#but getting light skin right is so difficult

[mocchii-writes]

can you do a dae ho fic, with him being super protective and defending the reader, but she shows her own strength (maybe even saving him) and he is so star struck and falls in love immediately

She's the Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene

Paring: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader Summary: Dae-ho felt the need to protect you, but didn't expect how starstruck he could be when you returned the favor. Words: 1k Warnings: death, guns, swearing, violence, normal squid game stuff lols A/n: I hope I didn't make this too Y/n lmao ♡ ~🍡🍡

It's definitely hard to trust people here, to say the least. You see it all, just about. The blood of hundreds stains your clothes, and the screams you’ll probably have in your nightmares feel like a fever dream. Your survival instinct can only get you so far, though, and you know it. You need to find a backup.

You expect some kind of weapon to fill the gap in your barrier. You could break a mirror in the bathrooms, maybe? It's an understatement to say the supplies are limited, and you just barely make it through the last game. You can tell you're a target. Maybe not a huge one, but everybody here has someone after them, and it's easy and difficult at the same time to be discreet here.

But it isn't a weapon you get for help--it's a man. He doesn't hesitate to help you out when you need it, and you know that he’s valuable in this setting. You call him Dae-ho. Probably because that's his name, but it still has some meaning to you. Hopefully to him, too. It feels right, rolling off of your tongue, but you digress.

He seems to care about you, at least compared to some of the heartless shells of people here. You've both found solace in each other, and he truly made you feel safe, even if you had only known each other for a few days. You talk to one another. He tells you about his life, his past. You tell him about your past, your life. It's a small feeling of comfort, at least to you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of lights out being announced by that cold voice that makes your skin shiver. You kick your legs, sitting on a bed as you look at Dae-ho across the room. He's discussing something with his little group. He'd previously invited you to join, but you said you'd rather keep your circle small. You swing your legs, looking at his face. It's very serious, but he's pretty far away. He says something, and then you feel his eyes on you. He nods briefly at someone else as he heads to you. Your face shows concern as his serious demeanor doesn't falter.

"You need to be near us tonight, preferably in our base." You think he's joking, but you don't laugh, just in case.

""Base"?" You ask, smiling. "Why?" He rolls his eyes a bit, but you can't say you blame him. "I can handle myself." He raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"I'm not going to argue with you about that, but I could." You squint at him but chuckle. "Mr. Seong says people are going to fight tonight. He has a plan to keep us safe, and he said you can join."

"I thought we were gonna place bets." You smile. "My money is on that greasy guy who hangs out with the purple-haired asshole." He doesn't look amused, so you sigh. "How do you know he's not trying to get you killed?" You ask, dropping your egotistic demeanor.

"All he does is try to help us. Please." He says, pleading with you to have some common sense. You knew you would eventually accept, but you didn't like the thought.

"I'll think about it, alright?" He sighs and smiles a little. He knows he should take what he can get, but he hates the thought of someone hurting you.

Dae-ho isn't sure why he's taken the responsibility to protect you, but he has. He thinks of you like a flower sometimes. He can't make you take care of yourself if you don't want to, but he knows he's going to protect you anyway because everybody deserves a chance.

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

You were lost in your thoughts, breaking out when you hear the robotic voice again.

"Player 230, 401, 299, 331, and 268, eliminated."

What? How? Your eyes track the room and land on Dae-ho, who's staring at the guards, confused. You make eye contact briefly, before people emerge from the bathrooms.

They go on to accuse each other of attacking the opposing team, creating an edge in the room. You're not listening very closely, though. Maybe Dae-ho was on to something when he said you should hide tonight.

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

Update: He very much was right.

But you can't really think about that because there are far bigger issues at hand.

The lights are flickering so intensely you're afraid they might explode, and there's too much yelling and screaming to organize your thoughts. People are moving everywhere like scattering ants, and everything is a weapon for everyone. There's blood, a lot of it, all over the floor. You run, but it's like playing operation with corpses. You have scrapes from falling off your bed and defending yourself as you regret acting tough to Dae-ho.

Your ears are ringing, only because of a punch you just took. Everything is moving at the speed of light, and you don't have time to catch up. You kick back and stun the other person enough to run away. You feel a hand on your shoulder as you whip around, ready to fight.

To your brief luck, it's Dae-ho. He says something you can't hear and then pushes you behind him. You almost scoff if you weren't truly afraid for your life. He punches the person following you but quickly takes one himself. You try to move him, but he blocks your entrance again. You shout to him, telling him to let you help, but he probably can't hear you. You see someone holding a glass bottle sprinting to you, and your instinct finally kicks in. Literally.

You shift to the left and swiftly kick them, stunning them enough to drop their bottle as you punch them, their head ramming against a bed frame as they slide down, eyes closed. You force yourself to look away from the small pool of blood forming and push down the sick feeling in your stomach. You look for Dae-ho, to see him still fighting. He appears to be losing, though you can't hold it against him.

You don't hesitate to pull the guy off of him, grabbing his shirt from behind and throwing him down as best you could. He sits up, but you kick him hard in the face, knocking him out. You're better at this than you thought. You see another lady running to you, screaming. You quickly pick up the discarded glass bottle and shatter it against her skull. The lights turn on as guards rush in, appearing to stop the fighting.

You pant, wiping unknown blood from your face as you look to Dae-ho. You expect him to look horrified at least, but he's simply staring at you. You tilt your head at him.

"You... handled that." He says, grabbing your arm and bringing you to his "base".

"I said I could," you smirk, "You seem surprised."

"No, I'm impressed." He laughs dryly.

That stressful moment didn’t feel like it would ever end, but it did, and you found yourself still standing. Or at least, still breathing. Dae-ho was too, which was the only thing you cared about at the moment. You leaned against the wall, your body trembling from the adrenaline. He was sitting across from you, his eyes anywhere but you.

"You're full of surprises," he says, his body seemed to hint at something softer than what his voice did.

"You thought I wasn't?" you say, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"I never said that." He pauses, looking at his hands before looking at you. "I'm just happy you're okay."

His words linger in the air for a moment, and you’re unsure how to respond. You’d only met him a few days ago, but Dae-ho had become more than just an ally. He was someone you could trust in a place where trust was a gamble most people couldn’t afford to make.

"You didn't have to stick your neck out for me," you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavers slightly.

"I wanted to," he replies simply, as though the decision had been easy. He finally drags his eyes to look at you. "You make this mess... bearable."

You feel your cheeks flush despite the blood coating your skin. His honesty is unexpected, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Not anymore. You’d seen too much in such a short time to waste moments of purity.

"Dae-ho," you start, but his name on your tongue makes you falter. You take a breath and try again. "I don’t know how much longer either of us will make it here, but... you give me hope in this place, I guess."

His smile is small, but it reaches his eyes this time. He shifts closer, closing the space between you two. "Then we survive for each other. Okay?"

You nod, a warmth blooming in your chest that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside of this moment feels small. The chaos, the blood, the fear—all of it fades away. In its place is Dae-ho, his presence holding your soul in an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.

You're both specks of dust in a hurricane, and you both know it. But, for this moment, you know you'll have a place to rest in the heart of this chaos. You can't say you're in love, but as he gently rests his hand over yours, you can't say you couldn't be.

So, I kind of love this, lmk what you think ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

[lizziiszs]

deep and deprived - hiori yo

ʚ｡. mdni - nsfw, hiori yo/fem!reader .｡ɞ

content warning!:

-explicit mention of previous self-harm and insecurity surrounding it (thighs-specific)

-character is aged up. context is right after the u20s match but please note that i’ve written hiori as older as i find it more fitting (before the nel ‘ultra-sadist’ reveal).

[disclaimer: i am in no way promoting or romanticising sh, this is just me seeking comfort, projecting and making light of previous, personal experiences].

-ʚ｡. ✮✩✮.｡ɞ-

a/n!: so where do i start..a-levels are frying me. i have a combination of over 6000 words due for various subjects and tasks and i choose to spend a combined like 12 hours writing 2000 of hiori yo smut. and id do it again in a heart beat. im beyond ashamed of myself for even typing this out, enjoy x

um omg his southern accent was tough to write too...like hiori yer so fuckin hot ya really are but please speak normally ashshhsghgsdhga

overview: you and hiori have finally gotten round to going further- the only thing stopping you before is a huge insecurity: you’re self-conscious of your scars so its no surprise that you’ve kept it all a secret. you’re quick to find, however, that hiori likes them (and a little too much). 

contents: praise, first time (not inexperienced but w hiori), dacryphilia, brief thigh-fucking/jerking off with your thigh, oral sex, mutual masturbation, hiori jerks off with your panties, edging/subtle orgasm denial, pet names (angel, baby, pretty), slight voyeurism (not public), messy sex, arousal from guilt/shame, sadistic hiori <3

w/c: 2.1k

-ʚ｡. ✮✩✮.｡ɞ-

a glorious victory against the u20s, tides turning within the final minute. stadium roaring, cameras flashing, your bodies pressing against each other, the door of his locker rattling even as his teammates stand audible from round the corner. the final score? 4:3. that's why he's set on it being tonight. and so are you, despite the way that your body retracts beneath his right hand that weaves its way down your back. your feel your entire self lock up as his left hand inches up your thigh. 

this was something you'd had wanted and for so long- and more than anything. its not like you were afraid of intimacy. yet some lingering doubt pushes its way into your conscience; the state of your thighs with those marks plastered all over them. impulsive, fleeting moments of affliction- the blade in your phone case- its a bitter, somewhat suppressed memory that returns to you all at once, surging to the surface of your skin which stings hot beneath his touch. 

'hiori, it's all ugly.' your voice wavers as you place your hand over his, a pitiful attempt at diverting his attention. hiori doesn't move though. instead, he looks down at you, vacant eyes burning wide. 

'yer so pretty though...' hiori mindlessly slurs his words of endless praise together, the gaze of piercing but somehow empty eyes fixated on yours. you can’t even begin to imagine what you look like right now, and its best that you don’t. its difficult to decipher that anyways from the expression hiori makes before you sharply inhale, wincing as gentle fingers brush up against thin, raised scars. you avert your eyes away from his wandering hand and back up against the door, hiori stumbling forwards as you do. 

'careful hiori…’ you feel the heat of your own breath, lips resting no more than an inch from his head. delicate fingers trace up and down your inner thigh as he peppers quick kisses along your collarbone. you return the favour and press a quick kiss atop his head, a decisive move- you're aching with longing and you have to get over yourself. 

'i wanna do it,' kiss. 'now, yocchan.' 

‘sure, angel?’ hiori's fingers continue to traipse around your body, amorously undressing you and immediately upon a low ‘yes’ parting from your lips. his once wandering hands now pulling at the straps of your cami and tugging at your skirt. he kisses and he suckles as he mumbles incoherently about how beautiful you are, softly grinding against your thigh which he praises as ‘so fuckin’ hot’. the thighs you were so resentful of; a living reminder of how it'd be such a sick coping mechanism you'd turn to when distressed. the depravity of seeking respite in something so immoral, inflicting physical pain to yourself- it fills you with shame. and with those same, filthy legs you press against hiori, who’s precum begins to dribble down your ‘perfect’ thighs. 

'god yer fuckin' gorgeous, aren't ya?' hiori breathes through a kiss against your collarbone which sits prettily painted with small bruises, hand wrapping around himself as he's almost moaning, pressing it into your thigh for more relief. ‘whatcha think baby?’ 

‘i’m not sure yocchan,’ your speak quietly, admittedly, distracted by the way that he’s sweet-talking you whilst he starts to jerk off with your thigh, practically fucking it. he’s far too stubborn to ask you to bring your weak knees together, only envisioning making the flesh of your legs tremble with his every movement as they take his desperate cock that pulses against you, longingly. he imagines the lewd sounds he’d draw from you amidst sloppy, desperate kisses, long and pretty nails scraping down his back as you attempt to stabilise yourself- your entire being shaking and shuddering violently beneath him as you finally take him whole. maybe you’d muffle your moans as you weep, distressed and embarrassed as he stuffs and stretches you so. or maybe you’d beg him to go faster and harder, mocking him for being so damned slow, pace far too underwhelming and pathetic. maybe you wouldn’t even let you fuck him before cumming first- maybe you needed his head between your legs, tending to your neglected cunt before he even gets to think of it. 

‘fuck i betcha even taste as good as ya look,’ hiori rambles over and of his feverish thoughts, all whilst pumping himself between his own fist and your thigh, picturing you. ‘i wanna know whatcha taste like.’ 

and its hard to recall what happened in-between but he’s kneeling expectantly before you, backing you up against the door and fully. hiori makes light work of prying your legs open and his pretty hands remain gripping your lower thighs as he pushes his face against your pretty laced panties- the only thing you have on. and it makes you shiver at the sight- your body bare, every inch exposed visible under dim light with pebbled nipples and small gashes to your thighs on full display. and it gets hiori off; watching you tremble, vulnerable just from being seen. he can’t stop his mind from getting ahead of itself, train of thought interrupted by your sudden whinging. 

'yocchan it's not fair, you're still dressed.' 

‘i can’t be asked pretty,’

‘hioriii..’ you whine, embarrassed. and you’re ashamed that this feeling has you sopping wet. it turns you on, having your delicate, doll-like body in full-view. it’s how you gulp as both sinful and lustful eyes wander all over, admiring how your nipples harden against cold air, still waiting to be attended to and  how the lace waistband of your sheer panties which sit stained in your arousal, cling to your hips

'come on then,’ he sounds somewhat inviting through that slight smirk as you both exchange eyes, ‘undress me too.’ 

‘fuck!-‘ you jolt as hiori licks a sudden stripe onto your panties, the hand you have wrapped in his hair fully yanking at it. your nails pry into his scalp as you cry out in ecstasy. 'if you wanna, that is.' he pushes his tongue teasingly up and against your slit- still clothed. he makes you shudder; wet and warm saliva seeps through thin fabric, mixing with your arousal that soaks through. hiori presses his nose against your clit, hoping that the next time your body jerks under his touch, your nails draw blood.

