#before you exit imagines

[attex]

fuckign love drawing him doing this (smoke machine)

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

The Springtrap fangame idea that I brought up... some more stuff for it, because it is not leaving my mind:

|More obvious to the player character upon actually finding him--when the two of you are still at the location--it's clear that he keeps seeing someone--and it seems to make the rabbit upset.|

|It's brief glimpses in the corner of the player characters eyes, but as the two travel... you are certain that a yellow bear keeps popping up in certain places.|

|It is a bit of an adventure game--and the player is traveling. While tracking down Henry, the player character and Springtrap could end up at other locations--Springtrap shares warped stories.|

|Springtrap is still simply using the player character--although, there are/would be brief moments within it where he seems calm around the character, or enjoys the company. The way he acts changes.|

|Moments where Springtrap cannot accompany you--the springlocks have gotten worse. Potentially a moment where the player character needs to try and fix it quickly in a frantic moment.|

[yourlocalgrass]

I just realised I know the birthday Nightmare comes up on the exact day as the said character’s birthday but doesn’t the revival come almost like 5 days before their Birthday??

There hasn’t been any birthday Pop Quiz revival for Levi yet… it should have been here by now. I mean we can still wait until the last day and if it pops up or they’ve removed birthday revival events then… that’s the last of OM ever left that they’ve just removed.

Infact I’ve just realised the recent Birthday Pop Quizz revivals end 2 days before the character’s Birthday

-Simeon’s Birthday is on February 10th

-The twins Birthday is on March 11th

So if we’re talking about Levi’s birthday revival here, it should have ended by now. And well, there you have it, there’s nothing yet. I mean just gotta wait and see…

[yurki-posts]

"Wow, so he planned this all along? I wonder what kind of explanation he has, maybe it's about the void? the series going to end? Maybe something about the universe going to destroy them all?? Maybe we can get some backstory or something from the fut-!"

Oh...

[kalosian-woods]

(synchro nonnie)

goodra be out here chilling in the wetlands while so many things are going on with the gang

bro(neutral) may not know the full thing but something definitely happened with them

Goodra really does just face change wherever they go. I guess it's a part of their arc in a way; to grow is to change, and to change is to be fluid and be exposed to different experiences until you are almost unrecognisable to who you were before. After basically scaring half the wetlands when they first came around, it was about time Goodra experienced change from the other side as well heh.

When they first came in as a Goomy, there was a newly evolved Frogadier and an Ash on the run with a happy winning streak, Serena having just committing to her dream of Showcases and free from burden with her mother but not entering one yet, and Clemont barely coming to terms with being a Gym Leader. When they left to protect the wetlands as a Goodra, they had left Ash learning to slow it down a little (a very tiny little that he forgets very quickly but still), Braixen newly evolved now with friendship and Serena renewing her conviction after a devestating setback, and Clemont rejoining the group after training for the most epic battle between friends ever. An okay level of growth, all things considered.

When Goodra comes back for the League, well, there is now:

Talonflame and Greninja (having evolved from last time). Apparently Talonflame fought Moltres? Greninja now has an alternative form that strangely resembles Ash...

A fully grown Noivern. Out of the blue. Talonflame is also coparenting with Hawlucha taking most of the work. This is compared to the fiercely independent Wrestling Pokemon that was at odds with the small bird. This Noivern evolved after fighting Zapdos, which may run in the family at this point.

A squishy blob that stays in the bag with Dedenne. They're roomies? And the blob is also Dragon-Type too.

They did watch it (somehow???), but it's still an unbelievable feat for Serena to have won 3 Princess Keys and get to the Master Class finals considering where they left off. Also a full blown Sylveon exists as well now (luckily Goodra has outgrown their fear of Fairy-Types).

Just the utter bewilderment they must be going through after all of that lol. It's kinda sad that Goodra didn't get to stick around that long or for us to see Goodra interact with the others, because that would've been so precious. Both Goodra and Sylveon used to be shy guys, but now that they're more open I'm sure they can be friends! Goodra connecting with Noivern over their Dragon typing and having an epic battle would've been so cool to see! And also just reconnecting with everyone else as well. It's the curse of XY to not give too much time to many things, but I felt like we really missed out on an amazing bonding session with Hawlu and Goodra in the wetlands. I mean, two strong Pokemon being anointed protecters of the weak in a wild Pokemon-only place? If we can't get it a bit before then definitely in the two-parter before they leave. And again, gives Hawlu some of that softness to be able to get along with Noibat later on.

But also you are on to something though: would Goodra notice how things are going on within the gang itself? For Goodra, life in the wetlands has been a lot of managing relationships with all inhabitants and making sure that everyone is safe and happy, along Florges and her gang. Coming back with all these new changes is going to throw Goodra off, and with not much time to be with the others (especially since League and Ash's mentality itself currently), I don't think Goodra is going to be able to pick up on much. Maybe hear a few stories and catch a few glimspe of the form change, but nothing concrete until idk maybe after the Crisis? And considering how Goodra is staying back after everyone goes back and all that, bro is probably still going to have contact with Clemont + Bonnie (with Dedenne!) since Lumiose is close by, along with Greninja and the blobs once in a while I imagine. Maybe then they can share stories and come to an understanding. But yeah, very much in confusion and raised eye emojis for the longest time lol.

Also btw I've got your two asks and to conserve space I'll just put them up under the cut here to conserve space (not too much to say but just to make it look neater):

And my responses: Cool signature (butterfly!!!! 🥺/pos)!!!! Will definitely remember you by that from now on (though I'll still call you synchro for ease if that's okay) and yah, we're really starting a party with all these anons heh! :D

[fictionadventurer]

All the tour groups in Springfield should be very proud of me for how well I refrained from sharing all my fascinating Lincoln facts.

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, cunnīlingus, fīngering, dirty talk, talking through it, squīrting, praise, mdni.

husband nanami who loves to rub his wedding ring against your sopping folds so your pussy always remember who it belongs to.

“she’s so pretty,” he’d whisper against your soaked entrance, feeling you throb against the silver band that wraps around his thick finger. nanami’s breath was airy hot, it fans against your slick heat and makes you intake a single sharp breath. you’re languidly laid back against the cushioned mattress, openly gawking at him merrily playing between your legs. “you’re prettier though sweetheart,” and you shudder, feeling his balmy lips plant a single kiss against your cunt. “mmh,” and a cobwebby string of sap drags out to stick onto his lips at the sloppy contact. nanami continues to rub his pearly band up and down your slit slowly, maneuvering enticing circles against your pulsating clit as he feels you writhe. “how’s it feel, my love?”

“don’t—stop, ‘ken,” you whimper, fishing a hand through his shaggy blond strands. dimples crease near the corners of his lips as he smiles, flicking his tongue against your poor twitching nub. “fuck, r.. right there, more.”

nanami lets off a breathy chuckle and the air that exits from his lips aerates onto your drooling folds. you’re soaked, and as his lips hungrily latch against your clit, he gives it a romantic french kiss. “whatever you want, wifey,” he purrs, such tease dripping underneath his tone. pretty lashes of his flutter shut as his right hand remains right between your thighs. nanami feels your cunt throb even faster once the frigid ring repeatedly smears against your pudgy folds. up and down, he’s gradual and slow — feeling his own dick in his slacks twitch at the sounds of your sloshing cunt bounce off the walls. “my, my, seems like our girl’s still got quite the mouth on her today.”

your legs struggled to stay pried open and he found it so cute. it was just the way your body would always respond to him, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and shiver. with a soft smile, nanami spreads your plump folds apart with two fingers—giving it a soft succulent suck.

“mmh,” and his eyes close before opening again, admiring how much your pretty pussy resembles a blooming flower. “aw, sweetheart. you’re looking away from me, don’t do that,” and his voice was a tauntingly deep rasp. it was husky, and as he’s prodding a lengthy finger against your slit, you whimper.

“eyes on me, eyes on kento—hey you,” and his voice lowers the exact moment you meet his lust filled gaze. butterflies swarm through your tummy and you gulp, feeling your chest tighten. at that moment, you throbbed and he felt it right against his flat tongue. “good girl.”

“k- ken.. ngh,” you whine, locking your quavering legs around his neck. nanami’s teeth gingerly nip at your tender folds as he inserts his ring finger inside of your saturated cunt. you quickly squeeze and clamp around his digit that’s slowly pumping itself inside. the band of the ring tickles around your tender skin and your legs grow weak. “ ‘m gonna c- cum again, kento—fuck.”

bringing his lips toward your sensitive clit once more, he gives it a few passionate kisses. aa his eyes close—he’s so into it. nanami’s imagining it’s your lips he’s kissing, swirling his tongue around and sucking at your pulsating nub. he could almost taste you.

glossy glimmering strings trail down the crevices of his lips and he hums, sliding in another finger. “hold it, sweetheart. hold it for me,” and his voice was husky, baritone hiding underneath each word he spoke. nanami’s soft fawn eyes flicker back up toward you before he gives your cunt a playful encouraging pat. “can you do that? be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer?”

“kento—hngh,” you whimper out, feeling your back arch against the velveteen pillows that sink beneath your weight. the air felt substantially thick as you’re getting closer and closer, and your ears started to hear nothing but pure white noise.

nanami’s fingers were insanely long, and he’s twisting them both around inside of your pussy in mouthwatering clockwise circles. “fuck, fuck,” and he chuckles, feeling you grab onto his hair.

messy blond tresses of his tangle within your fingers as he slowly guides his tongue up against down against your cunt. so sweet. as he’s multi-tasking, each time he delves his digits in and out, you feel a shortness of breath. his fingertips waste no time at reaching your g-spot and that’s all it took for you to nearly lose it. “ah, so squirmy today,” he purrs as the button tip of his nose brushes against your soddened folds. “go ‘head then i guess, honey. you can let got f’ me. ‘s okay.”

“k- kento.. oh my goddd,” you moan, slouched back against the cushioned mattress. it’s as if time stood still. everything felt carnal - your pupils were blown and you found yourself gnawing on your lip. you knew your orgasm was coming but like always — you were never prepared.

it comes in waves, roiling crashing waves that made your body succumb once the waters hit. the ‘water’ being your cascading slick that drenches nanami’s entire mouth from the chin down. you gush out abruptly as your legs still wrap around his face, letting off the most melodic shrilling whine.

“there we go, that’s it princess,” he whispers, still having his lips attached to your honeyed cunt. by now, he’s slipped out his fingers but presses his ring finger right back against your convulsing clit, rubbing it back and forth . .

the squelches that left out of you were loud, and he can’t help the curving smile that spreads against his lips. “there she goes,” he softly says, staring as you succumb to your long awaited orgasm. it felt like shockwaves ran through every spasming vein in your body as you leisurely grew limp. he’s still between your legs, and he licks his pink lips with an even hungrier grin.

“mhm, sweet as always, honey,” and you moan, watching nanami bring his ring finger up to his pursed lips, the same finger that was just buried deep inside of your pussy only a few seconds ago. within a blink of an eye, it disappears into his mouth as he licks the slick of you right off, his tongue gliding across the wet insipid band of his ring that drips with your sap. “you always feed me so well.”

“k- kento.” you moan, the stickiness between your legs making you pulse even more. nanami hums, glancing down underneath you and at the soaked sheets — creating a damp grey spot with how you made quite the mess from his tongue and he simpers.

pressing his thin lips together, he gives your sopping cunt one final kiss. “shhh, i know baby. i know,” and as you’re still trying to catch your breath, nanami goes back to eating you out. like the starved man he was. but this time, he’s spelling out letters with the pointed tip of his tongue. not just any letters though - he’s spelling out those same seven letters he asked you the day he got down on one knee — marry me?

“hng, don’t stop kento, please,” you whimper, your sensitive folds making you continuously heave irregular breaths in and out. his tongue curls all around, rummaging through each part of your gripping pussy before he sucks hard, earning a squeak from you.

“don’t plan on it,” he whispers, wrapping his mouth around your clit. nanami was still slow and gentle nonetheless—and it doesn’t take long before he’s already starting to get pussy drunk. a sleazy grin compresses against both corners of his lips as he continues to spell out those letters with his tongue. the salacious zigzags and curls he forms with just the tip of his tongue makes your toes curl and as you give him one more yank by the hair, he hums.

“mhm. already proposed to you, so why not propose to this pretty pussy too.”

[atxchiphxbix]

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS

synopsis: It’s Sylus’s first birthday with you. As a gift, you decide to give him your first (and his too)

Content. mdni afab + f! reader, established relationship, virgin! sylus, virgin! reader, mutual virginity loss (but honestly only reader’s is noticeable) oral (f! receiving) fingering, vaginal penetration, sylus finishes inside, no protection, praise, pet names (sweetie, kitten, good girl) reader wears lingerie, implied that reader and sylus have both touched themselves before, this is honestly really soft idk

a/n: can we pretend that this isn’t late… I forgot to save half my draft, spent the next day crashing out over it, but at least i got it done. Also my first time writing Sylus.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you’re suddenly feeling nervous. Clammy hands, quick breaths, and shaky hands. Your heart thumps rapidly against the bones of your caged ribs, hard and fast and only increasing with the dwindling time that Sylus spends in the shower, he should be out any minute now.

Tonight’s the night, you tell yourself. Tonight’s the night that you allow yourself to be lost to Sylus. To be his completely and celebrate the first birthday you’ve spent with him.

Your eyes rove over the red-laced clad form of your body, hands adjusting the straps that cling tight to you. A crimson lace set that hugs your curves like a second skin. The stockings clench around the middle of your thighs so the plush flesh spills just over the edge. The set is perfect enough to accentuate your figure, eye-catching and elegant—like Sylus.

