my ankle. Let me c-call you back.” As soon as the call was dropped, she let out a desperate moan and let him give it to her how he wanted.

“Naughty fuckin’ girl. Talking to that poor boy… all while you’re getting this slutty cunt fucked and your ass played with. But you love it.” Releasing his grip, he grabbed a handful of hair to lead her up, arching her back. “You love being a filthy whore f’me. So you’re gonna let me fuck you full of my cum in each one of your holes before I send you back to that pathetic excuse of a man. You get me?”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles fanfictions #harry smut #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic

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hazelfoureyes · 25 days ago

Text

I'm not taking requests from anon but …. I will….always accept inspiration in my inbox. Just don’t expect a direct response.

I’m alive. Boooooy has shit been difficult and every day I kinda panic but I think survival mode is finally shutting off. I could list all the shit but why? It's not like we arent all wading through varying piles of shit on a weekly basis lately.

Curiosity

Alastor doesn’t believe sex can feel all that great for the ones being fucked. You offer to educate him on the matter with a little hands on learning. Everyone wins.

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x PussyHaving!Reader (has pussy and is called girl but I mean…I don’t know their business), casual virginity loss, non-sexually repulsed alastor, insulting but highly accurate bowling ball analogy, cervix smooches, creampie because dessert is a necessity, friends with questionable benefits, missionary position, science???, almost fingering, thumb (Singular), empty death threats, saliva as lube」

Minors I will yeet you back into the year of the dragon if you ignore the MDNI 🐉

Alastor’s hooves kicked playfully, slowly, in the air behind him as he rested on his belly. Two clawed fingers kept your lower lips pulled apart as he stared inquisitively at your self consciously twitching entrance.

“People’s things fit in here? I could see fingers, sure. A thumb, maybe…”, he mused, watching you clench around nothing. He learned from Angel more than he liked to admit and things seemed to fit the best for human and hellish anatomy alike.

A large digit prodded, his head lifting and eyes meeting yours from between your spread thighs. His look was waiting for your approval or dissent. You nodded, sighing out another educational tidbit, “It feels best if things are slick.”

Alastor paused before wrapping his tongue around his thumb and coating it with viscous black saliva. Thumbpad facing down, his curved claw slipped into you easily. The natural roundness of the edges kept you from any cuts, but you had a feeling it’d be easy enough to do harm if he wasnt mindful of how he moved it.

You could feel his other fingers pressing flat against the bottom of your ass. Instinctively you tightened around the digit.

“It's snug.” He sighed, vindicated. It was far too small a hole to fit anything more without tearing. Therefore: painful.

“Well, it stretches quite a bit. It can adapt to alot. You - ergh - people can use soda cans and twelve inch dildos even for pleasure.” You rested on your bed, naked from the waist down. Your conversations together were always very open and without shame, neither of you worried to offend the other with questions about sex and gender. So when Alastor mused he couldn’t understand what the pussy-possessors among society got out of sex (he could understand the pleasure of a good squeeze on a cock, even if he hadn’t ever experienced anything beyond a hot mouth and a tight fist) the conversation just naturally progressed to your own personal sex education class. He’d only ever seen such anatomy in medical texts.

He cackled, “You are naive if you think that is true.”

“Alastor, who's the expert here? I - can you remove your thumb? I feel like a bowling ball.”

Too quickly he took back his finger, your shoulders lifting slightly from the bed from the sudden loss. He paused a moment before adding, “You and a bowling ball have the same number of finger-able holes.”

Your glare went unnoticed, Alastor shifting onto his elbows again.

“Do you think people would willingly have sex if it was always uncomfortable?” You were lifted up on your elbows now too. Locked eye to eye with a very smug deer demon.

He hummed, humans were animals and all animals followed instinct. “Maaaaybeee.” He teased, eyes breaking contact to look again at the now closed lips. “Regardless,” a wicked grin, “I can’t imagine it fitting without damage and pain.”

A stalemate.

“You have seen people have sex, right?” You asked.

An uncomfortable pause.

“Why on earth would I watch people have sex?”

Surprise, then confusion, but finally you settled on intrigue.

“Okay, do it. I’ll show you it feels good for me and you can wipe that smile off your face.”

He tutted, “Never.” Alastor saw your flash of insult, “to the smile. Delivering pain is a hobby of mine, no matter the vehicle!”

When he sat up on his knees you shot up and you blurted out, “Wait. Do you have like, hell syphilis or something? Are you clean?”

His hair bristled, “Do YOU have syphilis?!”

“No.” You said it plainly.

Head shaking imperceptibly, a subtle ‘no’ mixed with a silent ‘then why would I?!’ telegraphed via his glaring red eyes, “Me neither.”

A bad start. Speaking of…

“Do you know how to start?”

“Is it much different than my thumb?”

I hope so.

“Not really.”

He sighed away the remnants of agitation — was he clean?? Really? — and unbuttoned his pants. When his hands paused on the elastic of his underwear your head tilted curiously.

A step you’d both forgotten, cocks inherently had no bones like helpful fingers. Why was the prospect of handling himself mortifying but entering you wasn’t? Very rarely did he find you someone to have any concerns about and never had he felt an ounce of judgment when he admitted his blind spots and areas of naïveté.

But this was… a step beyond. Almost humiliating in a sense, the source of the feeling was buried deep and obscured by time and disinterest.

“I’ll help.” Sitting up further, your hands went forward before you yanked them back into your bubble, “If that’s alright.”

Perfect, if he wasn’t able to get it up it’d be your fault and not his, he thought.

Nodding, he let his hands come to rest at his sides as he sat back on his legs.

The newness was evident in how he didn’t consider the mechanics of the position. You struggled a little to get this black underwear down his hips enough to release his very unaware cock.

Lifting his hips again and allowing you to pull the briefs down as far as needed (which seemed too far, honestly), you finally had eyes on something you’d been passably curious about.

It wasn’t that he was unattractive but there was a guilt to lusting over Alastor. He’d made it painfully obvious he didn’t find anyone at the hotel sexually interesting. It just isn’t his bag, as Husk had explained. Perhaps liquor had your eyes lingering a little too long on the resident villain.

Nervous and sweaty palms seemed beneficial as you held his soft member. They always felt so silly like this. How useless. Floppy. Your amused smile wasn’t comforting him an ounce.

It twitched, Alastor’s hands fighting to not come to his face and let him disappear away.

“Cute.” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around the Newtonian fluid-esque cock. You didn’t see his horrified face, focused instead on the feel of his foreskin sliding beneath your fingers. Alastor’s attention, too, shifted. He needed to breathe normally and that required all hands on deck (no puns intended). He’d never let anyone in death touch —-

A soft glow of blue flickered somewhere deep in his mind, a sloppy memory of a drunken slip up

It’d been what felt like a lifetime since he’d let anyone put their hands on his body.

And due to that time his body reacted quickly and soon you had a handful. You both took a relieved breath then, the hurdle mounted. A little shock of pleasure to your core as you stroked his now firm cock made you shiver. It was hot in your hands, how much of that heat would you feel in your guts soon? Would he put it in and just—- pop it out like he had his thumb?

You’d shoo him away shortly after and finish things yourself in that case.

Alastor’s hands lost the battle and came to cover his lower face. That hidden grin showed teeth and he clenched his jaw to keep from letting a mewl slip. His cock was leaking so much it was embarrassing him.

“Now you’re just playing.” He hissed.

He wasn’t wrong.

Wordlessly you came to lie on your side, a roll to your stomach interrupted as you considered things. With a glance back at the virgin you decided basic was best and returned to your back. Nothing too exciting.

“Whenever you’re ready, then.” The smugness oozed through your tone. You knew he didn’t know enough to figure out what ready was.

Alastor parted your legs further with his own widening thighs as he lowered his center to line up with you. He recalled you telling him the hole was very close to the bottom and it hadn’t dawned on him how low that was until the muscles of his thighs burned with the split. How was he going to move like this, he wondered.

Another recollection — wetter is better.

And though he could see a glistening wetness readying to drop down between your cheeks, he wasn’t experienced enough to know just how much your body could self lubricate. So for good measure and out of a sweet ignorance he spit into his palm and rubbed it down his cock from head to root.

The sound made you clench again. Why was that so hot? You’d never kissed, nor held hands. But now his sweat and cum would be fucked into you.

Another clench as that lightning lit up your core, back bowing slightly with the sensation.

Could overlords sense blood pressure or hear heartbeats? You werent sure, but suddenly you worried about it. You had to close your eyes and focus only on your breathing, unaware it was your turn to hide your true reactions. If you started panting now he’d laugh so hard he’d go soft.

But the truth was, you could begin beatboxing and he wouldnt notice it. He was scooting closer, lowering and then raising his hips again to find a position that he could hold.

Thank Lucifer he never wasted time with this before.

Finally he lined up and let his held breath go. His cockhead was slick and slipped up between your lips and headbutted your clit when he tried to press in.

Your shocked scream was stifled into a gritted cry, bringing the back of your hand up to silence yourself. It hurt a little at first but that faded quickly. You whispered a single, “fuck.”

If he wasn’t already cock out Alastor would have just left. But, that would mean saying he was wrong and failed. Which wasn’t going to happen so he slid his cock back down the way he went and pressed into you with false confidence he knew it would go in.

He gasped when he breached your lips. You were so hot. And that snugness was back, head and just an inch of shaft sheathed but his brain felt like most of his body was being tightly embraced.

You felt him twitching, and tried to fight back the instinct to tighten around him to feel that little bit of movement even better. It didn’t work.

He hissed a “don’t” when you clenched around him, but you barely heard it over your own little moan. Alastor leaned forward and let his hands rest on either side of your ribs. Head hidden behind long and hanging bangs you couldnt see how his face twisted in concentration. He could cum like this, just one little movement and he was sure he’d finish. Not a normal problem for him, but it's easy to have a 100% win rate for a game you played just a few times before.

Alastor’s body was stick straight above you.

His body wasn’t touching you except for the cock in you. It was odd, like he was hovering. Would he fuck you without touching you? That seemed so like him.

“Well, color me surprised.” He finally spoke, words breathy. He didn’t smell an ounce of blood so he knew you hadn’t torn. Your body was relaxed beneath him, your upper chest flush. When he looked up you were peering down over your cheeks with parted lips. He’d seen such expressions before in paintings deemed too salacious for museums in his time.

“It feels even better when you’re moving.” You offered. He didn’t have to continue now that you’d proven your point but you really wanted him to. You’d not been fucked in ages and this was a situation that wouldn’t happen again. “But if this is enough proof…” you trailed off.

He could imagine it. The feeling of that tender and somehow gripping flesh hugging him tightly as he moved forward more…. And pulled out. His glands would catch, wouldn’t it hurt you then? Wouldn’t he be scraping your delicate insides?

