#but he still oozed masculinity to me

[allastoredeer]

Personally I think Alastor, Lucifer AND Angel are on the pretty boy side of the scale and none of that has to do with their preferences in bed. More like in... How to say it... Body type and behavior? All three are obviously men but don't quite adhere to the masculine/feminine dichotomy.

With Alastor it seems to me that he is closer to "masculine" but not in an alpha range, but in that he sees himself as a "gentleman" and at least a part of him consciously or unconsciously knows that the male representation has more privilege, but he doesn't particularly care as much

AAngel just does his thing, and I think Angel has benefited from and used looking more "delicate" or "feminine" more than once to his advantage in getting underestimated. I think that gender in general is quite fluid for Angel, but not so much because he has thought about it but because living and dead, roles have been imposed on him that he has taken as a mask for himself.I imagine he is very comfortable with himself now but the impression I got is that Angel oscillates between hating and loving his own traits due to how little control he has and how he is perceived.

(I'm thinking specifically about how he talks about his body and how attractive it is but sees himself as only important because of those kinds of things. After E4 it's obviously in a much better place. What I'm saying is that with Angel it's complicated because it's part his own feelings and part coping mechanis)

Lucifer actually exudes an aura of seduction, it's just those bedroom eyes and his whole vibe when he decides he's going to crush this guy he met 5 minutes ago. But I think the show did well to represent a beauty that tends more towards androgynous with him. And as we've already talked about, Lucifer gives off very versatile vibes, I think he would be the middle ground.

I definitely agree that all three of them are on the pretty boy side. Pretty, pretty, pretty boys

(I couldn't find a better gif of Angel forgive me)

Though, I do see Alastor more on the feminine side than the masculine side. He is a gentleman, but sometimes I think people lean too far into him being a gentleman.

Like, not to bring Websters Dictionary into this (Cambridge Dictionary technically) but the definitions of gentleman are:

A polite way of talking to or referring to a man. Obvious one, but not the definition people use.

A man of a high social class. Which, yeah, considering Alastor is an Overlord in Hell, technically he is part of a high social class. But that's not typically the type of gentleman he is depicted as either.

A man who is polite and behaves well towards other people, especially women: This is the one I think people lean on, which I find funny because Alastor is polite and he can behave well, but typically that is only aimed at women. Not people in general. I see him being a gentleman with women, but even then, not all the time - does that make sense?

Like, there are times he still acts like a mean little bastard, even to women (albeit less often) like when Charlie was having a break down in her bedroom cuz she found out her girlfriend has been lying to her for years and she'd essentially doomed everybody she cared about. Alastor had no sympathy for her, he didn't actually care about the situation, he went up there with the sole intent to get something from her. He was blunt, rubbed her situation in her face, and then gaslit, gatekeeped, and girlbossed his way into getting a deal out of her.

Yes, his words were crafted in a way that can seem gentlemanly, but that doesn't mean he was being a gentleman. He wasn't being polite, he was being a sassy, condescending little shit.

And I'm not saying Alastor isn't a gentleman, he definitely acts like a one when he wants to be, especially around those he likes or respects (like Rosie, Niffty, and Zestial - and yes, even Charlie and Vaggie). But like...most of the time? He's just a smooth-talking bitch with fancy words (affectionate).

Don't get me wrong, I definitely see Alastor as being a gentleman, but I don't see him being as much of a gentleman as people make him out to be, which actually might be the reason why he so often loses his clownish, trolling nature in fanon, because that gentlemanly characteristic he's been given implies some level of general politeness and good behavior, which cancels out when he's trolling and/or insulting people. He can be more passive-aggressively and subtle about it, like he did with Lucifer, but I still wouldn't call that being a gentleman.

I agree with Angel though! I think, while Angel has benefitted looking more feminine, he also enjoys presenting as feminine. I can see him being very fluid in it.

"the impression I got is that Angel oscillates between hating and loving his own traits due to how little control he has and how he is perceived."

THIS! ⬆️ Definitely agree with this. 100%. Perfectly said.

As for Lucifer, I do see the seduction side of him, even if I think it's overblown at times. He has amazing bedroom eyes. I agree that there is an androgynous beauty to him, but at the same time, idk a lot of the time, he still came off as very masculine to me. Could've been the way he carried himself. Could've been his voice. Could've been the way he spoke. Don't know for sure.

I think Lucifer can fluctuate before feminine and androgynous, but overall, he felt masculine most of the time.

[gonzodangerfeels]

Occasionally I say some hardcore profound things

[skzdarlings]

the ride ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by @rosequartsz : chan with the prompt ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ like the reader is the same age as jeongin so chan kinda feels bad but at the same time he wants to corrupt the reader so bad cushsisjsis

+

original ask: requested by anonymous : Chan and ❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜ ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: friends to lovers, chan is a little older than reader, reader is not actually that innocent but pretends to be and they both get off on it lol. some not very safe driving lol keep ur eyes on the road. car sex, dirty talk, teasing, corruption play, puuuuure smut. word count: 2400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

-

“That’s not fair,” Jeongin says.  “I called dibs.”

“Too bad.”  You stick your tongue out at him.  “Learn to run faster, loser.”

Jeongin scowls, once more relegated to the backseat of Chan’s car.   You are sitting pretty in the passenger seat for the fourth day in a row and Jeongin is playfully annoyed about it. 