And despite your repeated words to calm yourself, you still can’t help but feel nervous. You’ve never done this before, dressed up, given yourself up, especially to the leader of Onychinus. To the most powerful man in the N109 zone. But you aren’t giving yourself up to that man — you’re giving yourself to Sylus, just Sylus. To your lover who has done nothing but make you feel loved and cared for, to the man who has proved his love over and over again in countless ways.

He’s never pushed you whatsoever, never overstepped boundaries, or tried to persuade you to do anything you were uncomfortable with. Even in moments during his vampiric schedule when you two found time to sneak away to share messy kisses full of teeth and tongue, he’s never escalated it to anything, always stopping (to which you find yourself disappointed) and excusing himself with a sweet kiss to your cheeks. Charming, as always. So this time, you should be the one to initiate, to show him that you’re ready.

That thought is enough to encourage you to slip into your shared bed, pulling the silky covers up to your laced chest. You still in that position, shifting slightly in different positions while you listen intently to the sound of the shower. The rush of water extends to your ears and the brief image of your lover under the wet rivulets of water immediately causes your cheeks to heat with familiar warmth and a pool of heat to bubble in you.

A flush rises to your cheeks, burying your face into the inky sheets at the scene your mind has just conjured up. You can vividly imagine water droplets cascading down his toned body, streams of liquid running down his length, and even the way he looks under the lights that most certainly illuminate the sheen of water on his skin. The thought is intoxicating, as are the many other thoughts you’ve had of Sylus.

Amidst your flushed cheeks and wild images blaring through your creative mind, you fail to notice Sylus exit the bathroom. His toned torso is on full display, comfortable in your presence, and a little too comfortable with the way his skin is open, offering you a clear sight of the dipping V-line as his towel hangs dangerously low. His crimson eyes are quick to notice you on his bed, covered with his blanket and face buried into the sheets. It’s clear that you’re not sleeping, and from the tint of rose painting your ears, he easily deduces that you’re blushing. Yet, from what?

His lips quirk into a soft smirk, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat that finally draws your attention to him. “You’re blushing, sweetie.”

Upon hearing his gravelly chuckle, a familiar one that never fails to send waves of shivers down your spine, your head snaps up to him. And if your cheeks weren’t burning red before, seeing him in his half-nude state certainly has caused your cheeks to be coated in the prettiest shade of red — a perfect reflection of his eyes.

“Sylus! Uh…” A quiet laugh (if you could even call it that) escapes your lips, suddenly feeling exactly like a bundle of nerves once again. “I’m not, I was just…” Your words trail off, brain blanking out on what to say. What does one say in this scenario?

“Hm?” He hums amusedly, that smug smile tugging at the edges of his pink lips (and your heart) his eyes crinkling in mirth as he observes you intently. “Were you hiding instead? I’m sure I can find you much faster than when you were looking for that brooch.”

His teasing tone immediately causes you to scowl, narrowing your eyes at him. If Sylus had any say, he would compare you to a kitten with its ears flattened back, claws out, and ready to swat at him.

“I’m not hiding!” You defend yourself indignantly, yet unsure of how to approach the situation. Of course, you could be upright and just tell him that you want him to fuck you and mark you up like he does in all your fantasies. Tell him that you have obscene thoughts about him in your mind, ideas that plague your dreams, all about him. “I just… have another gift for you.”

“Oh?” The soft words that leave your lips cause him to raise a smooth brow, stepping a stride closer to the bed. Closer to where your tantalizing body is hidden beneath his covers. Closer to your pulsing heart and warm body. Closer to the place where you long to have him. “Give it here then.”

He gestures with an open hand, two fingers beckoning you towards him in a silent urge to offer your gift.

“We-well…” You stammer softly, eyes zeroing in on a bead of water that breaks free from the trap of his silvery strands of hair, sliding down the length of his body, disappearing into the waistband of the towel wrapped snug around his waist. Even the simple, most natural action of a glob of water has your throat going dry, fingers itching under the sheets to fling them off of you.

And you do, slowly.

Inch by inch, you tug the blanket down to reveal the expanse of your body, laced in crimson, to the gaze of Sylus who stands a mere few feet away. His room is chilly but with the flush of embarrassment sitting heavy in your cheeks and warmth surging through your body, you’ve never felt hotter.

Once finally bare to his eyes, you will yourself to look at him. He’s suddenly closer than before, eyes dark as he stares down at you. His large hands are clenched tight and from the close distance, you can see the way his chest heaves, a difference in his normal breaths.

A beat passes. One. Two. Three. Before you hesitantly open your mouth, concerned if you’ve miscalculated the moment. “Sy-”

“Is this your gift to me, sweetie?” The man steps closer, hands almost reaching out to ghost over you but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his clenched fists down at his sides.

With a small nod, you finally sit up on your knees. Your hands reach out, easily clasping his and pulling him closer. You move closer, bringing his large hand to rest on your cheek, nuzzling into the warm palm of his hand that seamlessly encases your face. Turning your head, a small kiss is pressed to his inner wrist, reverent in its creation.

“Only if… only if you want to.” A soft whisper. A plea for his approval. An acceptance of your gift and trust you’ve placed into his hands. It’s okay if he isn’t ready but you want him to know that you’re ready. You’re ready to be his completely and wholeheartedly, in every way, his.

From your close proximity, you can see the way his Adam’s apple throbs, saliva sliding down his throat, mouth watering at the delicious sight of you. Clad in a shade that mirrors his eyes, batting your pretty eyes up at him like a kitten — it’s all he’s ever wanted.

Sylus is a gentleman. Never overstepping his boundaries, never asking for too much, always allowing you to take the relationship at a pace that suited you. But this? A special gift for his birthday, to lose himself to you completely, to devote himself to you more than he already has declared? It's his declaration to the world, to show everyone that he finally belongs to you and you to him.

So, with a reverent sigh, he allows his thumb to brush along the familiar skin of your cheeks, smooth and soft. The touch is familiar, so gentle and divine. But with the air charged with unspoken tension and his heated gaze, it's more intimate than a simple touch on your cheeks. His vermillion eyes smolder as he roves over your kneeling form. Your heart picks up pace, thumping faster than it's meant to against the curved bones of your ribs that hide your heart — bared open for him.

An amused chuckle falls from his lips, gravelly and grisly. He leans in closer, watching as your lashes flutter shut in anticipation of a kiss. The sight only makes his mouth curl into a satisfied smile, body heating up in a flush when he hears your words. You want to if he wants to? He’s been wanting for a long time, no, he’s needed you for an eternity. He’s desired every part you’ve bared to him longer than he can remember.

“I want you, if you’ll have me.” His sweet words are punctuated with the sweetest kiss to your hot cheeks. A stark contrast to the hardening length hidden by the towel. It’s so easy for you to get him worked up, and you aren’t even aware of it. Not aware of the effect you have on him, not aware of what your proximity does, or how many nights he’s spent bucking his sticky cock into his wet hands while he thinks about how gorgeous you are.

“I want you.” You reaffirm gently, cupping his warm cheeks. He pulls you in by your hips, leaning in ever so slightly so that his warm breath brushes across your lips. “I want this with you, Sylus.”

He groans softly at your keening words, tilting his head, finally pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. He takes his time kissing you, slow and steady, and so very like him. Sylus is a man who enjoys the finer things in life, savoring the mulled taste of wine or lavish silks. And what could possibly be more exquisite than his beautiful lover dressed up on his special day? This closeness of your first time together, an experience you both haven’t had, shaping and exploring the contours and creases of your love.

So, he kisses you slow, savoring the intimacy of your lips locked together.

“Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous in this, sweetie.” The words come as a groan from Sylus who moves on top of you, towel slipping dangerously to expose the prominent lines of his Apollo’s belt. “So perfect, for me, no?”

You fall easily onto your back, feeling exposed with the absence of the blanket, but Sylus quickly comes to replace that weight. Your hands find purchase on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer towards you as soft lips continue to gently press along yours in smooth undulations, soft swipes of tongue and teeth.

“Sylus, I- let me,” Broken murmurs escape your lips through his worshipful kisses, pushing him away so he sits up.

The soft towel finally falls from his hips, pooling onto his black sheets. Of course, the towel isn’t what catches your attention — rather, what it was hiding. Your gaze drops to the main prize, standing big and hard against his torso. You’ve imagined him plenty of times, large and girthy, but not like… this. It’s pretty, like the rest of him, perfectly proportioned to his 6’2 frame, almost elegant in the way the pink head dribbles pearls of pre down the throbbing veins that dance along the underside.

And perhaps it was because you’re breath caught in your throat, cheeks hot and mouth dry, eyes trained onto the way it throbs with ache that he finally speaks up, a low grin heard in his syllables.

“You’re staring, kitten.” The words ring true, you are staring, quite unabashedly. But he too, doesn’t seem to care, rather, he doesn’t act shy or nervous. Even in moments like these, even if it’s your first, Sylus will be Sylus.

“It’s just… so pretty.” Your whisper, hands coming up to run along the smooth crevices of his collarbones, fingers dancing down to the creases of his chest and abs. Your actions earn a low groan and shiver out of your lover, white hair falling to his eyes as his head falls forward, crimson eyes fluttering shut. “Can I touch you, Sylus? Can I make you feel good, my love?”

The honeyed words and praises that fall from your lips almost has him folding, almost. If he were anyone else, perhaps he’d have given in, but his desire for you overpowers his want for pleasure. After all, who would he be if he didn’t take care of you first, especially since this is your shared firsts.

“Not yet, sweetie. Let me take care of you.” He rebukes you gently, veiny hands rising to wrap around your wrist. He pulls you away, raising your chin for a kiss to soothe your adorable pout.

“No, Sylus. Let me take care of you! It’s your birthday.” You pull away, pressing light kisses down the smooth column of his neck, lingering along scars and every perfect imperfection that makes him — him.

The only response from Sylus is a light chuckle before your world is tilted on its axis and you’ve fallen under him once again. Smoldering crimson eyes meet yours, filled with mirth and amusement while he pins you down underneath his broad body. His lithe fingers find yours, lacing your hands together in a sweet embrace and he hushes your protests with a flurry of kisses.

“This is my gift, no? I should unravel you properly, won’t you indulge the birthday boy?” Each of his teasing words are punctuated with a trail of kisses down your body that has your breath hitching. Before you even try to argue that it’s his birthday, and you should be lavishing him in your attention and care, he’s claimed the final word, lightly kissing down the length of your hot torso. “Besides, this is my first time too. Let me learn you, sweetie.”

Instantly, you melt at his words.

You've imagined this countless of times in the quiet of your room, filled with the sound of your sticky fingers pistoning into the messy channel of your squelching cunt. Countless of times you've imagined how he would kiss down your neck like he currently does, sucking his gentle claim into your flesh. You've imagined his lithe fingers deftly unhooking your lacy bra, trailing hot kisses down the valley of your breast. You've always imagined the experience of being utterly loved by him.

The next feeling you receive from him is the wetness of his warm mouth, wrapping gently around a single nipple, suckling softly on the sensitive tit. His vermillion eyes look up to meet your gaze, the great leader of Onychinus, alternating his attention on your heaving breasts. His silky hair is ruffled with your fingers buried in the silver strands. But the sensations are muted with the unfamiliar length that presses insistently against your sopping clothed core, a reminder that he desires you just as much as you do him in this moment.

"Sylus," you plea his name softly. Instantaneously, he looks up, pulling his mouth away from your chest. A part of you wishes he didn't do so. The action leaves a salacious strand of his warm saliva connected to the tip of your nipple, hardening with the onslaught of the cold air in his room.

"Hm?" He replies quietly, continuing to mark your skin. His hands slide down your sides reverently, admiring every crevice of you. Unwrapping you like a dutiful devotee. With every article of lace that slips from your body, he explores the new expanse of flesh, memorizing every mark, every scar, every millimeter shown. "Do you want me to stop, kitten?"

Instantly, you shake your head, a light whimper slipping from your lips.

Pleased, he finally kisses down to the supple flesh of your inner thighs, mouthing at the skin that exposes itself from the crimson lace. Your needy pleas and whines fill his ears, waves of pleased hums course through him, vibrating against your thighs. His experience is few and far between (zero) but he knows you and that’s already enough for him to understand you inside out.

“Patience, kitten.” He chuckles softly at your pleas, eager whines filling him with an unfathomable amount of pleasure. Large hands knead the flesh of your thigh. Your lacy red underwear outlined your sopping core, drenched in your arousal that he’s so close to. His warm breath ghosts over your damp cunt, shivering in excitement and slight embarrassment. No one has ever gotten this close, this intimate with you, only him. It will continue to be only him. And though he crooned to you to be patient, he could feel his own patience disintegrate when faced with you, all spread out and eager for him. “I want to take my time savoring you, unwrapping you.”

It pleased him that could leave as many marks as he wished; no one else got to see you like this. He could dance his lips across your skin, planting seeds that would blossom later, bloom into hues of ruby and violet, reminders for the next time undresses you. No one else would see them except you and him. A secret buried deep inside when the two of you would soon connect. You would be reminded of the sparks shivering through your body where his lips sucked, and he would remember the pleasure that rushed through him as he marked you for himself.

"Can I take these off?" He speaks low and soft, nuzzling his pink lips against the wet lace, clinging pitifully to your pussy.

At your eager nod, he mouths at your cunt. A low groan cuts through him at the taste of you, leaking through the article of lace. Leaking because of him. It pleases him to see that he has this effect on you, having you spread open with legs hooked over his shoulders and flushed so prettily.

Innately, your hands bury into the strands of his hair, tugging and whining for his touch. He grants it to you through the fabric, tongue flattening against the lace, dragging slowly up until he suckles on your throbbing clit. A sharp gasp is elicited from your kiss-bitten lips, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"All this for me, sweetie? How kind, a sweet cunt for a sweet girl." Sylus chuckles slowly, the sound vibrating through his lips and through your cunt, an action that sends shocks of sharp pleasure shooting through you.