Alastor began pressing further in. Your hands gripped the sheets slightly, your walls were pushed open by his now steel hard member and you could feel a pool of heat low in your womb. You needed him to hit it, to thrust forward and rut against your cervix. But you had to take it slow, this was about him answering his questions first and foremost.

“It won’t go any further…” he leaned back and inspected the situation. Two inches or so remained out in the cold.

You shifted your hips and could feel the resistance. “If you start,” you needed a second to gather yourself before saying the rest, “thrusting properly now you’ll be able to get the rest in soon.”

His brow cocked.

He’d have to trust you on that one and simply keep going. There were still more ways to move within you, to see if the piercing friction really could make you feel good. A moan broke through his defenses when he pulled out until the glands of his cock felt caught on your entrance.

Alastor’s body crumpled, the pleasure made his muscles go weak. It was as if he couldn’t control them at all. Dangerous.

His hips bucked from the sensitivity, thrusting forward. Alastor’s head fell back with a sharp gasp. Before he could worry over how he looked his hips were starting a shaky and mistimed pace. Head falling forward again so he could look down at where you were joined, he groaned. His cock was disappearing, girth holding your cunt open as it clamped down against him.

Alastor felt dizzy from the physical rapture and a helpful redirection of blood. His body was light; bright and weightless.

What a treacherous sensation. He could almost understand rakes* now.

Your first real moan reminded him why he was doing what he was. Face shooting up from the shadow of his hair he watched yours. Your brow was furrowed slightly, but apart from how hard you were biting your bottom lip he didnt see anything pained in your expression. Your sounds definitely did not say you were being harmed in any way.

As his cock pulled against your entrance again and rammed back in, he gained new ground just like you’d assured. Another hungry thrust and he was flush with your body. You choked out a noise and gripped the sheets hard.

“Painful?,” he opted for a single word to avoid his voice cracking with uncontrolled radio static. Alastor slowed his pace out of caution, he enjoyed pain but not like this. He’d only been trying to shock you earlier with his comments when he said otherwise.

Your hips rolled, pressing him deeper and rolling your eyes back. It earned you a flipping of radio stations softly in the air around you. A babbled, “No, no,” before you could find the sense to look at him, “You’re doing so well. It feels so good. Don’t stop.” Another roll of your body to feel his leaking slit digging into your cervix. That white hot pleasure was fading now to something less mind numbing but still worth chasing. He had you split open down the center and you needed to feel him moving deep within.

‘Well, Fuck,’ Alastor thought. The mechanics didn’t make much sense but he was seeing undeniable proof. He shifted his hips until his lower stomach was pressing down onto you and let his own normally unwanted instincts take over. You asked him to not stop, after all.

Fluidly now he could fuck you, lower back activated and driving himself home deeper. Soon he was grunting softly each time he bottomed out. Animalistic auto-pilot kept his pace even and punishing.

A slurred ‘feels s’good’ tumbled from your still parted lips.

He watched your neck muscles strain and face redden, you were holding your breath and he couldnt understand why.

Eyes slipping closed he focused on your warmth, and he could hear the sound of his skin sticking and popping free from your core. A faint wetness to his thighs came into focus from the fuzzy edges of his mind. He felt like he was melting from the center outward.

Alastor failed to say anything when his climax mounted because it blindsided him. He leaned back for leverage and held your thighs for grip. A few harsh slaps of his skin into yours, your body rocking up slightly with the force before you felt his own warm wetness filling you. A sensation that came in waves with each twitch of his cock. When his body stuttered and a few more thrusts chased his semen deeper into you, your feet kicked out in an uncontrollable spasm of pleasure.

You took in a deep breath and pulled him closer with your legs as soon as you regained control. Alastor’s turn to fist the sheets, you working your thighs and core to ride him from your place on your back. A few more sharp inhales, pressure mounting to a daunting peak before you could make that string snap. It took a frenzied self fucking with Alastor’s now oversensitive cock but you managed to find some relief with a small orgasm.

Alastor didn’t need you to announce it for him to understand. A modest wave of embarrassment hit, not only was he woefully incorrect but the pleasure was apparently so great you’d chase more friction to reach your orgasm on a cock before just taking your own hand. Was it impolite to not have offered to help?

Your body went slack, muscles disengaging as your sweaty thighs and ass slid from his lap and down his legs. He was still bent over you and cock buried half in you, catching his breath.

“I suppose I should eat crow now. Your little flower is far more accommodating than I gave you credit for!” He pulled out in one go and you felt the rush of his seed spilling out after him. “Though you must admit there was a little discomfort.”

With a heavy sigh you nodded, “Sometimes a little bit makes it feel even better…” a swoosh and a twinkle was heard just past your knees but you didn't move to open your eyes.

A clawed finger booped your nose, “If you value your afterlife…”

A sharp stare to the fully dressed and unsticky radio demon knelt between your legs, you rolled your eyes at the empty threat he always gave you after your unfettered talks, “I won't tell a soul.”

“Good girl!”

*a rake is a rakehell (hell raiser), considered loose with morals for chasing women and drink.

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pandapetals · 23 days ago

Text

Pony

You go to the strip club for a friend's bachelotte party and become flustered by one of the performers.

stripper!logan howlett x fem!reader - smut, steamy, logan is a stripper, cocky logan, slight reader description, no y/n used, strip club, reader is at a friend’s bachelotte party, handjob, fingering, p in v sex, riding, sexual tension, teasing banter, inspired by the song pony by ginuwine

a/n: everyone knows i struggle writing smut but here we are again... Inspired by the song pony…also dedicating this to @she-loves-wolvie. are we surprised, no. she is a genius.

divider credit: @adornedwithlight

This was a mistake—a terrible idea.

You sat rooted to your spot in the front row, your thighs pressing together under the tiny cocktail dress you’d reluctantly chosen for the bachelorette party. The bass of the music thumped through the club, vibrating up through the soles of your heels and into your chest, but it wasn’t the beat that had your pulse racing. No, it was him.

He strode onto the stage as if he owned it, broad shoulders rolling under the sharp cut of a half-open firefighter’s jacket, the dark suspenders tugged low on his hips. His grin was the kind of slow, wicked thing that curled your toes and promised trouble. Even from across the room, you could see the faint sheen of sweat on his chest catching the light, highlighting every hard ridge of muscle.

The heat that swept through you had nothing to do with the club’s packed bodies or the tequila shots still buzzing in your veins. It had everything to do with the way he moved. The man didn’t just dance—he prowled. Each step was deliberate, hips swaying in time with the music, every ripple of his abs purposeful. He dropped to a crouch, rolling his body with a liquid ease that made your breath hitch.

“Holy hell,” you muttered, trying not to stare but failing miserably. Your fingers clenched around the stem of your drink like it might keep you anchored, but your mind was already slipping. All you could think about was how his low-slung pants clung to him—like a second skin—and the dangerous gleam in his eyes when he glanced your way.

Wait.

Your heart stuttered.

He was looking at you.

You tried to convince yourself it was just a coincidence, that his smirk was part of the act, but the weight of his gaze burned through the flashing club lights like a brand. His grin deepened as he leaned back against the fireman’s pole, gripping it with one hand and spinning lazily like he had all the time in the world to tease. The other hand slid down his chest, his fingers brushing over the waistband of his pants before his thumb hooked just under the edge.

The air caught in your throat as his eyes locked on yours, and suddenly, the rest of the club might as well have disappeared. It was just him and you, and the unspoken dare crackling between you like static electricity. He must’ve seen how your breath quickened because his smirk turned downright sinful, and he tilted his head as if silently asking, Are you enjoying the show?

Oh, you were. Too much.

Your cheeks burned as he sauntered closer to the edge of the stage, those lazy hips drawing him near like a magnet. The crowd around you was a blur of cheers and hollers, but all you could focus on was the heat pooling low in your stomach and how your knees pressed tighter together. His fingers trailed along the stage’s edge as he bent forward slightly, giving you an unobstructed view of his abs—and something told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Having fun?” he mouthed, and the words hit you harder than any shout over the music.

You swallowed hard, trying to summon a shred of composure, but all you could manage was a shaky nod.

Big mistake. His smile widened like a predator spotting its prey, and as the song shifted, his movements grew slower, sultrier. His body rolled in time with the sultry beat, every motion designed to drive you wild. By the time he reached for the clasp of the suspenders and snapped them loose, letting them dangle at his sides, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to cheer or melt into the floor.

“This was supposed to be fun,” you muttered, but even you couldn’t deny the truth. Fun didn’t feel like this—like your entire body was a live wire, buzzing with a heat that had you squirming in your seat. He wasn’t just dancing; he was playing with you. And judging by the way his eyes lingered on you longer than anyone else in the crowd, he knew it.

And God help you, you didn’t want him to stop.

Eventually, his turn ended, and another dancer came out, but you barely noticed. The crowd erupted into cheers for the newcomer, but your eyes were glued to the empty stage, and the afterimage of him—of that man—burned into your mind. You let out a shaky breath, pressing your damp palms against your thighs in an attempt to ground yourself.

“You look flustered.”

Kimberly’s voice cut through the thudding bass, and you turned to find her smirking at you, one perfectly arched brow raised in amusement. She didn’t look even slightly affected by the show, her posture relaxed as she sipped her cocktail like she’d been attending strip clubs every Friday night of her life.

“I’m fine,” you lied, straightening your spine and forcing a casual shrug. “It’s just the alcohol.”

Kimberly snorted, clearly not buying it. She tilted her head toward the other girls at the table, who were laughing and shouting at the next dancer. “Right. The alcohol. Sure. You looked like you were about to combust when he looked at you.”

You rolled your eyes, willing the heat rising in your cheeks to go unnoticed. “I’m fine, Kimberly.”

“Uh-huh.” She grinned knowingly and turned back to the group, leaving you to stew in your flustered state.

The air suddenly felt suffocating, the pounding music and the crush of bodies too much to handle. You needed space—or a drink stronger than whatever sad cocktail Kimberly had ordered for you earlier. Pushing back your chair, you muttered something about going to the bar and wove through the crowd, ignoring the pulsing beat of the music and the occasional brush of someone’s shoulder against yours.

By the time you reached the bar, your heart was still hammering in your chest. You pressed your hands against the cool countertop, letting the chill seep into your skin as you sucked in a steadying breath. The bartender caught your eye, and you raised a finger. “Tequila. Straight.”

He nodded, sliding a shot glass toward you in record time. You knocked it back in one swift motion, the liquid burning its way down your throat. It helped. A little. At least now you could convince yourself the heat pooling low in your stomach was from the alcohol and not the way that stranger on stage had looked at you like he wanted to ruin you.

Or maybe you were failing miserably at that.