You and your twin brother have been racing into Chan’s car since high school.  You are both at university now, but Chan still offers the occasional lift.  With storm season making public transit a bigger hassle than it’s worth, Chan has been offering more rides. 

Just because of the weather.  Not any other reason.  Of course.      

You smirk, casting a side-glance into the driver’s seat.  Chan is smiling at Jeongin through the rearview mirror, looking less like Channie, the boy of your teenage fantasies, and more like Bang Chan, the man of your adult dreams.  He is wearing a baseball cap and leather jacket, his whole demeanour oozing an effortless masculinity, the bearing of a competent man who knows he can do anything. 

And still, despite his well-earned cockiness, he has an undoubtedly shy side.  When he looks at you, the tips of his ears flame an embarrassed, fiery red, and his dimpled smile is almost boyish in its sweetness. 

“Right then,” he says.  Then, like the endearingly cheesy goofball he is, he adds, “All aboard, ready for takeoff!” 

“Jeongin,” you say, blinking innocently at your twin through the mirror.  “You have your presentation notes, right?  You don’t want to forget them.”

Jeongin double-checks his bag but you already know he won’t find them.  You deliberately took them out and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Damn,” he says, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt.  “I thought I put them in here.  Sorry, I’ll be right back.” 

Jeongin practically flies out of the car and up the driveway, leaving you and Chan.  It happens quickly, before Chan can even compute it.  You can see the gears turning in his head, but you are faster, sighing melodramatically while gathering the hem of your skirt. 

“Silly boy,” you say.  “What should we do while he’s gone?”  You draw your skirt up your thighs just enough to tease the skin of your upper thighs. 

Chan is staring there with his mouth open, his words evaporating on his tongue.  He clears his throat after a second, ripping his gaze away.  He looks across the dashboard and laughs, a shy, awkward laugh. 

“Your brother will be back in a second,” Chan says.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

He is white-knuckling the steering wheel, like all his restraint is being poured into that physical grip.  Even so, it is not hard to pry his hand off the wheel.  You know a stronger, more belligerent shove could not bend a determined Bang Chan, but the softest touch from your gentle hands will have him breaking in seconds.   

You are slow, casual despite your racing heart, guiding his hand onto your knee.  He makes a little noise that turns your whole body to pure, liquid heat.  You make a similar sound, a faint whimper in the back of your throat, as you slide his hand up your thigh. 

“Channie,” you say, your too-sweet, too-innocent voice part of your acting, but your breathlessness undoubtedly real. 

“Don’t—”  His voice breaks and he clears his throat.  “Don’t say my name like that.  You know—”  

“What do I know, Channie?” you ask, blinking at him with wide eyes while you curl his fingers around your thigh.  You bring your legs together, holding his hand between them.

He visibly swallows, throat bobbing.  The redness has spread from his ears down his neck. 

“We’ve talked about this, baby girl,” he says, his tone stricter, taking on that darker edge that makes your heart – and everything else – gush.   “We’ve been good so far, okay?”   If stolen kisses, open zippers, and groping touches count as good.  “You’re my – you’re my friend.  You should be like a little sister or something to me… yeah?  Yeah… Yeah!”  He shakes his head, pulling himself out of the distraction caused by you unzipping your jacket.  He squeezes your thigh, a firm, warning grip.  “Don’t make this so hard,” he says. 

“What’s hard for you, Channie?” you ask, reaching into his lap and touching his thigh, then higher, finding the evidence of his words.  A shiver moves across his shoulders, his breath catching as you cup your palm around the bulge in his jeans.  “Is it something I can help you with?”  You lick your bottom lip then smile. 

“Oh,” he says.  His eyes crinkle with amusement but there is a score of different emotions on his face, all of them smoldering.  “You really wanna play that game, huh?” 

There is no chance for an answer because Jeongin returns, hopping into the car with his notes.  You and Chan separate, looking out the dashboard window.  You pat your hot skin and try to slow your racing heart. 

Sensing the oddly silent tension, Jeongin narrows his eyes and looks between you.  Eventually, his expression sours like he smells something bad. 

“Oh my god,” he says, then punches Chan in the shoulder.  “Are you fucking my sister!”

“What!” Chan says, getting redder by the second.  “Jeongin, how could— I wouldn’t— I don’t—”

“What, you don’t fuck?” Jeongin asks, then laughs until he is wheezing.  “You can do better, man.”

“Jeongin, shut up!”  You reach back to smack at him, rubbing your hand all over his stupid face and messing up his hair while he wails in protest.   

“All right, all right!”  Chan says, breaking you up.  “Let’s just… let’s just go, okay?  Okay.” 

“Yes, daddy,” you say, mostly out of spite. 

Chan squeaks. 

Jeongin pretends to gag then slumps against his window.  

“I’m gonna need to start taking the bus,” he says, morose.

-

Fortunately, thanks to the impromptu revelation of your shenanigans, it does not take much convincing for Jeongin to find another ride home.  When Chan pulls into the campus parking lot to pick you up, you approach his vehicle with a grin and a wink.    

You slide into the passenger seat, smoothing down your skirt while he sighs.  It sounds more amused than frustrated.    

“Where’s your brother?” he asks. 

You shrug with theatrical exaggeration. 