‘hah-ah…hiori..’ the friction between your panties that sit sticky with sweat, saliva and your slick is too much to bear yet its nowhere near enough- you buck your hips up against hiori's nose and into his head all in one decisive motion, hands entangled in his hair, tugging at it in order to take his numb face fully. he fucks you with his tongue, movements quick as he laps up at the both of your arousal, suckling at your throbbing clit which sits soaked in his spit between sloppy kisses to your cunt. its only when you blurt something about being close that hiori pulls away and looks up at you, panting as he shifts his weight and adjusts himself. 

‘yocchan..’ your body scrapes against the door frame as your legs finally give out, shaking. hiori's quick to tug at the waistband of your panties with his teeth, firm hands making light work of his boxers which now lie discarded round his ankles. 

you’re still coming down from your high that you never reached, eyes about as wet as you are, tainted by arousal. 

‘i just wanna come yocchan,’ you whisper, ashamed. maybe you should've actually fucking come and faster. hiori doesn’t respond but seemingly grows impatient, using his hands to pull your panties off entirely too. his now free lips plant small, comforting kisses on your thighs which are still laced in his precum;  although there’s nothing comforting about a ruined orgasm. ‘hiori, come on…’ you’re quick to find that you’re now begging him for more; to finish. each whine that trails off grants you more unwanted kisses against your fucking thighs as your neglected cunny aches at the ruin of your orgasm. it feels humiliating with your body bare, drenched in sweat, saliva, precum and your own arousal which dribbles onto the floor you weakly sit against. ribcage juddering with each weak breath you take, head pulsing and salt-ridden tears welling up in your eyes. you look at yourself, overcome with shame which has your entire self pleading for more. and that’s when you notice. he’s fucking himself with your panties. 

and you watch as he rocks forwards onto his knees, touching himself as he brings himself to kiss you whilst moaning your name. you feel so dejected yet you kiss him back, wholeheartedly. it's sick as he jerks off with your panties, smeared in your shared arousal- pre streaming down the hand which works his swollen tip with your laced cloth. he’s so enjoying this, seeing you ruined before you've even cum once. 

‘touch y’rself,’ hiori blurts, ‘go on, pretty.’ he’s as desperate as you are. hiori presses two wet kisses onto your lips before you even have time to consider. ‘i betcha sound good…’ 

you don’t consider and you just do. three fingers to your clit as you whine in defeat. 

'i can't make myself cum.' rough, messy circles which graze your swollen self again and again and again provide no relief, drowning in sharp pangs of jealousy that wash over you as you watch hiori, eyes rolled back as he groans your name. languid almost lazy strokes as he grinds his sensitive tip into torn, expensive lace. dismissing you entirely. he'd only brought you close to orgasm in order to better reach his own; the idea of denying you making him fucking throb.

‘suit yerself.' he murmurs, pace increasing with every cry he draws out of you. 'yocchan please', 'c'mon handsome'.

and you’re reminded of those tears well up in your glass eyes; as vacant as his and in need of nothing but respite. pleasure and pain bleed into one as you start to sting under your fingertips. you throb too, the sight of hiori fucking his fist and your pretty panties; how he bites his lip as he watches you grind against yourself, begging for him to spare you just a finger. he fixates his eyes on your own as well as your thighs, shamelessly aroused by your distress and your anguish. thin streams of tears begin to drip down your face, mindless pleas interjected by uncontrollable sobbing. wet lashes and wide, pleading eyes beckoning to hiori as he comes undone, your eventual tears finally pushing him to orgasm. you watch as his body convulses, the way in which hot ropes of his cum spurt out onto your panties and dribble all down his hand that helps him ride out his orgasm. he moans something about how he loves you, too.  

'y'r too good for me,’ it takes a while but hiori finally comes down from his high, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his jersey. his jersey that clings to the sweet sweat of his now flushed pale skin, name proudly pressed to his back as the only item of clothing left that’s left untouched by the both of you. ‘fuck that was so good.' a sickeningly sweet smirk pressed onto thin lips which so lovingly coo at you; 'good girl.'

'i hate you.'

[kirain]

Your headcanon that Emmrich's right arm is always gloved because he has scars from when he tried to pull his parents out of a collapsed burning building is now OFFICIAL canon as far as I'm concerned. Can we please get a fic of Emmrich being self conscious about the scars? 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Oh wow, thank you! 🥺 Here you go, anon!

The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with an ominous orange glow that seemed to taunt Emmrich. Vae sat opposite of him, her hands resting in her lap as she waited. Though usually cheery and confident, Emmrich trembled ever so slightly, his head bowed as though the weight of the moment pressed heavily on his shoulders.

"All right," he whispered.

Vae reached out, her touch light as she took his gloved hand in hers. "I'll go slow," she said softly.

Despite her promise, Emmrich's breath hitched, his back tensing. As she began to slip off the ornate rings and bracelets that adorned his fingers and wrists with a gentle tug, his eyes squinted shut, his brow furrowed and twitching. When the last piece of jewelry fell into her palm, he flinched, and Vae paused, worry overtaking her curiosity.

Quickly, her hand moved to cup his cheek. "It's all right," she soothed, her thumb brushing against his skin. "You're all right."

His breathing steadied just enough for her to continue. Carefully, she removed the heavy bracer next, the worn leather scraping against the golden rim as it slid free.

"You're doing great," Vae praised as she set it down on the night stand. "We're almost there."

But when she reached for his glove, Emmrich suddenly pulled his arm away. "I'm sorry," he wheezed. "I can't."

Vae froze, her heart twisting at the anguish in his voice. His expression was one of shame, his face turning away from her. After a moment, she reached out again and guided him back.

"Emmrich," she said, her tone laden with compassion. "Look at me. Please." He hesitated, but opened his eyes to meet hers, the vulnerability in his gaze almost too much for her to bear. "I won't push you," she vowed. "But you need to know—nothing about you could ever disgust me."

He sighed deeply, shivering under the weight of his self-doubt. "The scars... they're unseemly," he warned, gripping his wrist so hard it caused Vae to wince. "It's already a miracle you want to be with an old codger like me. My body is—"

"Stop," Vae pressed, forcing a playful smirk. "You're in better shape than I am."

A weak chuckle escaped him, though it carried a deluge of sadness. For her, he was trying to push through, masking the pain beneath, but she realised the truth.

He wasn't ready.

"All right," she said, rising to her feet. "Let's get some dinner, then."

"Vae?"

"Sweetheart, I said I'm not going to push you. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, but you clearly are." She gestured to the door without a hint of malice or disappointment. "I can wait, however long it takes. For tonight, let's forget this and have a nice—"

Before she took a step, Emmrich's hand shot out, grasping her wrist with surprising persistence. "Wait," he begged, his voice cracking.

She turned back, startled to find him glaring up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, releasing his grip. "I do want to do this. It's just... I'm frightened it will change the way you see me."

Vae's expression softened, and she knelt before him, placing a tender hand on his knee. "Emmrich, do you really think so little of me?"

He froze, guilt flickering across his face. "What? No, of course not! I only meant—!"

His jaw clenched, the contradiction hitting him like a bolt of divine judgement. Vae was young, but she was a woman, and she had chosen to be with him—for better or worse. To assume she would leave him over his past, over some marred skin, was indeed an insult to her character.

But it wasn't true. He trusted her. However difficult, however loudly the voice in his head screamed that she'd recoil at the sight, he trusted her, and he wanted to prove it—even though he knew she'd never demand it. Slowly, he took a breath and offered his arm, the motion hesitant but resolute.

Vae gasped, staring up at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he whispered. "I'm sure."

"All right, then. Stop me, if it's too much for you."

With the utmost care, Vae began to unbutton the long glove, her fingers working indulgently until the fabric slipped free. What lay beneath made her heart ache: a web of burn scars stretched across the top of Emmrich's hand, climbing up and around his forearm. The angry, uneven texture spoke of unimaginable pain and resilience.

"Darling..."

There were so many things she wanted to say, but as the image of an innocent boy crying out for help flashed in her mind, all she could do was stare; not with disgust, but with sorrow for the suffering he had endured.

But Emmrich misunderstood her silence, and his incessant need to fill the quiet overwhelmed him. "It got pinned under debris," he explained, his voice shaking. "Burning rubble, when I tried to clear the wreckage for my parents. I know it's hideous. I have full mobility, but the epidermis never healed quite—"

Before he could finish, Vae leaned in and pressed her lips to the top of his discoloured knuckles. The simple act silenced him, his words catching in his throat.

When she pulled back, she hugged his arm to her chest, holding it like a precious artefact. "I love you, Emmrich," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Scars and all. They're a part of you, and they make you even more beautiful in my eyes."

He whimpered, then pulled her into a tight embrace, his scarred hand cradling her head. Though his reaction was unexpected, Vae smiled and leaned into his chest, her arms wrapping around him like a vice.

"Thank you," he sobbed, his scorched fingers quivering in her hair. "Thank you, my darling."

"You silly man," she moaned, her own eyes welling with tears. "You have nothing to thank me for."

In that moment, the pain Emmrich always seemed to feel disappeared, the weight lifted. His whole life, he'd seen those gruesome marks as a reminder of his failure, but Vae saw something else entirely.

A symbol of his devotion and bravery.

[venomwrites]

Inspired by @qvert's latest masterpiece because i was called out in the tags and that will not stand. Also on ao3

Dying is more peaceful than she imagined. 

It’s nice, nicer than she deserves after the things she’s done. There’s a linger of disappointment, like the aftertaste of a cigarette or a bad drink. She had been so ready to die. Right up until she found Vi in that cell. Until Vi shoved their mouths together and irrevocably rewrote all of Catilyn’s desires. Before that, the idea of dying was easy enough to imagine. She deserved it for all she had done. She could only hope that whatever part of her passed on was able to explain herself. She had tried. But she had fallen short. Like a novice shooter, she had struck the target but it hadn’t been a bullseye. That was alright though. As long as they gave her just a moment to hear her mother’s disapproving click. The arch of her eyebrow. Anything at all. If she could just have that she would go wherever was next. But then Vi had mashed their lips together and that sweet surrender turned bitter. She truly had tried to live. It was odd, none of her wounds seemed fatal but she must have miscalculated. 

Well it was one miscalculation. One of many, but she can’t even imagine the lifetime that stretched beyond her if they couldn’t salvage her eye. When her fingertips touch the skin though, there’s no damage. After another prod, she realizes there’s no skin either. Whatever she is, she is solid but not. She twists around and tries to sort through what she is seeing, but it’s very difficult. She feels as though she has many voices in her head, but they hum and move past. None actually register as she looks around. It’s baffling but they all feel equal in some strange way. Like everything that has made them them is gone. Scooped out. She has no idea what makes a someone a person if all of that is gone. She wonders if that is what death is. This strange surrender and scooping out. This return to something like light. It feels far more hollow than she would have expected. But if there are voices, perhaps one is that which she is looking for. It takes several tries to get her voice to work, but she is nothing if not determined. 

“Mum?” She calls. No response, just that same dull echo. Something like distant panic churns through her, “Mum? I’m here,” she tries again, twisting for any sign, “Mum it’s Caitlyn, are you here?”

For a moment there’s just silence. 

Then something collides into her and she’s falling. 

Caitlyn thinks she might scream but there’s no air in her lungs to scream with. She can’t remember when she took a breath last or if the need to breathe is even real. The sensation of falling is, maybe other things are as well. She’s been such a monster. Such a failure. Of course the peaceful place she was in is not where she belongs. Perhaps she is meant to fall for the rest of whatever is happening. Existence? Eternity? Caitlyn doesn’t know. She can do nothing except tumble through the impossible light. Just when she is half convinced there is no end to this, scenery roars up around her and Caitlyn barely has enough time to brace herself for the impending impact. Except everything goes molasses slow and instead of a hard landing she finds herself standing on solid ground. 

She doesn’t recognize this place. 

She recognizes vague elements of it. It’s like someone took all the cells in Stillwater Hold and the Bunker, jumbled them together and spit this place out. There were no sensations in the place of light but there is nothing but sensations here. Bruises appear and heal, mildew and mould tickle her nose and then are replaced by the smell of old dust. It’s an overwhelming nightmare that makes her dizzy for a moment as she fights to get her bearings. Her fingers wrap around the bars as she peers down an impossibly long hallway. Somewhere at the very end she thinks she sees the light of the elevator, but her eyes can’t seem to focus on it without it moving away. Caitlyn wonders if this is where she will exist for the rest of time or if this is another temporary place. If the next will be worse. She manages to draw in something resembling a breath and thinks to call for help. 

“Don’t!” A voice whispers. 

The hairs on Caitlyn’s neck stand up at the harsh, desperate whisper. She would know that voice across time and space. That voice has been inked into her marrow. Caitlyn made her peace with her own death. But not with this one. This was the death she wanted to prevent above all others. Some part of her screams in denial but she’s still not certain she can make a sound. And even if she can, the voice told her not to. 

When Vi asks, Caitlyn cannot deny her. 

Slowly she turns around but whatever she’s expecting, it’s not this. Vi is standing behind her but it’s not her Vi. It’s not even the broken Vi she dragged up from the depths of the earth. This Vi is only recognizable in parts. The scars on her face, the pink of her hair, the color of her eyes. Everything else is radically different. She’s whip thin. Painfully thin. Her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is runny. Her hair is shaved on both sides in an severe undercut, the kind that requires another pair of hands. There are no tattoos on her. Not even the VI under her eye. She’s bare faced, inkiness and utterly terrified. The prison garb she’s wearing is shockingly clean and cuffed several times at the ankles. It hangs off her slender frame. Her hands are wrapped but she’s bled though them already. Her hands twitch between wrapping tight around her middle, swiping under her eyes or nose or lifting up near her face. It takes a moment before something fractionally relaxes on her. 

“If they hear you they’ll beat you,” she says in that same desperate whisper and the panic in her eyes breaks Caitlyn’s heart. 

This isn’t her Vi. 

“We’ll be quiet,” Caitlyn whispers and Vi relaxes a little more, “I’m Cai—“

“No names,” Vi says, “they don’t like that. I’m 5-1-6,” she says in a horribly rehearsed way, “but some of the guards call me Pink.”

“I’m Cupcake,” Caitlyn says. 

Vi’s eyes light up. 

“No way,” she says, “I get my sister a cupcake for her birthday every year. It’s like having a whole cake to yourself,” her face falls a bit, “I was saving up for it before—“ she stops herself from speaking and her eyes go panicked like she’s said too much. Her hands rise up, “I don’t have any money the guards took it.”