“Another?” the bartender asked, his tone neutral, and professional.

You were about to nod when you felt it—warmth at your back. Not the impersonal heat of the crowd, but something deliberate, focused. Someone was standing close enough that you could feel the faintest brush of their breath against your neck.

“You seem thirsty,” a low, teasing voice murmured behind you, and your body froze.

The voice was smooth as silk, with the faintest rasp sending a shiver skittering down your spine. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it belonged to. Him.

Your breath hitched, and you turned your head just enough to catch his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He was leaning casually against the counter, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Up close, he was even more devastating. The sharp line of his jaw, the mess of dark hair, the piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you—all of it was unfairly attractive.

“I—uh…” You swallowed, grasping for something, anything coherent to say, but your brain was still lagging behind your body, which had gone hot and traitorously aware of how close he was.

His smirk deepened, and he straightened slightly, his gaze dropping to the empty shot glass in your hand. “Tequila, huh? Bold choice. Does it help?”

“Help with what?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He chuckled a low sound that you felt more than heard. “With cooling off.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass, and you turned to face him fully, determined to regain some semblance of control. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice firm this time.

“Are you?” His eyes flicked down, taking in the flush creeping up your neck, the way you were still gripping the shot glass like a lifeline. He raised an eyebrow. “Because you don’t look fine.”

Your stomach flipped, a mix of embarrassment and something far more dangerous. “Look, I don’t know who you are—”

“Logan.” He interrupted smoothly, holding out a hand as if this was a perfectly normal introduction and not a moment charged with enough tension to short-circuit your brain.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it, his fingers warm and slightly rough against yours. “Okay, Logan,” you said, pulling your hand back quickly before your brain decided to do something stupid like notice how good he smelled—like clean sweat and cedar, with a hint of something spicy. “What do you want?”

He leaned in just enough that his voice was low, meant for you and you alone. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you were enjoying the show.”

The teasing edge in his tone sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you resisted the urge to press your thighs together. “It was… fine,” you said, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to breathless.

“Just fine?” His grin widened, and the cocky tilt of his head made you want to throttle him—or kiss him. You weren’t entirely sure which. “Because from where I was standing, you looked like you were having a very good time.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’ve got a big ego, don’t you?”

“Only when I’m right.” His gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before returning to your eyes, and your pulse spiked. “But if I’m wrong, feel free to correct me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. His proximity, the heat of his body, the sheer audacity of his smirk—it was all too much.

Logan leaned back just enough to let a sliver of air slip between you, though it did nothing to cool the heat crawling up your spine. His lips curved into a lazy, maddening smirk that belonged to a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, his voice low and velvet-smooth, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, sharp and unrelenting.

Your pulse jumped. “No, it’s a no—” you snapped.

“Really?” His grin deepened, and he tilted his head, studying you in a way that made you feel entirely exposed. “Because I could’ve sworn I saw you earlier. Front row. All flustered, mouth slightly parted, thighs rubbing together—”

Your stomach dropped. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, gorgeous.” He stepped closer again, just enough for his presence to wash over you like a wave. He leaned in, his lips hovering by your ear, and the rasp in his voice was enough to send a shiver racing down your neck. “I could feel it from the stage. How you looked at me—like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run or let me ruin you.”

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t wrong, and you hated how easily he read you. The heat pooling low in your belly flared again, and you found yourself gripping the edge of the bar for balance.

“Cocky much?” you shot back, hoping the bite in your tone would mask how unsteady you felt.

“Not cocky. Just observant.” Logan’s eyes dipped down your body, slow and deliberate, before meeting yours again. “And right.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry despite the tequila you’d just downed. The worst part was how your body betrayed you. The way your skin prickled, how your knees felt weak, the way your chest rose and fell just a little too quickly—he saw all of it, and he was enjoying every second.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone casual but the gleam in his eyes anything but, “if I’m making you this uncomfortable, you could just walk away.”

Your pride flared at the challenge in his voice, and you narrowed your eyes. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“No?” He leaned in again, his hand brushing the bar beside you as he boxed you in. “Because you’re looking at me like you’re trying to decide if kissing me would be a bad idea.”

Your heart stuttered. “I’m not—”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he interrupted, his lips quirking as he pulled back just enough to watch your reaction. “I’m not saying you should.” He let the moment hang, thick with tension, before his smirk turned devilish. “Just that you could.”

The words hung between you like a dare, and it was suddenly too much—the heat, the proximity, the way he seemed to unravel you with every glance. Your head spun as you tried to think of a retort, but the alcohol and the sheer intensity of him had your brain working at half speed.

And somehow, that was how you ended up letting him lead you toward one of the private rooms tucked at the back of the club.

The hallway was dimly lit, the music from the main floor muffled as Logan’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you past closed curtains and cracked open doors. Your heels clicked against the floor, but even that sound was drowned out by the thrum of blood rushing in your ears.

“Where are we going?” you managed, your voice breathy, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin still firmly in place. “Somewhere quieter.”

“That’s not an answer,” you muttered, though your legs betrayed you by continuing to follow him.

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he shot back with a wink, and damn it, why did that wink have to make your stomach flip?

Finally, he stopped outside a heavy curtain, pulling it aside to reveal a small room bathed in low, crimson light. A single plush armchair sat in the center of the space, plush and wide, clearly designed for what the club had advertised—lap dances. But as the curtain fell closed behind you, the air shifted, crackling with a tension that had nothing to do with performance and everything to do with the two of you.

You hovered by the doorway, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you were alone with him, your body still humming from the tequila and his proximity. “I don’t… I don’t think this is a good idea,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Logan turned, his gaze dark and unreadable as he closed the distance between you. His hand came up, fingertips brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, and the simple touch sent a spark racing down your spine.

“No?” he asked softly, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “Because you came with me anyway.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He was close again, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough that the scent of him—earthy and spiced—wrapped around you like a drug.

“I think,” he murmured, his other hand skimming the curve of your waist before settling on your hip, “you’re just scared of how much you want this.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you hated—hated—how right he was.

Logan’s gaze stayed locked on you, dark and daring, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was about to deliver another smug remark that would have your blood boiling. Maybe that’s why you did it.

Or maybe it was the way his hand lingered on your hip, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of your dress. Or the way the air between you was crackling, charged, begging for something to snap.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

Before he could say another word, you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him toward you, closing the gap in an instant. Your lips crashed against his, and whatever smartass thing he was about to say was swallowed in the kiss.

Logan made a low sound in the back of his throat, startled for only a second before he recovered, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for it all night, his lips skilled and confident, claiming yours with a fervor that made your head spin.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging at the dark strands just hard enough to draw a sharp inhale from him. He groaned against your lips, and the sound sent a thrill racing through you, lighting up every nerve ending like fireworks.

“Bold move, gorgeous,” he muttered between kisses, his lips curving against yours.

“Shut up,” you breathed, tangling your fingers tighter in his hair and pulling him back into you.

Logan obliged, his mouth slanting against yours with a roughness that matched your own. His hands roamed your sides, fingers grazing the curve of your ribs, the dip of your waist, the small of your back—exploring but never pushing too far. He let you set the pace, and you weren’t about to hold back.

The crimson glow of the room bathed his sharp features as you broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, your lips tingling and swollen. Logan’s chest heaved, his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, his smirk now replaced with something darker.

But you weren’t done.

Without giving him time to recover, you shoved at his chest firmly enough to send him stumbling backward into the plush armchair. He sank into it with a grunt, his legs spread wide as he caught himself on the arms of the chair. For once, Logan looked momentarily caught off guard, and the sight of it sent a surge of confidence through you.

“Damn,” he murmured, his lips quirking upward, though his voice was rougher now, the teasing edge tempered by something deeper. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You ignored him.

Instead, you stepped forward, your hands bracing on the back of the chair as you swung a leg over his lap. His eyes darkened as you straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush cushion on either side of his thighs. You leaned in, close enough that your breath mingled with his, and the predatory gleam in his eyes sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Still think I’m flustered?” you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear just enough to feel him stiffen beneath you.

Logan’s hands found your hips, gripping them firmly as he leaned back into the chair, his smirk returning, though this time it was edged with heat. “Oh, I know you are,” he rasped. “But I’m not complaining.”

His words sent a spark of frustration—and desire—coursing through you, and you didn’t hesitate before crashing your mouth against his again. This time, it was rougher, hungrier, teeth and tongue clashing in a way that had you both gasping for air.

Logan’s hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until you were flush against him, his body solid and warm beneath you. You could feel the tension coiled in him, his fingers gripping you like he was barely holding himself back, and the restraint only fueled the fire building inside you.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. When you reached the hem, you tugged it upward, your nails grazing his skin in a way that made him hiss against your lips.

“Fuck,” Logan muttered, his voice rough with both surprise and amusement. “You waste no time, huh?”

His smugness was back, written all over the lopsided grin tugging at his swollen lips. That grin—the same one that had both infuriated and ignited you from the second he walked into your orbit—made your stomach flip and your blood burn in equal measure. Now, you weren’t interested in sparring with words. You wanted to make him eat that cocky grin, to wipe it clean off his face until he couldn’t do anything but feel.

“Why would I take it slow?” you shot back, your voice low, almost a purr, as your fingers trailed down his chest. You felt him tense beneath your touch, the muscles of his torso rippling as you worked your way lower, each inch of his body more deliciously solid than the last.

Logan let out a breathy laugh, though it broke halfway through as your hand hovered just over the waistband of his pants. “Damn,” he rasped, his voice dipping lower. “You really aren’t shy, are you?”

You didn’t answer, and you didn’t need to. Words weren’t what either of you needed right now. Instead, you kept your eyes locked on his as you reached for the button of his pants, your fingers working with a confidence you didn’t know you had.

The moment the fabric loosened under your touch, Logan’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering as the heat between you flared, molten and undeniable. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as you tugged the zipper down, the sound almost deafening in the small, crimson-lit room.

“Shit,” he muttered, his head tipping back against the chair, though his gaze flicked back to you quickly as if he couldn’t bear to look away for too long. “You’re gonna kill me, gorgeous.”

“Good,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked grin of your own.

With a deliberate slowness that had his entire body tensing beneath you, you slid your hand beneath the fabric, your fingers brushing against heated skin. Logan groaned, low and rough, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as you wrapped your hand around him.

The sound he made was sinful, the kind of sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine and made your pulse pound harder in your ears. His head tipped back again, exposing the sharp line of his jaw, and you couldn’t resist leaning forward to press your lips against it. The scrape of his stubble against your mouth was delicious, and you let your teeth graze his skin lightly, earning another low, guttural groan from him.