“Right,” Chan says, starting the car.  “Got it.”

He puts a hand on your headrest to leverage himself, looking out the rear window as he reverses the car.  That proximity alone gets you hot, the temptation to grab him already strong.  You play a patient game, as always, stealing glances and suggestive smiles while he drives. 

Halfway home, you put a hand on his knee.  At first your touch is innocent, tracing slow circles on the denim, then you get a little more brazen, fingertips brushing up his thigh. 

“Baby,” he says in that warning voice, eyes on the road.  Holding the wheel with one hand, he uses the other to stop your wandering ascent. 

“Yes?” you ask with all that faux-innocence.  Rather than fight his touch, you guide his hand to your lap, placing it on your knee. 

Unlike this morning, he does not play nice.  You make a startled, high-pitched sound when he immediately dives under your skirt, his rough palm pressing down where you are already aching.   Your thighs slam shut out of instinct but his hand is where it wants to be, his fingers curled around your pussy in a proprietary touch. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice playfully mean.  He grinds the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit.  He never takes his eyes off the road.  “Isn’t this what you wanted?”  

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, though you cannot help but rock yourself against his hand. 

“Mmm,” he says, patting your pussy then stroking your thigh, guiding your legs open again.  “We’ll see about that.” 

You keep your eyes ahead too, pretending not to notice when he glances at you.  Then you gasp because he reaches out and tugs the zipper on your hoodie.  You instinctively clutch it, wearing nothing but a bra underneath, having taken off your other layers to surprise him.  He is the one surprising you, a secret sexy menace under all that shy sweetness.  He unzips the hoodie halfway then reaches past the material to squeeze a handful.  Your body practically sings under his touch. 

“Channie,” you say, breathless again. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says.  “Channie’s gonna take care of you, yeah?  Always.” 

“Take care of me how?”  Your question toys with that false innocence, the little game that gets you both hot, but there is genuine curiosity there too.   This game has been escalating slowly over time.  You want more and you are starting to get desperate. 

Chan looks at you.  His gaze moves over your mouth then your body, your skirt rucked up and breasts practically spilling out of your hoodie.  He swears, looking back at the road with that red blush on his ears again. 

“Fuck,” he says.  “I want to fuck you so badly.  You have no idea.” 

His words have a raw, honest edge.  He swallows, hard.  You feel like one tightly coiled ball of tension, ready to snap apart. 

“Please,” you say in that breathy voice.  “Make me feel good.  No one else can like you.” 

You do not make it all the way home.  There is a nearby lookout point at the park, a shrouded parking area that has undoubtedly seen its fair share of hook-ups.  Chan parks there and you dive at each other like randy teenagers.  You climb into his lap, bumping everything on the console on your way, the honking the horn with your backside for good measure.  It makes you both giggle.

Then your laughter is swallowed by hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mmm,” you hum against his lips.  You push his hat off his head and sink your fingers in his curly hair.  “Channie, please,” you say. 

He cups the back of your neck, holding your head where he wants it so he can kiss you thoroughly.  His ravishing touch leaves you shaking with need, rocking against him to no relief. 

“Poor baby,” he says with a little laugh, squeezing your neck then drawing his hand down the curve of your chest.  He unzips the rest of your hoodie.  His mouth follows the same path as his hands, down your chest and back up again. 

He is working you up, deftly and swiftly, using just a few well-placed throat kisses, a few flicks of his fingertips across the sensitive peaks of your breasts.  He seems so composed under you, other than the flush to his complexion, the heat to his skin that has him shedding his leather jacket.   You feel completely undone, half-naked and writhing in his lap.  Your hands tangle together, fumbling around his belt. 

“Let me,” he says.  He gets his belt open and his fly undone, then his hands are on you.  He doesn’t just tug your panties to the side but rips them apart, snapping the seams like they’re nothing.  Then those strong fingers are inside you, finding just how wet and ready you are for him.  He makes a low, guttural sound, thumping his head against the headrest.  “Fuck, baby girl,” he says.  “You know what you do to me?” he asks. 

“I dunno, Channie.”  You pout and bat your eyelashes.  “You better show me.” 

He laughs.  He holds your hips and moves you, positions you where he wants you.  You are pressed so close together, chest-to-chest, so you cannot see when he finally enters you.  But you feel it, hot and hard and filling you, stretching you, almost painful but burning so good.  You slap a hand to the roof of the car, eyes closing as you moan. 

“S-so much,” you say, because it feels like you have been sinking forever and he is still not all the way inside. 

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says.  His thumb is expertly circling your clit while your whole body seems to soften, changing to fit him, like you were made for this moment.  “That’s it,” he says.  “Have a little trust in yourself.  I know you can take it.”

His thrusts are small, his hands guiding your hips over him, grinding him deep inside you.   Then you are clutching his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he fucks you slowly and steadily.  It is everything you needed and not enough, only spurring more desire.  You know you will need him again, the way he needs you.  Just the way he says your name as he holds you, as he fucks you, as he takes you apart and puts you together again.   It feels like that when you come, when he fucks you through it, saying your name and praising you. 

“Good girl,” he says, barely above a breath.  “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

When he gets close, he pushes the seat back.   You get on your knees between his legs and take him in your mouth.  He comes with a low groan and another breathless slur of your name.  Then you are back in his lap and his hands are everywhere, clutching you possessively to his chest.  You are both breathing hard, riding the slow come-down of your frantic desperation. 