“I don’t either,” Caitlyn offers, holding out her hands to show she isn’t armed, “I just got here. How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks,’ Vi says and chews her bottom lip, “I think. It’s hard to tell.”

A few weeks. Caitlyn feels sick. A few weeks and ten years to go. She’s one of the few who has seen Vi’s file. Caitlyn has no illusions that the file only scratches the surface. The file is horrific and it is only what people bothered to write down. Or what they were forced to. Stillwater Hold is notorious for having incomplete files. If the guards are not ignoring others atrocities, they are pretending not to have committed their own. It’s a hellish place. It was before Caitlyn had any idea how hellish it truly was. Before she even knew Vi her skin crawled at the thought of it. She had been nervous on that boat ride over. Only her own stubbornness got her off when even the captain of the boat leered at her. Everything in her screams to get Vi out. To save her. But she is fairly certain that she is not in the past. Not really. 

“You’re very strong,” Caitlyn says, coming a little closer, “saving money for your sister’s birthday like that. You’re going to survive this.”

Vi makes a tiny noise before she grabs her arm and twists away. Like even that noise will send the guards running towards her. Maybe it did in the past. Maybe it will now. Caitlyn doesn’t know how she will witness that knowing there is nothing she can do to help. Not really. 

“I don’t want to,” Vi whispers to her and a few tears break free, streaking down the grime on her cheeks. 

They’re close enough for Caitlyn to reach out and take Vi’s hand. Vi’s fingers are limp in hers. It’s horrible, the last time Vi’s fingers felt like this she was dying. Dying but still fighting with everything she had. There’s no fight in this Vi’s blue-grey eyes. She’s terrified. Even though she’s trying to protect herself the gentleness of Caitlyn’s touch seems to break something in her. One of her hands digs into her arm and her fingers weakly tighten around Caitlyn’s. Her lip trembles as she hangs her head, her eyes slamming shut. She tries to breath but every breath trembles. Caitlyn squeezes her hands back and her lips part. 

“I—“ she sucks in a tortured breath, “I want my mom,” she sobs, “I want my mom.”

Her body gives out and Caitlyn dives forward, drawing the trembling girl into her lap. One of the best things about Vi’s hugs is how all encompassing they are. How you’re blanketed in her embrace. Caitlyn doubts this slender thing could wrap her arms around her shoulders. She curls herself into Caitlyn’s warmth with a choked, horrible sob. Caitlyn tries to imitate Vi’s embrace and presses her into her shoulder. This Vi wraps her arms around her own middle but she turns her head into Caitlyn’s neck. Her tears and uneven breaths break Caitlyn’s heart as Vi tries to find comfort in her embrace. 

“I know you do,” Caitlyn whispers, thinking of how when Vi was stabbed she only wanted to go home, “one day this will all seem like a bad dream.”

“How?” Vi sniffles, “they won’t let me out.”

“One day someone is going to come and get you out of here,” she says, “and you’ll wind up in the big shiny house you always looked at when you saw the Fireworks at Progress day. You’ll have everything you could possibly want for the rest of you days.”

“I won’t die here?” The small voice asks. 

“No,” Caitlyn says, “you don’t die here. You’re strong—you’re so strong. You become even stronger in here. And that strength saves so many lives.”

“Do I find my sister?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “you find her. You find yourself,” Vi’s lips shift up, “and you find so many others. People come together because of you. People who never thought they would.”

Vi is quiet for a moment and then sniffles. She slides off Caitlyn’s lap. She still looks scared but there’s a determination in her eyes now. A bit of the Vi she knows and loves, shining through. Caitlyn grasps her hands and looks into her blue-grey eyes. They seem almost colorless in this place. Like they were the night they first met. One day Caitlyn will know every blue in them, but right now they must be grey. 

“You are so loved,” she says, “promise me you will never forget that. Hold onto it.”

“I’ll hold on,” Vi says. 

There are footsteps suddenly. Pounding towards them. Caitlyn opens her mouth and tries to push Vi behind her, but she’s falling again. Slower this time. Monstrous shadows starts to darken the cell but Vi stands tall. Her shoulders square. Her fists raise up as she faces this impossible evil. Before they get her she turns around and grins at Caitlyn. It’s the smile Caitlyn loves. That devil may care one that says this is gonna be fine. She’s got this. She winks at Caitlyn and it’s like Caitlyn can see her growing up in this hellish place. She’s older when she turns back. Ink has started to decorate her skin and her arms are broader. It’s not her Vi, not yet. Closer but not there. But this Vi grins all the same at Caitlyn. 

“I’ll hold on,” she says. 

Time jumps again and Caitlyn is somehow away and unaware of every horror. Every moment. The shadows are gone except the ones the bars create. There’s a dripping sound that Vi uses to thump her fists into the wall. It’s her Vi. The determination is full on her face, but Caitlyn can see a weariness there. One she wasn’t aware of when they met. Vi loses the rhythm and presses her forehead to the wall. 

“How long do I have to hold on?” She mutters and opens her eyes to lock with Caitlyn’s. 

Caitlyn’s not sure how to answer. When even is this? There’s more hopelessness in Vi’s face as she looks at her. A weariness that guts Caitlyn. She’s so tired. She has every right to be exhausted. The way she strikes the wall is listless. Like she has nothing left to give. Caitlyn scrambles to find the right words. It’s harder with this world weary Vi. Somehow she can stand though. She presses her hand to the nape of Vi’s neck and tries not to wince when Vi pushes at the wall. She shies away from the touch like it’s a strike but she doesn’t move to the sides. She doesn’t actually try to get away. 

“Keep holding on,” Caitlyn says, “please.”

“I can’t,” Vi gasps out, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Caitlyn counters, “I know you can. Hold on. I’m almost there.”

Vi looks at her with one miserable eye but then Caitlyn hears the sound of her own boots. They both turn at the precise steps, the ruffle of pages, the catch of an unsteady breath. Suspicion and worry echo on Vi’s face. She doesn’t know who this is but she can tell they don’t belong here. No-one comes down here alone. Vi listens for a moment longer and then squares her shoulders. If they’re here for her, if this is some new hell she’s going to face it. It’s written all over her face. Even before her grey eyes drag over to Caitlyn’s. 

“I can’t for much longer,” she says, “but for now,” her lips quirk up, "I’ll hold on."

Over Vi’s head Caitlyn watches as she walks into view. She looks so much younger. It’s hard to imagine she was ever this person. But she was. She is. Vi glances at her and then at that Caitlyn. Her Caitlyn. Even though she doesn’t know it, she can’t know it. Neither of them know what is about to happen to them. How this moment will irrevocably change the course of their lives. The cell tugs and fades and blurs. Caitlyn feels the skin under her hand shift and change as a watercolor Vi appears to stare at her Caitlyn and the Vi under her hands finally becomes hers. 

“Cait?”

They clutch each other as the watercolor world gives way to that endless place of dark and light. They don’t exist anymore but Caitlyn is certain they are together. She would have to be truly unmade to not know the feel of Vi’s embrace. Vi’s shoulders heave but they are her Vi’s shoulders. Thick with muscle and the weight of all she has been through. So impossibly strong. Caitlyn pushes her head into her shoulder and digs her fingers into Vi’s trapezius, the one that shifts more easily. 

“Fuck, Cait,” she breathes into her shoulder, “you’re here.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says. Vi’s head comes up and finally looks around, “wherever this is.”

“We’re not dead,” Vi says with more confidence than Caitlyn is expecting. Her eyes inspect Caitlyn’s face and narrow at the surprised look, “how bad?”

“What—“

“How badly are you injured?” She asks, worry starting to show on her face, “Cait is it—“

“Nothing felt fatal,” Caitlyn says quickly, “some fractures, a puncture wound in my gut. My eye was injured as well,” she tries to keep the list honest and vague. But Vi looks crestfallen all the same, “I’m alive,” Caitlyn says firmly, “Mel is with me. Where are you?”

Vi looks at her and Caitlyn watches her face fall. It’s like being back in that place with the child version of Vi. She looks so heartbreakingly young and lost. Caitlyn cups her cheeks and strokes her thumbs under her eyes. In each other’s embrace it feels like the emotions come faster. Stronger. Caitlyn wants to let go but she cannot. Not when Vi turns her face into her palm and whatever they have for hands tightens around her waist. 

“I’m at the Hexgate,” she says, “with sister and my dad.”

Caitlyn feels the same horror she felt when Maddie cocked the gun. Vi is with her dad. Again. She doesn’t need to say it, Caitlyn can tell from the look on her face. It’s not a happy reunion. How on earth could it be? She saw what her dad looked like after the blast. She can’t imagine what Ambessa and Singed did to him since. She’s on the ground bleeding somewhere and Vi is up high with her father. The fact she has Jinx with her is a cold comfort. The best case scenario here is that Vi watches her father die for a third time. Even though Caitlyn has seen untold horrors in her head, they pale in comparison to the prospect of this. Caitlyn is powerless here in any way that truly matters. But that doesn’t stop her from pressing her fingers into Vi’s cheeks and pulling her attention back to her. 

“Hold on,” she says. Vi’s brow furrows and Caitlyn has no idea if she heard her in the hell that was her past, “just hold on. I’ll find you. I need you to hold on until then.”

Vi takes a breath and looks at her with that beautiful determination. 

“I’ll hold on.”

Something is pulling them apart, no matter how much they cling to each other. Vi spirals away and just shouts across the universe. 

“I’ll hold on! I promise!”

[tubbytarchia]

got an urge to design ponies oops

[s0dium]

Sex Pollen

Geto x F!Reader

A/n: This was pulled out from the depths of my fantasies

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Oh no! You and Geto get hit by an aphrodisiac curse technique on a mission!! What should you do now?

Warning: Breeding, masturbation, begging, mating press, rough sex, desperate sex, marathon sex, doggy, squirting

You think there's something wrong with you. Something feels off, you feel off, rather, you feel hot.

You bolt upright in your bed, flinging the sheets away as if a second more underneath them would burn you. No, something was definitely off. Your mind buzzed, and it couldn't be from the adrenaline of the mission, that was hours ago, it was midnight now.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of your room and you bit inside of your cheek. It wasn't just physical exhaustion that draped over your limbs—it was something else, something deeper and more consuming. The air around you felt thicker, every breath you took seemed laced with a heavy, intoxicating warmth. You press a hand to your forehead, trying to quell the rising temperature of your skin, but it provides little relief.

A creeping heat suffuses your body and an unmistakable pulse emanates from your core.

Where you.... Turned on?

A sickly-warm-funny feeling bubbles in your stomach and you're becoming aware of how your skin is starting to stick to your tank top and that the cloth between your legs feels....wet?

Hesitantly, you snake a hand under your waistband and underwear, releasing a small gasp when your skin makes contact with your arousal. You're soaked.

Why is this happening, why now? Your mind races through the events of the previous day. It was mainly just you and Geto on a mission, one like any other—find the curse, exorcise, clean up the mess. Could it be the technique you were hit with?

Could Geto be feeling this too?

Your heart jumps at the thought but you try to shake it off. You know you should get up, wake up Shoko, wake up Geto even, but you can't seem to will your legs to move. Your mind was is just too occupied with something else, the promise of something sweeter, something that is making the funny feeling in your stomach spread.

Without much of a thought, you press an index finger on your throbbing clit, garnering a sharp sigh from you. Just from that simple touch pleasure ripples through your body, making your toes curl. You do the movement again except this time you start drawing light circles on the sensitive nub. You can feel yourself squeeze around nothing from your own ministrations, bliss clouding your hazy mind.

It wasn't enough though. You needed more.

You dart your tongue across your lips and try to focus on the pleasure, on getting some relief. You try to dip one of your fingers inside your hole while continuing the ministrations on your clit with your other hand, but it proves too difficult, your fingers are too small.

Tears blotted your eyes from frustration, letting out a soft whine from the relentless heat that continued to rack your body. Oh how you wish you had someone else to help you, oh how you wish Geto was here.

Your core throbs at the thought. Yes, that was it, he is what you need. You resume your ministrations this time focusing on the euphoric thought of Geto suguru. He would be so good to you wouldn't he be? Oh you bet he'd fill you up so well too, fuck you just right, get rid of this painful arousal, and fill your mind with only pleasure. He would probably talk you through it too, let you pull and tug on his long black hair oh you can practically feel his hands on you right now, so big and warm.

You don't even realize that you are loudly moaning Geto's name at this point, too busy trying to grapple with the searing heat coursing through your veins. You feel like your body is surrounded by an invisible flame, fuck it feels like you are going to die. The room around you blurs into insignificance, as your thoughts fixate solely on your Geto Suguru, his absence a gaping void that echoes through your heightened senses. You feel a desperate craving, a pull so strong it borders on physical pain, rendering you breathless and sobbing for his touch, his presence.

"Suguru, please...." you gasp between sobs, your voice breaking with each word. The tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you clutch your sheets.

As if on cue, the door swings open and you think that there must be a god out there listening to you because there Suguru stands, backlit by the hallway light, his broad silhouette framed in the doorway.

Before you can even get a word in he is already next to you sitting on your bed and cupping your face with his large warm hands.

Deep violet eyes examine your face as his thumb brushes away the tears on your cheek.

"I-" You choke, a wave of emotions crashing down on your mind stifling the words that desperately wanted to escape your mouth.

"Shhhh, I know baby I know," he coos kissing your forehead and tracing your jaw with his thumb. "I feel it to, but I'm gonna take care of it ok? Don't worry about a thing m'gonna take such good care of you I promise."

He gently tilts your chin up, meeting your doe-eyed gaze with eyes that seems to devour you. Slowly, he lowers his lips to yours, encapsulating your trembling mouth in a deep, comforting kiss that steadys the chaotic beat of your heart. You sigh into the kiss and let his entangle with yours.

As the kiss deepens, he shifts slightly, his lips traveling from yours down to your neck. A soft gasp escapes you as he plants soft kisses along your skin, occasionally nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. You are so lost in the feeling of his lips that you don't even notice his hand on your inner thigh until his finger grazes your lips.

You jump at the sensation but Suguru places a light reassuring kiss on your lips

"jesus, please just, fuck, gotta get you ready just a little bit"

You shake your head quickly and place your hand on Suguru's crotch, the caress of his growing bulge making him groan.