His hands slid higher, fingers skimming the bare skin of your thighs, his touch just shy of where you wanted it most. It was infuriating how good he was at this—how he could be falling apart under your touch and still dare to tease you.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a strained mix of pleasure and frustration as you moved your hand, slow and steady, testing what he liked. His hips jerked upward slightly, and his fingers dug into your thighs, his control slipping.

“You talk too much,” you teased, leaning close enough that your breath brushed against his ear.

Logan let out a strangled laugh, his voice raw. “And you’re full of surprises.” His hands flexed against your legs, his thumbs brushing over your inner thighs in a way that made your breath hitch. “Dangerous ones.”

You didn’t respond; you were too focused on how his body reacted to you. His groans deepened, his breaths coming faster, his muscles tensing beneath you. Every sound, every shift, every reaction was a victory, and you could feel his restraint unraveling with each passing second.

“You’re enjoying this,” he rasped, his voice barely audible, his tone between amusement and surrender.

“Obviously,” you replied, your lips grazing the shell of his ear as you spoke.

Logan’s laugh was short and broken, and when he finally tipped his head forward, his gaze met yours. His eyes were dark and blown with desire, his smirk long gone, replaced by something raw and desperate.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” Logan muttered, his voice dark and teasing, just before his hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack. The sting was quick, but the warmth that bloomed in its wake sent a shiver racing through you. Your movements froze, your hand pausing mid-stroke against him, caught off guard by the sudden jolt of sensation.

“Did I say you could stop?” he rasped, his tone low, commanding, and dripping with heat.

The words alone sent a spark surging through you, your stomach tightening as heat pooled low in your core. You bit your lip, trying to stay composed, but the tiniest flicker of hesitation must have shown in your expression.

Because Logan smirked and then his palm met your ass again, harder this time, the sound sharp in the small room.

Your breath hitched, your pulse thundering in your ears as you let out a soft gasp. “Go on,” he said, his voice a rough, gravelly edge that made your thighs press together instinctively. “Don’t stop now.”

Your fingers wrapped around him again, and you began to move, slow and deliberate, testing his control. The low groan that escaped his throat was more than enough encouragement to keep going.

Logan’s hands didn’t stay idle. One of them was still gripping your hip, keeping you steady in his lap, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure. But the other—the other drifted lower, his touch firm but unhurried as it slid along the curve of your thigh.

Your breath caught as his hand moved higher, his fingertips skimming the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before finding the edge of your panties. His movements were teasing, maddeningly slow, as though he had all the time in the world to undo you.

When his fingers finally dipped beneath the fabric, brushing against you, your head fell forward, a strangled moan slipping past your lips.

“Mmm,” Logan murmured, his voice like velvet, his breath hot against your ear. “Already so wet.”

The smugness in his tone should have annoyed you, but instead, it only stoked the fire burning in your core. Your hand tightened around him in retaliation, your grip firm as you stroked him, earning another low, guttural groan that vibrated through his chest and into yours.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” he hissed, his forehead briefly pressing against your shoulder as his fingers moved, slow and deliberate, teasing you in a way that made it impossible to think straight. His thumb brushed against just the right spot, and your hips jerked involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his hand.

Logan chuckled, low and dark, the sound rumbling against your skin. “Someone’s impatient,” he murmured, his lips brushing the side of your neck.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, too focused on the push and pull of sensation—the way his fingers slid against you, coaxing sounds from you that you couldn’t have held back if you tried. The combination of your movements around him and the way his hand worked you was overwhelming, your body teetering on the edge of losing control entirely.

“You feel so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice thick with restraint, his breathing uneven as your hand continued to move, drawing sharp, broken groans from him.

His other hand slid up your back, tangling in your hair and gently pulling your head back until your eyes met his. Logan’s gaze was molten, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted as he drank you in. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he growled, his tone dripping with hunger.

“Good,” you breathed, your voice shaky but bold as you pressed your forehead against his, letting your lips brush his in a teasing, fleeting touch.

Logan’s fingers pressed deeper, his movements skilled and deliberate, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, dissolving into a whimper as his thumb found just the right spot, circling with maddening precision. Your body arched against him, your breathing ragged and shallow, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge.

“Look at you,” Logan rasped, his voice rough and frayed like he was barely holding himself together. His forehead brushed yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips. “You gonna cum for me?”

The words hit you like a lightning strike, a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. Your stomach clenched, and your thighs trembled, but instead of answering, you tightened your grip around him, stroking him harder, faster, desperate to drive him over the same edge he was so skillfully pushing you toward.

Logan groaned, the sound low and guttural, his hips jerking upward into your hand as his control faltered. His fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that had your head tipping back, a broken moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a strained growl as his free hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. His lips brushed your jaw and then neck, his stubble scraping against your skin in a way that only added to the overwhelming heat pooling low in your stomach.

You tried to hold on, to stay grounded, but the feverish, escalating rhythm between you was too much. His fingers worked you mercilessly, every movement driving you higher, tighter until you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.

“Logan,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips, your voice trembling with the weight of it.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting over your collarbone, his voice rough and dripping with hunger. “Let go for me. I want to feel you.”

The coil in your core snapped, and you came undone, your body clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you. Your vision blurred, your head tipping forward to bury against his shoulder as a ragged, desperate moan escaped your lips. Logan groaned in response, his hand steadying you, guiding you through it, his fingers still moving as aftershocks rippled through you.

But you weren’t the only one losing control.

Your hand on him didn’t falter, your movements picking up speed even as your body shook in his lap. You could feel him straining against your grip, his breaths coming fast and shallow, each exhale warm against your skin.

“Fuck, you’re gonna—” His words broke off into a strangled groan, his head tipping back against the chair, exposing the strong line of his throat as he unraveled beneath you. His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as his body tensed.

You watched him fall apart, every sound, every shuddering breath sending a fresh thrill racing through you. His lips parted, his jaw clenched, and then he let go, his body jerking beneath yours as his release spilled over your hand, hot and sticky, marking both of you.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breathing, both of you trembling, chests rising and falling in sync as the tension slowly ebbed away.

Logan was the first to break the silence, a low, breathless laugh rumbling in his chest. “Shit,” he muttered, his voice hoarse but laced with amusement. His hands slid up your back, holding you against him as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You don’t play fair, do you?”

You let out a shaky laugh, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your release. But you weren’t done.

“No,” you whispered, your voice still uneven but laced with determination.

Logan’s brows lifted slightly, his lips parting as if to say something, but before he could get a word out, your hands were already moving. You slid your panties to the side again with deliberate ease. Logan’s gaze dropped, his hazel eyes tracking every movement, his chest still rising and falling heavily.

“Wait a second,” he started, his voice a rasp of amusement mixed with surprise.

But you didn’t wait. Instead, you lifted yourself slightly, your hand wrapping around him, positioning him at your entrance. The feel of him, hot and hard against you, sent a fresh wave of heat racing through your body. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, daring him to stop you.

Logan’s smirk faltered, his jaw tightening as he looked up at you, the faintest hint of a challenge lingering in his gaze. “Damn, gorgeous,” he hissed as you began to sink down onto him, slow and deliberate, your walls stretching around him inch by inch. His head tipped back against the chair, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. “Take it easy.”

“Why?” you shot back, your voice low and breathy, though your lips curled into a wicked smile. “Can’t handle it?”

That wiped away the last trace of his cocky grin. His hands flexed against your hips, his gaze snapping back to you, sharp and burning with intensity. “Oh, I can handle it,” he growled, his voice rough and edged with need. “The question is, can you?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pressed your palms against his chest for leverage, your nails grazing over the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt as you sank down fully, taking him to the hilt.

The sound that tore from Logan’s throat was raw, almost guttural, his hips jerking up into you as his head tipped back once again. His control—so cool and smug just moments ago—was starting to crack, and the sight of it sent a surge of satisfaction coursing through you.

You started to move, slow and purposeful at first, testing the rhythm, testing him. Logan’s groans deepened, his fingers sliding down to grip your thighs as his hips bucked slightly in time with your movements.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl. “You’re killing me.”

You leaned forward, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Yeah?”

That single word seemed to undo him further. His grip on your thighs tightened, his hips moving more insistently beneath you, but you weren’t about to let him take control. Not this time.

You straightened up, pressing your hands firmly against his chest to hold him down as you picked up your pace, your movements rougher now, needier. The friction, the heat, the way he filled you—it was all-consuming, overwhelming, and yet you wanted more.

“You feel so good. Just like that,” Logan groaned, his voice strained, his hands sliding back to your hips to guide you even though it was clear you didn’t need the help.

“You talk too much,” you shot back, a playful edge in your tone even as your breaths came faster, your body tightening, coiling, building toward something inevitable.

Logan let out a breathless laugh, though it quickly dissolved into a moan as you rolled your hips, the movement pulling another low groan from deep in his chest. His head fell forward slightly, his lips grazing your collarbone, your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered, “Yeah but you like it.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your pace quickening as you chased that edge, your body burning with the need to prove him wrong.

The tension in your body reached a breaking point, your thighs trembling as the pleasure surged higher and higher. Logan’s hands clutched at you, his breathing harsh, his voice barely audible as he rasped your name like a prayer.

And then you shattered.

The release ripped through you, your walls clenching tightly around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Your head tipped back, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your body bucked against his. Logan groaned beneath you, his grip on your hips faltering as he felt you fall apart, his own control slipping further.

His head fell back against the chair, his jaw tight, his lips parted as he let out a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through both of you. His hands clenched at your skin, holding you in place as his hips jerked beneath you, his release hitting hard and fast, his composure completely obliterated.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the heat of your bodies tangled together as you both came down from the high. Your chest heaved, your hands still pressed against his chest as you steadied yourself, your legs shaking slightly from the effort.

Logan looked up at you then, his face flushed, his eyes dark and dazed. That smug grin of his? Gone. Replaced by something softer like he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a slow, languid kiss, savoring the way his body relaxed beneath you, the way his hands still rested on your hips like he didn’t want to let you go.

“Guess you were wrong,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft but dripping with triumph, a smug smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Logan let out a breathless laugh, his chest still heaving beneath your palms. His head rested against the chair, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin under the dim red glow of the room. He shook his head slightly, the movement slow and lazy, as if he were still catching his breath. His hands slid up your back in a way that made you shiver, the pressure steady and possessive.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and low, roughened by everything you’d just put him through. “But I’m not even mad.”

You smirked at that, your satisfaction blooming at the sight of him—disheveled, flushed, and for once completely stripped of his cocky confidence. His hair was an unruly mess, his lips red and swollen from your kisses. You’d done that to him, and you couldn’t help the rush of pride that followed.

Still, the teasing glint in his eye told you he wasn’t quite ready to give you the last word.

Feeling his weight still beneath you, the lingering heat between your bodies, you pushed against his chest to get up. Your legs were a little shaky, but your resolve was firm.