“Fuck,” he eventually says.  He seems shy again, giggling as he looks at you with a blush on his face.  “We, uh, we just did that, in the car, uh wow, yeah, I, uh—”

“Channie,” you say with a laugh of your own, grabbing his face and kissing him.  He smiles into the kiss, returning it with the same tender softness. 

You kiss for a long time, ignoring the world around you.  Eventually you have to crawl back into your seat and mostly redress yourselves, still smiling and giggling at each other the whole time.  Your phone was buzzing in your bag so you finally check it, rolling your eyes at the message there.   

You show it to Chan who laughs, blushing again, but nods. 

“Right,” he says, “We should probably go get him.”

You laugh too, sending an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response to Jeongin’s message that reads:  My ride fell through.  When you are done not-fucking each other, can you come back and get me?  Thanks.  Sluts.   

[flowersforbucky]

love language

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6.6k

snapshots of your relationship with bucky told through the five love languages.

“remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

warnings/tags: smut, oral, unprotected sex, mentions of blood, wound care, brief uses of alcohol, anxiety and self-doubt, language, reader is afab, avenger!reader, fluffier than what i typically write, undercover mission, friends to lovers!!! 18+ only

Acts of Service

“Exciting Friday night?” Your head snaps up at the masculine voice. You nearly slosh hot tea on both yourself and the pages of the book that lay open in your lap. You're surprised to see him - as far as you were aware, Bucky and Sam were in Munich. You didn't think they were supposed to be back in the country for another two days.

“Something like that,” you answer, regaining your composure as you bring the mug to your lips. “What are you doing back so early? Did recon go okay?”

Bucky lets out a long sigh as he plops down into the recliner, adjacent to where you're curled up on the sofa in the compound’s communal living room. His eyelids look heavier than normal, with dark circles underneath that aren't typically present. You place your cup of tea on the end table next to you and close the book before angling your body towards him, giving him your undivided attention.

“It was a shit-show,” he answers bluntly, voice laced with defeat. “HYDRA had the drop on us from the minute we entered Germany. What was supposed to be us just gathering intel turned into an ambush. One minute, it was just the two of us in an old warehouse, and then the next..” he trails off, eyes locked on one of the buttons of his tactical pants that he’s fidgeting with. “We’re lucky to have made it out. Sam was taken to med-bay as soon as we got back. Broken arm and collarbone, dislocated shoulder, possibly a few fractured ribs..” he lists off the injuries.

“Jesus,” you cringe, a death grip on the book in your hands as you listen to him summarize the mission. “Looks like you came out pretty unscathed in comparison.” You glance him over from head to toe, relieved to see no visible wounds or bruises.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, sitting forward and pulling the collar of his black t-shirt over to expose his right shoulder. Your eyes bulge when you see the obvious knife wound that the fabric had been concealing. “Not completely unscathed.”

“Holy shit, Bucky, why didn’t you go get this stitched up?” You stand up quickly, your book falling forgotten to the floor as you step closer to him to inspect the cut. There’s dried blood covering the surrounding skin of his chest and shoulder, with fresh blood still seeping from the opening of the wound. Even with the luxury of the Quinjet, a direct flight from Germany to New York is at least eight hours, who knows how long the cut had been steadily oozing–

“The bleeding has slacked off for the most part at this point,” he tries to assure you, attempting to cover the wound back up with his shirt. His shirt that, upon closer inspection, is thoroughly soaked through with blood. You all but smack his hand away so that you can continue to inspect the cut.

“It’s too deep,” you shake your head. “It needs stitches.”

“It’ll be fine by morning–” he starts to argue with you, but you’re already walking away from him, exiting the room to retrieve a first-aid kit kept in one of the shared bathrooms just down the hallway. Though you can’t currently see him, you have no doubt that he is shaking his head and rolling his eyes at you.

Before returning to the living room, you stop by the kitchen and grab a cold can of Blue Moon to help take the edge off. Upon reentering the living room, you find that he’s hunched over where he sits in the recliner, leaning forward to grab your book from where it had fallen on the rug.

“What were you reading before I so rudely interrupted you?” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in a smirk as he inspects the cover of the book.

“The Hunger Games,” you answer simply as you place the first-aid kit on the couch and hold out the beer to him. He accepts the drink, a small, surprised smile appearing on his face.

“Shirt,” you instruct a second later, turning to him with a warm, wet rag that you intend to clean some of the dried blood off with. Surprisingly, he obliges your request, placing both the beer and the book in his lap to pull the bloodied fabric over his head.

“And what exactly is The Hunger Games about?” he asks, looking up at you through his thick lashes before turning his attention back to the book in his lap. He flips it over, skimming the words on the back cover.

“The Hunger Games,” you begin as you delicately swipe the damp washcloth across the dirty skin around his wound, watching as the material turns from white to pink as it collects the old blood. “Are dystopian fiction novels. The books get their title from an annual event in which a boy and a girl, ranging from the ages of twelve to eighteen, from twelve different districts are selected by name-drawing to compete in a fight to the death. Twenty-four go into an arena, one comes out.”