“Mhm… for you, Sy. All for you.” You pant, hips bucking impatiently into his mouth.

A veined hand runs up the garter that decorates your thighs, raising just higher to hook over the waistband of your red-laced panties, tugging down to reveal his present.

"So pretty, kitten. You smell so good, so sweet.” With your legs thrown over his shoulders, cunt glistening in the low light, he admires you quietly, almost divinely in your presence. Your pussy on full display, sensitive bud throbbing and hole clenching around nothing. Drool builds up in his mouth at the delicious sight, unable to tear his eyes away. Embarrassment flushes through you, crawling up your spine to settle on your already-flushed cheeks.

His large hands raise, thumbs parting your slick folds, opening you up to feast on you with his heavy gaze. Your lover leans in, mouth open, coming closer until his nose bumps your clit, tongue dragging through your silky folds, and relishing in the gasp and moans that fall heavenly from your lips. Hands tug at his hair, whines and sweet sounds come from above him, raising higher in pitch when his thumbs swipes at your sensitive clit, rubbing in tight circles. Infinitely better than any of the times you’ve ever touched yourself.

“Sy- fuck!” You throw your head back, thighs threatening to close around his head. He could die happy like this, drunk off of your taste and love. He would give you the world on a diamond platter, each bite filled with nothing but love and security, it’s the least he could possibly give you after you’ve allowed him to take a sacred part of you.

The way you moan and quiver around him is a gift in itself, a gift to him that he takes readily without hesitation. Anything from you is a gift. And anything from you, is more sacred than his life in whole.

For someone who has never been in bed with someone, it feels like Sylus knows your body like the back of his hand. Maybe it’s his close observation skills. His vermillion irises carefully watch each and every twitch your body makes in creation to his touch. From a certain way you shiver when his tongue swipes at your clit, to the moan that tumbles when he dips his wet muscle into your tight heat. He notices it all.

His tongue expertly slides along your folds, scooping copious amount of your sweet slick onto his tongue while savoring your pitchy moans. Your lover laps you up like a man starved, tongue slipping along your damped folds, no difference between your sweet taste nor his drool. He relishes everything you offer him. From the way, your fingers tug almost painfully at his scalp to the unbridled noises that resonate through his room.

“Sy-Sylus, ha… please, I wanna make you feel g-good too.” Through your messy haze of pleasure shooting through your spine, you manage to find words that aren’t the broken syllables of his moaning name.

“You are, sweetie. You're making me feel so good, letting me have you so nicely like this. So kind, so sweet, aren’t you? My sweet girl?” His praises are spoken through milliseconds away from your soft cunt, diving back in like a dragon greedily guarding its most precious gems. After all, what gem is more precious than the one he has in his grasp right now?

You don't find it in you to argue, mind succumbed to the pleasure he so readily offers you. Your plush thighs, decorated with lacy vermillion garters, clench around his head, threatening to shut with the quick rise of your impending orgasm. It climbs rapidly, settling into the pit of your stomach, bubbling into hot sparks.

"Can I put a finger in, kitten?" He murmurs softly. His thumb swipes at your sensitive bud, looking up at your pleading expression. He clearly doesn't need your words, actions and your lovestruck expression etched onto your face is enough, but he wants to hear you. He needs to hear your confirmation, to hear that this moment isn’t one of his many dreams he has of you. Another when he gets to hear the melody of your heavenly mewls and the feel of your thighs against both sides of his head. He needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs to in this moment.

“Yes, please, please. Sy, I want you, I wanna be yours.” With eager hands, your fingers wrap around his wrist that squeezes at the plush of your thighs, bringing it closer to your achy hole. Not only does he need you in this moment, you need him. It’s an act of reassurance, love, and trust that you’ve so generously given to him.

“You do, hm?” His smile returns, lovestruck and full of adoration. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll make you mine.”

With that, he slides a calloused finger through your folds, slick with his saliva and your own arousal. He takes his time, savoring your flesh and the feel of being the first man down here, with you. Your face contorts into one of mild discomfit as he slides a finger in, easing it into your virgin walls. His eyes never leave your face though, watching every twitch of your muscles and flutter of your lashes as your mouth etched to create the syllables of his name in a whine.

“Do you want to stop, sweetie?” He murmurs against your aching clit, in hopes of alleviating the discomfort of his digit.

And it pleases him. The way you immediately shake your head, quickly protesting that idea. “No! I can take it, Sy. I wanna take it for you.”

So he continues to give you what you want. With your slick arousal coating his hands, he pumps his finger gently along your gummy walls, lewd sounds of your squelching pussy reverberating throughout his room. He continues suckling on your sensitive bud, flattening his tongue against the wetness, slurping you up. It’s obscene, the sounds behind the closed doors. His groans, lewd squelches, and your moans — it sends all the blood in his body rushing south, to his already aching cock.

Your hips sloppily humped against his mouth, a physical beg to have his fingers stroke deeper into you. You already felt so full with a single finger, insistently prodding at your gummy walls until your back arches beautifully for him. Your fingers pull at his silky hair, toes curling, and your head falls back into the black pillows as your stomach grows taut and rivulets of ecstasy shoot through every nerve.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘s so good—”

You cum so suddenly it feels blinding. It feels like fireworks ignite behind your shut lids as you ground down onto Sylus’ face to chase the aftershocks of the high. His finger stills but your hips don’t, grinding onto his finger to catch the remaining effects of the hot sparks in your stomach.

"That's it, good girl. So good for me, sweetie, you came so beautifully." His praises are spoken through your quivering cunt, twitching at his smooth praise. "Good girl, it's okay, kitten."

He finally pulls away from your pussy, webs of his saliva stuck to your sweaty body. Sylus sits up on his heels, hand coming to wrap around the hard length of his cock, giving himself reprieve of slow pumps. Your eyes drop down to his shaft, angry and dribbling more pre from the turgid tip with every drag of his large hand. It looks heavier than earlier, even more delicious bucking in his fist.

His soft groans, twitching of his hips has a new wave of heat coursing through your body. You feel an indescribable urge to relieve him of the ache, to have him fill you up, and to love each other thoroughly once more. But before you can pull him on top of you, he speaks.

“We can stop he—”

“No.” Your response is quick, pulling him over you in a swift motion. You don’t want to stop. Rather, you want him inside you. You want to make him yours and you, his.

Your hand trails down his torso, fingers finding his hard cock that bobs eagerly when you gently brush along it. It’s hot and thick, sending waves of anticipating shivers down your spine at the prospect of having this part of him inside you.

But for now, you enjoy the way the leader of Onychinus shivers from your touch. His Adam’s apple bobs with the gulp of his saliva, low groans escaping him as you trail kisses along his neck. Your hands slide smoothly from his turgid crown and down to the base, giving him light squeezes that has his eyes fluttering shut and head lolling into the sweaty crook of your neck.

“Fuck, kitten. You feel so good…” His words escape as a breathy sigh, dwindling into low groans. He allows you this, just as he allows you into many things; his heart, mind, body, and soul. Whatever you wish for, he allows it.

“Yeah? I wanna make you feel good, Sy. Just wanna make you feel good.” Your response is whispered out, leaning up to lock your lips with his in a gentle kiss.

His hands, resting on your hips, drop down to your thighs to hook it over the curve of his waist. He sighs into the kiss, breaking gently with a long string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“Can I put it in then, kitten?” His hands capture your wrist, lacing your fingers gently together in an intimate embrace. The silvery strands of his hair fall onto your forehead as he leans down, pressing his temple to yours.

Your response is a nod, arms tightening around his neck when he lines himself to your quivering hole, already feeling himself shiver at the contact of your hot folds sliding along the length of his dick. You can feel the blood throbbing through the veins that run along the underside of his cock, warm and bobbing against you.

Gently, he finally pushes the tip in.

A sharp gasp is elicited from both of you. Your eyes instantly flutter shut, features contorting into a grimace at the large intrusion, pressing into the deepest parts of you. Sensing your pain, Sylus peppers kisses along your neck, fingers tightening on yours in a soothing hold, his free hand weaves between your flushed bodies to rub tight circles to your clit, alleviating your pain.

“Good girl, it’s okay. You’re doing so well, just breathe, just breathe.” His praises fall reverently, kissing away the pearls of tears that pool at the edges of your eyes, gentle and loving.

His praises continue as he finally bottoms out, filling your walls completely full of him. He pants against your lips, watching your expression form from one of discomfort to one of pleasure and love. He moves his lips down your body, sucking on your neglected tits to coax soft moans from you.

“Sylus… you can move, please.” Your soft plea has him folding immediately. Gentle, hoarse voice and a body that takes him in perfectly. You truly were made for him.

The first roll of his hips is meticulously steady in its movement, like he’s holding himself back, caging himself in. He barely pulls out, cool air meeting the slicked skin of his cock before he slides back in with a punctual sway. The simple movement makes you dizzy and numbed, oxygen flying from you, escaping in a soft blissed sigh, and mewls falling from your kiss-bitten lips. It feels euphoric to be split open by him and feel inches of his cock drag along your spongy walls, filled up by him. It’s like you’re ambling in a haze of heat, wandering through the fog of hot shocks of pleasure with his body securely locking you flush to him, and nothing but him in this moment, a satisfying overwhelming indulgence of his scent and touch.

“Oh,” you keen instantly when the tip of his dick delicately, repeatedly nudges that soft, spongy part of your walls. It has you raking your nails down his back, relishing in the presence of him, senses filled with nothing but him. “I love you, Sylus. I love you, s-so much.”

His swift thrust has your words getting caught in your throat, air knocked from your lungs from his punctual movements.

“Yeah? I love you too, I love you, I love you. Fuck— I love you. You were made for me, weren’t you? Made for me to love and cherish, made for me to have you like this?” The words are whispered out, barely heard over the obscene sound of flesh on flesh, wet and intimate.

You can only respond in babbles, murmuring mewls in a symphony of his name. Arms wrapped tightly around his neck and whimpering out your devotion. Heat simmers between your flushed bodies, the only space separating you two is the repetitive cadence of his rolling hips.

The two of you render speechless, allowing the harmony of bodies and reverberation of your shared noises to speak for itself. He pants softly into your ears, groaning sweet nothings at the feeling of your perfect walls hugging tight around his cock. It’s almost painful for him to pull out, instantly missing your sweet heat and that has him diving back in again and again and again, until he feels the aching knot bubbling in his stomach. A familiar and unwelcome feeling that has his cock twitching and pulsing. He doesn’t want to come yet, not without you. Not until you do first.

And as if sensing his dilemma, cock twitching inside your sensitive walls, your hands come up to cup his cheeks. Your lips raise, meeting his in a kiss full of tongue and teeth, messy in all its glory. He isn’t the only one close. Your nerves feel shot, ignited on every expanse of your glistening skin. You want him to cum, you want to come with him.

“Sylus,” you pant against his lips, “Can you— nngh come? I wanna feel you, Sy. Please come, I wanna fe-feel you.”

“Yeah?” He breathlessly chuckles through blissful, broken sighs of your name. “I’ll give it to you. Sh-shit, I’ll give it to you, kitten. I love you, fuck, I love you.”

Your words coax the knot in his stomach to unravel. And with a moan of your name on his lips, he buries himself deep inside you, spilling his warm seed into your fluttering walls. Your fingers card through his hair, gentle pressure guiding him to hide into the crook of your neck, which he eagerly does.

With his head buried in the crook of your neck, fingers rubbing light circles on your clit, and his hip rutting sloppily into your spent pussy, you quickly follow his lead. Your back arches into him, cumming with the sweetest cry of his name on your swollen lips.

Sylus doesn't stop.

Your lover continues to messily thrust up into you, hands gripping the soft flesh of your ass to keep you impossibly closer to his thumping heart. Even with your nails digging into his shoulders, even with your legs trembling around his waist, or the rapid pulsing walls that greedily milk his hot cum into your welcoming womb. Filled, and fucked back into you, over and over and over. He doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re sniffling his name and clinging onto him like it’s your life’s mission. Only then does he slow his pace, peppering kisses up your sweaty sternum until laying one to rest on your sweet lips.

Sylus stops to admire you, an act he performs every day with the utmost importance. His beautiful lover, dressed up for him, flushed the prettiest shade of red because of him, leaking his cum because of their passionate coupling.

“Sylus,” you whisper, the first to break the silence but not the touch.

“Hm?” His answer is soft, taking pleasure in your smell and flesh. The two of you are sweaty but it doesn’t bother him, never if it’s you.

“Happy birthday.” The words are spoken softly, mumbled against his flesh.

His response comes in the form of a soft ‘thank you, my love.’ Words that have your heart warming and cheeks flushing more than they already are. You press your palm to his cheek, cupping his face to pull him into a kiss that devotes your being to him.

He nuzzles into the crevices of your neck, panting softly in the intimate ambiance of his room, soothed by the beating of your heart — a remembrance that you’re here, with him.

It’s no secret that Sylus loves you. No secret that you’re his and he is yours. But in moments like these, just you and him, it feels so much more real, more intimate than anything he could have ever fathomed. Tonight is his day of birth, the first that he’s ever spent with anyone (not just anyone — you) It’s almost terrifying how quickly you’ve assimilated into his life, slotting yourself in because you belong with him — made for him in every way.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, ruin him if you wish. It’s okay if it’s you.

This year, next year, and many lifetimes to come — he wants it all with you.

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY TO SYLUS

[tzyunaes]

❜ YOU BELONG WITH ME ◟ 박성훈

𝗠𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗥 𖹭 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾? 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾.