But Logan’s hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place with an effortless strength that sent a jolt of something thrilling through you. His fingers flexed against your skin to let you know he wasn’t ready to let go.

“Where you going, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice lazy but dripping with heat. His gaze lifted to meet yours, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief despite the exhaustion etched into his features.

“I had my fun,” you replied, tilting your head slightly as you gave him your best smirk.

His brow shot up, a single, questioning arch that made your stomach flip. “You had your fun?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging as nonchalantly as you could while straddling him, your hands still braced on his chest. “Mission accomplished. You’re wrecked. I’m satisfied. Seems fair to me.”

Logan chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating beneath your palms. “Satisfied, huh?” he repeated, his tone laced with playful skepticism. “You sure about that?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his challenge, but before you could fire back, Logan shifted beneath you, his hands sliding from your hips to the curve of your waist. The movement was slow, deliberate, and far too smooth for someone who should’ve been as wrecked as he looked. His thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin just beneath your ribs, a touch so light it felt like he was testing you.

“Because I don’t think you are,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a faint smirk as his eyes flicked down to where your bodies were still pressed together. “Not really.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your pulse betrayed you, thrumming harder at the weight of his hands on your skin. “I think I know when I’m satisfied, Logan.”

“Do you, though?” he countered, his smirk growing as his gaze climbed back up to yours. “Because if this is you satisfied, gorgeous, I can’t wait to see what you’re like when you’re really having fun.”

You stared at him, your lips parting as his words sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you. And damn him, he saw it—saw the way your breath hitched, the way your eyes flickered just slightly, betraying the lingering hunger that even you hadn’t realized was still there.

Logan’s grin softened, losing some of its sharpness as his hands slid back down to your hips, holding you there. “Stay,” he said softly, though his tone still had an edge of playfulness. “Unless you’re scared I’ll prove you wrong again.”

You narrowed your eyes, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed the composure you tried to maintain. “Scared?” you scoffed, leaning forward slightly, your hands trailing up his chest. “Not a chance.”

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

“Guess I’ll have to stick around,” you said finally, your voice light but your heart pounding.

Logan grinned, leaning forward just enough to brush his lips against yours. “Damn right, you will.”

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gingersxng · 3 months ago

Text

Like What You See?

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+

Notes: roommates, reader is a tease, bigdick!mingi, mentions of porn, jerking off, Mingi has nasty thoughts about the reader, stripping, fingering, pussy play, breast play, voyeurism, cursing, Mingi cums in his pants, mentions of sex toys. May have forgotten something!

a/n: saw this Ateez log and immediately thought of this scenario when I saw Mingis facial expressions🙂‍↕️ am I sorry tho? ofc not!

Words: 866

Imagine..

During the last few weeks maybe months, you’d been repeatedly walking in on your roommate Mingi sitting against the headboard on his bed with his massive cock in his fist, the erotic and pornographic sounds from the laptop giving you straight hints of what he was watching.

What you didn’t know was that he didn’t jerk off by the screen in front of him, sure it was part of the point but the biggest reason he did it was because of you. He imagined that it was your small hand who milked him dry, as if it was your pretty mouth that was wrapped around his dick sucking up every last drop of his thick cum.

It was hard for you to sleep at night since your rooms were just a thin wall apart, Mingis low and deep moans tore through the wall and into your red ears. The vibrations from his voice went straight to your pussy and you crossed your legs in discomfort as you looked up at the ceiling. All you wanted was to be the one who made him sound so devilish..

Mingi sat down on the couch in your shared living room watching something boring. You’d been in your room the whole afternoon trying to find a way to act around Mingi after all this live porn. He didn’t think much about it that you’d seen him half naked, he’s a man after all.

The thing was, you had seen his dick maybe it was time for him to see your pussy. The wicked thought of Mingi watching your naked body gave your belly the tingles.

You took a deep breath before finally stepping out of your room, Mingis eyes were still glued to the tv screen and you slowly approach the armchair beside the couch.

“You’re finally out of your room, congratulations y/n” he said sarcastically, still watching the tv. “oh thank you Mingi..” you said seductively as you sneaked down in the soft chair. “What have you been up…” Mingi finally turned his head away from the tv and were met by a sight he never thought he would ever witness in his whole life even if he dreamed about it almost every night. “To..?” He gulped hard and his eyes got big as UFO’s.

You half laid down in the armchair with your legs spread wide, one leg over the armrest and your fingers deep inside your pussy. You were only wearing a white crop top with nothing underneath, your hard nipples almost poked holes through the thin material.

“Like what you see?” You softly asked watching him sit in front of you like a mannequin, not moving a muscle. Even though he couldn’t speak, his body spoke for him instead. A big tent formed quickly in his sweats and you swore you could almost see his cock twitch underneath.

Mingi gave you a nod and bit down on his lower lip trying his best not to nut inside his boxers too fast. You slowly rubbed your clit and bucked your hips up while letting out soft moans never breaking eye contact, you slid your index finger through your folds and gathered up some of your juices that made a slimy string as you took your finger out. “Fuck..” he whispered under his breath as all he wanted to do was to bend you over this couch and fuck your brains out.

While playing with yourself you could see how he fought more and more not to completely loose it, his leg bounced up and down fast and his one hand rested on his thigh, he gripped it so hard he almost let out a whine.

“You’re torturing me, why?” Mingi groaned, his eyes never leaving your wet pussy. “You’ve been torturing me all those nights jerking off to all those porn videos, so I thought I’d do the same thing to you” you said with a wink. Mingi let out a deep moan and swallowed thickly, “I never wanted to torture you..” he whispered.

“You wanna play with these?” You teased as you took off your top revealing your bare tits, you kneaded them together and bit your lip. Mingi uncomfortably pushed his hand down on his dick wanting release, wanting you to ride him..

“Oh fuck yes” he growled as he palmed himself through his sweats. “I’m sorry but you can’t, I’m actually beginning to feel a bit tired from all this playing” you slowly stretched your arms above your head and let out a fake yawn. “Think I have to finish this in the bedroom.. should I use the vibrator or the big dildo..?” You talked to yourself as you got up from the chair. Mingi let out a painful groan as he came in his boxers, you knew he did but continued to play your game.

You bent down to his eye level and put your finger under his chin to tilt his head up, his eyes were filled with nothing more than lust, his pupils were dilated to the max. “If you’re up for it we could watch porn together some night..” you whispered before letting go, leaving him horny and confused.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #kpop smut #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi #mingi hard hours

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surielstea · 1 month ago

Text

Solstice Special

(NSFW version)

Pairing: ACoTaR makes x Fem!Reader (separately)

Summary: A compilation of drabbles with a theme of Winter Solstice, just an excuse to write smut really.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ ONLY. pwp, cunninglus, breeding kink (cassian), humiliation kink (azriel), thigh riding, biting kink and mention of blood (Lucien), creampie, p in v, likely a lot of other nasty things.

7.9k words.

Rhys - Sauna

Rhysand had won the snowball fight. Naturally, this victory imbued him with a misplaced sense of entitlement for the rest of the day. He'd declared himself sovereign of all things—including the sauna. Alone.

His decree had prompted groans of protest from the other two winged males, both grumbling about "tradition" and "selfishness" as they trudged back toward the cabin through knee-deep snow. Rhys had merely smirked, unbothered, and turned to me with an outstretched hand.

"Come, darling," he'd said, his tone a silky promise I couldn't resist.

The air inside the sauna was thick and heady, filled with the tang of cedar and the deep, humid heat that wrapped around me like a second skin. Clad in nothing but a towel and a sheen of sweat, I reclined on one of the wooden benches, my head tipped back against the wall, eyes fluttered closed. Each breath filled my lungs with the intoxicating warmth, soothing every tense muscle as it seeped into my very bones.

Across from me, Rhys sat sprawled in his usual languid grace, his own towel draped low on his hips. The steam rose in lazy tendrils around him, blurring the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the wicked curve of his smirk as he watched me. Always watching.

"Comfortable?" he purred, his voice like velvet, dark and inviting.

I hummed in response, too relaxed to bother with words.

His chuckle rolled through the small space, low and decadent as if he'd already won some game I hadn't realized we were playing. "Good. Because I'm not sharing this sauna—or you—with anyone else today."

The heat of the sauna was nothing compared to the heat in Rhysand's gaze. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel it—an unrelenting weight, heavy and deliberate as it traveled the length of my body.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to say what's on your mind?" I murmured, my voice lazy, teasing.

A dark chuckle came in response, sending a ripple of awareness through me. "And ruin the view? Not a chance, darling."

I opened my eyes, the steam blurring his form for just a moment before my gaze sharpened on him. Rhys sat sprawled, his towel barely clinging to his hips, droplets of sweat tracing a maddening path down the carved planes of his chest. His wings were draped behind him, dark and sleek, adding to the languid power that radiated from him.

"Do you enjoy torturing yourself, or is this just for my benefit?" I asked, arching a brow as I stretched, the movement deliberately slow.

His smirk deepened, wicked and knowing. "Who says I'm the one being tortured?"

He moved then, fluid and precise, crossing the short distance between us in a single stride. His towel slipped just a fraction lower, and I swallowed hard, my resolve slipping as he knelt before me, his large hands bracketing my thighs. The warmth of his palms seared through the thin towel that clung to my body, his thumbs stroking soft circles against my bare skin.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. "If you keep teasing me, I might decide to retaliate."

"Maybe I want you to," I whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.

His pupils flared, and the smirk faded, replaced by something darker, hungrier. "You shouldn't have said that, darling."

Before I could respond, his hands gripped my thighs, pulling me closer to the edge of the bench. His body pressed against mine, all heat and strength, as his mouth captured mine in a kiss that stole every ounce of air from my lungs. It wasn't soft or teasing—it was a claiming, pure and unrelenting.

I moaned against him, my hands finding his shoulders, digging into the slick heat of his skin as he devoured me. His tongue swept into my mouth, coaxing and demanding all at once, while his hands roamed, tugging the towel free from my body and leaving me bare beneath him.

The steam wrapped around us, a cocoon of heat and desire as Rhys pulled back just enough to gaze down at me. His eyes were molten, his breathing ragged. "You're beautiful," he murmured, the words reverent, though his hands betrayed the restraint in his voice as they gripped my hips. "And you're mine."

My response was a breathless gasp as he lowered his mouth to my neck, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin before soothing the bite with his tongue. His hands were everywhere, exploring, worshipping, as his kisses trailed lower, leaving a scorching path in their wake.

I arched into him, my body entirely at his mercy, and Rhys, ever the opportunist, took full advantage. His name fell from my lips like a prayer as he settled between my thighs, his touch igniting a fire that threatened to consume us both.