"Please sugu, please just fuck me I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for say long," he mummurs as he pulls down his sweatpants and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white beed of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby I know Don't worry, I got you.”

You're cut off by the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, your cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said hoarsely.

“Ngh so goo-"

You dont get to finish the thought because he pulls out and rams back into you with such a fever everything goes blank for a second.

His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted. But that quickly changed to harsher thrusts, until he’s using you like his personal cock sleeve, shaping your insides and bruising your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

Every thrust knocks the wind out of you, his tip smushing right against your cervix only to be pulled out and rammed back in again. And the sounds, god the sounds where sinful. Wet skin against skin echoed through the room and the sloshing sound of both of your arousals makes your eyes roll back.

You don't know what's happening, you couldn't even tell someone your own name if they asked. Your grip on the sheets was starting to get loose, tears flowing down to your cheeks, mouth hanging open with drool pooling on the sheets as you were already fucked out of your mind.

"Come on baby just keep your legs on my shoulders. Can you do that for me?" His breath is hot against your ear. "F-fuck please" he says through a groan. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind you would think that he was actually begging. And you were right. Suguru isn't a whimpering man but here he is, voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt  

You are too dumb to reply, only spurting outcries and whines about how good he was fucking you. He snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a dream, the bed was shaking immensely with the headboard banging on the wall and you were losing your mind from the friction of his dick against your walls.

"Wanna fuck you every day,"  he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal brutal. "fuck fuck fuck," he swears, as he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses your lips onto his. Your so dazed you practically drool into the kiss, letting him entangle his tongue with yours until spit smeared on either side of your lips. He doesn’t slow the movement for a second as he kisses you, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

Suddenly, it hits you. Like an ignition of fire your brain goes white and you feel yourself ascend to euphoria.

“You gonna cum baby?" he coos into your hear, pressing light kisses on the hollow of your neck. "fuck, cum for me baby, please, cum on me."  His hand flew between your bodies to rapidly rub your clit back and forth, hurtling you towards your orgasm. Your pussy tightens so hard around his cock that he nearly has to stop his thrusts. Your mouth grows lax as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“That’s it,” He fucks you through your orgasm, pouring every ounce of his strength into chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy, hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flushed against yours, burying himself in your creamy cunny.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

His grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him, coming so hard he sees white. But he's not done.

Before you could recover, Suguru rolls you onto your back, in doggy, and slips into you. After the first thrust he has to hold still for a second, knowing that if he kept moving, if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would burst inside you again. But the moment of rest only lasts for a second. He resumes his brutal pace, pumping himself in and out of you. 

You are wetter then ever down there, there is no longer friction only the mind-numbing pleasure of his tip hitting your cervix again and again. 

There is no warning when he cums inside you again, you only know when you feel his cum drip down your thigh.

"Feel so good, you feel so good baby."

You're in heaven right now. Your mind has gone to a different space detached from this world. Every time Suguru pushes into you, his tip of his dick rubbed perfectly against the gummy spot in you that made your whole body shake.

“Fuckkkk… I’ll fill you up, make you a mommy, you’d like that wouldn’t you… shit.”

All you can do is dumbly nod as you felt the crescendo of your euphoria building and building. It was so hot, your skin was radiating heat and before you could say anything you were tumbling toward the end faster then you could put a stop to it.

“S’feels weird~” you babble, too fucked dumb to properly pronunciate words. 

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?” He coos, grabbing either side of your hips harder to fuck himself into you from your behind.

“Like m’gonna pee I don’t-hah-” something was pressing down on your stomach and it was overtaking your body; too fast to put a stop to it. You started to shake, abdomen clenching and mouth going into the lock jaw, tongue rolling out as you squirted clear juices everywhere.

“Oh f- good girl" He says through a groan, not stopping for a second as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him.

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — capitano loves teaching his darling how it feels to receive pleasure by a real man <3

warnings — inexperienced reader & naive ?? reader, petnames used: good girl, size kink/size difference, age gap ? (he's mentioned as being older), fem! reader <3

the thought of capitano teaching you about pleasure and passion was unbelievably hot to the point where you couldn't wait for it to happen again and again.

yes, he's older and more experienced than you, so of course you believe whatever he tells you and certainly won't question all of the depraved things he'd ask you to do, the harbinger obviously know better than you do, correct? these thoughts never failed to echo in your mind as you found herself alone with capitano, the strongest and mysterious harbinger whose very presence sent your mind in a daze.

he towers above your smaller frame with his dark eyes piercing through the dim light of the room, the silent command in his gaze strong enough to send an entire army to its defeat.

you couldn't lie to yourself, especially not when it came to him— and you felt a thrilling mix of fear and anticipation as he sank inside for the first time, making your pretty mouth part with a high gasp as he pressed himself through your tiny hole— first his thick tip splitting you open, then his inches rubbing through you, his movements deliberate and controlled yet never too much where it could hurt you.

although before he proceeds, his scarred hand reaches out to your face, gently tilting your chin up to meet his focused eyes.

"you must trust me, you're aware of that, correct?" capitano's deep voice resonates through you, each word a promise of what was about to come as he begins to thrust into you gently, his next following words accompanied by deep grunts and groans, "only then i will teach you on how to receive the pleasure only i can give you."

you nod immediately, eager to feel more, your heart pounding in your chest as his experience in the bedroom was certainly undeniable— not only that but it was sexy, hot as the flames of a pyro user as the authority in his voice made you ache to comply, to please him too with all you can.

the rush of excitement at the prospect of being guided by someone who knew exactly what he was doing was enthralling as your body showed him such, and if you weren't so cock drunk, you'd notice just how hard and messily you're squeezing him right now, your pussy drooling and messing him up until he knows he's yours.

his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "wrap your legs around me," and begins to instruct, his voice a low growl that made your back arch up immediately.

without hesitation you obey, your legs encircling his broad waist as the closeness was beginning to turn intoxicating, feeling like minutes before you could feel true solace as you felt the strength of his body pressing against yours the more he'd add on speed and strength.

"good girl, very good," he murmurs proudly, his breath hot against your skin as one of his hands slowly slide down your sweat covered stomach before reaching your clit, "now, relax, alright? let me show you how to feel every touch, every sensation of me,"

his hand moves with practiced ease on your clit as he pinches it, tugs and teased it, rubbing over the pearl and igniting a trail of fire wherever he applied pressure the most as your body was responding to his every touch, your senses heightened by the sheer dominance he exuded.

"focus on my touch," he commands softly, your hips curving upwards so that you'd be able to get his cock to sink even further inside of you.

"feel how your body responds to me,"

capitano fucks you with purpose, tugging your hips deeper onto his cock with every grind as your legs begin to shake, the blur in your eyes making it difficult for you to see anything more than his panting demeanor— not only that but his cock was huge, splitting you apart like he's meant to do that, as if there was nothing more than this moment in your life which was deemed important.

the warmth of his drags against your walls pooled into your veins and flesh as his cock fucks and fucks and lets you squeeze his inches in and out until you end up hiccuping of being so full and satiated, almost feeling stupid as he sent currents of electricity straight to your core.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[incognit0slut]

Stress Relief

You convince your husband to take out his anger on you when he comes home very tense.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) dom!spencer, sub!reader, oral (f), reader in handcuffs so light bondage?, choking, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare and domestic bliss because he’s still our beloved spencer

Words: 5k for 5k milestone celebration! TYSM ILY💘💘

A/n: I combined two requests asking for him to get all angry/frustrated because an unsub had a particular thing for winding him up (from anon 1) so he needs some kind of smutty release (from anon 2). You know who you are.

You could tell something was off. 

A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as the front door creaked open, and instead of the usual lively greeting from your husband, you were met with silence. It was as though he was physically there and yet you could sense his absence in the air. 

"Spence?" You called out, stepping out of the kitchen. When there was no response, you tried again. "Baby, are you okay?"

Your feet guided you down the hallway where you found him standing by the door with his back facing you. Even from behind, you could sense the foul mood he was in. His shoulders seemed more tense than usual, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an edge to his movements as he closed the door with a loud thud.

"Babe?"

His response was brief, his gaze flickering towards you before quickly darting away, almost as if he were intentionally avoiding your eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey?" you echoed. "That's all I'm getting?"

When his eyes met yours again, you could practically feel the tension radiating from him. It was clear that he was angry, his usual calm demeanor seemed to be replaced by a subtle but palpable edge. There was a tightness in his jaw, a clenched fist by his side, and his usually warm gaze now held a hint of sharpness.

Only one thought crossed your mind whenever he came home like this.

"Bad day at work?"

He slowly nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want a hug?"

He hesitated momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly as if debating whether to accept your offer. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Your hand instinctively found its way to his hair, fingers gently running through the soft strands.

"Oh, honey, you're so tense," you noted as your other hand trailed along his shoulder. "Is there anything I can help with? A massage? A nice warm bath maybe?"

You felt him shake his head against you, but you persisted, wanting to offer him comfort in any way you could. When your hand smoothed down his back, his hold on you tightened. When your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, you felt his warm breath caress your skin.

Then it happened—soft lips brushed against the spot under your ear, tentative at first, before growing more urgent. It wasn't the tender, affectionate kisses you were used to, but a different kind of intimacy that felt almost desperate. His lips nibbled and sucked gently at your skin and it became clear to you what he wanted.

"You want another kind of release, baby? Is that what you want?"

His lips momentarily paused against your neck, his arms loosening their grip around you before he rested his hands on your hips. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" 

"Because—” he stopped, his grip on your body tightening. “Because I don't feel like myself right now."

You grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him away just enough to see his face. "What makes you say that?"

Spencer held your gaze. How could he explain to you that he was on the verge of acting out his frustration? That he was so close to losing control? 

He knew how difficult he could be when anger took hold of him. In his younger days, he wouldn't hesitate to fire off sassy remarks and snarky comments, letting his emotions dictate his behavior. However, as he matured, he learned better to hide those emotions behind a composed facade.

But tonight felt different. Despite his best attempts to maintain his control, he could feel his anger slipping away, and it was unfair to burden you with it. Especially when you were offering yourself to him, so sweet and so pretty, when he knew love wasn't exactly what he could offer you right now. 

So he decided to release you, his grip loosening as he stepped back.

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath before turning towards your shared bedroom. Your brow furrowed as he walked away, leaving you standing there with your mouth slightly agape, bewildered by his sudden withdrawal.

"Spencer Reid," you called after him, your voice laced with a hint of irritation as you followed him. "I wasn't done talking to you."

He paused, his hand halfway to his tie before he loosened it with a sharp tug. You leaned against the bedroom doorway, crossing your arms as you continued to study him. His lack of response only fueled your growing annoyance, but you knew better than to escalate the situation into a fight.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke up, your voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Honey, I can't help you if you're acting this way."

"What makes you think I need help?"

"The way you're wrestling with your tie gives it away," you replied, your words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

He shot you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by your remark. "I don't need your help."

Your frown deepened. "Seriously? You're just going to shut me out like this?"

"I'm not shutting you out," he countered, moving around the room. "I just need some space."

"Well you're doing a pretty damn good job of it," you shot back, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself off the doorway. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent, his actions focused on undoing the button on his wrist now. You scoffed at his lack of response again.

"Oh, so now you're giving me the silent treatment?" When it seemed evident he was trying to ignore you, you pressed on. "Fine, keep your silence, let me do the talking."

His eyes flickered momentarily at you before he turned around, undoing the button of his shirt. You watched him quietly as he continued to avoid your gaze. 

"Spencer," you began, your voice softer now. "I know your job can be hard, and I know you're going through a lot right now, but shutting me out won't make it any easier."

“I've already told you, I'm not trying to shut you out."

"Then what are you doing?" you pressed. "I tried offering you help when you didn't want to talk about it. And the one thing I can help you with, the one thing I'm sure will help you relax, you refused." 

You let out a frustrated sigh, hating how much your voice wavered now.

"Spence... you—you didn't even want to have sex with me."

His shoulders stiffened at your words, finally turning to face you. "You think I don't want to have sex with you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your throat. "I don't know what to think anymore," you admitted. "You're giving me the cold shoulder, it’s hard not to take it personally."

The room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence. Then, you watched as he began to walk towards you. One step. Two steps. Until his presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that suddenly made you feel small and vulnerable.

"I'm refusing to have sex with you right now not because I don't want to," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I'm refusing because I'm trying to protect you."

You frowned, confusion furrowing your brow. "Protect me from what?"

There was a moment of silence before he replied, “From myself."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach, goosebumps forming on your skin as you struggled to comprehend what he was trying to say.

“I… I don't understand."

"I don't want to risk it. I'm afraid that if we... if we cross that line, I might hurt you."

"Spencer," you whispered in disbelief, as if his words were the most absurd thing you'd ever heard. "You would never hurt me."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be so sure if you knew half of the thought in my head right now."

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his words. Then your gaze involuntarily flickered down his body, tracing the lines of his open shirt and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze moved lower, taking in the way his pants hung low on his hips, and the trail of soft hair leading downwards.

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me then," you challenged, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze again. "Tell me how you'd hurt me."

He studied you, assessing, calculating. "You won't like it," he warned.

"And what if I do?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I know what I want."

He regarded you for a long moment, weighing your words carefully. Finally, he stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "You really want to know what I'd like to do to you?"

You held his gaze. "Yes," you replied. "Tell me."

His lips curved into a faint, almost rueful smile. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and traced a finger along the curve of your jaw. "I want to use you," he murmured. "I want to feel you, to taste you. I want to make you scream."

You could feel the heat traveling through your body, a heady mixture of desire and anticipation flooding your senses. You reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

"I want to control you," he continued, his gaze darkening. "I want to tie you up leave you bruises, mark your skin. I want you helpless, begging for mercy."

He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours.

"I want to see how far you'll go for me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in his words, and you couldn't deny the heat spreading between your legs. "And what if I want that too?"

A tense silence settled between you. Then slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he wrapped his fingers around your throat, simply holding you there. "You don't mean that."

"Try me," you dared, holding his gaze. "Put your hand between my thighs and see just how much I mean it."

His grip around your throat tightened ever so slightly while his other hand hovered at the waistband of your cotton pants. You felt a jolt of anticipation as he slipped his hand inside, your breath hitching as the pad of his calloused fingers dipped inside your panties.