' 𝒏. hockey player!sunghoon & coach's daughter fem!reader 5OO. ୨୧ fluff oneshot university au forbidden love ✶ petnames skinship ◜ᯅ◝ 𝑙’ click

note. hi trust i am actually the real tzyunaes.. (acutally no i'm danielle and i want to feed tzyunaes nation so) soooo remember to go follow @flwrstqr for a cookie

SUNGHOON'S BEEN QUIET LATELY. QUIETER THAN USUAL. he doesn’t talk much to begin with, but lately? he’s been dead silent. barely reacting to jokes, zoning out during drills, fidgeting in the locker room like he’s waiting for something—or someone—that never shows up.

and it’s because you haven’t.

you stopped coming to practice. no late-night texts. no showing up to the post-game parties, even though you always slipped in quietly and left before your dad could catch you. it’s been days and it’s driving him crazy. you haven’t even told him why.

so when his teammate nudges him on the bench during the second period and mutters, “isn’t that coach’s daughter? yynn or something?” his head snaps up so fast.

and there you are. sitting a few rows up, hair tucked into a hoodie, his jersey pulled over it. big. oversized. clearly stolen from his closet.

his number. his name.

he swears his heart stops. and then it kicks back in and starts sprinting.

he scores three goals after that.

you swear you’ve never seen him move like that on ice—like he’s got something to prove, like the world’s ending and he has to win before it does. his final goal is followed by a grin and a wink right at you, so fast and so subtle your friends almost miss it.

almost.

did THE park sunghoon just wink at you?”

you freeze. “what?”

“girl,” one of them says, wide-eyed. “he definitely likes you.”

you want to scream. he’s your boyfriend. he calls you baby when you’re curled up in his dorm room and sweetheart when you kiss his bruised knuckles. he kisses your cheek whenever your dad turns around and mouths i miss you across rooms.

but you just shrug and sip your drink, heat creeping up your neck. “you’re imagining things.”

you don’t see him again until after the game.

he corners you in a hallway near the back exit, still in half his gear, helmet under his arm, cheeks pink from the cold—or maybe it’s you.

“you’re here,” he breathes.

you nod, smiling up at him. “missed you.”

he sighs like he’s been holding his breath for days. “you weren’t answering. i thought i did something.”

“you didn’t. i just… needed time. dad was suspicious.”

he leans in, forehead resting against yours, arms sliding around your waist. “don’t disappear on me again, baby. i was losing it.”

you grin. “you scored three goals.”

he smirks, brushing his lips against yours. “was showing off for my girl.”

and then he kisses you, soft but desperate, like he’s catching up for every second you’ve been gone.

like he’s never letting you go again.

[gloomwitchwrites]

How about some silliness.....reader/you is superrr drunk from a night out with friends or high from anesthesia and the guys are trying to take care of them and we are all like "get your hands off me or my husband will kick you ass!" Or "omg you're so hot are you single??"...and they are just dying laughing like "I am your husband!"

I just watched one too many tik toks of this 😂🤣

Oh, I love this. I don't think I've actually seen these videos before (at least on TT) but I do know what you're talking about. Maybe I've seen it more in other media? Like movies and television? Anyway, I understand what you're asking for, so I hope you enjoy what I've cooked up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, established relationship, fluff, mild alcohol use, shenanigans due to drunkenness & anesthesia

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John stands beside you on the passenger side of the car. The car door is open, and all you need to do is slide inside. Instead, you’re arguing with him, insisting that you can get in yourself, and that you don’t need help.

“You just had surgery,” chides John.

“Minor surgery,” you correct.

“It’s still surgery.” John sighs, and then places his hand on your back. “Let me help you.”

“Hands off, sir. You’re not my husband.”

John does not move his hand. “I don’t remember us getting a divorce, love.”

You wave him off and John snorts. “He’ll kick your ass,” you insist. “Punch you right in the nose.”

John’s stern demeanor cracks, dissolving into a wide smile and a soft chuckle. He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your bloody husband. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Turning, you attempt to jab him in the chest with your finger. Everything tilts, and you only hit air.

John sighs, exasperated. “Get in the car, love.”

“No,” you groan, pushing at his chest. You surrender to him, allowing John to help you into the front passenger seat.

“I hope you remember this after the drugs wear off.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You’ve been out with your friends all evening, and you have no idea what times it is. It’s dark, and you didn’t leave until the bar closed, forcing you to make an exit. Someone called for a car, and you all piled in, dropping each of off one by one.

As you enter the dark bedroom, you kick off your shoes, slightly stumbling to turn on the bedside light. You turn it on, and immediately wince. Vision swimming, you rub at your eyes, and then notice the massive lump in your bed.

“Turn off the bloody light, will you?” mumbles Johnny.

A devious plan forms in your head.

You climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. Noticing, Johnny turns toward you, eyes dreary with sleep.

“What?” he asks just before you flop your entire body onto him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he deadpans.

You wiggle over him, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “You seeing anyone, handsome?”

Johnny arches an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something? I am your husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Johnny blows raspberries. With one good shove, he flips you onto your back on your side of the bed.

“Go to bed. You’re drunk.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Your liquor-addled brain tells you to do it.

Across the bar is danger, the kind you want to play with—to sink your teeth into. Why resist temptation when it’s clear that the masked man across the bar can’t seem to take his eyes off you? Every time you glance in his direction, his gaze is focused and intense, daring you to approach him.

Which is exactly what you do.

He follows your every step, even if there is a slight sway in the way you walk. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, legs widening as if in welcome. It’s easy to reach out, to place your hand on his shoulder, to straddle his thighs, and stare into his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you slur. “Plan on going home with anyone?”

“I am,” the masked man replies.

“And who might that be?”

“My wife.”

You turn in his lap, looking around at all the other patrons in the bar. “Don’t see her.”

“Course you don’t,” he chuckles. “Because she’s sitting in my lap.”

You blink. “Is she?”

“You’re my wife,” he whispers.

“I am…aren’t I?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The alcohol is an enabler. You shouldn’t have had as many drinks as you did, but this is a party, and you’re not the one driving.

Why not have a bit of fun?

“Hi.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. “Hi,” he replies, drawing out the greeting in slight confusion.

You cozy up next to him, shoulder brushing against shoulder.

“So,” you begin, head tilting toward him like you’re about to whisper all your secrets. “I’m going to be a bit bold…”

“Go on.”

“But I think you’re cute. Wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

Kyle’s single raised eyebrow becomes two. There’s a long pause, so long that you notice the absence of conversation.

Kyle’s confusion cracks, becoming a wide smile, followed by his adorable, familiar laughter. “You’re taking the piss, love.”

“I’m not joking.”

He laughs harder, clutching his chest like he can’t breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he manages to say between wheezing breaths.

“I know,” you reply. “Just checking to make sure you’re still loyal.”

He waves his hand in the air before him. “You’ve had enough. Give me that.” He plucks your beverage right out of your hands.

“Excuse me,” you protest, but Kyle is already downing it.

[mariasont]

OKAY OKAY OKAY this might seem really simple but i love the simple stuff

spence x reader

spence is just yapping about whatever, the quantum mechanics of coffee beans, as you said in one of your posts i think, and reader just cuts him off by kissing him IN FRONT OF EVERYONE on the jet.. and everyone’s there like.. oh! im imagining he kisses reader like he kissed lila in that pool scene IM FERAL. yes he kisses back.. and then the rest of it’s just garcia being a squeaking happy person and hotch and morgan are like “that’s my boy” but rossi and jj are just gagged

please im like

Reid the Room - S.R

spencer reid has never met a bad time to discuss aviation disasters. and before your survival instincts can stop you, you're kissing him just to make it stop

pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), secret relationship, pda, mild workplace inappropriateness lol, teasing/banter, spencer reid being spencer reid, mentions of plane crashes! wc: 0.9k

The words don’t just come from Spencer, they pour — fast and inevitable, like water rolling down slick stone, shaping everything in its path. You’ve spent months memorizing the subtleties of it, the tiny furrow between his brows when he’s thinking too hard, his fingers twitching mid-sentence, like even his body can’t quite keep pace with his brilliance.

He becomes more animated when he’s passionate. It should be illegal, you think, for someone to be this smart and this pretty at once. If the team ever noticed how intently you watched him, they’d know. They’d know everything. 

“— the likelihood of a plane crash is about one in 11 million, but what’s really fascinating is that 95.7% of people actually survive crashes, assuming they’re seated within the five rows of an emergency exit. Though, of course, the probability of surviving depends on factors like impact angle and —”

Morgan leans forward, bracing an arm against his knee, eyes locked on Spencer with the patience of a man debating the ethics of shutting someone up by violent force.“Hey, man, you ever hear of a bad time? We are currently on a plane. Read the room.”

For once, you don’t leap to his defense. No well-timed he’s just trying to educate us, Morgan, or an indulgent I think it’s interesting thrown in to buffer the onslaught. 

Instead, you glance at him, eyebrows lifting into something dangerously close to betrayal. Because, yeah. This might actually be one of those times. One of the Morgan is completely justified in wanting to tape Spencer’s mouth shut for the next four hours.

“I have heard of a bad time, but the concept is largely subjective. What you’re experiencing is cognitive bias, your brain associating this discussion with immediate danger because of proximity. In reality, the likelihood of a crash remains the same whether I mention it or not, so from a purely logical standpoint, this is no worse a time than any other.”

Morgan drags a hand down his face.

“...In fact, not talking about it could be considered the real danger. Avoidance leads to complacency, and complacency leads to fatal mistakes. Did you know that the most survivable crash positions involve bracing at a 60-degree angle? Although, of course, survivability depends largely on the structural integrity of the fuselage upon impact, and in cases of explosive decompression —”

It happens before you can think about — before the gnawing, frantic need to make him stop talking about plane crashes while you are actively inside one overrides all rational thought.

You turn, grab Spencer’s collar, and yank him in, your own common sense careening into a tailspin somewhere at 30,000 feet.

The moment your lips collide, Spencer’s entire body goes rigid, frozen mid-sentence, mid-thought, mid-existence. His mouth is still forming a syllable that dies in a half-swallowed exhale against your tongue. His hands, previously conducting an invisible orchestra of statistical doom, trap in mid-air like he forgot what hands are.

But he catches up fast. One second he’s buffering and the next his fingers twitch — once, twice — and then lock onto your waist like he’s just decided physics no longer applies and you need to be closer. It starts semi-tentatively, inhaling against your lips, breath uneven, before he presses deeper. A lit match dropped straight into gasoline.

You pull back, breath coming fast, Spencer still leaning in like he isn’t done yet. “Anyway. What were you saying?”

Spencer stares, lips parted, pupils blown wide. For a second, he seems to genuinely try to answer, searching his mind for whatever deeply important fact he was so adamant about a minute ago. “...I don’t remember.”

The jet is quiet — too quiet — and that’s when it hits you. 

You kissed Spencer. In front of everyone.

Something cold and hot spreads through you, and suddenly, your limbs don’t seem to be operating under your jurisdiction anymore. Do something. Anything. Breathe. Blink. Move. But nope, your brain is still buffering, and Spencer – dear, sweet Spencer — looks just as dazed, which means absolutely no one is saving you from this.

You could just… not turn around. Avoid whatever is waiting for you. Live the rest of your life facing forward like a malfunctioning animatronic. But the weight of twelve pairs of eyes boring into your back is impossible to ignore.

So, with all the grace of a person walking into their own execution, you turn.

Garcia has both hands glued to her mouth, body vibrating like she’s one second away from either screeching at a frequency only dogs can hear or launching herself into the air like a bottle rocket. Her eyes are huge, pupils dilated. JJ, meanwhile, is just staring. Frozen, lips parting as if she wants to say something but has no idea where to start.

And then there’s Hotch.

You swallow hard as you meet his gaze, expecting some level of seriousness, some stern professional acknowledgment of the wildly inappropriate display that just took place — but instead, he just exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose like a man who is simply too tired for this.

And then, breaking the tension with the ease of a wrecking ball, Morgan lets out a low, satisfied chuckle. “Damn. I knew there was something going on, but damn.”

After the initial shock wore off — and after Garcia had texted Emily a summary in all caps, Morgan had called you both a lost cause, and Rossi had actually applauded — things mostly went back to normal. Mostly. Except now Spencer absolutely knew what he was doing.

And later that night, as you sat beside Spencer on the couch, he turned to you, utterly serious, and murmured, “You know, in the U.S., the majority of residential break-ins occur between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. —” 

You groaned, yanked him in, and cut him off the same way you had earlier. He made a very pleased noise.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[heavenlybodies333]

Caught. On. Camera. -S.R part II here

Spencer Reid x Hotch’s daughter!reader

You should’ve called in sick.

Broken your leg.

Faked your own death.

Anything would’ve been preferable to what you were walking into now. You should’ve known the BAU’s security team didn’t fuck around.

You should’ve known.

Because when you walked into the bullpen that morning, coffee in hand and still slightly flushed from the very good, very illegal orgasm Spencer had given you against a locked conference room wall at 9:07 the night before, the last thing you expected was for evidence of it to be printed and waiting for you.

Fuck. No. No, no, no.

Your stomach dropped like an elevator in freefall. You stepped fully into the bullpen—and then you saw it.

Your desk.

Spencer’s desk.

Each with a stack of paper.

Not files. Not case notes.

Photos.

Black and white grainy photos.

Security footage.

Of you.

Of Spencer.

Photos of you and Spencer doing things that should never be in 1080p resolution.

Of Spencer pressed up behind you in a darkened hallway, one hand under your skirt, the other tangled in your hair as your head tilted back in a way that could only be described as criminally pornographic.

There was another photo—his mouth on your neck, your hand down his pants, the two of you shamelessly caught mid-moan in what looked like Hotch’s own damn federal building.

You barely had time to register the color draining from your face before Spencer walked in right behind you. You saw the exact moment his brain caught up to what his eyes were seeing.

He froze mid-step. Then his gaze snapped to you—panicked, pale, already calculating a dozen potential exits and failing to land on a single one.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The only thing louder than your panic was the sound of your father’s voice behind you.

“My office. Now.” Hotch’s tone left zero room for debate.