“Sheesh,” Bucky grimaces and pops the tab to the beer. You turn away from him, placing the soiled washcloth on the table next to him before retrieving some disinfectant from the kit. “And what’s the point in having a bunch of children kill each other?”

“Punishment and control,” you shrug, pouring some of the clear liquid on a large gauze pad until it’s soaked. He gives you a vague nod, signaling he’s ready for you to clean the wound. You dab the drenched cotton along the opening of the wound, wincing more visibly than Bucky does himself. “The districts where the children are reaped from have had uprisings against the nation’s Capitol in the past. The games are to punish them, as well as to remind them what power the Capitol holds.”

Bucky’s brows furrow together, contemplating your words. You make the initial incision for his stitches and he lets out a grunt of discomfort. “Sorry,” you mumble, concentrating on the stitchwork.

“So what happens?” He asks after a few moments of silence, obviously trying to distract himself from the needle going in and out of his tender flesh as he sips on the amber colored liquid. “The group of kids rebel and take down the Capitol?”

“You’re not too far off,” you chuckle lightly. “I guess you’ll just have to read them for yourself to find out.”

“I suppose I will,” he says, eyeing your needlework from the corner of his eye. “Will you let me borrow your copies when I finish The Lord of the Rings?”

“You’re reading The Lord of the Rings?” you fail at hiding your tone of surprise, more focused on finishing suturing his cut.

“Don’t act so shocked,” he feigns insult. “I read when I have the free time to do so.” He turns his head towards you for the first time since you began stitching, causing you to realize just how close his face is to your own. You push down the fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach at the close proximity, clearing your throat as you turn to grab a pair of small medical scissors. You clip the thread before backing away from him.

“That should hold you together well enough until your supernatural super-soldier healing abilities take care of it while you sleep.”

He stands from his position in the recliner, holding out your book to you. “Thank you,” he tells you sincerely. “For the stitches, and the beer.”

“Of course,” you say as you take your book back from him. “Don’t want you getting blood all over the compound.”

“I think I’m gonna go check on Sam,” he sighs. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Get some rest!” you demand as he retreats to the hallway.

“Yes ma’am,” he calls without looking back, his Brooklyn drawl making an appearance.

For the rest of the night, you try to focus on your book and not the way you felt when his plush pink lips and cerulean blue eyes were just inches from your face.

Receiving Gifts

One week later

Punctuality has never been your strong-suit, but you didn’t expect to be the very last person to arrive at Bucky’s birthday party - get together, as he insists on calling it, since he feels silly having a birthday party at over one hundred years old. However, as you’re approaching the pavilion at the compound’s lake, you see that all of your friends are already mingling comfortably.

Natasha, Sharon, and Wanda wave at you from where they lounge next to the bonfire, Steve and Sam are engaged in an intense game of beer pong (which Sam seems to be doing impressively well at, considering one arm is still in a cast and sling), Clint and Bruce are playing cornhole - everyone is here, though you don’t see the one person you came for.

You make your way over to a picnic table closer to the lake that has been dedicated to presents so that you can add yours to the pile. You had ordered the gift a week ago, the same night that you had stitched up Bucky’s shoulder wound, and it arrived just in time - in today's mail, only an hour ago.

Hence the reason you are the last to arrive with a shittily-wrapped present in hand.

“Is that Avengers wrapping paper?” You whirl around at the amused voice to see Bucky walking towards you.

“That it is,” you confirm. “You and I aren't featured, though. Just the OGs,” you shrug, staring down at the cartoon depictions of Steve and the others.

“I was starting to wonder if you weren't going to come.” He says lightheartedly, nodding in the direction of everyone else.

“Your present didn't get delivered until the last minute,” you explain, giving the box-shaped object in your hand a shake. “Didn't want to show up empty handed.”

“You didn't have to get me a gift at all,” he says reassuringly, but eyes the present curiously. “But since you almost missed my party over it, I should open it right away.” He holds his hands out expectantly, almost childlike.

You roll your eyes, handing over the poorly packaged present. You had never been the best at gift-wrapping, usually preferring to reuse bags.

“I did not almost miss your party. It's just now eight o'clock,” you defend yourself, staring at the sun that's just starting to set over the lake's horizon, painting the New York sky in hues of orange and purple.

He smirks, walking past you to place the present on the table. You watch as he rips the wrapping paper away unceremoniously, until the gift is revealed.

“I know you had asked to borrow my copies,” you begin, suddenly feeling nervous as you watch him look over the box set of the first edition of The Hunger Games trilogy. “But my copies are old, and tattered, and have been annotated to shit, so.. I thought maybe you'd like your own,” you shrug nonchalantly.

He studies the box, pulling out the first book and glancing it over with a look you can't quite decipher. There's a faint hint of rose on his cheeks, and the lines around his eyes crinkle when he turns his head to look at you.

“Thank you,” he says with a soft, earnest smile. “This is incredibly thoughtful of you. I'm going to start reading them–”

“This pizza is getting cold!” You hear Sam's voice bellow from under the pavilion a few yards away. “I'm about to dig in with or without the birthday boy.”

You exhale through your nose, a half laugh, half sigh and look at Bucky expectantly. “Pretty sure you're the only birthday boy here.”

“I guess that's my cue,” he sighs as he places the books with the rest of his unopened gifts. “Thanks again, really. It's my favorite gift,” he adds with a sly grin as he begins to walk towards Sam and the table of pizza boxes.