A soft hum of approval escaped his lips when the slickness of your arousal coated his skin.

"Would you look at that? Barely even touched you and you're already this wet?" A low gasp fell between your lips as he found your clit. "You really want this, don't you?"

You could only manage a whimper in response, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

"Tell me," he insisted, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "No," you finally managed to gasp.

With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingertips lower, teasingly circling your entrance. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out.

“You dirty girl,” he muttered, and you feel yourself getting wetter as his finger continued to touch you teasingly. Then slowly, the grip on your throat loosened before his hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I need you to be sure," he whispered, "Because once we cross that line, there's no going back."

Your eyelids dropped lower as you chewed on your bottom lip, feeling the weight of his desire hanging in the air. It was a heady mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but one thing was clear—you wanted him.

You wanted him to use your body.

“Use me however you like,” you confessed. "I-I’m all yours.”

His lips were on yours in an instant. There was no mercy in his kiss, only raw desire and urgency. He kissed you as if he needed to breathe in your air, his lips moving desperately against yours, his tongue seeking entrance to taste you.

His hand then left your pants to cradle your face, holding you gently yet firmly as he explored every inch of your mouth, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. 

He looked down at you, his gaze intense, and saw the dazed expression in your eyes. Your touch, taste, and scent clouded his vision as you trembled in his arms, the soft sounds of your labored breath sang in his ears.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Now listen to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I'm going to leave you for a while, and when I come back, I expect to see you lying on the bed naked with your legs spread apart."

You swallowed hard, eyes slightly going wide. You felt his hand gripping your jaw.

"Do I make myself clear?"

You quickly nodded. "Y-Yes."

His grip tightened momentarily before he released you, his gaze piercing as he held your eyes for a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room. 

With trembling hands, you began to undress, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor until you stood bare before the bed. The cool air prickled against your skin as you slowly climbed onto the bed.

You brought your feet onto the bed before spreading your knees apart. It felt weird, you had never felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet you couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your thighs. And then you heard him, his footsteps gradually coming closer and your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped onto the bed sheets.

His tall frame filled the doorway as he took in the sight before him, his eyes lingering between your legs. He watched your chest rise and fall, watched the way your legs fell apart even more as if you were offering yourself to him. Without a word, he approached the bed and stripped off his shirt. 

Before you could catch your breath, he stood over the bed beside you. "Put your arms above your head."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze, but then slowly, almost instinctively, you complied, raising your arms above your head as instructed. You watched as he reached behind his back, and your heart raced as you glimpsed the glint of metal in his hand.

He didn't say a word as he reached for your wrists, securing them above your head with the cold metal of the handcuff, restraining you to the bed. The click of the cuffs echoed in the room before he stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam as if he was admiring his handiwork.

Your pulse quickened as you lay there, exposed and at his mercy and you couldn't help but squirm under his gaze. He moved closer, his fingers trailing lightly along your skin, and you shivered, both from the chill of the metal and the warmth of his touch.

"You look so pretty like this," he murmured. "So helpless, yet so willing."

Your eyes followed his movement as his fingers moved to unbutton his pants. Then he was completely naked, and even though you had seen him like this countless times, the sight of his cock never failed to make your cunt clench in anticipation. He was thick and hard, with veins pulsing along its length and droplets of wetness glistening at the tip.

The bed sank under his weight as he positioned himself between your legs. You gasped when he leaned forward, the underside of his cock teasingly brushing against your wet folds as his lips met your collarbone. You bit down on your bottom lip as he kissed lower, stopping at your left breast, where he suckled on the supple skin just above your nipple.

His mouth latched onto your skin after taking a moment to try and keep himself from rushing into things. But he was a simple man. His lips worked precisely and diligently, and you watched as he left marks on your breasts, his teeth gently sinking into your flesh here and there, his warm saliva coating the faint markings.

The kisses left on your sensitive skin resulted in you whining for more. Spencer felt a rush of satisfaction like no other, his touches growing more urgent with each sound that escaped your lips. His tongue glided over your plump breasts, teasing and tantalizing, until finally, his mouth enveloped your nipple.

You squealed, squirming underneath him, and he smiled against your skin, his lips forming a knowing smirk as he continued to suck while his thumb flicked the nipple he wasn't focusing on. There was no doubt you would be left with bruises tomorrow morning.

Your eyes drifted downward just as he looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and you couldn't help but whine when the tip of his tongue circled your nipple teasingly. You reached out, craving the sensation of your fingers in his hair, only to feel the metal of the handcuffs digging into your skin.

"It's torture, isn't it? Not being able to do anything," he taunted with a laugh, shifting his attention to your other nipple. "But I guess that's the fun part.”

You whimpered as he softly bit your sensitive bud, and your back arched off the bed in response. He leaned back, admiring the marks he'd left on your skin.

"God, look at you," he murmured as his gaze lingered on your flushed skin, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath. "I could do this all night."

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, his lips tracing a path from your chest down to your stomach. You squirmed, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly as his warm breath ghosted lower. His hair tickled your legs, and he took the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh. 

You gasped as he sucked your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the flesh as if he was intent on marking every inch of your body. His lips continued to trail along your thighs but never quite reaching the place you craved him the most.

For someone with pent-up emotions, his movements were agonizingly slow. It was frustrating, the way he toyed with you, drawing out the anticipation until you couldn't bear it any longer.

"Please," you whimpered, the chains rattling softly against the headboard as you continued to squirm beneath him.

He paused, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he looked up at you. "Please what?" 

"Pl-Please touch me."

He kissed over your mound as he hooked an arm under your leg. His other hand reached for the heat radiating between your thighs before two of his fingers brushed along your outer lips, dragging your arousal along your skin. "Like this?"

You groaned as he kept on teasing you, stroking you with featherlight touches. “More," you pleaded desperately, almost pathetically. "Please."

His fingers stretched your folds, his gaze fixed on the glistening wetness, on the way your cunt clenched around nothing. "You're so pretty, you know that?"

"Spence..." you breathed out, feeling his breath achingly close to your heat.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he lowered his head, his breath hot against your flesh. The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a writhing, whimpering mess. Your head began spinning, nerves and pleasure swooping into one big fuzzy mess in your mind as his tongue teased up and down your slit. 

"Oh my god," you whined the moment his mouth circled your clit before sucking on it, sending waves of pleasure along your body. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt his finger at your entrance, and without warning, he pushed in his digit, sending your head tilting back with a desperate gasp falling from your lips.

His groan reverberated against your skin as your walls clenched around him. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it inside of you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. With each movement, he pressed his face even further into you, relishing the sensation of your wetness coating his jaw.

Your eyes drifted downwards at the same time he looked up, locking gazes with him, and you let out the most filthy cry of pleasure. He held your gaze as his tongue quickened its pace, sucking your clit even harder as he added another finger inside you. 

Your mouth gaped open as you felt the delicious stretch, and you couldn't help but buck your hips towards his face. Spencer always had a fixation on pleasuring you, but not like this—it was never like this. He seemed desperate, almost possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of your taste.

He continued his relentless assault, his fingers pumping inside you with a steady rhythm while his tongue worked tirelessly on your swollen clit. The squelching sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping walla was so lewd that it made his cock stir against the bed.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, the heat spreading like wildfire through your veins. Before you knew it, your climax hit you hard, without warning, without mercy, and you were gasping his name over and over.

You shivered and trembled beneath him, tossing your head back even farther, squeezing your walls around his fingers and your legs around his head.  But he didn't stop or even slow down. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of you, only to push your thighs apart even when your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Stop moving," he ordered as he leaned in, tasting you all over again. He didn't care that you were a complete mess, that you were still reeling in from your climax, that you were trying to move back away from him. All he cared about was giving you the best pleasure imaginable, and he was intent on seeing it through.

"Spence—” you gasped when his nose brushed your clit. “I-I can't—"

He gently held your fragile body in place to prevent you from running away from his mouth. "Hold still and give me another one." 

How could you not relent when he treated you like this, so considerate yet so rough? You groaned, your eyes meeting the ceiling as you felt his mouth continue its relentless assault on your cunt. The sensation was overwhelming, yet despite your protests, you couldn't deny the building pressure.

Your muscles tensed. Your breathing hitched. You gasped for air. And just as the waves of pleasure threatened to consume you once more, you surrendered, letting out a pathetic cry as your body convulsed with the force of your climax.

His tongue lingered over your sensitive skin, savoring the taste of your release, before he finally withdrew, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He then lifted his head, your juices glistening on his lips as he watched your heaving chest.

Spencer had never been so thankful for his eidetic memory. He took in the sight of your hands, bound above your head, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, the tousled strands of hair framing your face. His gaze lingered on the way your legs willingly parted for him, your skin flushed and pussy swollen, all because of him.

It was a sight he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

You bit your bottom lip as his gaze lingered on you, feeling your body flush under his scrutiny. Then, as if something within him shifted, he reached for you, urging your body to turn until you were facing sideways, the chains rattling softly as you moved.

He settled behind you, and your heart quickened as you felt him grab your leg, lifting it in the air. With one hand gripping your thigh firmly, he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your slick folds. 

You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck as he leaned in closer. With a deep, guttural moan, he eased himself into you, every inch of him sliding effortlessly into your wetness. You couldn't help but arch your back in response to the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Fuck," he murmured, the curse slipping past his lips in a breathy whisper. It sounded foreign coming from him and yet it only encouraged you more. You pushed your hips back into him, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Needed this so much," he confessed, his breath coming out in ragged pants against the nape of your neck. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this for so long."

Your head fell back onto his chest, completely enveloped in him—the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic movement of his cock thrusting inside you.

"Thought it was wrong of me to take control of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "But you're enjoying this as much, aren't you?"

You whimpered, unable to form words as the pleasure consumed you and you felt him picking up his pace. The room was filled with lewd noises of your wetness along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"You like being helpless like this? You like it when I fuck you while being cuffed to the bed?"

Your breath hitched at his words. His hand left your thigh, but only momentarily. The crack of sound pierced the air, followed by a surge of sensation coursing up your leg. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—he spanked you. 

And you liked it.

"Answer. Me," he demanded, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes," you managed to gasp out. "I-I love being helpless."

He let out a sound of pleasure as he released your thigh, only to tease your clit with his fingers. You gasped, your head thrown back as he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt the intensity building, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach as he continued to pump into you, his fingers moving fast against your clit.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn't even think properly. The squelch of his cock driving into you roughly rang in your ears and with a sharp inhale, you felt the tension within you reach its peak. Your muscles tensed, your breath caught in your throat, and then, with an explosive release, you cried out his name.

He groaned as he felt you pulsating around him, your walls gripping him tightly. He continued to move within you, riding out your orgasm as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"I need to see you," he breathed as he pulled out of you. Then he flipped you onto your back, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he settled between your thighs once more. The change in position brought you closer, the heat of your bodies mingling as you met his gaze.

Without a word, he pushed himself back into you, the slick heat of your cunt enveloping him. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling your body growing sticky, every inch of you glistening with sweat, but his gaze remained fixated on you, unwavering and intense.

"So pretty," he murmured, his hand finding your face and cupping your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. "My beautiful wife."

You whimpered as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertip. He watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut while he began pumping into you.

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you took his cock eagerly, your breasts bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue slipping out of your mouth. A whine followed through as his hand moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place as his hips collided against your own.

He gave a slight pressure around your throat, and your head began to loll against the mattress, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your body, spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears, and up to your eyes, tears pooling right at the corner. The feeling even reached your stomach, tightening and coiling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

Was this your fourth orgasm? Your fifth? You couldn't keep track; all you knew was the overwhelming sensation prickling your skin. The bed below you felt as if it was on fire. The metal digging around your wrist burned with absolute pleasure.

His thrusts grew more intense, each movement raw and unrestrained, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into you. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, his grip on your neck firm but not painful, but it was enough to make you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head.

You were instantly gone.

A filthy cry fell between your lips as another orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the last. At some point you were gasping for air, feeling your body going limp but he didn’t stop. His hips had a mind of their own. You could feel them beginning to move like they were possessed, with no regard for your pleasure, and in a way, no regard for his. 

“Oh god—fuck!” You cried, arching your back as much in this position.

He groaned and leaned in, his arms pressing against the bed on either side of you as he pushed your leg up to your shoulder. He tried to kiss you, but the force of his movements made it hard. Instead, his lips hovered just above yours, both of you breathing heavily and moaning into each other's mouths.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. It didn’t take long for another wave of pleasure to rush through your body. You convulsed beneath him, thighs quivering violently as you tried to angle your body away from him, the pleasure almost unbearable now.

Through the haze of your orgasm, you caught a glimpse of him throwing back his head with his eyes screwed shut. Then he finally groaned—his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you.

You watched the sweat bead down his forehead as you both worked silently to relax your bodies, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm. With a deep, contented sigh he finally slid himself out of you before going through his discarded pants on the floor. 

After a moment, he returned to you and unlocked the handcuff from your wrist, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in the room. The chains fell onto the bed with a soft thud as he gently took hold of your hands.

“Are you okay?"

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

He pressed a tender kiss to both of your wrists, his lips lingering over your pulse for a moment. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked anxiously, his eyes raking over your body. "Was I too rough? Did I—""

"Spencer, relax," you whispered, you took his hand in yours. "I'm good. I promise."

"You sure?" he asked, his face still tight with concern.

"Yes, more than good. Just come cuddle with me?"

He hesitated, his eyes scanning over your body for a few seconds longer. After he seemed satisfied you really were okay, he lowered onto the bed beside you and you drew his head to your chest. Your fingers gently played with his hair, watching as he slowly relaxed into you, throwing one of his arms across your stomach. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... I think I needed that."

Your attention shifted to his face, happy to see his expression finally somewhat peaceful as he lay just above your breasts. His eyes were closed, the tension you'd noticed on his face when he'd arrived entirely gone now.

Gently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered, "Of course, baby. Anytime you need me, I'm here."

His lips curved into a small, contented smile as he nestled closer to you. "I love you."

A surge of warmth filled your chest at his words. "I love you too," you whispered back. "But are you okay? Do you want to talk about what happened at work?"

You felt him shift as he shook his head. "Maybe later. I just want to hold you right now."