You turned—slow, like a horror movie—and there he was.

Standing on the mezzanine, leaning against the railing, was your father, SSA Aaron Hotchner. Arms crossed. Jaw clenched. Gaze locked directly on you like he was watching a slow-motion train crash. He turned and walked toward his office without looking back.

Which meant you had approximately ten seconds to say goodbye to your job, your sex life, and potentially Spencer Reid’s entire existence.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, grabbing the papers and crumpling them in one furious, humiliated fist. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you dared a look at Spencer—who had just walked in behind you and froze mid-step like someone had hit him with a tranq dart.

“Oh,” he said faintly. “That’s… bad.”

“No shit, Reid.”

Morgan didn’t help. “So that’s what ‘after hours paperwork’ means. Got it.”

“Derek,” JJ said quickly, nudging him with an elbow, but the damage was done.

Emily appeared from the break room, coffee in hand, sipping like it was tea. “I told you guys to watch the cameras. But nooo, why listen to the profiler who’s been caught on video twice?”

“Three times,” JJ corrected, grinning.

Emily pointed her cup at her. “That last one didn’t count, we were undercover.”

“You were making out in the conference room.”

“Under. Cover.”

Spencer looked like he was actively negotiating with the universe to collapse into the floor and swallow him whole. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, eyes darting between you, the photos, and the hallway that led to Hotch’s office like he could somehow reverse time through sheer panic.

The walk to Hotch’s office felt like a funeral procession. When you reached the top of the stairs, he didn’t gesture for you to sit. He just shut the door with a click that sounded eerily like the end of your lives.

“I’ll speak first,” he said, voice clipped. “Before either of you attempt to justify whatever the hell this is.”

Spencer opened his mouth anyway.

“Don’t.”

He shut it.

Hotch stepped around his desk, looking between the two of you like he was trying to not imagine the exact images now burned into his retinas.

“I trusted you,” he said, looking at Spencer.

Spencer physically flinched. “I know.”

“I asked you to keep her safe.”

“You did.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

You stepped forward. “Dad—”

He held up a hand.

“I don’t want excuses. I don’t want apologies. I want answers. How long?”

You hesitated.

Spencer caved.

“Eight months.”

You turned and stared at him. “Spencer.”

“What? He’s gonna kill me either way, might as well be honest.”

Hotch looked like he was doing long division in his head. “Eight months… that’s before the Miami case.”

You nodded.

“You lied to me. Both of you.”

“That’s not fair,” you said. “It wasn’t just lying, it was… omission. Careful omission.”

Spencer shot you a look like now is not the time for semantics.

“You were in my house, Reid. With her.”

Spencer swallowed. “I slept on the couch.”

“Bullshit.” Hotch stopped pacing. Faced you both.

“There’s a security breach because you couldn’t keep your hands off each other in the elevator? And now the entire team knows.”

“They don’t know—” you started.

“Oh, they know.” He gestured to the photos. “The FBI knows. Internal Affairs is going to love this. And I am trying—very hard—not to send you off to college halfway around the world.”

Silence.

Then, he turned his glare directly onto Spencer. “You. Are thirteen years older than her. You’re her coworker. Her superior. And you thought it was a good idea to sleep with my daughter?”

There was a very long, very painful pause.

“You are adults. Technically. You make your own decisions. Stupid ones, apparently.”

“Sir—” Spencer started.

“I’m not finished.” His eyes narrowed. “If either of you ever—and I mean ever—do anything like that on federal property again, I will have both your asses in front of Strauss so fast she’ll develop a stroke mid-sentence.”

“Yes, sir,” you both said.

“And Reid?”

Spencer flinched.

Hotch took a step forward. “I swear to god, if I ever see your hands on my daughter again outside the context of saving her from a serial killer—”

“Understood, sir.”

He took a deep breath. “I am going to say this once. Whatever this is—” he gestured sharply at the photos “—it ends. Today.”

Silence.

Spencer looked like he’d been punched.

You just blinked.

“Ends?” you echoed, numb.

Hotch’s jaw clenched. “I can’t have this kind of recklessness on my team. You’re compromising each other in the field, and if it goes public—”

Spencer tried to speak. “Hotch, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” your father cut in sharply. “There is going to be an internal review. A written reprimand. And if either of you ever pull something like this again—”

You couldn’t help yourself. “We’re not children—”

“You’re my child,” Hotch snapped, turning to you. “And he’s my agent. Which makes this entire situation a professional and personal disaster. And if you think I’m going to just let it slide because you’re my daughter, you’re dead wrong.”

You dropped your gaze, tears welling in your eyes. “You know what the worst part is?” he said, angrily. “It’s not that you violated federal property regulations. It’s not even that you breached the most basic professional ethics.”

Your breath caught.

“It’s that you thought I wouldn’t find out.”

Ouch.

You shrank under his stare. Spencer looked like he might vomit.

“Sir,” Spencer started. “I never meant for—”

Hotch held up a hand. “Dr. Reid. If you want any chance of keeping your job, I suggest you don’t finish that sentence.”

Spencer looked like he wanted to fold into the floor. “Sir, I care about her. I didn’t—I don’t—take this lightly. I know how it looks.”

“You don’t,” Hotch said flatly. “You don’t know anything about what it looks like. To a father. To a boss.”

The room fell quiet.

Then Hotch exhaled, long and slow. He looked tired. Disappointed. Which, honestly, was so much worse than shouting.

“I’m going to step away before I say something I regret,” he said. “But let me make this clear.”

He looked between the two of you—scathing, cold, unreadable. “This ends now. Or you both walk.”

You didn't realize you were holding your breath until he walked out of his own office, leaving the door open behind him like a gaping wound. You could still hear your heart pounding, see the grainy black-and-white ghosts of your bad decisions fluttering like confetti across your memory.

Spencer swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to say eight months,” he whispered.

You turned to him slowly. “Really, Spence? That’s the problem here?”

“I panicked.”

“No kidding.” Your voice cracked under the weight of it all. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Spencer sat on the edge of Hotch’s desk, his hands knotted between his knees. “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

You snorted. “You’ve never dated his daughter before.”

He winced. “Technically, I still am.”

You looked at him sharply. “Are you?”

Spencer’s breath caught.

Because that was the part no one had said yet. That was the part hanging over you like a guillotine. This ends now. Or you both walk.

The ultimatum wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t negotiable.

You or the job.

Each other or everything else.

And Spencer Reid didn’t just love the BAU. It was in his bones. It was his purpose, his structure, his sanity.

“Are you?” you asked again, softer this time.

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, he crossed the room, dropped to a crouch in front of you, and took your shaking hands in his. “I want to say that it doesn’t matter. That I’d pick you every time.”

You stared at him, already hearing the but coming.

“But I can’t lose this job,” he whispered, pained. “It’s not just work. It’s lives. It’s you, too. And if I stay, I can’t be with you.”

You felt something fracture inside your chest.

“So that’s it?”

He looked up at you, haunted. “If I thought I could walk away and still protect you… if I thought you’d be safe—”

Your laugh was hollow. “I’m not a victim, Spence.”

“I know. I know that. But you’re his daughter. And I was supposed to—God, I was supposed to be better than this.”

Your throat tightened. “I don’t want to end it.”

“Neither do I.”

He closed his eyes. “Tell me not to go. Tell me to walk away from all of it, and I will.”

You opened your mouth—and then stopped.

Because you could see it in his eyes.

You couldn’t do that to him.

Not when he was already tearing himself apart just to stand in front of you.

“No,” you whispered. “I won’t be the reason you leave.”

“Then this is the part where I say goodbye.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Spencer reached for your hand one last time. Pressed a kiss to your knuckles like he was memorizing the weight of it. “I meant it,” he said quietly. “Every second. Even the ones on camera.”

A bitter smile cracked through your tears. “Yeah. Me too.”

Then he stood.

And walked out of Hotch’s office.

And you sat there alone, trying to decide which was worse:

That your father had been right.

Or that you'd loved Spencer Reid enough to let him go.

a/n: age ain’t nothing but a NUMBERRR

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[lily-bisque]

ＷＡＹ ＯＵＴ ＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

volume one — womb

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, more tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: so. this was supposed to be my 1k special but i have no sense of restraint and desperately wanted to release this. enjoy my food. also check out the playlist for the curated mood and for a forehead kiss.

✦ ── word count: 3.9k

archive ─ playlist

series masterlist - volume two

art by outdmilk on twt

“This was a horrible idea.”

There was a sharp piercing pain in your ankle, due to you brushing it against a shrub, thus prickling it against a rather pointed thorn.

You scowled under your breath, pivoting on the ball of your foot to take a look at the injury just beneath your sock before adjusting the cloth and standing upright.

Your back was miserably sore, sweat clung to you like a second skin, your calves burned as if they were combustible, and worst of all—you were starving.

You felt as if you couldn’t thoroughly enjoy the scenery of the forest anymore—no longer stopping to listen to the throaty croaking of frogs, the wind sliding and slipping between the narrow trees, nor the occasional snap of twigs from skittish wildlife. 

It smelled of sun-warmed rock and wet earth, your heart thrumming and yearning for a connection with Mother Earth after months spent cooped up in the city and at home.

Adjusting your rucksack resting on your back, carrying everything you needed—which was far too much for a day hike—you continued on your trek. 

For a lack of better wording, you were a noob. You lacked any sort of experience with the woodlands but you believed there was no better time to start than now! Especially since life has managed to feel duller more than ever recently.

Fallen branches snapped underfoot, the tickle of overgrown weeds brushing your bottoms. The sun filtered through the leaves, beading down on you. Your only reprieve was your wide-brimmed hat and the somewhat forgiving breeze.

Pulling the now-crinkled sheet of paper with directions from your pocket, you unfurled it and spun it around, glancing at your compass while you did so.

The map you’d found online and ultimately printed was telling you that you still had quite the walk until the nearest exit route, at least a couple of hours ahead of you, and you knew you couldn’t continue on in this condition, sore in every spot you could imagine and more.

You were severely out of shape due to your sedentary lifestyle.

But how much of a choice did you have? You needed to get out of here before nightfall or else you’d be stalking around in the dark.

You wiped the sweat from your furrowed brow line in a harried manner before starting up your pace again, repeating ‘mind over matter’ to yourself like a mantra.

Unexpectedly and commendably, the sound of gentle trickling and splashes broke you from your focused state, your head snapping in that direction.

It was steady, and light. You hoped it was what you needed. It couldn’t be too far from here.

You followed the sound, hastening your pace as the sounds increased in volume, until you stood before a large creek. Birds sploshed and called to each other across the stream, rocks falling and breaking the surface with an audible plop!

You could feel your heart settle to a relieved murmur, a sudden idea popping into your mind that you couldn’t shake off.

You hadn’t seen anyone for miles, the forest around you dulled to its loneliness.

No one would notice if you went for a quick swim, right? Besides, if you were in better condition after a cooldown, you’d make it out of here before nightfall. Possibly. You hoped.

Shivering the thought off, you began to strip, tossing your bag to the floor and marking the stream on your map before resting it atop a pile of fallen leaves.

Your clothing stuck uncomfortably to you, and you contorted your expression in displeasure as you bared yourself to your undergarments. You would’ve preferred if you could scrub your outfit clean in the stream, but you had no place to hang them to dry nearby or any time to do so as this was just a day hike—so you tossed them upon a rock, clad in your cotton set, before stepping into the water.

It was freezing cold and clear, the moss-slicked rocks resting against the bottom catching your eye. There were small minnows making laps to and fro the sides of the creek, dragonflies humming just above the surface, and squirrels stopping to take a sip due to the sweltering heat.

You wrapped your hands around your bare self, slightly shivering, but also grateful for the cooling temperature.

Soon enough, you settled, laying your head back in the water and feeling it soak your roots for a moment, allowing your thrumming headache inflicted by the unforgiving heat come to a rest.

You then curled your arms, swimming deeper until you could see slightly larger fish, slipping against your bare calves and tickling you. You giggled, splashing water upon your face and releasing a sigh of content. Playing like a child.

Until you glanced over at your bag, a flutter of beige catching your attention.

Your map was currently flying in the opposite direction, flipping and turning against the ground and being sent deeper into the woodland.

Fucking great.

You gasped, eyes wide in shock as your pulse picked up, swimming towards the edge of the water frantically.

You crawled and clawed at soil, dirt clinging to your wet skin as you got to your feet, mottled green and brown painting you like a blank canvas.

“No, no, no!”  You yelped in denial, your feet picking up as you raced to it, hopping over branches and rocks that were sure to break some bone if you didn't slow down. But it seemed to only fly away further, impossibly far out of your reach, the breeze actively working against you.

However, your exclaims were picked up by someone else in the forest.

As you raced to the map, you could hear the sound of pressure hitting dirt behind you in a consistent pat! before barking sounded in your ears.

A gasp left your lips as your head spun behind you, a blurry fluff of white hurtling towards you, full-throttle.

Your priorities changed drastically in the moment—a shrill yelp leaving your lips as you sprinted down the forest in just your underwear, a sense of doom sent up your spine.

You were being chased down, probably to your demise. What a pathetic way to go out—flailing in the woods, half-naked, entirely alone besides your attacker.

Your voice caught in your throat, vocal cords frozen in fear, unable to call for help.

Yet, someone heard your silent pleas.

“Uraume, down!” A gruff voice sounded, followed by the click of a tongue and a commanding whistle.

The onslaught stopped instantly, peering past your shoulder to see the white shepherd-dog sitting proudly, tongue flailing and panting as if it hadn’t just tried to eat you.

Okay. Realistically, it probably wouldn’t have eaten you as it is a dog that looks surprisingly domesticated. But how else does someone react when an unfamiliar animal starts sprinting at them?

You craned your head towards the sound of that gruff voice before you saw a tall man emerge from behind a thick sequoia trunk.