“You haven't even opened the others yet,” you point out, following in his steps.

“Don’t need to open any of the others to know that yours is my favorite.”

Words of Affirmation

Two weeks later

Overstimulated. That's the best word to describe the way you're currently feeling.

Nervous, uncomfortable, irritable, a little hungry, even - any of those words would suffice, too. But with the way the velvet fabric of your dress hugs your hips too tightly, the way that the conversation of the drunk party guests roars in your ears, and the way that the heels of your feet already burn in your platform wedges so early in the evening, you think overstimulated sums up your current state the best.

You fidget with the extravagant ring that adorns your left ring finger, twisting it back and forth and rubbing the pad of your right thumb across the oval-shaped stone.

You aren't even supposed to be here, your brain keeps reminding you. It was supposed to be Natasha. Natasha, who has a boatload of undercover operations experience. But then she had to come down with the flu. Natasha, who never gets sick with anything more than a head cold, bedridden with the flu the day before a highly anticipated undercover mission that you are now taking her place in.

It's not that you hadn't been part of an undercover operation before - you had. You just hadn't been part of any undercover operation that required you to pose as someone's wife before.

Definitely not Bucky's wife.

The two of you had just arrived at the party no more than thirty minutes ago and you had spent the entirety of that time thinking that you wouldn't be able to make this believable; that everyone would see how anxious and awkward you feel and just know - just know that you weren't meant to be here and that it's abundantly clear that you and Bucky aren't actually together.

“Ivanov just arrived,” Bucky's voice murmurs next to your ear as he walks up behind you, snapping you out of your self-doubt induced trance. His left hand, disguised using nano-tech to look like a human, flesh hand, comes to rest against the small of your back and his right hand extends the drink that he retrieved for you from the bar.

“How'd you know I like lemon drops?” You ask, instantly recognizing the pale yellow liquid in the martini glass.

“I'm your husband. It's part of my job to know your go-to cocktail,” he smirks, looking at you in a way that almost makes you believe his words. “Besides, I'd know your drink of choice anyway. You always order a lemon drop.”

You clear your throat, breaking his stare by checking out the fellow attendees and event staff filtering through the ballroom. You slowly sip the sour liquid, trying to focus on the burn of the vodka and not the heat radiating across the skin of your back from him simply resting his fingers against the material of your dress.

“So where's Ivanov?” you break the tension. The illegal arms dealer that you'd been assigned to spy on was nowhere to be seen.

“He should be showing his face any minute now,” Bucky answers, a hint of displeasure in his voice. “I overheard some men at the bar saying he had just arrived in a three million dollar Bugatti with his twenty year old girlfriend.” You visibly cringe at the numbers. Ivanov had to be approaching senior citizen status at this point.

“Can't say that I'd expect anything else from him,” you sigh, attempting to wipe the disgust from your features. “What’s our game plan from here? Hover close by him and listen in on conversations–”

“Dance with me,” Bucky interrupts, his eyes locked on something on the opposite side of the room. You follow his gaze, realizing that Ivanov has entered with his exceptionally youthful girlfriend on his arm. Bucky extends his own arm to you, which you accept after tossing back the last sip of your drink and setting the empty glass on a table behind you.

He guides you to the center of the dance floor where several other couples are swaying to classical piano music. Ivanov mingles with a small group of questionable looking men just a few feet behind you, where Bucky is able to keep an eye on him.

He places one hand on your waist, using the other to hold one of yours in his own as he begins to slowly sway both of you to the rhythm of the music. Your free hand rests on the back of his neck, where you nervously twirl a tuft of his hair between your perfectly manicured fingers (you tried not to take too much offense to Sharon rushing you to the first salon she could find yesterday to help you look the part).

Bucky huffs a low laugh before using his grip on your hip to tug you closer to him, closing an awkward amount of space that separates your chest from his.

“If we want this to be believable, you’re gonna have to act like you kind of like me,” he murmurs lowly so that no one near you overhears. His face is just inches from yours - the scent of sandalwood from his aftershave and spearmint from his mouthwash is dizzying. Add in the fact that the lemon drop you had just quickly downed was heavy on the vodka, it’s a miracle that you’re still standing upright in these ridiculous heels that Sharon had picked out for you.

“I do like you,” you huff, your cheeks warming. “Not liking you isn’t the problem.” His gaze shifts away from where Ivanov stands a few yards behind you and down to your face.

“What is the problem then?”

You stare at his hand that holds yours, your eyes fixated on the brilliant diamond of your faux wedding ring. “For starters, I don’t really know how to slow dance,” you half-mumble. As if on cue, your left ankle shifts ever so slightly in your shoe, causing you to wobble. Bucky tightens his grasp on both your waist and hand to help steady you. He cackles - loudly enough for an old lady walking by to give him a side-eye.

“I think it’s pretty unlikely that our cover gets blown because you’re a little unsteady,” he whispers reassuringly. It does little to ease the lump of anxiety that has settled in your gut.