You gently kissed the crown of his head before pulling him closer. Spencer sighed happily as he snuggled closer to you, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against your chest. He then reached over your breasts, his thumb trailing over the marks he had left on your skin. 

"I didn't realize you enjoyed that so much."

You shrugged the shoulder beside his head. "It's hard not to. I mean, I think I've always liked it when you're in control, and that doesn't only apply to sex."

He leaned back to look at you. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. Remember the first time we started dating and someone broke into my apartment?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, a frown tugging at his brows as he recalled the memory. “That was one of the scariest moments in my life.”

"Right. You thought some serial killer was targeting me when it was just a random robbery. But the way you handled the situation..." you continued, your voice softening. "When you took charge and made sure I was safe, I realized how much I trusted you. And I remember thinking, 'Damn, my boyfriend's pretty cool.'"

His frown melted away, replaced by a warm smile at your words. "You thought I was cool?" 

You chuckled, nodding as you met his gaze. "You're cool, smart, and hot at the same time," you teased. "What I'm trying to say is, I like it when you're in control because I like to depend on you. You make me feel safe and cared for."

His expression softened even further, a tender warmth filling his eyes. "I like it when you depend on me too," he confessed softly. With a gentle tug, he sat up, bringing you along. "Come on then, let me care for you now."

You looked up at him. "Yeah? What do you have in mind?"

"I think we both need that nice warm bath."

You smiled, already feeling the tension in your muscles ease at the thought of a soothing bath with him. "Will you wash my hair too?"

He pushed a strand of hair off your face, his heart swelling with affection at the look in your eyes. How could he resist when you looked at him like he hung up the moon for you? 

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'll do whatever you want me to do."

[nanaslutt]

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

i’m not a xavier fucker at all…. but….

his arms are SOOOOO big.

picture him wrapping his arms around you, pulling your chest flush against his while he holds you on his lap, thrusting his hips upwards to meed yours while you grind on him, making a mess all over his lap.

he’s moaning and grunting into your mouth each time his cock slides inside you, so warm and so tight.

you place your hands on his biceps, digging your nails into his skin and his arm i rock solid, so hard it’s difficult to grip onto.

“are you feeling me up?” he grunts, his arms flexing when he wraps them tighter around your body. “not fair, let me feel you too.” his words are so teasing and light, but his hips are so mean.

he pushes you down against the mattress, your back hitting the sheets and he presses his body over yours, never once stopping his thrusts. you wrap your legs around his hips and grab his strong shoulders as he places a hand on the side of your head. he’s so deep at this angle, hitting u in all the right spots, all you can do is whine and take it.

his other slides down your face, the muscles in his arm tightening when he splays his hand out against your neck. he doesn’t grip it, just places it there. his eyes are so dark above you, like an endless sea of lust and adoration.

“i want to feel you here.” he says breathlessly, hips making lewd sounds against your ass while he fucks you steadily as his fingers find your nipple.

you gasp and arch against him, but the feeling doesn’t last long when he continues dragging his fingers down. his huge biceps flexing and twitch under your hands that are holding onto him for dear life as he builds you up and up.

“i wanna touch here too. this spot is my favorite.” he whispers, leaning down to burry his head in the crook of your neck as he finds your clit and starts rubbing it in circles, quick, tight.

“so small and hot here. i can feel it twitching under my finger.” he presses down on the bundle to emphasize his point, making you scream when your orgasm comes to a climax and rushes over you.

“a-ah.” he grunts, muscles stiffening under your hand as he tries to hold off. his hips stutter against yours, trying to resist coming when you squeeze him to tight.

“you get even tighter when i touch you here when you cum- ngh-“

.

.

.

yada yada something something u get it, his biceps made me horny

[eufezco]

LOGAN AS A GIRL DAD°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

just pure fluff with pregnant!reader and logan <3

BEFORE PREGNANCY

being a dad at his age was something logan never imagined. starting a family seemed so out of reach, after everything he’d lived, he never thought that dad was a title he deserved. but then laura came into your life, and it was hard for him because you were a natural, effortlessly knowing how to care for her.

bit by bit, he began to follow your lead, picking up your habit of checking on her before bed and tucking her in, keeping an eye on her plate and making sure she finished her veggie, checking on her when she played outside and even sitting through her favorite cartoons.

and as you watched him, you’d catch yourself wondering what it would be like to bring another little life into this family you were building. the idea of getting pregnant crossed your mind more than once, and you could see it flicker in his eyes too, like an unspoken thought that made its way between you.

—you ever thought of having kids? —he asked, quiet but serious.

you took a few seconds to think about his question. not that you needed them, you'd always wanted to have his kids, and having laura had changed things, deepened the bond between you and logan, and brought your maternal instinct back. she wasn’t your biological child, but in every other way, she was yours.

the thought of bringing up the idea of getting pregnant to logan felt selfish, especially when you knew how much he had already given and how tired he was, you knew that, so you kept your hopes to yourself, not wanting to ask for more than the peace you had found with him and laura.

—we have laura —. you answered.

—yeah, we do. but… that’s not what i’m talking about.

there was a few seconds of silence while he waited for your answer.

—yes, i've thought about it but—

—have you thought about it recently?

you nodded to his question, feeling guilty.

he slowly nodded back to you. —i've been thinking about it too.

DURING PREGNANCY

logan started helping caliban in the kitchen, something that surprised you at first because he had never been much of a cook. but the two of them would work together, preparing meals that were good for you and the baby. logan would quietly chop vegetables or stir a pot, taking caliban’s instructions (also surprising because he had not followed anyone's instructions in a long time) as they worked to make sure you had everything you needed to stay healthy.

he’d help you with things like showering when it became difficult for you to balance or reach certain places. his touch was always gentle, his movements careful, making sure you felt safe. it became an intimate routine, his fingers massaged your scalp with care.

every night he'd gently rub lotion on your growing belly, helping to care for the stretch marks that had started to appear. he knew how self-conscious they made you feel. he could see it in the way you’d glance at your reflection, letting out a frustrated huff each time you noticed a new one, how you’d try to hide it from him, or how you’d wrap yourself in a towel quickly after a shower. so he took his time applying the lotion with steady hands, his eyes focused as if making sure he was doing it right.

—another one? —you muttered, feeling the weight of it.

—doesn’t change a thing —. logan just shook his head, kneeling beside you. —it’s just a mark. i'm covered in marks, and you never cared, right?

laura sat close to you, her eyes focused on your belly as logan gently massaged your skin. she was waiting, as she always did, hoping to see her future sister move. each time logan’s hand smoothed over your growing bump, laura’s gaze would sharpen, her small body leaning forward saying come on, little sis, just one kick. sometimes she’d place her hand beside logan’s, her touch gentle but curious.

—is she going to move soon? —she’d ask in a hushed voice.

logan glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. —she’s already kickin' when you’re not looking —. he teased lightly as he rubbed the cream over your stretch marks, carefully. laura’s eyes never left your belly, waiting for that one special moment.

and he'd give you foot massages, his calloused hands rubbing away the soreness from carrying extra weight. you’d close your eyes, sighing in relief, and he’d smile.

when your clothes stopped fitting, it was he who offered up his own. he’d hand over his t-shirts and flannels, which hung loose on you and smelled like him, making you feel him close to you even when he was away at work.

logan was a bit reluctant at first but when the doctor told him how important prenatal yoga was to you, he didn't have to think about it twice. he wanted to be there and help you in every way he could even though he felt a bit out of place among the soft music, peaceful atmosphere, and expectant mothers, but he never let it show.

he'd help you find comfort in each of the poses the instructor guided everyone. he was often the only man in the class, which certainly caught the attention of the other moms. perhaps they noticed the age gap between you and logan, but more likely, their attention was drawn to your undeniably handsome partner. some of them whispered to each other, half-jokingly expressing their jealousy at how lucky you were to have such a dedicated partner. you both noticed the glances but you were too focused on each other.

as the weeks went by, the mothers would often smile at him, offering you two the kindest words as they saw how attentive he was to your needs.

at the end of the class, logan leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand resting on your back. —you did great —. he murmured, his voice full of pride. as you started to gather your things, one of the mothers nearby smiled and said, you're a lucky girl.

you couldn’t help but blush a little. he gave a small, almost shy smirk in response but didn’t say anything. instead, he focused on helping you with your bag.

the moment you found out you were pregnant, he quit smoking. it was almost instinctive, he wanted nothing but the best for you and the baby, and that included kicking the habit that had stuck with him for years.

and giving up cigarettes was one thing, but quitting drinking was way harder. there were nights he’d sit in the kitchen, staring at the bottle in the cabinet, knowing he could just reach for it. but he remembered you asleep in the other room, a hand resting protectively over your belly, and he’d push the thought away. he didn’t want his daughter growing up with memories of whiskey lingering on her father’s breath.

DURING LABOR

logan was more terrified than he'd ever let you know. he had faced, battles survived unimaginable pain, and lived through horrors but this was different. watching you in pain, knowing that your body was going through something so intense shook him to his core.

he stayed by your side, gripping your hand tightly and leaning in close, his voice encouraging you to push. he'd brush the damp strands of hair that were sticking to your face and press his forehead to yours.

when the baby’s first cry filled the room, logan sighed in relief, his grip on your hand softening as he finally allowed himself to breathe. once the doctors placed her on your chest, logan leaned in by your side, his eyes shining as he looked at you. you did so good, baby, thank you so much he murmured as he kissed your sweaty forehead and one of his fingers brushed across the baby’s little cheek.

AFTER PREGNANCY

at first, he was terrified every time he held her, his usually steady hands suddenly unsure. he was afraid that even his touch might be too much. she was so tiny, so soft and fragile, and her chest rose and fell so peacefully even though her small fingers wrapped around logan's thick ones with such strength. he found himself holding his breath whenever he picked her up.

in those first few days after labor, logan seemed to be everywhere at once. checking on the baby, bringing you food, making sure you were sleeping and laura wasn't trying to sneak into your room to see the baby. she was fascinated by her little sister, how could a human being be so small? laura often asked herself.

logan would catch her on her tiptoes, face with curiosity, and he’d stop her with a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. laura would pout, glancing past him with wide eyes, eager to get closer, but logan wasn’t having it.

you surprised him when you caught him slipping into a soft, almost comical baby voice whenever he spoke to his daughter. but it was completely unintentional, just something that happened whenever he looked down at her tiny face, her big eyes blinking up at him. oh, what’s that little face all about, huh? you got somethin’ to say, little one? he’d murmur, his voice high and gentle as he rubbed one of her cheeks.

logan never thought he’d find joy in something as simple as dressing up his little girl, but there he was, surrounded by tiny clothes, immersed in a world of pastels and patterns. the laughter that escaped his lips as he put together the outfits was genuine. alright, sweetheart, what do you think of this one? he would ask her, holding the little one in front of the mirror. the baby had no idea what was going on, but logan nodded, approving the outfit. he’d try on multiple outfits, taking photos, and sending them to you for your opinion. how about this for school? he’d text you, proudly. this one’s a bold choice, but i think you can pull it off, he’d tease, pretending to be a fashion critic.

leaving for work each day became one of the hardest things logan had to do. he hated those hours he spent apart from the three of you. and every night when he came home, the baby was already sleeping but he'd tiptoe over to the crib, and he'd place a gentle kiss on the top of her head. then he’d make his way to bed, crawling next to you and pulling you close against his chest. he’d nuzzle his head close, murmuring softly, you okay, darlin’? and though you’d only mumble a half-coherent answer, he’d still give a small, satisfied nod.

and when he gets out of work earlier, he comes home exhausted, and you can see it in his face, the tired lines around his eyes, the slight droop of his shoulders, the way he rubs the back of his neck, but despite that, he is never too tired to play with his baby girl.

as the baby grew, logan took on new challenges, like driving her to school each morning, packing her tiny backpack with her favorite snacks, and doing her hair. with dark brown locks just like laura's and his own, he gathered them into two little ponytails, a bit clumsy at first, his fingers were used to fighting and rough work, not delicate hairstyles.

laura, after seeing how much fun logan had with the little girl’s hair, wanted no less. she’d approach him, eyes bright with excitement. —can you do my hair too, logan?

—your mom can do it for you. she's much better at it than i am —. he answered, not sure if his hairdressing skills would meet the older girl's expectations.

—but i want you to do it!

logan huffed, ruffling her hair with his free hand. he used the same care gathering laura's long hair as he did for her baby sister and he found it incredibly satisfying to see laura's face light up when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

after all, he was meant to be a girl's dad. every moment with you and your daughters reminded him that all those years of solitude and struggles, had led him here to a life filled with love. he might have thought being a dad was beyond his reach, but now, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[4linos]

clingy, not a burden

lee minho x fem!reader

synopsis/request: after a long day, minho’s need for affection is met with warmth and reassurance, reminding him he can always seek comfort without shame.

wc: 1143

It had been a difficult day for Minho. He'd spent hours at practice, pushing his body to its limits with choreography and vocal runs, and while he appeared fine on the outside, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. He didn't show it all the time, but when he was this worn out, the sharpness in his usual actions and the brightness in his gaze began to fade. More than anything, he just wanted to be near you.

It started when you were in the kitchen chopping vegetables, with the calm hum of the evening filling the room. Minho entered silently behind you, his steps light and seemingly hesitant. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there and watched you for a bit. He looked a little... smaller, as if all the energy he'd spent over the day had drained him totally. Then, almost as an afterthought, he scooted closer to you, snuggling in next you as if your presence was the only thing that could keep him grounded.

You could feel him before you saw him: his body warmth, the small brush of his palm against yours, the subtle aroma of sweat and tiredness on him. You looked up to see him standing there, staring at you with the gentle, almost vulnerable expression he saved for occasions like this. He said nothing, but you understood exactly what he wanted.

"You okay, babe?" You asked, your voice simmered with worry, but a smile pulled at your lips as you noticed how close he was standing, nearly leaning into you, as if he couldn't get enough of your presence.

He blinked slowly and gave a slight nod, but his eyes never left yours. You could see he was tired, both physically and emotionally, from practicing, but he wasn't the sort to acknowledge it. Instead, he just followed you about the kitchen, lingering close like a shadow.

When you moved to the counter, Minho was there behind you, resting against it and watching you slice the vegetables with a kind, almost drowsy smile. It was subtle, but the way he kept close to you made you feel like you were the only thing he could think about at the time. You could literally feel the weight of his tiredness through the air, and the way he didn't let go of your side all evening told you exactly what he needed: closeness.