He was massive, probably nearing seven feet, towering over you.

His eyes caught yours, ducking his cowboy-styled hat once taking notice of your nude form before quickly turning his back to you. He was clad in a red buffalo-plaid shirt, thick washed-out jeans, a brown and curved hat, and chunky brown and sturdy boots.

“Uh, ‘scuse me, ma’am. You alright?” He questioned, giving you only a sliver of his side-profile to view. You could make out thick, black lines across it making your stomach clench in steadily rising trepidation. You’d never seen anything like it.

Your hands flew to cover yourself, as if the man hadn’t already turned his back to you. “No! I am not as your mutt just chased me,” you spat out, surprised at how unlike yourself you sounded, though your voice was actively quivering in fear. Should you be yelling at this strange man?

“I see,” he exhaled, though you could hear the faintest amusement lingering in his tone at your exasperated state, somehow already starting to piss you off. “I believe you startled them.”

Your nose scrunched as you scowled deeply. “Excuse me? I– Who exactly are you?”

The man huffed, pushing air from his nose. “Sukuna. I’ve got a better question, though—who are you and why are you naked?”

You clenched your teeth, feeling your morals slide against each other before relaying your name. “I am naked because your dog chased me!”

You didn’t care that that didn’t make much sense.

Sukuna adjusted in his stead, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he stared ahead before taking a peep back at you. You gasped, grabbing a nearby twig and throwing it at him.

He directed his gaze away quickly at your outburst, barely able to conceal his pleasure in riling up this strange woman, not even flinching when the branch bounced off of his back. “So you’re saying the real reason you’re flailing naked in the woods is because of my dog…?”

You bit your tongue, holding back a slew of curses before taking a reluctant step back, twigs underfoot digging into your heel. “Well, no but…”

He grunted, shoving his hands into his pocket before nodding. “Alright, then. I’ll be on my way out, ma’am. You have a splendid au naturel evening,” he chuckled, cocking his head at his dog, Uraume, who barked in excitement.

They sprinted towards Sukuna, the large man squatting to ruffle their hair before making his way in the opposite direction of you.

You peered behind you, hands still lazily covering your form, to see your map had finally slowed, maybe the breeze was forgiving.

Hurrying over to it with a grin, you now see why it was motionless.

It was face down in a puddle of mud–drenched and entirely illegible.

Your heart dropped at the sight, blood and smile draining from your face, realizing you needed some sort of plan to get yourself out of this.

But your only plan was brown and soaking wet, save for the rude and burly man you’d encountered moments ago.

Fuck.

You hated that you had to even consider this, but your survival instincts and sense of urgency ultimately won over your ego.

“Wait!” You called out, seeing him a few hundred feet in front of you. His massive legs carried him far with ease.

He paused, not fully turning around but enough to signal that he took notice of your call.

Once you stopped close behind him, chest heaving with either chasing after him or your flooding embarrassment, you bit your lip before speaking. “Are you from around here?”

He paused, eyes narrowing. “These parts? Yeah, I live here.”

You released a small sigh of relief. Alright, that’s a solid start. “Do you think you could, I dunno, give me any directions out of here?”

Sukuna placed a hand against his hip, with the other pulling a box of cigarettes from his pocket and placing one in his mouth, back still facing you. “Mind lighting this for me?”

You could barely conceal your agitation, a sense of urgency tugging at you as you were quite literally naked in a forest with a strange man, night falling soon. “I’m sorry?”

“You need my help, I need yours. So be a darling and help a guy out, my hands have been sore all afternoon.”

He was lying. He was so obviously lying to your face.

You scoffed incredulously, feeling a sudden shiver wrack your body from the wind cooling your skin. Sukuna seemed to be toying with you, for whatever reason you couldn’t understand.

What joy did he get in harassing a helpless, naked lady in the woods?

But he had you stumped. As much as you hated this entire ordeal, you needed his assistance to get the hell out of here and return to your reality.

So you mustered up all of your courage, taking a few reluctant steps towards him. You could see the sleazy grin on his face once he’d realized you had surrendered, the quiet falls of your feet against the leaves evidence of your resignation as he hadn’t glanced at you yet. 

“Hand over the lighter,” you grit out through a clenched jaw.

“My pleasure,” he honeyed out, dipping his head towards you with shut eyes, his massive palm outstretched, a bed for his silver lighter.

You were finally able to get a proper look at his face. 

Tight lines etched his face, littered with a few scars, most likely from years of work of whatever it is he did in the woodlands. You also got a closer view of the tattoos marking his face, a weird juxtaposition to a man living in a forest, making you wonder what the story behind them was.

But what stood out to you the most was his pink-colored hair–something you’d never come across in all of your years. 

“Done gaping?” He smirked, eyes closed despite how assured he sounded knowing you were staring.

“Shut up,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the lighter from his massive hand that seemed to dwarf yours, rubbing your thumb against the spark wheel.

You watched it light up, holding it up to the butt of the cigarette and watched as it burned, ashes fluttering into the air.

He returned to his full height, snagging the lighter from your hand with ease and shoving his hands into his pockets, turning his back to you once more.

“You’ve got three options,” he ruled, pulling the cigarette from his lips and inhaling sharply, before pushing it out of his nose. “One, stay here and figure your own way out, and probably die. Two, you can listen to the directions I point you in… andddd probably die since you clearly don’t know your way around. The wolves here tend to get real hungry,” he snarled, wanting to get a reaction from you.

You rolled your eyes, bristling at his demeanor and the scent of smoke, fingers drumming impatiently on your biceps as you folded your arms. “Alright, I get it. What’s the last option where I hopefully don’t meet an early demise?”

His head dropped, almost smugly, thinking about something absolutely hilarious. “You can come stay with me.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Funny. What’s the actual last option?”

He didn’t respond, simply taking another hit from his cigarette, and you could feel your stomach clench.

“Okay. Where’s the nearest inn?”

“An inn in the middle of the woods?” He asked as if that was the stupidest question in the world.

You grit your teeth. “And no one else lives up here?”

He nodded.

You inhaled sharply. “With all due respect, Sukuna,” you started, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. “I don’t spend the night with random and strange men I come across in the woods, unlike most apparently.”

“Well, I gave you your options. I’m not gonna force you to do nothin’,” he coolly spoke, before lowering his voice. “But be warned. This forest ain’t a place a little lady like you wants to poke around at dusk.”

You shivered at his admission, fingernails pressing crescents into your biceps. “...What happens after nightfall?”

He chuckled low, making your skin crawl, and it wasn’t thanks to the breeze. 

“Wanna stay and find out for yourself?”

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

He’d allowed you the space of getting changed in private, back resting against a tree trunk and still facing away from you as he idly flicked the cap of his lighter on and off, the constant sound of metal meeting metal in the nearby distance.

You weren’t quite sure if he was doing it out of habit, or if it was some sort of unspoken signal to ease your worries that he hadn’t decided to ditch you to fend for yourself.

It was most likely the former, you could tell from one look the guy was a heartless brute. Probably why he lived in the woods.

But did he live alone here? Or did he have a docile wife and seven children ready to welcome you with open arms by the time you made your way up the trail?

After getting fully dressed, you shuffled your socks on before you let out a loud hiss—a sudden piercing pressure on your ankle.

Gently setting your sock down, you sat atop a nearby rock and crossed your legs to take a closer look. 

It seemed that the thorn that poked you earlier had done more than just that—the area swelling and red. The spot, previously a microscope hole, had grown and was practically glowing and exuding a heat.

You pressed a finger against it, immediately regretting it when it sent pain spiking through your veins, the skin bulbous.

“You’re not making it out of the forest any time soon in that condition.”

You yelped with a jump, full-body flinching and swinging your head behind you to see Sukuna towering over you, eyes narrowed to slits as he eyed your injury. “Jesus. Warn a woman next time?”

He ignored you, something you’ve noticed he has a habit of doing, as he folded in half, skimming a hand over your puncture wound. A tight whimper left your lips, his calloused finger pad ghosting over it before he straightened out. “Can you walk on it?”

You attempted to pull the sock back over before you winced, heart fluttering in nerves. “I-I can try,” you stammered out, trying to maneuver it carefully before he clicked his tongue.

“Fuck, alright,” he grunted, as if mulling something over before he stepped in front of you. He crouched down on one knee, jeans digging into the mud yet he didn’t seem to care. “Hop on.”

Your maw fell slack at the sight, suddenly feeling incredibly hot at the sight. This crude and ruffish man was offering to carry you all of the sudden.

“Uh, i-it’s alright. I can walk–”

“Quit your rambling and get on.” 

You shut up at his interruption, muttering a ‘rude much?’ he didn’t acknowledge under your breath before standing to a wobble, doing your best not to bump your ankle into anything as the pain began to flare to what felt like your bones.

Oddly enough, he was practically your height on his knees, his massive form slightly intimidating you.

You brought your hands over his shoulders and clasped them in front of him, hoping he couldn’t smell the musk radiating from your sweat-soaked clothing.

As you tried to wrap your legs around his midsection, he suddenly rose, wrapping his massive hands along the underside of your thighs and straightening to his full height.

You did everything to ignore the flip of your stomach as he did so, the touch burning your skin.

Something sizzled in your mind, before you realized how leggy this man actually was. “Could make a joke about the weather up here, but it’s really quite nice,” you snickered, head ducking between his hat, cheek right beside his, as your eyes raked over his bird's eye view.

“Shut it or I’m dropping you.”

Raising your hand around his face, you made a show of zipping your mouth closed to which he huffed at, effectively blocking his vision.

He made rounds picking up the things you’d managed to drop across the creek, stuffing them into your bag and pretending not to see the spare panties you’d brought along as you averted your gaze awkwardly, a heat rising from the back of your neck.

He carried your bag in one hand like it weighed nothing before whistling at his dog who managed to disappear somewhere in the woods some time ago. Moments later, Uraume came panting back, a stick in their mouth and wagging their tail.

“Later, Uraume. Let’s go home.”

The dog let out a whistling whine at the buzzword of ‘home,’ realizing their owner was not going to play fetch with them, before coming to Sukuna’s side.

You found it quite endearing to see the massive and huffy man have a furry friend, biting your lip when you found yourself grinning.

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Are you going to kill me and bury me where no one can find me?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He clearly was not one for humor.

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

The walk back was oddly comfortable, the two of you trekking up a narrow path as the sun began to set, listening to the ambience of nature—the whooshing of the eolian wind, the groans of the trees, and the calls of wildlife.

You’d attempted to break the silence on a couple of occasions, but was only met with snippy or short replies, effectively shutting you up.

But the silence wasn’t unsettling, it was… easy.

You just hoped that this man was what he let on, wondering how long it’d take authorities to find your corpse if he was a madman considering how far inland you’d made it.

If they found your body.

You shivered at the thought.

“You cold?” He asked, breaking you from your thoughts, voice low and hoarse as he focused ahead of him.

“Oh, no. Actually the opposite. I’m– FUCK!”

You screeched louder than you’d meant to, eyes shutting tight as tears nearly began to flow down your cheeks, a sudden piercing pain in your ankle.

Sukuna froze, glancing down to your injury to see he’d brushed your ankle against a branch that was hanging low, his heart sinking at the sight. “Fuck.”

You bit your lip, holding back any cries as you tried to steady your ragged and shallow breaths, feeling lightheaded from the intense pain.

“I barely saw it…” he trailed off in a whispered tone, eyes wide as his fingers gripped your thighs tighter, feeling an intense wave of regret seeing your ankle swell even more.

“Just watch where you’re fucking going,” you gritted out, teeth clenched as your fingers curled in the leather of his jacket, feeling your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull and pass out.

“Right.” He curtly spoke, adjusting you on his back by lifting you and continuing on.

Once the pain subsided, something heavy settled in your chest. By Sukuna’s reaction, you realized just how rude you must’ve come off in your state of pain, mouth speaking before you could think.

Something apologetic itched at you, biting your tongue at his stifling silence, still moving forward without a word instead of ditching you like you probably deserved. You should apologize, right? You sounded incredibly ungrateful. He’d gone to so much of an effort to help you, receiving nothing in return.

Unless he was planning to kill you, of course, but you brushed that off.

You drew in air. “Hey, Sukuna. Uh, I just wanna–”

He froze, stopping in his tracks immediately before glancing around. Then he peered up quickly, glancing at how the sun was nearly about to fall.

“...Sukuna?”

“Shut up.”

You knitted your eyebrows immediately, head bouncing back in offense. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re–”

“Shut the fuck up for five seconds. We’re not alone,” he spat out in a hushed tone, head glancing towards you for emphasis.

You could feel yourself turn defensive in record time, scoffing incredulously with a chuckle. You opened your mouth to fire back something snappy, barely registering what he said, when you, too, heard it.

There was a quiet growl, you easily would’ve missed it had he not said anything, and subtle crunches of leaves near you.

You hadn’t even noticed Uraume, who’d been following you this entire time, began to whine, ears flopping downwards and flanking close to Sukuna.

He was right. You weren’t alone.

[strawberry-nugget]

My head is filled with thoughts of riding Katsuki into oblivion

Warnings: fem!reader, smut, 18+ minors do not interact, top!reader, switch!Bakugo, multiple orgasms, dirty talking, rough sex, sloppy kissing, biting, reader is cock drunk and down bad, overstimulation, squirting, pushing it all back in, All characters are 20+

That fucked out expression on his face—god, you love it. Love it like you crave the heat curling low in your belly, like you need the way his eyes flutter every time you drag your hips down slow and deep, pussy hugging him tight. Snug over every single vein that runs along his cock.

He looks so gone like this, wrecked and worshipping, that you can’t help but run the back of your finger over his face, rub that little drool trail from the corner of his mouth.