“It’s not just my lack of dancing experience,” you retort. “It’s all of this. I’m a bit out of my element here and I can’t help but feel like Natasha would have been able to do a much better–”

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, beginning to massage his thumb over the skin of your hand in languid, circular motions. You can’t decide if it’s the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins or if it’s just the fact that it’s him, but it feels as though there’s a continuous trail of hot sparks everywhere his skin touches yours. “You've got this. If anyone’s got this, it's you. You've handled missions far more daunting than this with ease, right?”

You finally shift your eyes to meet his gaze. His deep blue eyes bore into yours with utmost sincerity. You give him a small nod of agreement and a tight-lipped, uncertain smile.

He leans in closer so that his mouth hovers just next to your ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps down the expanse of your neck and shoulders.

“And remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

The slow, gentle swaying motions you'd been forcing your body to perform come to a sudden halt. You look at Bucky as if he's grown a second head. He’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin spread from ear to ear.

“Did you just quote Peeta Mellark?”

“I finished up the first book yesterday,” he shrugs as if his words hadn't just made your heart skip several beats. “Now let's get this job over with so we can go discuss the book in detail over some greasy diner food, yeah?”

Quality Time

The mere thought of getting the fuck out of that giant estate and away from Ivanov and the other countless skeevy party-goers to gorge on greasy diner food was more than enough motivation to get you through the duration of the mission.

Of course, it helped that Ivanov is a lightweight drunk with no concept of volume control. After a couple drinks, he handed the location of his next illegal arms deal to you and Bucky on a silver platter - without ever even noticing the two of you dancing just feet away from him.

“I'm sending the audio recording over to you right now,” Bucky says as he types on his cell phone. The two of you are currently in a drugstore parking lot half an hour away from the estate, sitting in the Audi SUV that you'd been given for this evening’s mission.

“Got it,” Sam’s voice booms through the car’s Bluetooth speakers a second later. “You guys did great back there. Go ahead and get back to the compound for debriefing.”

Your eyes flash to the time on the vehicle's touchscreen display - 10:06 pm. You can feel your stomach churning from hunger and your skin itching to get out of the restrictive velvet fabric, the last thing you wanted to do at this hour was go to a fucking debriefing.

“About that..” Bucky starts, noticing your disappointed expression and tense posture. “Debriefing is going to have to wait until the morning.”

“We should really get any details while they are still fresh–”

“What’s that? Sam? Sorry, you're breaking up, can't understand what you're–”

Bucky's flesh finger touches a button on the digital display screen and the call disconnects before he finishes his sentence.

“You know he's going to call back any second, right?” You ask after a moment of loaded silence. Bucky says nothing at first. You watch as he powers off his phone, and then grabs yours from its location in the center cup holder and powers it off, as well.

“I fully anticipate him trying,” he answers as he puts the car in reverse and peels out of the nearly vacant parking lot. “But I promised you a potentially gut-rotting meal, and I'm going to keep that promise.”

Half an hour later, you and Bucky sit opposite each other in a cozy, corner booth of the only open diner in a five mile radius. It's half diner, half arcade, and the two of you are some of the only people here save for the teenage couple making out next to the jukebox in the gaming area. You both look out of place - him in his black satin suit and you in your burgundy colored dress with the thigh-slit, but you're too relieved to be eating to care.

He's already scarfed down a fried chicken sandwich and is rapidly making his way through a pile of mozzarella sticks. You're eating a fat stack of blueberry pancakes and the best loaded hash browns that you think you've ever had.

Breakfast foods hit different at eleven o'clock at night.

“I'm just saying, Katniss is kind of oblivious,” Bucky shrugs with a mouthful of fried cheese. “It's obvious that Peeta was never just pretending to be in love with her.”

“That's a big assumption coming from someone who hasn't even started the second book yet,” you say as you fork a bite of pancake into your mouth.

He throws his hands up in mock defense, covering his now empty plate up with a dirty napkin.

“You're not wrong though,” you admit. “She did miss a lot of signs, and she's not always the most reliable narrator.”

He responds with a small hum as he watches you finish your pancakes with a soft smile that shows his laugh lines and the dimple of his left cheek.

His smile turns to something more curious as the young couple who had been making out in the arcade room earlier dashes past your booth and out the back door of the restaurant.

“What is it?” You ask, pushing your empty plate towards the center of the table.

“The game room is free now,” he states, as if it's obvious. “Now I can kick your ass in air hockey.”

And kick your ass in air hockey he does. And skee ball, and Dance Dance revolution.

“Please don't tell Natasha that you beat me at Dance Dance Revolution,” you beg him as you pick up your high heels that you had discarded for the game. “She'll never let me live that one down. In fact, if anyone asks, it was a dead tie for all of these games.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he chuckles, approaching the pool table in the center of the room and leaning against the edge. “As long as you win this game of pool.”

“No, nope, absolutely not,” you freeze where you're standing, crossing your arms over your chest. “If I couldn't beat you at air hockey then I don't stand a chance of beating you at pool.”

He ignores you, instead turning to choose two cue sticks from the selection on the back wall. He tosses one to you from several feet away, which you instinctively drop your shoes to the floor to catch.

“I haven't even tried to play pool since I was maybe ten years old,” you whine.

“Why were you trying to play pool at ten years old?” he chuckles, gathering up all of the balls and placing them inside the triangular rack in the center of the table.

“It was at a birthday party,” you admit. “I pretended to know what I was doing to impress a boy that I had a crush on.”