"Relax, darling," he murmured, his voice thick with promise. "Let me take care of you."

Rhysand's words hung in the humid air, melting into the heat that already had me trembling beneath his touch. His hands—strong, calloused, utterly sure of themselves—caressed the bare skin of my thighs, slowly coaxing them apart as he knelt fully between them. The smirk that played on his lips was as wicked as it was breathtaking, and when he glanced up at me, his violet eyes smoldered with unrelenting intensity.

"Beautiful," he murmured again, his voice a velvet rasp. His hands slid higher, thumbs stroking over sensitive skin, his touch both reverent and maddeningly teasing.

I let my head fall back, a shuddering exhale escaping me as I fought to keep from unraveling too soon. The combination of his gaze, his touch, and the heat of the sauna was overwhelming, a heady mixture that left me utterly at his mercy.

"You're too quiet, darling," Rhys teased, his voice laced with amusement and dark intent. "I want to hear you. Every gasp, every moan. Every single sound you make when I touch you."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words never made it past my lips. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him, and then his mouth descended—kisses and bites trailing down my abdomen, each one setting my nerves alight. When his lips finally found the apex of my thighs, I gasped, my hands flying to his dark, sweat-dampened hair.

"Rhys—"

He hummed against me, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. His tongue flicked out, teasing, testing before he gave me everything, his name falling from my lips like a chant. His grip on my hips tightened, holding me steady as he worked me over with infuriating precision like he was savoring every moment, every reaction.

The steam curled around us, the humid air thickening as my body tensed beneath his ministrations. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, and the groan that rumbled from him in response only spurred me closer to the edge.

"Good girl," he murmured against me, his voice dark and filled with satisfaction. "So perfect for me."

I could barely process his words, too consumed by the pleasure building inside me, the heat threatening to shatter me entirely. His name spilled from my lips again, broken and desperate, as he pushed me higher and higher, his tongue and fingers working in perfect, devastating harmony.

"Let go," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. "Give it to me."

And I did. The tension coiled within me snapped, pleasure crashing through me like a tidal wave. I cried out his name, my body trembling, my back arching as Rhys held me through every pulse, every wave, his mouth and hands relentless as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from me.

When I finally came down, gasping for breath, he pressed one last lingering kiss to my thigh before rising to his full height. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his lips curved in that familiar, wicked smile.

"Attagirl," he murmured, his voice rough and impossibly dark.

And then his hands were on me again, pulling me up against him, his towel dropping to the floor as he claimed my mouth with a ferocity that promised he wasn't nearly finished.

Az - Party

The River House was alive with celebration. Laughter echoed off the high ceilings, mingling with the cheerful notes of a string quartet in the corner. Snow swirled gently outside the windows, the night blanketed in frost and light.

I stood near the refreshments table, sipping a glass of wine, trying my best to focus on the festivities. My brother Cassian's booming laughter carried from somewhere in the room, no doubt entertaining a small crowd with one of his outlandish stories. Mor twirled a glass of mulled wine in hand, her golden gown catching the flicker of candlelight as she chatted with Elain and Feyre.

It was all so... warm. Inviting. But my attention kept drifting to the shadows pooling in the corner of the room. Or, more accurately, to him.

Azriel leaned against the far wall, nursing a glass of something amber-colored. He was dressed in all black, as usual, the tailored jacket and crisp shirt doing sinful things to his broad shoulders. His gaze, sharp and unreadable, was fixed firmly on me.

I knew that look.

I tried not to squirm under the weight of it, but my body betrayed me, heat prickling my skin. I sipped my wine and looked away, pretending to listen to Amren who was telling a story to others. My heart betrayed me too, thudding against my ribs.

A quiet voice, rough with amusement, broke through my thoughts. "You're terrible at pretending I'm not here."

I turned to find Azriel standing just behind me, his shadows coiling lazily around his shoulders. His dark eyes gleamed with a heat that made my breath hitch.

"Can you blame me?" I said softly, tilting my head in challenge. "You've been staring at me all night."

"Because you've been avoiding me all night," he replied, stepping closer.

I glanced around the room, acutely aware of how close he was. If Cassian—or anyone—saw us like this.

"We agreed to keep this quiet," I reminded him, though my voice lacked conviction.

Azriel smirked, his lips quirking in that infuriatingly attractive way that made my knees weak. "You're not making it easy."

"Not here," I ignore his words, my heart racing as his hand brushed against mine, hidden from view.

"Come with me then," he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I barely had time to think before Azriel tightened his grip on my hand, guiding me out of the crowded room. We slipped through the hallways of the River House, the sound of the party fading with every step. My pulse quickened—not from fear of being caught, but from the sheer intensity of his presence.

He stopped in a secluded alcove, moonlight streaming through a frosted window. The silver light cast shadows across his sharp cheekbones, and when he turned to face me, I couldn't look away.

"Az," I whispered, but whatever I meant to say dissolved when he stepped closer, caging me against the wall.

His hand came up, bracing against the wall beside my head. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been to stay away from you tonight?" His voice was rough, and low, sending a bolt of heat straight through me.

"I could say the same," I admitted, my voice soft but steady.

His eyes darkened, his free hand brushing my cheek. "Say the word, and I'll stop."

I didn't hesitate. "Don't."

His lips crashed against mine, and the world fell away.

Azriel kissed like a man starved. His lips were soft but demanding, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me against him. I tangled my fingers in his hair, gasping as he deepened the kiss.

His tongue found its way into my mouth, pressing me harder into the wall behind me as he explored every inch of me. He couldn't get enough, his shadows were tightening around my thighs, swirling greedily below my dress, up my waist.

He kicked my legs apart, and then his knee was pressed to my pulsing heat and there was nothing I could do then except moan his name and I was grateful for the music playing in the other room otherwise I surely would've been heard.

"As much as I love to hear you moaning my name, I need you to stay quiet," He breathed into my open mouth. "Can you do that for me, love?" He tilted his head slightly.

I nod shakily. "Mm," I whimper.

He flashed a wolfish grin. "That's my girl," He praises, then dips down to put his lips on my neck.

He lifted me effortlessly, positioning me to settle on his thigh, straddling it as his lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below my ear.

"Someone's going to catch us," I managed to say, though I didn't sound the least bit convincing.

"Let them." His voice was a growl, his shadows curling around us like a protective cocoon. "Or maybe I'll just make you beg me to stop."

"Not a chance," I shot back, pulling him closer.

His hands tightened on my hips, and when he guided me to grind down, I couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped. Azriel swallowed the sound with a kiss, his lips, and hands leaving me utterly undone.

His hands gripped my hips with bruising strength, steadying me as I rocked against him. His thigh, solid and unyielding, pressed into the place where I ached most, sending sparks of pleasure curling through me. But it wasn't enough—not yet.

"That's it," Azriel murmured, his voice a low rasp against my ear. "Getting off on my thigh. Such a needy girl."

Heat flared across my cheeks, humiliation sinking deep, but it didn't stop me. I couldn't stop. I rolled my hips again, chasing the friction I so desperately craved.

Azriel's hands slid up, one brushing the bare skin of my thigh beneath my dress, the other reaching to tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear. The gesture was almost tender, a stark contrast to his taunting words.

"Look at you," he continued, his tone darkly amused. "So desperate for it. You'd let anyone walk in right now and see, wouldn't you?"

"No," I gasped, shaking my head, though my body betrayed me, grinding harder against him.

"No?" he echoed, his lips brushing my jaw. "You sure about that, love? Because you haven't stopped." His teeth grazed my earlobe, a sharp nip that made me shudder.

I buried my face in his neck, trying to hide from the weight of his gaze, but he wouldn't allow it.

"Uh-uh," he growled, one hand gripping my chin and tilting my face back up to him. "Eyes on me. I want to see how much you need this."

A whimper escaped my lips, and he chuckled darkly, his thumb brushing over my flushed cheek. "That's my good girl," he praised, dragging the words out slowly, savoring each one.

The praise, the shame, the molten heat pooling low in my belly—it all coalesced into something heady and all-consuming. My nails dug into his shoulders, and I tried to grind faster, harder, desperate to push myself over the edge.

But Azriel had other plans. His grip tightened on my hips, forcing me to slow.

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice a silken command. "You don't come until I say you can."

I let out a frustrated cry, my forehead dropping against his chest. "Azriel," I pleaded, my voice breathless, needy.

He hummed in mock sympathy, the sound vibrating through his chest. "What's the matter, love? You were doing so well." His thigh flexed beneath me, sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through my veins. "Don't tell me you're already close. From just this?"

My face burned, the humiliation sharp and thrilling. I refused to answer, but my silence only made him laugh softly, his shadows curling tighter around us.

"That's what I thought," he said, his tone laced with smug satisfaction. "So desperate. So pretty when you're like this."

"Please," I whispered, the word tumbling from my lips before I could stop it.

His eyes darkened, his smirk growing. "Please, what?"

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat.

"Say it," he urged, his voice dropping to a low, commanding growl. "Tell me what you want, love. Beg for it."

"Please, Az," I whispered again, my voice trembling. "I need—"

"You need what?" he interrupted, making me fumble for words further. His shadows brushed over my legs, teasing the sensitive skin there. "Say it."

"I need to come," I finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

He let out a low hum, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "That's better."

A soft whine escaped me as he guided my hips again but did not tell me I could allow that sweet release to flood me, slow and deliberate, dragging out every second. My thighs burned with effort, my body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"That's it," Azriel murmured, his lips ghosting over my ear. "Keep going. Show me how much you want it."

I rolled my hips again, the friction unbearable, every movement sending me spiraling closer to the edge. But he wouldn't let me fall, his hands controlling every moment, every sensation.

"Good girl," he said, his voice velvet-soft. "You're so close, aren't you?"

"Yes," I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, Azriel—"

"Not yet," he said again, his smirk widening. "Just a little longer, love. I had to wait all night, it's only fair."

Tears pricked my eyes from the effort of holding back, my body taut with need. "Azriel, please," I begged, my voice cracking.

He smiled at the sound, lips finding their place on my neck, sucking and licking where he knew was my most sensitive spot. I whimpered his name, needy and desperate, clawing down his back, bucking my hips against his flexing thigh pathetically, trying to keep the friction while simultaneously holding it at bay.

"Azriel," I cried. "Please, I'll beg? Is that what you want?" I mumbled, teary-eyed, staring up at him through my lashes.

A soft smile cracked his lips, and then he finally relented, his hand sliding beneath my dress to grip my bare thigh. "That's okay love," he murmured, his lips brushing mine. "Let go for me."

I shattered. The release hit me like a tidal wave, pleasure rippling through every nerve as my body tensed, and then melted against him. His name fell from my lips in a broken cry, muffled as he captured my mouth in a searing kiss.