Your clit twitches against his abdomen as you watch his chest rising hard with every shaky breath that exits him, his mouth slack and glistening with spit as you smear your fingers on his lips. Saying a soft ‘please’ before you sink it into his mouth and he gladly sucks the digit inside, sending waves of pleasure in the clamping walls of your cunt.

For a moment, your finger pops out of his mouth with a loud plop. Drool strings still connects your skin to his mouth.

In a sinister action, you let your fingers trail lower—not just over his lips this time, but down your own belly, slipping between your thighs, right where your bodies are joined in that obscene, sticky, scorching wet heat. Your fingers come away soaked, trembling from how wet you are, and you bring them back up to his mouth.

“Open,” you whisper, and he does eagerly, obediently, his lips parting with a low sound of need as you slip your fingers into his mouth.

He groans, deep in his chest, tongue swirling over the taste of both of you. His hands flex on your waist, grip tightening as you grind down with a broken gasp, soaking him all over again. The feel of his mouth on your fingers, his cock twitching inside you, and your own heartbeat pounding loud in your ears…it all blurs together into something feral, something primal, animalistic.

“You feel that?” you whisper against his jaw, voice hoarse and honey-thick. “That’s how wet you make me. That’s what you’re doing to me, Katsuki.”

His eyes snap open, wild and molten and you could swear you see them blur into a heart shape, and his hips buck up without warning. Dragging a sharp, keening cry from your lips as you brace yourself on his chest, still grinding, still trembling. You feel like you’re going to unravel again, right there on top of him. Not from just the stretch, or the friction but from him and him alone. From the way he looks at you.

He moans like he’s tasting something sacred. Like he’s drunk on you.

Your thighs burn but you don’t care. So does your ass, your feet. Every single part of your legs is on fire.

But you want to feel it tomorrow. Want the ache to linger. Because right now, this—him—is everything. The world’s fallen away and apart, blurred out beyond the faint sound of wet slap of skin, the breathless gasps, the stretch of him buried so deep inside you, ugh, it feels like he’s carved his name into your womb. And right now, if that was physically possible, you wouldn’t mind at all.

Katsuki’s hands stay locked on your ass, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, guiding but not forcing—he’s letting you take him apart, letting you ride out your need like it’s his only purpose, when he could just flip you and get it over with, come to the ultimate orgasmic high this moment has built up to, even faster than you could imagine.

And you’re so close. Too. So fucking close you can’t think. Your hips grind down messy now, frantic, as if you can’t bear to stop, like you’ll shatter if you lose the feel of him for even a second. His veins catch around your walls, his mushroom tip bulges and twitches inside you with each thrust, curving an ever after shape of his cock inside you. One that fits like a glove, despite how sticky and wet you are, when it slips out with a loud plop!

“Fuck,” he chokes, bullying the tip in once again, voice shredded. No hands needed to guide himself inside you “You’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—shit, baby, y’gonna make me—”

“Don’t,” you gasp, barely coherent, every nerve lit and strung taut. “Don’t. Stop. Don’t you fucking cum yet”

Bossy and mean as you are, you slow down completely, feeling the sharp ache of his dick kissing your cervix before you grab one of his hands and bring his thumb to your mouth, licking and swiping your tongue once, twice over it and sucking, before you push it down towards your clit.

Right on cue, his thumb circles your clit with a slick, practiced rhythm, every drag precise and devastating. You’re soaked, filthy— your slick gushing down to mix with the sticky heat of his thighs, holding onto his wrist with one hand, until his thumb slips and gets trapped between his abdomen and your slit.

You’re making such a mess on him. Every rock of your hips splashes lewdly against the base of his cock, your juices painting his skin, coating him in the proof of how badly you need this—need him. It’s wet, obscene, deliciously vulgar. The kind of sound that should make you flustered normally, but instead makes your cunt clamp down greedily, aching to be split open again and again and again.

Your head tips back with a soft, broken moan as his thumb flicks just right, hips stuttering forward as your whole body coils tighter.

You grind low, ass cheeks shaking, walls clamping impossibly tight around him, chasing that coil inside your belly, watching with half-lidded eyes as Katsuki bites his lower lip and throws his head back for a second. Gosh— you want to pounce his neck but there’s no spot that you've left unmarked.

But then again, that vein that runs down the left side of his neck, the softness of his skin, it's sooooo delicious. You can’t resist.

You lean in—breath hitching, body thrumming—as your lips ghost over the sweat-damp heat of his throat. That vein, thick and pulsing, is calling to you like it’s lit up with neon, a target you’ve claimed a hundred times over and still crave like it’s your last meal. You latch onto it with a languid drag of your tongue, then suck, slow and sinful, until he groans—deep, primal, trembling against the choke of pleasure and restraint.

“Jesus fuckin’—” Katsuki hisses, voice low and cracked, hands bruising your hips as he watches the way your folds swallow him whole again and again. “You’re so wet I can hear you suckin’ me back in—fuck, baby, your pussy’s drippin’ down my fuckin’ legs.”

“Dont talk” you bark, sinking your teeth deeper into his neck, earning a soundly hiss “Learn to not fucking talk when I got you like this, Katsuki”

You don’t even know what succubus demon has overtaken you and forces you to speak like this to him. But when his eyes widen, all red and filled with lust you’re only encouraged to keep it up.

It’s not like he lied either; Your slick coats everything—his cock, his thighs, the base of his stomach. And every time he bottoms out, it sends a fresh gush out of you, spurting around the base of his cock like your body’s overflowing, can’t contain the sensation. Can’t contain him. The ache that comes from every curve on his cock inside you.

You’re wrapped around him so tight, so hot and soaked, it feels like he’s being swallowed by molten velvet. His cock pulses uncontrollably inside you, every squeeze of your fluttering walls sending shockwaves up his spine, forcing a deep grunt from his chest like he’s barely holding it together. It’s too much—but not enough.

“Shit, baby,” he pants, eyes glued to the creamy ring forming at the base of his cock each time you lift.

“I need it,” you gasp, nails clawing down his chest, leaving red lines over his sweat-slick skin, hips and voice whining and wailing just the same “Need it deeper—need you deeper, Katsuki—fuck— make it go deeper, please”

He grabs your hips, slams you down, and stays there—cock buried to the hilt, his balls pressed to your ass, his chest heaving against yours as you both freeze in that molten stretch.

You’re so full, stuffed and stretched and soaked, your pussy throbbing around him with wet, messy pulses like it’s tasting him from the inside.

The feel of him inside you is everything—every ridge, every swollen vein, the heavy throb of his cock as it pulses thick and wet in your heat. It’s maddening, the way your walls wrap around him like silk turned molten, gripping tight and fluttering with every twitch of his hips. You can feel him everywhere—the stretch deep in your belly, the weight of him dragging along your insides, the obscene way your cunt clings to him like it never wants to let go.

You force his hand on your clit again, using his fingers to rub fast, entangling your digits with his as you command breathless little “faster”s into the lower lip you’re worrying between your teeth, begging through the pain of the stretch “play with my pussy baby” and “fuck—match my rhythm. Fuck”

Your voice is barely a voice anymore—just breath, just whimpers and stutters and gasps spit through swollen lips. You sound ruined, and it’s perfect.

Katsuki’s breath hits your ear hot, panting through clenched teeth as you guide his hand where you need it, desperate and shameless. Your slicked-up fingers wrap around his, dragging them through the drenched mess between your folds, your clit slippery and twitching under the pads of both your fingertips. He groans low in his chest, the sound vibrating through your sternum, syncing with the pulse already hammering in your cunt.

“Shit—yeah, that’s it,” you gasp, nails digging into his wrist as your hips jerk forward, chasing it. “Just like that, right there—don’t stop. Make me cum, make me—ah, come, dont stoooop”

He doesn’t. Katsuki picks up on your rhythm like it’s coded into his blood—presses tight circles against your clit while your cunt strangles him from the inside, velvet walls spasming around the thick length of his cock still lodged impossibly deep.

He can feel everything. The way your pussy flutters wildly, hugging him like it’s begging, milking him with each pulse. The mess of slick coating his cock, leaking past his balls, smearing over his thighs and dripping down into the sheets like honey, so so sticky. Every tiny movement from you adds to it. The squelch, the wet slap, the low moans bubbling from your lips like you’re too far gone to hold anything in.

“Fuckin’ look at this,” he growls, more to himself, angling his hips just slightly and watching your whole body seize, your tits bouncing against his chest as your chin catches the top of his shoulder

But you can't look—your eyes are blurry, filled to the brim with fat, salty tears and you can’t decide if it’s because of how intense everything feels right now or if it’s because you want more, like a greedy slut for his cock.

You’re making the filthiest sounds you’ve ever heard. Every time you grind forward, it’s a sticky, wet gush of slick, a fresh squirt that bubbles out around the fat seal of his cock splitting you apart. You’re trembling now, overwhelmed, sobbing through gritted teeth as you ride the edge again.

“Gonna cum,” you slur, eyes rolling. “Katsuki—I’m gonna—fuck, baby, it’s too much—nnnngh I want it harder” you yell, legs coaxing him by the hips to follow your command.

His hand on your clit doesn’t let up. If anything, he presses harder. Deeper. Faster. Circles oh so sloppy with you, around you, for you, keeping pace with the desperate fuck of your hips, the drench of your cunt gushing over him with every rock forward.

And when it hits…It’s not quiet.

You cry out, body locking, thighs spasming violently as your orgasm crashes down, long and hard. Your cunt clamps like a vice and then gushes again, clear liquid squirting out between your thighs in hot, messy spurts. It soaks your stomach, his chest, his face when you fall forward with a loud, stuttering sob and a yell of something that quite resembles his name.

Katsuki groans like he’s possessed, hands gripping your ass, eyes glassy just like liquid lava and unfocused as your pussy milks him through it.

“Fuckin’—holy shit,” he grits out, watching his cock disappear inside the wet, scorching heat of you. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby—gonna fuckin’ cum—gonna fill you up so fuckin’ good—”

And you want it. God, you want it. Want him buried inside, stuffed and spilling over, stretched wide and soaking wet until there’s nothing left of you but the imprint of him carved into the soppy walls of your pussy.

So with all the strength you’ve got left, you keep grinding, keep working that swollen, overused clit with his thumb and yours, greedy and twitching and still dripping—because one orgasm isn’t enough. Not when he’s still inside you, still so hard like that. Not when your body keeps begging for more.

Your voice breaks on a moan as a new orgasm slams into you like a tidal wave, sudden and violent. Your body locks up, back arching, breaking away from him in oily beads of salty sweat, hips stuttering as pleasure bursts behind your eyes. You feel it, oh so hot and blinding—feel yourself gush around him again, the wet heat of it drenching your thighs, splashing against his hips with a slick sound.

Katsuki groans like he’s been punched, his head falling back, veins in his neck standing out as he jerks beneath you. “Holy shit—fuck, you’re—oh my god—”

He’s losing it. You’re both losing it. Your vision goes white, breath ripped out of you in a high, choked cry as your body convulses, trembling uncontrollably with each wave of release. Your thighs spasm around him, hips bucking mindlessly through it as your slick pours down his cock, soaking his skin, making a pool of wetness on the sheets.

He thrusts up once, twice, completely helpless in the mercy of your slack open mouth before he’s coming too, thick and hard, hands clinging to your shaking body like he’ll fall through the earth without you. You feel his cum pulse deep inside you, the warmth of it flooding you, spilling out around him, and it only makes you clench harder, milking him through every broken groan.

The room is nothing but breathless panting and the drip of wet heat between you, the air heavy with sex and sweat and something oversaturated with sweetness and need that blurs into the borders of greediness. You're both breathless, or at least, trying to catch a breath for a fraction of a second.

You collapse forward, chest pressed to his, face buried in his neck, your whole body trembling with aftershocks. He’s warm and shaking beneath you, arms wrapping around your back, holding you like you’re precious and soft and everything nice in the world. Like you didn’t just fuck him into oblivion.

“Shit,” you whisper, lips brushing his collarbone, teeth dragging teasingly over a love bite from before. “I think I saw stars.”

Katsuki laughs broken, hoarse, pressing a kiss to your sweating temple, still twitching inside you, sticky white cum oozing from your cunt onto his cock. He teasingly drags a finger there, threatening to push it in alongside his cock to bully his cum back inside, but let’s go when your body shivers against his. “You fuckin’ squirted. Twice. You wanted it that bad babe?” He laughs, smugly, tapping a small slap against your ass in content.

“Shut up.”

“Babe, everything’s soaked. Like, everywhere. That was the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever…fuuuuck.”

You groan, burying your face deeper, breath hitching with something close to laughter as he holds you tighter.

“You good?” he rasps, voice wrecked, mouth still close to your hair. “You nearly blacked out on me”

He decides then that he can’t stop touching you. His hand slides down your spine again, slow and lazy, dipping into the dip of your lower back like he owns it. Like he’s tracing over everything that just happened, cataloguing it in the calluses of his palm. You can feel how smug he is without even looking at him—feel it in the way he shifts his hips slightly, enough to nudge that overstimulated spot inside you with the heavy drag of his cock still sheathed deep.

You twitch, whimpering low into his neck, too raw and wet to even pretend to be annoyed.

“Katsuki,” you warn, voice threadbare, but he just hums like he’s already forgiven, like he’s earned it. Maybe he has. You’re not exactly complaining.

“Just makin’ sure you’re feelin’ it,” he mutters against your temple, though his hand is already sliding lower—down your thigh, then between. He dips two fingers to the mess where your bodies are still joined, the heat there so hot and tender, and swipes slowly through the sticky slick that’s spilling out of you around his cock.

You flinch, sharp and shivery.

“Fuckin’ look at this,” he breathes, lifting his fingers between you two to show the thick trail of cum and slick stretching between them. His voice dips lower, raspier. “You’re leaking all over me. Can’t have that.”

You feel it before you see it—his fingers pressing down again, gathering the mess, and then, true to his word, sliding it right back in alongside his softening cock. Not deep, just enough to make you cry out softly against his throat, your hips squirming.