"Minho," you teased softly, watching how he kept following you around the apartment, sneaking behind you when you went to the the bathroom and reappearing just a few seconds later when you settled into the couch. His movements were so gentle, his gaze so steady, and the way he leaned in, seeking the warmth of your skin, made your heart hurt with longing. "You're being a little clingy today, huh?"

It was meant to be playful, to ease the stress that had accumulated around him. Minho was not the clingy type, at least not unless he was tired or needed something specific. It was one of the things you like about him: he wasn't overly clingy, always giving you your space unless he truly needed it. But as you said it, his face changed quickly. The smile faded, and the light in his eyes faded just a little. His lips pushed together in a narrow line, and the sorrow returned to his face so rapidly that you nearly missed it. He wasn't offended at all. But you knew him well enough to notice that something had changed beneath the surface.

Minho's shoulders stiffened, and for a brief time, he looked like he was about to leave, walking away and leaving you alone in the apartment's silence. You could sense his sudden distancing before he made a move, and it hit you like a punch in the the stomach. You never wanted him to feel forced to walk away from you. Not right now, when he needed you the most.

"Minho…" you murmured quietly, your voice breaking as you reached out and gripped his wrist, bringing him back into you. His look had softened to something uncertain, the faint sadness still lingering, and you realized you had made a mistake. "I didn't mean it like that," you quickly added, your words tumbling out in a rush. "I wasn't teasing you, I promise. I just... I was trying to make you laugh. I'm sorry."

Minho hesitated, his eyes shifting to yours. There was a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he stood in front of you, his hand clumsily drawing away from yours for a second, unsure how to answer. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and you could tell he was still digesting things, feeling a touch vulnerable, with his walls cracking in an unusual way for him.

But then, after a long moment, he sighed, as if the weight of the day had finally gotten to him, and smiled sheepishly. His shoulders slumped, and at the next instant, he leaned forward, concealing his face in the crook of your neck and pushing against you as if seeking refuge. "I'm sorry," he said into your skin, his words muffled. "I just... I'm really tired today. I didn't want you to think I was annoying or something." You smiled softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, the warmth of his body against yours a reassuring reminder that you didn't need to say anything else. You kissed the top of his head; your voice gentle and full of love.

"Minho, you can be clingy. I don't mind," you said softly but really. "If you need me, I will always be there for you. You don't have to hide it or be embarrassed. I adore how you want to be close to me. You are never too much for me, you know that, right?" Minho halted, his body stiffening against yours for a little moment, as if he wasn't sure how to accept the reassurance. But then he relaxed again, his breath slowing as he sank himself further into the warmth of your embrace, as if the sheer reality of your words might lift the weight of his tiredness.

You felt his body soften against yours, the last bit of tension fading as he snuggled even closer, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. And in that moment, it didn’t matter that he was clingy. It didn’t matter that he needed something you couldn’t put into words. All that mattered was that you were there, and that he knew, no matter what, you’d always be his safe place to land.

“I’m not going anywhere, Minho,” you whispered, your hand tracing small circles on his back. “You can be as clingy as you want. I’m here. Always.”

And with that, he finally let himself rest, his exhaustion slowly melting away in your arms.

//

masterlist

[quarterlifekitty]

The guys with a girlfriend who honestly.. kind of scares them

In different ways of course, but there’s still the underlying theme of her being rather unsettling

- @murderkittyz

I want you to know that this has been living in my mind. I love writing reader characters that are weird af and quite honestly unsettling

To be honest, writing Nikolai was really hard for this one, and I’m still not totally satisfied by it. I think he’s too willing to match your freak.

cw: some graphic descriptions of violence (not enacted, just threats/movie scenes etc)

Gaz is freaked out by how much you like the dark. You scare the shit out of him all the time because he’ll come home, thinking you’re not home because no lights are on in the house, and you’re so quiet— he is not proud to admit how many times he’s screamed when you suddenly said hi from a spot in the dark. And how whenever you get up in the middle of the night, you don’t turn the lights on. He asks you why, and you just say you don’t need them. Freaky.

There have been a handful of times where you were truly, extremely angry at Soap. And he almost pissed himself every single time because of how scary you get. Not because you scream or shake or slap his chest or anything, but because you don’t do any of it. Outside, you’re calm, you’re smiling. But it’s how you talk to him like he’s a child. “It’s okay. I’m just very, very angry at you right now”. It puts him on fucking edge. It creates this tension like you’re about to do something, that you’re gonna get back at him somehow in some way he’ll never see coming, but you don’t do anything. Absolutely fries his nerves.

Ghost is scared by how easily you tone switch, partially because he’s not really able to do so. The way you can be talking about someone from the base and say “he’s such a fucking prick bastard. I wanna rip off his balls and shove them down his throat far enough that he chokes”. And then the next day, you’ll greet the same guy like he’s an old friend. Extremely polite, pleasant, happy. It reminds Simon that he only sees the real you because you allow him that privilege.

Price is scared by your good memory. He’s used to being the one who remembers, the one who’s completely on top of things, the one who knows everything needed to know about everyone. But he’ll mention a colleague that you met once, for 10 minutes, years ago and you’ll ask “Is he still with Martha? She wanted to adopt a dog with him, a Siberian husky, and he seemed so scared of the commitment”. That’s scary. Makes him feel like he has a blind spot. Makes him wonder what you remember about him that even he doesn’t recall.

König is a difficult man to disgust and to scare. He’s seen a lot of things, and he himself is rather unsettling. But he’s scared and disgusted by some of your taste in movies. Things with long, painful torture scenes. All of the blood, flaying of skin, needles, ripping bones from flesh. It’s not so much that you enjoy these movies, but how you enjoy them. You lean against him, but not because you’re scared. You laugh in a way that you never do outside of watching a gorey scene, of someone crying on the floor with broken limbs. He shudders to imagine what you’d be like if you had his job.

Nikolai is unsettled by some of the fantasies you share with him, and how you convey them. Not things that you could really enact, just fantasies. “The other day I thought about being a mermaid— and you being a pirate that captured me to cut me up and sell my parts. But when you were about to cut me open you saw my cunt and decided to keep me as a fuckdoll instead, and fingered me right there with the butcher knife still on the table”. And you say it pretty nonchalantly. He’s honored that you trust him with these inner thoughts, and usually they turn him on completely, but it does creep him out just a little.

[sukunasweetheart]

fem!reader, heaps of cum, somnophilia, handjob, blowjob, lots of masturbation, its just mindless smut so um... yea.... i need to go to horny jail fr for this one.

word count: 1k

I just need more perv!sukuna man.... fucking pathetic and desperate and horny, i want him with that degenerate behaviour. hes alr a horny ass mf but ohhh my goodness do YOU light a fire in him that nobody else can... You make him question his fucking dignity bc he gets a raging boner every time you do the bare minimum...

Perv!sukuna who needs to take a bathroom break every now and then around you bc his dick just wont stay down - fucking his fist desperately in a toilet stall being as quiet as possible because this is so out of character for his image, he's supposed to be the nonchalant, mean, coldhearted guy!!

Perv!sukuna who shudders from how turned on he is at the simplest things you might do, like when you bump into him on accident and the scent of your perfume hits his nose like an aphrodisiac, he wants to bury his face against the crook of your neck and inhale deeply - let the smell of you reach deep into his lungs. he wants to run his tongue across your skin so he can check if you taste as good as you smell.

Perv!sukuna who eventually makes his moves on you slowly... but its really difficult when every little kiss makes all the blood rush to his cock. He drops you off to your house after a date, and he makes out with you a little bit in his car before you have to leave, and there, he's sitting in the driver's seat with a tent in his pants. He waits until the window to your room lights up, and begins to stroke himself while thinking about how're you're probably stripping in your bedroom right now, to change your clothes. and speaking of clothes....

Perv!sukuna who likes to bring any of your scented clothes against his nose and jack off vigorously, unable to get enough of it. eyes rolling back when that orgasm hits him while every breath he takes in has your smell embedded in it.

Perv!sukuna who somehow manages to snatch up one of your panties one day and jerks himself off with it... he didn't want to cum directly on it yet, but he couldn't help himself and soiled it so quickly. he'll need to wash it now, and your scent's gonna be lost. if that's the case, he'll just use it a few more times to get himself off. (by the end of it, he's ruined it beyond washing with his seed by going a bit overboard...)

Perv!sukuna who starts nosebleeding the first time he actually gets to wet his dick with your pussy. You were mortified when drops of blood started running down from his nose once his cock was inside you. He wipes it away with tissues from your bedside and insists hes fine with a wolfish grin... he's just overtly aroused. that night, he wound up using a whole box of condoms from just your cunt alone. milked completely. so satiated. at one point, he had forgotten to change condoms after cumming once and blew a couple of loads into the same one, making you balloon up a bit.

Perv!sukuna who has a libido of an endless pit, he can stay hard and just cum over and over and over again... could stuff you so full you'll be pushing his seed out of yourself for literal days after having sex with him, once you're on the pill. he's just dumped his seed into you but his hips are still thrusting, cock heavy and ready to give you another one without pulling out once.

Perv!sukuna who is obsessed with any and every part of your body. the way he gropes your tits, ass, thighs, hips, etc. resembles a perverted old man - those grabby hands are always finding a way to squish your flesh whatever chance he gets. those large, searing and calloused hands are constantly gliding across your skin, making you wet your panties without failing all the damn time. his arms snake under your clothes very sneakily. you can push him away and verbally chastise him all you want, but you can't hide how much you enjoy all of it...

Perv!sukuna who becomes relentless with somnophilia once you give him the consent-- it starts off with just pathetic and desperate dry humping, but soon you'll be waking up with his dick anywhere on the surface of your skin or inside you, and you're greeted with a 'good morning' that's riddled with a deep groan, followed by ropes of his hot cum spilling in or onto you.

Perv!sukuna who just HAS to drag you to somewhere like the public toilets, in order to get you to suck him off or stroke him or SOMETHING bc his boner is getting too painful (you caressed his thigh). you always opt for jerking him off when you're outside, because things tend to get too messy when you let him in. he has no self control smh... now he's fucking YOUR fist in a stall, panting in your ear and saying things like "fuck, yes, baby... squeeze me more- fuu-ck," before painting the toilet with spurts of his cum. you grip firmly onto the base of his dick and he almost buckles over from the pleasure. you feel his pulsating cock in your hand and bite your lip hard.

Perv!sukuna who gets an oral fixation after you gave him head once. things get difficult for you. those pretty lips wrapped around his erection makes him absolutely feral. now he's thrusting in and out of your throat mumbling "fuck- i can't- help myself-" because you're tightening up on him so nicely and it feels too good. releases straight inside with your nose pressed onto his pubic bone, hips jerking as you feel the spurts hit the back of your throat and seep down to your stomach. his eyes half-lidded, high from the pleasure.

sukuna might be the greatest pervert of all time, but what does it say about you when you stay with him regardless? you enjoy being his live fuck toy. thankfully, he gives you great aftercare and spoils you silly behind the scenes. (i wasnt bothered to write the romance aspects so please imagine it yourselves <3) the way i wanted to add MORE but refrained bc it would get a bit too repetitive :)

Masterlist

[pucksandpower]

What the Eyes Can’t See

Charles Leclerc x blind!Reader

Summary: you may not be able to see in the traditional sense, but Charles won’t let that stop you from seeing him

The crackle of the fireplace fills the cozy living room as you snuggle deeper into the plush couch cushions. Your head rests on Charles’ chest, rising and falling with each steady breath. His arm wraps around you, fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder.

“This is nice,” you murmur, nuzzling against the soft cotton of his shirt. “Just you and me.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It really is. No racing, no interviews, no cameras. Just us.”

You smile at the rumble of his voice vibrating through you. “You know, there are times I’m actually grateful I can’t see.”

“Oh?” His thumb strokes your arm. “How so?”

“Because it means I experience things purely through the other senses. Like right now.” You inhale deeply, savoring the smoky wood blending with Charles’ warm, earthy scent. “I can really focus on the sound of your heartbeat, the feeling of you breathing, that wonderful smell ...”

Charles gives a contented hum. “I’ve never thought about it that way before.”

You shift to gaze up at him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Of course, there are other times when not being able to see is … difficult.”

“Like what?”

You consider this for a moment. “Hmm, well, I’ll never get to admire the Monaco skyline or see you celebrating on the podium after a win.”

A hint of sadness tinges your tone as you continue. “And as much as I love listening to you talk about racing, I can’t fully picture the circuits or the cars or … or you in your race suit.”

Charles’ chest rises and falls with a soft sigh. You can sense his gaze studying you intently.

“Is there anything you wish you could see? If you could have your sight for just a day?”

You don’t even have to think about your answer. “You.”

You feel him tense in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes.” Your hands roam over the strong lines and curves of his face, trying to commit every plane and angle to memory through touch alone. “More than anything, I wish I could see what you look like with my own eyes.”

You trace the sweeping arches of his brows, the aristocratic slope of his nose, the firm line of his lips. Lips you’ve kissed so many times yet never seen.

“I want to see the exact shades of your hair and eyes,” you murmur. “Whether your skin has any adorable little freckles. What expressions flit across your face when you smile or laugh or ...”

You trail off as emotion clogs your throat. Charles pulls you closer, cradling you against his chest.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting your face up toward his. “Maybe this will help.”

His warm fingers alight on your hands, gently guiding them until your fingertips brush the graceful curve of his cheekbone. You freeze, caught off guard by the tender intimacy.

“Charles?” You breathe. “What are you doing?”

“Letting you see me, in a way,” he responds. “Go ahead, map out my face with your hands. Don’t hold back.”

You swallow hard, heat creeping into your cheeks. Taking a steadying breath, you begin tracing the striking angles and planes of his features with feather-light touches.

First the high forehead, smooth and unblemished beneath your questing fingertips. Then the regal swoop of his nose, the delicate arches of his brows. You brush across each, imprinting the shapes and textures into your mind’s eye.

When your fingers graze the plump curves of Charles’ lips, he presses a soft kiss to each fingertip in turn. You shiver at the whisper of his breath fanning across your skin.

“Keep going,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. “Don’t stop.”