When I finally stilled, trembling in his arms, he pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with something softer now, more tender.

I smiled weakly, my heart still racing. "You're insufferable."

His laugh was low and quiet, his shadows brushing over my skin in a gentle caress. "And yet, you love me."

I rolled my eyes but didn't argue.

As footsteps echoed faintly down the hallway, Azriel set me back on my feet, smoothing out my dress with careful hands.

I wobbled slightly on my feet, catching my balance despite the ache in my shaky legs.

"You should go back first," he said, his lips quirking into a small smile. "Before someone notices you're missing."

"And what about you?"

He leaned in, pressing a loving kiss to my temple. "I'll go in a few minutes after you, don't want to raise awareness." He smiled crookedly. "And mask your smell," He advises.

I flush deeply, but do as he says, before leaving him in the hall. Looking back only once to see the dark promise in his eyes. Next time it wasn't only going to be his thigh.

Cassian - Unwrap

Cassian toyed with the tassel on my silk robe as I lounged on our bed, my head resting comfortably in his lap while I read. His calloused hand had been stroking lazy patterns along my side, his touch so soothing it made it hard to focus on the words in my book. But then, the silk tassel caught his attention, his fingers snagging the string and giving it a gentle tug.

"You know," he said, his voice low and casual—too casual, which I knew meant trouble. "I never did get a Solstice present from you."

I looked up at him, meeting his hazel gaze. Mischief danced in his eyes, that boyish grin tugging at his lips. Closing my book with a soft thud, I sat up, brushing my hair over my shoulder. "I am your present," I said with a playful smile.

His grin widened, his head tilting in that teasing, infuriating way that made me want to kiss him senseless—and smack him—at the same time. "C'mon, you can't be that lazy."

My lips twitched as I fought a grin, deciding then and there to wipe that smug expression off his face. Without a word, I swung one leg over his lap, settling myself atop him. His large hands instinctively landed on my hips, his thumbs brushing against the silk of my robe.

"No, Cass," I said, leaning closer until my lips ghosted over his. "I am your present."

I watched the shift in his expression as the words sank in, his teasing smirk giving way to something darker, hungrier. Slowly, I dragged my fingers up the column of his neck, tracing the edge of his jaw before guiding one of his hands to the tie of my robe. His breath hitched as he pulled at the silk, the knot unraveling easily under his practiced fingers.

The gray robe slipped open, revealing delicate lace that clung to my skin—a new set of lingerie he'd never seen before. It was a deep, rich red, the exact shade of his siphons, a color I knew drove the possessive side of him wild.

"Oh, sweetheart," he rasped, his voice thick as his eyes roamed over me. His pupils darkened, swallowing the hazel of his irises. I let the robe fall from my shoulders entirely, the fabric pooling around my waist as I leaned back slightly, giving him an unimpeded view.

His gaze devoured me, his hands tightening on my hips as though he needed to anchor himself. "You been hiding this from me all day?" he murmured, his voice strained with the effort it took to hold himself back.

"Maybe," I teased, my fingers weaving into his dark hair, tugging lightly as I leaned down to whisper against his ear, "Go on, Cass. Unwrap your gift."

Cassian didn't need to be told twice. His hands were already moving, sliding up my sides, the heat of his touch searing through the lace as he explored every inch of me. His lips found the sensitive spot at my neck, just beneath my ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my skin that made my breath hitch.

"Whatever you want," I sigh softly. "You can do whatever you want to me." I run a hand through his dark hair.

Cassian let out a deep, guttural growl at my words, his lips pausing against the tender skin of my neck. "Don't say things like that unless you mean them, sweetheart," he warned, his voice dark and hoarse, the edge of restraint barely clinging to it.

I arched against him, my fingers threading deeper into his hair. "I mean every word, Cass," I whispered, my voice breathy as I rolled my hips, feeling him hard and ready against me. "You know I do."

His control snapped. One large hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, holding me in place as his mouth captured mine in a kiss that was wild and consuming. His other hand skimmed down my body, calloused fingers tracing over the lace that clung to my skin. The roughness of his touch was a delicious contrast to the soft fabric, and I moaned into his mouth, my body already strung tight with anticipation.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured against my lips, his voice thick with desire. His fingers slipped under the band of my panties, tearing them off with one swift motion and tossing the ruined lace to the floor. This is what he enjoyed, what I knew he enjoyed. To ravage and take what belonged to him.

I gasped as the cool air hit my heated skin, but Cassian didn't give me time to recover. His lips left mine, trailing down my throat, over the swell of my breasts, before pausing to take one taut peak into his mouth. His tongue swirled around it, his teeth grazing just enough to send a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.

"Cassian," I breathed, my nails digging into his shoulders as his hand slid lower, his fingers dipping between my thighs. He groaned as he found me slick and ready for him, his touch slow and deliberate as he explored every inch of me.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he muttered, his lips moving back up, kissing and nipping a path to my collarbone. As he did so he aligned the leaking head of his cock up with my wet entrance, he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. The intensity of his gaze stole my breath, his hazel eyes dark with hunger.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough and commanding.

"You," I managed, my voice trembling. "I want you, Cass. Please."

His mouth curved into a wicked smile against my skin. "Good girl."

He pushed into me slowly, stretching me in a way that made my head fall back, a moan escaping my lips. Cassian groaned, his hands gripping my hips as he sank into me fully, his forehead dropping to rest against mine.

"You feel so fucking good," he rasped, his breath coming in ragged pants as he began to move, his hips rolling in a rhythm that had me seeing stars all over again.

The room was filled with the sounds of our pleasure—moans, gasps, the slap of skin against skin. Cassian's name fell from my lips like a prayer, his own curses and praises spilling into the air as he drove us both closer to the edge.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough as his hand gripped my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

My eyes locked with his, and the intensity of his expression—possessive, reverent, utterly consumed. "Whatever I want, right?"

I nod shakily, nails digging into his skin.

He smiles, the sight sinful, eyes blown with just. "Good, I'm g'na come inside you," He purred just below my ear. "You stopped takin' that birth tonic a few weeks ago, yeah?" He asks and I nod again, heat blooming across my face.

"Sweet girl," He coos. "I'm g'na stuff you full, get you pregnant," He rasped huskily. My cunt pulsed with the promise, dripping on his cock as a natural lubricant. "You like that, don't you? Squeezin' me so tight," He muttered, voice hitching as I clenched around him eagerly.

"Yes, yes, please. Fill me up."

Cassian's sinful smile only deepened, his breath hot against my ear as he thrust into me with a new intensity. The bed creaked beneath us, his hips snapping forward in a way that had me crying out his name.

"Yeah, that's it," he groaned, his voice low and gravelly. His lips brushed over the shell of my ear, his words punctuated by the rhythmic slap of his body against mine. "Gonna fill you so full, sweetheart. Make you mine in every way."

I could feel the heat pooling low in my stomach, the way my body responded to his every word, his every touch. "Cass," I gasped, my nails raking down his broad back as he pinned me beneath him, a knot already forming. "Please."

"Please what?" he murmured, his forehead dropping to rest against mine as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"Please," My voice failed me, words coming out in a pitiful whimper. "More."

"Yeah? Begging for more?" He smiled, leaning down and capturing my needy noises with his mouth, his tongue already finding its way inside, exploring every inch of me.

He pulled away after a moment, sensing I needed to breathe. "You're taking me so well, squeezing me so tight. You were made for me, weren't you?"

"Yes," I cried, the overwhelming pleasure forcing my back to arch off the mattress. "Only for you, Cassian."

His groan was pure sin, his pace relentless as his hand slid down my body, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs. The added stimulation sent me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. My vision blurred as I clenched around him, my cries filling the room as my body trembled beneath his.

"That's my girl," Cassian growled, his voice thick with pride and possession. He didn't stop, his hips driving into me with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. "You're so perfect like this. Wrecked for me."

I felt him twitch inside me, the telltale sign that he was close. His thrusts became erratic, his breathing ragged as he buried himself deep, groaning my name like a prayer.

"Gonna give you all of it," he rasped, his voice strained as his release hit him, hot and thick, filling me completely. "Gonna make sure it takes." He grunted, fucking it deep into me, his tip brushing against my cervix.

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, the idea of him claiming me in such an intimate way only adding to the bliss coursing through my body. Cassian made no move of pulling out, seeming content to keep his seed deep inside of me.

"You're mine," he murmured, his lips brushing over my temple as he held me close. "Always."

I smiled, my fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. "Always," I echoed, content to let the world fall away as I stayed wrapped in his arms, knowing the night was far from over.

Lucien - Stockings

Lucien had stripped me down to my socks. Literally. The delicate thigh-high stockings I wore remained on as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. His clothed cock was hard, the heat of him brushing against my soaked, bare folds in a tormenting tease. I whined pitifully, bucking my hips in desperation for more. For him.

"Patience, fawn," he chided, a wicked grin tugging at his lips as his warm, calloused hands pinned my hips down to the bed. His amber eye glinted in the candlelight, a smoldering ember against his freckled skin. The other, his metal eye, whirred faintly, locking onto every twitch of my body, every subtle plea I made for him.

"Lucien," I whimpered, voice breathless, needy. My head fell back into the plush pillows as his mouth began its sinful descent, trailing slow, heated kisses down the curve of my neck. His lips were deliberate, slow, savoring every inch of skin as though he had all the time in the world to ruin me.

"You're gorgeous like this," he murmured against my skin, his voice thick and dripping with lust. "All laid out for me, helpless, begging." One of his hands slipped from my hip to glide along the underside of my thigh, his thumb brushing over the lace bow at the top of my stocking. His touch was reverent as if worshiping me were second nature.

When he'd first seen me in these stockings, I barely managed to speak before he had me bare beneath him, as if the mere sight of me was enough to drive him feral. Now, as his mouth moved lower, his teeth grazed the swell of my breast. His tongue flicked over a hardened nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.

"Lucien," I cried, arching into him as he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth. His tongue swirled in tight, maddening circles, leaving me trembling beneath him. He released me with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to my skin as he continued his journey downward.

He gathered my thighs like I was melting in his hands, draping them over his broad, muscular shoulders. His head dipped, fiery hair spilling across my skin as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the delicate flesh of my inner thighs. I felt his teeth tugging at the top of one stocking, pulling it down in slow, deliberate movements until it was folded in the crease of my knee.

"You drive me mad," he growled, his voice rough, raw with hunger. "Your body, your taste." He kissed closer, dangerously close to where I wanted him most. I was quivering beneath him, my body a live wire, every nerve ending alight as he teased me mercilessly.

And then he bit.