“Gotta keep it aaaall in,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like it’s not filthy but tender and possessive all at once.

You finally lift your head, cheeks flushed and tingly, lips swollen from biting back every sound he pulled out of you. Your eyes meet his—still blown, still burning and still filled with so much adoration.

He holds you close to him quietly, soft fingers rubbing soothing cycles on the small of your back.

You let him hold you beneath the messy, aching aftermath, under the cum and sweat and soaked sheets, there’s something quiet and warm between your ribs.

Until, you’re ready to go again.

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

[atomicami]

imagine sharing a cigar with sevika while riding her…(18+ minors DNI)

you’re straddling sevika in bed, her strap on is shielding your pussy in front of her, but she’s briefly moved it to the side so her human hand can play with your clit, getting you nice and wet for you to ride her.

“would you look at that pussy, pretty girl…” she murmurs, watching in awe as your arousal begins to pool onto the harness of her strap, darkening the leather. “think she’s ready for my cock, don’t you think?”

you nod quickly through your whimpers, and before sevika was about to guide you onto her cock, she began to get that sudden itch for a smoke. she groans to herself quietly, her eyes flickering over to her nightstand where she had her pack of cigars resting there. she impulsively grabs the pack but before she opens it, she looks up at you for a moment. “do you mind if i…?”

“go ahead,” you say, signaling her to have one.

with that, sevika pulls out a cigar and brings it to her lips before taking the lighter and flicking it onto the cigar to bring it to life. she tosses the pack and lighter aside, her hands now free to go back to what they were doing.

her hands grab ahold of your hips and she takes note of your hesitation. “c’mon baby, i’ll help you out,” she mutters before breathing the smoke out of her nose. with that, you lift your hips up and align her cock with your tight entrance. you forcefully tease the tip through your folds to get it wet enough before slowly sinking down on it, a soft chain of moans and whimpers escaping your mouth as you do so.

sevika watches in awe, admiring how her cock was impaling into your pussy as she releases another puff of smoke through her mouth. “atta girl, baby…look at you…already taking my cock so well.” you watch with heavy eyes as sevika takes another drag of her cigar, and a new craving starts to hit you. without even asking, you simply reach over and pluck the thick cigar out of sevika’s lips before placing it in between your own. the smoke of the tobacco quickly fills your lungs as you rise your head up to exhale, letting the puff of smoke curl into the air.

sevika blinks, completely off guard. ironically, she never went for girls who smoked—it was actually a dealbreaker for her. but after watching you take a hit—so effortless and bold—it only made her want you more. “didn’t think you had that in you,” she murmurs, her voice now laced with lust.

“mmh…” you whine, gently grinding yourself with sevika’s cock inside you so your pussy adjusts to the length. “just…just needed a little pick me up.” you take another drag out of the cigar, and sevika takes in the sight of you as you close your eyes and tilt your head up again to release the smoke, admiring the way your breasts heaved and how your ribcage expanded as you exhaled the smoke into the air. “f-fuck, i need to move,” you whine again, handing the cigar back to sevika before lifting your hips up and preparing yourself to ride her.

the pace was slow at first, giving sevika the time to take a few more drags out of her cigar before handing it to you, a smirk growing on her face as she watches you trying to multitask between smoking the cigar and riding her cock. you grab the cigar with a shaky hand and bring it to your lips. you try to take a drag, but your body is too fixed on the strap sliding in and out of you, resulting in a couple coughs before the rest of the smoke exits out of your lips.

you hand the cigar back to sevika, only for her to shake her head. “take another hit.”

“i-i can’t, sev…” you whine, more determined to keep riding her and chase after your release. “i need to keep—“

sevika didn’t even let you finish speaking. she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. she snatches the cigar out of your hand and takes a swift drag from it, but she doesn’t exhale just yet. instead, she sits up with her cock still inside you, and with a gentle yet firm grip, she grabs you by the the neck with her mechanical hand to pull you closer to her. with her face now inches away to yours, sevika parts your lips open with her thumb and exhales the smoke into your mouth.

the smoke that sevika forces into you starts to burn into your lungs, causing you to cough multiple times, your body instinctively trying to push it out. her grip on your throat loosens just enough to let you catch your breath. “if i tell you to take another hit, you’ll fucking take it.” she murmurs in a low and commanding tone before letting your neck go completely and lying back down to hit her cigar again.

to your surprise, that last hit that sevika forced into you was just the push that you needed, and you begin to speed up your pace on her cock. you start to push your hips faster, taking sevika by surprise over your sudden burst of energy. “well would you look at that?” she smirks, tightening her grip on your hip with her free hand. “looks like you just needed a little push, yeah? go on then, baby…show me how good my cock feels.”

sevika stays relaxed under you, watching the sight of your helpless self bouncing on her cock as if you were merely just a show to her, all while she finishes the last few drags of her cigar. “f-fuck s-sev…i-i think i’m gonna cum…” you whine out to her, and with those magic words, sevika immediately puts out her cigar on the side of her nightstand before bringing her full attention back to you. she grabs ahold of your hips with both hands now, simply guiding you as you continue to ride her cock at a fast pace. however, that stamina in your body was bound to leave quickly. your legs start to give out, and your hips begin to slow down. “s-sevika, i can’t—“

“oh yes you fucking can.” she interrupts, her metal and flesh hands creating a tighter grip on your hips as she begins to pound into your pussy relentlessly. you yelp in surprise, and your torso falls back but your hands land in time on top of sevika’s thighs to keep you steady. a chain of broken moans escape your mouth and ends with final cry of pleasure as you cum, your cunt squeezing around the strap before creaming over the length from base to tip. you start to feel dizzy, and your body suddenly goes limp. sevika is quick to sit up and catch you from falling before slowly pulling her cock out of you and gently setting you down on the bed next to her.

for a moment, your eyes are fluttered shut as you catch your breath, but they’re quick to open up again once you hear the familiar flickering sound of the lighter. you open your eyes to see that sevika has lit up a fresh new cigar, and a challenging smirk grows on your face when she looks over to you and says:

“think you can handle another round?”

oh, so we’re going again? respectfully pass me that shit.

[tender-rosiey]

Hey I want to request a husband!gojo getting his wisdom teeth pulled out and he is high af from the anesthesia. I just imagine him forgetting everything and starts acting dumb. This would be huge blackmail material for nobara and megumi lol

peacock — gojo satoru x f!reader

as soon as you step into the recovery room, the sight of him almost makes you burst out laughing. satoru is slouched in the chair, limbs draped over the sides, his usual composed demeanor replaced with utter disarray.

his eyes, free of his blindfold, are dazed and unfocused, those brilliant blue irises practically swimming in confusion.

his cheeks are puffed out comically with gauze, and he’s staring up at the ceiling like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

when his eyes eventually find you, they widen dramatically, his entire face lighting up like he’s just seen a miracle.

"oh. my. god," he gasps, his voice muffled by the cotton stuffed in his mouth, but his tone is thick with awe and disbelief. “you’re... you're an angel. a real one.”

you bite your lip, barely managing to stifle the laughter bubbling up. “satoru, it’s me,” you say, moving closer to him.

he squints at you, leaning forward so far that he nearly tips over, his eyes narrowing as he’s trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. “wait... we know each other?”

you fight back a smile. “I’m your wife.”

there’s a beat of silence before his eyes widen again, and he jerks back so dramatically that the chair creaks beneath him.

“wife? no way!” he grips the armrests with exaggerated strength, staring at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. “are you serious? we’re married? to each other?”

you giggle as you nod, “for a while now.”

he slumps back, his head rolling to the side with a long, exaggerated groan. his entire body sinks into the chair.

“wow. I did it. I really did it,” he says, staring up at the ceiling again, his eyes unfocused and dazed. “I married the hottest person in the universe. I win at life.”

your lips twitch into a grin, watching him bask in his drugged-out epiphany. “you sure did,” you say, unable to stop yourself from laughing softly.

you move to help him up, sliding your arm around his waist as he wobbles to his feet, legs unsteady like a baby giraffe taking its first steps.

but as you start guiding him toward the door, he plants his feet firmly on the ground, stopping you with a wild-eyed, serious expression. “wait, wait, wait,” he says, his hand reaching out to grab yours with surprising urgency.

his fingers are warm, clumsy in their grip, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that, even through the haze of anesthesia, is so satoru.

his face is scrunched up in deep thought, brows furrowed as though he’s wrestling with the most critical question of his life. “I need to know something... something important.”

you raise an eyebrow, watching him try to focus, his blue eyes narrowing. “okay, what is it?”

“do we... do we kiss?”

you can’t help it—this time, you let out a snort of laughter. “yes, satoru, we kiss. all the time.”

he blinks slowly, his mouth hanging open in awe, eyes sparkling with newfound wonder.

“no way! I knew it. I’m so good at kissing, aren’t I?” he beams, his prideful grin exaggerated by the swollen cheeks, making him look utterly ridiculous. “I knew I was a natural.”

you chuckle, shaking your head as you tighten your hold on him, guiding him toward the exit. “you’re definitely something,” you mutter under your breath.

but, of course, satoru has no intention of walking in a straight line, let alone staying quiet. he stops again, turning his head to you with a deeply perplexed look, like he’s trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe.

“wait… wait… there’s these kids,” he says, gesturing wildly, nearly knocking the clipboard off the counter.

“they’re always hanging around. the loud pink-haired one, the grumpy one, and the one who keeps yelling. who are they? why are they always following me?”

you sigh through a laugh, shaking your head as you guide him forward. “those are your students, satoru. yuuji, megumi, and nobara.”

his face lights up with recognition—or something close to it. “yuuji! yeah, yeah, the kid who talks to everything. I like him. he’s my pokemon.”

you snicker, struggling to keep him upright as he sways like he’s on a boat in the middle of a storm. “he is your student, not a pokemon,” you remind him gently.

he waves his hand dismissively. “nah, nah, he’s my pokemon.”

you shake your head, unable to stop smiling. “sure, satoru. whatever you say.”

“and megumi!” satoru perks up again, his eyes sparkling. “my little emo sunshine. I keep trying to make him smile, but it’s, like, so hard. do you think he’s broken?”

his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning closer to you. “should we fix him?”

you let out a small laugh, trying to keep him from stumbling as you approach the door. “I think megumi’s just fine, satoru.”

satoru gasps, clutching at your arm. “don’t tell me... he’s also your best friend? is he my rival?”

before you can respond, the door to the recovery room swings open, and standing in the hallway are yuuji, nobara, and megumi.

nobara is the first to spot satoru, her eyes widening before she bursts into uncontrollable laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubles over.

“oh my god, this is amazing!” nobara cackles, already pulling out her phone and aiming the camera at satoru. “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life.”

yuuji grins widely, waving enthusiastically. “sensei! you okay?”

satoru beams at the sight of yuuji, grinning so wide that his swollen cheeks puff out even more.

“yuuji! my pokemon!” he tries to wave but nearly tips over, forcing you to steady him with both hands. “I missed you, man! when did you get here?”

yuuji looks bewildered for a moment. “pokemon?”

nobara is still laughing uncontrollably, already typing on her phone with one hand while recording with the other. “fushiguro, please tell me you’re getting this. this is gold!”

megumi, for his part, just stands there with his arms crossed, a sigh escaping his lips. but you can see the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, a rare sign of amusement.

meanwhile, satoru is now waving his arms around excitedly, turning back to yuuji. “we should totally start a band! you play drums, and I’ll sing. we’ll call it...gojo and the gojos!”

yuuji blinks in surprise, his jaw dropping slightly. “uh, what?”

nobara howls with laughter, her camera still rolling. “oh my god, this is going in the group chat. no, actually, this is going everywhere.”

megumi shakes his head, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters.

you sigh, shaking your head fondly at the absolute circus unfolding around you. “alright, superstar,” you say, gently pulling satoru toward the exit, “let’s get you home before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

satoru grins, his eyes half-lidded but still full of wonder, like he’s just discovered something miraculous. “home? with my wife? yes, please. best. day. ever.”

as you manage to pull satoru a few steps closer to the door, his weight leaning heavily against you, he suddenly halts.

you glance at him, bracing yourself for another round of his ridiculous, anesthesia-fueled revelations, but nothing—nothing—could prepare you for what comes next.

“wait,” he says, his voice low and serious, as if he's about to share the most critical, world-altering secret.

his glassy eyes look at you intensely, filled with wild determination. “I need to do something important before we leave.”

you blink at him, confused. “satoru, what could you possibly—”

before you can finish your sentence, he dramatically pulls away from you, somehow managing to stand on his own. with the grace of a baby giraffe on ice, he wobbles toward the center of the room, ignoring your protests.

“satoru—”

he shushes you loudly, a single finger pressed to his lips as he glances over his shoulder, his expression way too serious for someone who can’t walk straight.

“shhh. this is between me and the universe.”

you exchange a bewildered look with yuuji, who’s still watching in awe, nobara recording every second, and megumi now sighing deeply, clearly bracing himself for whatever absurdity satoru is about to unleash.

then, with absolutely no warning, satoru starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you yelp, rushing forward to stop him, but you’re too late.

he rips his shirt open dramatically, buttons flying everywhere, revealing his bandaged, puffy cheeks, along with his very confused, bare chest.

“satoru—oh my god—”

but he’s not done. no, of course he’s not. he thrusts his arms out to the side, chest puffed out proudly, and yells at the top of his lungs:

“I AM A PEACOCK, WATCH ME SOAR!”

the room falls into stunned silence for a moment. nobara freezes mid-recording, mouth hanging open in disbelief, while yuuji’s jaw drops, eyes wide with sheer awe.

megumi, however, just buries his face in his hands.

“I cannot believe I know this man,” megumi mutters under his breath, his tone one of deep regret.

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