You let your hands roam freely over the stubbled planes of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks, the strong column of his neck. Every slope and angle, every tiny perfect imperfection imprinted into your consciousness.

As your fingers trace along the high planes of Charles’ cheeks, you can’t help but notice two tiny indentations forming in the skin. Little divots that crease and deepen as an affectionate smile blooms across his lips.

Dimples. Charles has dimples.

The discovery hits you like a bolt of lightning, a rush of tenderness and endearment flooding your chest. You find yourself helplessly, hopelessly captivated by those adorable little dents punctuating his smile.

“You have dimples,” you murmur in awe, fingertips stroking over the precious divots again and again.

A low chuckle rumbles through Charles’ chest. “That seems to delight you.”

“Of course it does!” You exclaim, feeling your own lips stretch into a beaming grin. “Dimples are the cutest thing. Especially on you.”

You lean in to nuzzle your nose against his cheek, dropping feather-light kisses into each crease. Charles gives a contented hum, strong arms winding around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“I had no idea you’d be so smitten over a couple little dents in my face,” he teases, smile evident in his voice.

You shake your head vehemently, still peppering those blessed dimples with adoring kisses. “Not just dents. They’re absolutely adorable.”

A burst of affection blooms in your chest as you realize this is the first time you’ve been able to fully appreciate this charming little detail of Charles’ features. All the times you’ve laughed and joked together, exchanged warm smiles and loving embraces — you never knew the true adorability of his dimples until this very moment.

Pulling back, you cup Charles’ face in your palms and simply drink in the shape and feel of that beautiful, dimpled smile pressing against your skin. In that instant, you fall just a little bit more in love with this incredible man.

“I’m so grateful I got to discover this about you,” you murmur, stroking the pads of your thumbs over the grooves in his cheeks. “Your dimples are my new favorite thing.”

Charles gives a soft laugh, the rumbling vibrations resonating through you both. “Well then, I’ll just have to keep smiling so you can appreciate them.”

As you continue to trace the sharp edge of his cheekbone, you can’t resist leaning in to nuzzle against the warm, fragrant skin. Charles sucks in a sharp breath, fingers tightening around your wrist.

When you finally pull back, you feel as if you’ve beheld and memorized every nuance of his face. Every dip and curve, every tantalizing detail.

“Thank you,” you whisper, drinking in the comforting scents and sounds surrounding you both. The crackle of the fire, the rhythm of Charles’ breathing, his warm, intoxicating essence. “Thank you for letting me see you like that.”

Charles doesn’t respond at first. You feel his piercing gaze raking over you, studying you with an intensity that raises goosebumps along your arms.

“You know,” he says at last, voice rough. “There’s also something I want to see.”

Before you can ask what he means, gentle fingers are slipping beneath the frames of your sunglasses. You tense instinctively, pulse skyrocketing.

Nobody ever sees your eyes.

You start to pull away, shaking your head. But Charles simply holds you steady, thumbs stroking your temples in a soothing caress.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Let me in. Let me really see you this time.”

There’s no demand or expectation in his tone. Only tenderness and an affection so profound it steals your breath. Your throat works as you swallow hard.

Do you trust him enough?

You think of his face — the face you’ve just meticulously mapped and memorized. And in the cadence of his breathing, the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, you find your answer.

Slowly, you give a tiny nod.

The sunglasses slip away, and for the first time you’re baring the full weight of your sightless gaze to another soul. You can’t see Charles’ reaction, but you feel his sharp inhalation, the minute tremor that courses through his body.

Panic grips you for a moment, wondering if you’ve made a terrible mistake by exposing such a vulnerable part of yourself. Maybe he’s revolted or pitying or-

“Beautiful.”

The hushed utterance shatters your wildly spiraling thoughts. You clutch at Charles, needing an anchor.

“What?”

“Your eyes,” he clarifies, reverence ringing in every word. “They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Gentle fingers cup your face, thumbs tracing the delicate skin beneath your sightless gaze. You yearn to ask him a thousand questions — what color they are, if any scars are visible, how he can possibly think them beautiful.

But then his lips are on yours, silencing your whirling doubts with a scorching, openmouthed kiss. You melt into the heated embrace, pouring all the unspoken words and insecurities into the slick slide of your mouths.

When you finally part, both of you are breathing raggedly. Charles rests his forehead against yours, fingers still mapping the curves of your face with infinite tenderness.

“Thank you,” he whispers again, voice tight. “For sharing this with me. For letting me all the way in.”

His thumb brushes the fragile skin beneath your eye, and you understand that he’s thanking you for more than just revealing your eyes. He’s grateful for the soul-deep intimacy you’ve permitted by exposing your most vulnerable and closely guarded self.

You swallow hard past the lump of emotion clogging your throat. No words can adequately express the depths of what you’re feeling. So instead, you simply lean in and capture Charles’ lips in another kiss, hoping he can taste the love and gratitude and trust shining through every caress.

When you finally pull apart, you cuddle back against Charles’ chest with a contented sigh, feeling more seen and cherished and adored than you ever have in your life.

As Charles trails tender kisses along your brow, his deep, soothing voice rumbles against you.

“No matter what, I’ll always be here to show you all the beauty and wonder you can’t see ...”

The words wrap around you like a warm, comforting blanket, chasing away any lingering insecurities. In this moment, cuddled in the arms of the man you love more than life itself, you’ve never felt more grateful for the unique way your senses experience the world.

Because really, what use are eyes when you can simply close them and see with your heart instead?

[adieutristana]

hello omg just found your blog and might i say your writing style is so gorgeous?? absolute chefs kiss 💯. aaaaaanywho, i read your post about how the arcane women would be during aftercare. i was wondering if it would be possible to maybe write a dribble drabble of how sevika would react to reader going like completely nv (non verbal) and dissociated after said hankey pankey actions? 🤔 💭.

feel free to ignore if this makes you uncomfortable!! :3 have a good rest of your day/evening and happy holidays!

of course! thank you for the request <3 i appreciate your kind words, it means a lot that you enjoy my writing :) happy (late) holidays to you as well!

summary; sevika and her girlfriend during aftercare. reader goes nonverbal and dissociates.

characters included; sevika

tags/warnings; nothing explicit but very suggestive, comfort (no hurt), fluff, just sweet, nonverbal / dissociative episodes

men and minors dni.

your back hits the mattress, sheets clinging to your sweaty skin.

that was… intense. it usually is with sevika. but good. you can't feel it right now, but you know that in an hour or two, your legs will grow sore. your breath is coming to you slowly, although it's still a bit difficult. you're still slightly trembling. your girlfriend is in the next room, quickly rolling a cigar before she joins you in bed. it’s become a routine of sorts.

roll the cigar, climb in bed with you, hold you, talk about whatever’s on yours or her mind. sevika was always gentle, doting afterward. looking out for you, then herself. before entering a relationship with her, you’d never expected her to be affectionate. she never expected herself to be affectionate. but the moment your eyes locked with her own, things changed.

sevika slowly makes her way to the bed, sitting down next to you with her back propped on the headboard as she uses a blanket to cover her lower half. she comes to light her cigar, taking a long drag before looking down at you.

“you alright?”

you make a little ‘mm’ noise, your eyes fixed on the ceiling. your breathing has evened out for the most part, although sweat still clings to your skin and you’re still a bit shaky. sevika purses her lips, leaning down over you slightly. it’s not often that you give her this… lackluster of a response.

“you sure you’re okay?”

she presses, earning a slow nod from you. not much is getting through to you right now… it was good. amazing. but right now, you just feel so out of it. an out of body experience, in some way.

sevika lets out a heavy sigh and puts her cigar out in a bedside ashtray, deciding to inch closer to you. she's concerned, to say the very least. did she go too far? did she do something that she wasn't supposed to? not notice something you had said? she hesitantly drapes an arm over your chest, laying on her side as she takes in your flat expression.

“did i hurt you?”

she asks. always straight to the point, but she’s never seen you like this after sex. she’s worried. the anxiety is quickly relieved after she sees you frantically shaking your head. no, she didn’t hurt you. she wasn’t too rough. but that doesn’t explain why you’re just blinking with a dazed look, as if you’re only partially present. you’re aware of what she’s saying, at the very least.

but she won’t press. she’s concerned. she knows that you’re not completely yourself right now for whatever reason. she doesn’t want to force an answer out of you if you don’t want to give it to her at this moment. so instead, the woman opts to gently pull you into her arms and hold you close to her chest.

she feels your arms slowly wrap around your waist, and your head nestling into her chest. this is good. this is a good thing.

“i take it you’re just not up to talk right now, huh…?” sevika mutters, reaching to begin gently running her fingers along your bare back. lightly raking her fingernails in a soothing motion, the cold metal of her other arm slightly grounding you. “that’s alright. i can talk instead.”

sevika continues running her fingers over your back, a rhythmic motion that she hopes serves to soothe.

"you did great for me... you always do." she mutters, that low drawl of hers evident. "and you're doing great now. i don't know what's going on... maybe you need time to process?"

sevika wonders, maybe more to herself than to you. nonetheless, she presses a gentle kiss to your temple. lips the slightest bit rough, fingernails still going up and down your back.

"i don't know. but i'll be here."

she smiles when you slowly nod, making eye contact with her. you lean slightly closer to her touch, seeking the warmth that she offers. a calloused hand, firm body, soft touch. the smell of smoke and sweat. it's everything that you could hope for in this moment, paired with that low voice of hers.

"there you are."

your eyes looking at hers. what a privilege. this isn't something sevika thought she'd ever get, only having had flings and brothel visits in the past. she didn't think romance was something in the cards for her, and she didn't think she'd ever particularly want it. yet here she is, holding a woman who she loves and who loves her in return. after showing that love to her.

if that woman isn't feeling the most herself right now, then that's fine. at least she knows she enjoyed herself, but she'll be here while she finds what she needs.

"and you look as beautiful as ever."

she murmurs, moving her hand from your back to gently grasp at your shoulder. running a calloused hand up and down your upper arm in slow, caring motions. her eyes take in your expression, relaxed and a bit dissociated. you're always beautiful to her.

the curve of your cheekbones, the edge of your jawline, the softness of your cheeks, the way your lips curl up the slightest bit. sevika could melt. gods, she feels strange admitting that to herself. she could melt from how stunning her girlfriend is. who would've thought?

she continues to press light kisses to your face- your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose, over any freckles or moles you may have. this might be on sevika's list of favorite things to do, to just take you in. the way your eyes flutter closed as you feel her lips on you.

"let me know when you come to, but i'll be here until then... and after."

sevika murmurs, slowly dragging her thumb along your bottom lip. she can't deny that she's still a bit worried, although part of her will always worry. that's her job, isn't it? to make sure you're okay, you're safe, you're happy.

but right now, you just need her. and sevika is more than happy to give you everything within her reach.

[vilsoo]

nanami taking care of his sick wife ᯓᡣ𐭩 ⟡ ˖ ࣪. tags ; fluff, domesticity, very light smut lol

nanami, who actually went out of his way to leave work early just to buy groceries to make you soup for lunch and buy some medicine from the pharmacy. he couldn’t bare seeing you groggy and disoriented from your fever. you couldn’t even make it out of bed this morning. when he got home, he saw you laying on the couch this time draped in all of the warm blankets and a wash cloth over your forehead, napping peacefully with your water bottle beside you. it was a good thing that he reminded you to stay hydrated.

nanami, who makes his way to the kitchen to start on making the soup for you to wake up to. he prioritizes your health so much that he would never want to stress you out. he’s devoted to be by your side, including in sickness and in health, just as you are for him. this gentle, passionate love reciprocated between you two is the type of love that leaves you numb in reverie. he would check in on you while waiting for the water to boil, changing the dampened wash cloth from room temperature to cool, and caressing your face ever so gently just to not wake you.

nanami, who is the first man you see when your eyes flutter open. his smile was stronger than any antidote or medicine, strong enough to make your fatigue temporarily subside. you instantly melt from the way he can mutter sweet such things, all while the lovely smell of warm homemade chicken noodle soup fills your nose. he would even hold your frail hand, ever so gently kissing it.

“how are you feeling, love?”

his delicate touch and the warmth of his hand sent a blossoming sensation within your body. you couldn’t help but smile, the glimmer in your eyes rapturing your husband. “a little better,” you mutter weakly, sighing deeply. “i never thought you’d see me like this…”

“in sickness and in health, remember?” he reassures, his thumb caressing your hand. “now, are you feeling hungry? i came home early to make you soup. just wanted to make sure my pretty wife gets taken care of.”

“i love you,” you murmured fondly. “thank you so much.”

“i love you, too... god, i want to kiss you right now. i couldn’t go on my day not kissing you at all this morning.”

as much as you tried to protest because you didn’t want to get him sick, your loving husband did not care. contagious or not, if he gets to spend more time with you and not have to go to work for being sick, he’d allow it. your husband would wrap the blankets around you as you stood up to walk to the dining table for the soup he prepared. he’d make sure you were still staying hydrated with water and your favorite energy drinks. and after you took the medicine he bought, you were feeling slightly better. your skin wasn’t as hot and your body temperature had decreased, but you were still groggy. you wanted to stay on the couch, but nanami insisted on cuddling with you. he still wanted to hold his endearing wife in his arms; it was a routine every time he comes home. he’d still feel devoted to hold you and feel your body on his, sick or not.

his excuse was that if you had just gotten sick in the morning, eventually he’d have to be as well since you two live together— and if you were both sick, he’d have to cuddle with you. you tried to protest once again because you genuinely didn’t want him to suffer any symptoms, but he kept insisting that he didn’t care. he’d let you sit on his lap and lay on his chest, his slick hands roaming about your warm body as he kisses you softly. he wouldn’t be so aggressive because of your fatigue, but with his burning rapacity and his desire to please you, it was difficult to take his hands off of you.

nanami, who had your body writhing in heat and your hips gyrating from the way he toys with your cunt and fingers you so good. you both sat by the fireplace in the living room, the passion between you two mystified into the air. you loved the way his fingers felt inside you; throwing your head back on his shoulder in pleasure and your moans becoming more urgent with each thrust, that such intense orgasms were enough to make the blood rush in your veins and release endorphins, improving your mood and soothing the fatigue from your fever. oh how you both loved each other so deeply, that for every moment he spends with you, it was pure bliss to him.