Sharp canines sank into the tender flesh of my inner thigh. Pain and pleasure collided, white-hot and electric, and I screamed, my back arching off the bed. My hands shot to his hair, tangling in the silken strands, pulling as I cried out his name. "Lucien." The sound was a broken plea, my brows creasing as I felt warm liquid trickle down my thigh.

He groaned at the taste, his tongue swiping over the wound to catch every drop. The flat of his tongue soothed the sting, leaving me trembling in his hold. Deep enough to scar, a mark of him burned into my flesh. A claim. The thought alone had me clenching around nothing, my eyes fluttering shut as heat coiled low in my belly.

"You're mine," he rumbled, his lips brushing the fresh mark. "No one will ever touch you like this, and if they do..." He smirked. "They'll see this mark, mine."

And then his mouth descended to where I needed him most.

The first drag of his tongue along my slick heat was devastating. I cried out, my fingers tightening in his hair as he licked into me, slow and deliberate, savoring every taste. His nose nudged against my sensitive clit, drawing another desperate moan from my lips.

"Lucien," I whimpered, my thighs trembling on his shoulders. He growled against me, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure rippling through my body.

"You're so sweet, fawn," he murmured, his voice muffled by the slick heat of me. "Every part of you, perfect."

He wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer as his tongue worked me over with an intensity that left me breathless. Every stroke, every swirl, every scrape of his teeth against my swollen clit unraveled me further. He feasted on me like a man starved, drinking in every sound I made, every shiver of my body beneath him.

Lucien's name spilled from my lips like a prayer, over and over, each syllable broken by gasps and whimpers. My body was no longer my own; it was his, entirely, completely. He had me unraveling, falling apart with every skilled flick of his tongue and every deep, guttural growl rumbling through him as he consumed me.

"Such a pretty girl, being so loud for me," He purrs against my heat.

I shuddered at his words, my fingers clawing at the sheets, at his hair, at anything that could anchor me as he drew me higher and higher. His teeth grazed my clit, a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain that had me crying out, my hips bucking against his face. He laughed softly, the sound smug and intoxicating.

"You're close, aren't you?" he teased, the heat of his breath fanning against my slick core. "I can feel you trembling for me, fawn. Feel how badly your body wants to give in."

"Yes," I gasped, barely able to form the word. "Lucien, please."

"Please, what?" His tone was all wicked amusement as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves, so light it was almost maddening. "Use your words."

I whimpered, my thighs quivering as he kissed me again, harder this time, his tongue swirling around the swollen bud. "Please make me come," I begged, my voice desperate, raw. "Lucien, please—"

He didn't make me wait. With one last growl, he sucked hard, his tongue relentless as he pushed me over the edge. My climax hit me like a storm, violent and all-consuming, every nerve in my body alight with fire. I cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room as waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me shaking and boneless beneath him.

Lucien didn't stop, didn't let up as he worked me through every pulse, every aftershock. Only when I was a trembling mess did he finally pull away, his lips glistening with my release, his amber eye blazing with pride and hunger. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking as he crawled up my body.

"You're beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low, reverent, as he cupped my flushed cheek. "Ruined for anyone else."

I barely had time to catch my breath before I felt the heavy press of his cock against my entrance. My eyes fluttered open, meeting his as he leaned down to kiss me, slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his lips.

"Lucien," I whispered against his mouth, the word half a plea, half a surrender.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his metal eye whirring softly as he studied my face. "Say it, fawn," he said, his voice a rough rasp. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," I breathed, the truth of it settling deep in my chest. "Only yours."

His lips curved into a feral grin, satisfaction and possession flickering across his features. "Good girl."

And then he pushed into me, slow and unyielding, stretching me inch by inch until I was utterly filled, utterly his.

Eris - Cold

"You're so warm," I sigh contentedly, nuzzling into my mate's neck. The blizzard that swept through Autumn had knocked out the house's heating system days ago, leaving the usually cozy manor cloaked in an unfamiliar chill.

I wasn't used to the cold, not while hailing from the Summer Court, where warmth was as constant as the tide. Last night, I'd curled up by the hearth, shivering until Eris found me, gently scolding me for not coming to bed. Part of me suspected he could've fixed the heating system with a flick of his wrist, yet he hadn't. He wanted me close, pressed against him, and I couldn't deny him.

Now, wrapped in his arms, my thin nightgown felt like a poor barrier against the fire that pulsed through his veins. His shirtless torso radiated the kind of heat I craved, but even that wasn't enough. Not for the bone-deep chill that still lingered. Not for the ache I felt blooming low in my stomach. I needed that warmth to be a part of me, inside of me.

I burrowed closer, letting out a soft sigh. "Eris," I breathed, tightening my hold around his chest.

He hummed, half awake, his chin resting atop my head. His voice was rough with sleep when he murmured, "Hmm?"

"I'm still cold," I huffed, a pout tugging at my lips.

He shifted slightly, his fingers trailing lazy patterns down my back. "Well, we can't really get much closer," he mumbled.

A flicker of frustration bubbled in my chest. "Can you..." I hesitated, unsure how to ask for what I wanted. My cheeks burned as I clung to him, the words caught in my throat.

"If you want me to fuck you, just say so, my love," he said bluntly, his tone a soft, teasing drawl that sent heat rushing to my face.

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, my breath hitching as his amber eyes glinted with unspoken promises. Lifting slightly, I pressed my lips to his, the kiss tender yet brimming with unspoken need. Warmth bloomed in my cheeks as his hands moved to my waist, guiding me onto his lap.

I straddled him, my knees bracketing his hips as he pulled me closer, his heat seeping into my skin. His lips left mine to trail desperate, frantic kisses down my jaw, and I let out a soft whimper at the sensation.

"I want you to fuck me," I confessed, my voice trembling with need.

His groan was low and guttural, vibrating through his chest. "That wasn't so hard, was it sweetheart?"

Eris's hands slid up my thighs, gathering the fabric of my nightgown until it bunched around my hips. His touch was fire itself, scorching in its intensity as he ran his fingers over my bare skin. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the delicious contrast of heat and chill that had my body alight.

"You're freezing," he murmured, his brows furrowing as his hands moved to grip my hips. "Let's warm you up, yeah?"

Before I could answer, his lips captured mine again, more demanding this time. His tongue swept into my mouth, coaxing soft moans from me as he rolled his hips against mine. The friction sent sparks of pleasure coursing through me, but it wasn't enough. I needed more.

"Eris," I gasped, breaking the kiss to look at him. "Please."

His lips curved into a wicked smile. "Patience, my love," he purred, his hands sliding to cup my ass as he pulled me flush against him. "I'm going to warm every inch of you."

I let out a breathless laugh. "You're taking too long."

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Is that so?"

Before I could respond, one of his hands dipped between us, his fingers brushing over my soaked core. I let out a strangled gasp, my head falling back as he teased me through the thin fabric of my panties.

"Already so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with pride and desire. "So desperate."

I bit my lip, grinding against his hand in search of more friction. "Eris," I whined, my voice breaking as his fingers pushed the fabric aside. "Need more."

He pulled his fingers from me, and I let out a noise of protest, but it quickly turned into a gasp as he flipped us effortlessly. I was on my back now, with him looming over me, his firey hair tousled and his eyes blazing with heat.

"You'll have me, love," he promised, his voice thick with need. "Every inch of me."

Eris shifted, freeing himself from the confines of his pants. My eyes dropped to him, my breath catching at the sight of his length, hard and ready for me. He smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction, before leaning down to capture my lips again.

His body pressed against mine, his heat wrapping around me like a cocoon. As he positioned himself at my entrance, I braced myself, my body already trembling with anticipation.

"Such a needy girl," He tuts beside my ear, kissing my jaw. "You need this so bad, huh?" he whispered, his voice a molten caress.

"Yes, yes Eris," I breathe, and his smile against my skin makes my stomach churn.

And without another word, he thrust into me, filling me completely until I was engulfed in the flames of our desire.

Eris groaned low in his throat as he sank fully into me, his warmth spreading through every inch of my body. My breath hitched, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he stilled for a moment, letting me adjust to the fullness. His lips brushed against my jawline, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck.

"You take me so well," he murmured, his voice rough, a low rumble of molten heat that seemed to pool low in my stomach. "So perfect for me."

I moaned softly, rolling my hips to encourage him to move. He didn't make me wait long. His first thrust was slow and deliberate, dragging against every sensitive part of me, and I cried out, arching beneath him.

"That's it, my love," he groaned, his hand slipping beneath my thigh to hitch it higher around his waist. His fiery magic flared where his skin met mine, a warm pulse that sent shivers racing through me despite the heat.

But Eris wasn't satisfied with just that. A faint glow sparked at his fingertips, and the fire coiled around my leg, pinning it higher against his side. The sensation was incredible—hot but never painful, as if his flame had become an extension of him. The warmth radiated through me, loosening every muscle, chasing away the last vestiges of the chill that had settled in my bones.

"Can you feel it?" he rasped, his thrusts deep and unrelenting now, filling me over and over with a pace that left me gasping. "You feel me fucking the heat back into you, baby?"

"Yes," I whimpered, my hands clawing at his back, desperate to anchor myself as the pleasure built, as his fire seemed to seep deeper, consuming me whole.

The glow of his magic reflected in his amber eyes, which burned with a feral intensity. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin as his lips claimed mine again. The kiss was searing, just like the rest of him, leaving me breathless.

"You're mine," he growled against my lips, his voice deep and possessive. "All mine."

"I'm yours," I gasped, my voice trembling with the force of my desire. "All yours, Eris."

The way his body tensed told me he was close, and I was right there with him, the pleasure coiling tighter with each thrust, each pulse of heat that spread from his magic.

"Come for me, love," he demanded, his hand slipping between us to find that sensitive bundle of nerves. His touch sent me hurtling over the edge, and I cried out his name as the release shattered through me. My body tightened around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

His rhythm faltered as he followed, his fire flaring bright as he spilled inside me. The heat was intoxicating, a rush that spread through my entire body, filling me with a warmth so profound it felt like I might melt. He buried his face in my neck, his breaths heavy and uneven as he rode out his climax.

When he finally stilled, the only sound in the room was the mingling of our ragged breaths. He pressed a lingering kiss to my collarbone, his hands stroking soothing patterns over my sides.

"Warm enough now?" he murmured, a teasing lilt in his voice.

I let out a breathless laugh, still basking in the afterglow. "More than enough."

Eris chuckled, the sound low and satisfied, as he pulled from me—and I immediately missed the warmth, watching as he propped himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His amber eyes still glowed faintly with the remnants of his magic.

"Autumn males really do have fire in their veins," I murmured, my voice soft, I reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, swiping my thumb over the teasing smirk forming on his lips.

"That we do, my love," he said, leaning down to kiss me again. "And it's all yours."

SFW version here -> link

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