“And how did that go for you?” He removes the triangle-shaped container from around the balls and begins to line up his shot.

“Well, I haven't tried to play pool since then,” you begin, taking a seat on the edge of the table and turning your head to watch him. He pulls the cue stick back and quickly stabs it forward, breaking the balls apart and sending them rolling in various directions across the felt table. “And Kyle from my fourth grade class thought that I had cooties, so, you tell me how you think that went for me.”

“Sounds like it was Kyle's loss.” You watch as he walks to one of the table's pockets to look inside. “I've got stripes,” he states, looking at you with an expectant smile.

You exhale a dramatic sigh, hopping off the edge of the table and turning around to position your stick in front of the cue ball.

“Fine,” you relent, looking up at him from where you're leaning over across the table. “But you're not allowed to laugh at me when you realize I wasn't lying about having no experience at this.”

“Scout's honor,” he swears and you can tell by his smile and reddened cheeks that he’s already trying to contain his laughter.

Feeling extra nervous due to the way you can physically feel him watching you, you take an embarrassing amount of time working up the courage to propel the tip of the cue stick towards a solid purple colored ball.

It travels a foot or so across the green felt material of the table and comes to a stop just inches away from a corner pocket.

“Damn it,” you sigh under your breath.

“That wasn't too bad, actually,” he says, not even trying to conceal his tone of surprise as he walks over to where you're standing. “You just need to change your stance a little and hit the ball a bit harder.”

“So, do basically everything differently, then?”

“I can help you, if you want,” he offers with a smug grin.

“Hm,” you bite your lip as you pretend to contemplate the proposition. “Okay,” you accept with a shrug. “But this better not be an attempt to pull a cliche “pretend to help her with pool as an excuse to make a move” kind of move.” You're fully joking - you know Bucky well enough to know he wouldn't make such a corny, obvious move with anyone - and you definitely wouldn't expect him to do so with you.

But you don't miss the way his expression darkens ever so slightly and his eyes sweep up your figure before moving to stand behind you, propping his own cue stick up against the table.

The front of your thighs brush up against the edge of the table and Bucky’s arms enclose you on either side - his hands coming to rest next to each of your legs on the table's edge, as close as they can be to you without actually touching.

Your breath hitches in your throat when the silky material of his suit brushes against your bare shoulders, the sensation causing you to go deadly still as you await his next move.

“With how fast your heart is beating right now, I don't think I would have to do something as cheesy as that to make a move.” He murmurs, his mouth close enough to the exposed skin of your neck that you can feel the heat of his breath. It's an automatic response, the way your head tilts back into his touch. You start to pull away, start to feel embarrassed, start to tell him just how wrong he is, when he brings a flesh finger to the ball of your shoulder and trails his index finger down the skin of your arm, eliciting a surge of goosebumps in its wake.

This physical reaction doesn't go unnoticed by him, either. He hums a small laugh, inching closer to you so that his body presses against your ass.

“In fact,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I think that if I wanted to, I could have you bent over this table for me without having to resort to anything like that.”

If his chest wasn't pinning you between him and the pool table, you probably would have fallen over. The air in the arcade feels a sudden ten degrees warmer and you swear you can hear your blood pumping in your ears - things that unfortunately can't be blamed on the effects of the martini that had dissipated from your system hours ago.

No, it's all him. His closeness, his warmth, his voice, his scent. Just him.

“If you wanted to, yeah?” You question, your voice an octave higher than you ideally would have liked. “That makes it sound like you don't want to. But the bulge I'm feeling from your pants makes it seem like you do want to. Kinda sending me mixed signals here.” You rut back against him for good measure.

He hisses next to your ear, his hands snapping to your hips, effectively stilling you beneath him. His fingers dig into the flesh around your hip bones, the pressure somewhere perfectly between uncomfortable and pleasurable.

“Here? Bent over this table?” he tuts, his lips grazing the skin next to the shoulder strap of your dress. “Where a couple of unsuspecting teenagers could walk in for a game of skee ball at any second?” He lets out a low laugh, the sound vibrating against your back.

“No, I don't think so,” he continues. “Not when we've got a brand new Audi with a spacious backseat and highly tinted windows just outside this building.”

Physical Touch

If someone had asked you six hours ago if you thought there was a chance you would be ending this night by having sex with Bucky Barnes, you would have said no.

But if someone had asked you if you thought there was a chance you would be having sex with Bucky Barnes in the backseat of a car in a diner-arcade combo parking lot, you would have said fuck no.

You would have been wrong on both accounts. And with the way that he's nipping and sucking up the insides of your thighs, you're pretty fucking okay with that.

Your dress is bunched up around your waist, your panties discarded on the floor of the car. You're laying as comfortably as you can across the backseat with Bucky nestled snuggly between your legs. It's a tight fit, and the stagnant air inside the Audi is balmy, but you'll be damned if you interrupt this to turn the AC on. The only light inside the vehicle is from the glow of the full moon that illuminates the sky, and the giant neon green diner sign a few yards away from where you're parked.

He's not wasting any time - it's well past midnight at this point and considering the fact that Bucky turned your cell phones off hours ago, you're surprised that Sam hasn't traced the location of the vehicle and sent search and rescue already.

As soon as his mouth makes contact with your center, you’re lacing your fingers through his short, soft locks and tugging on them. You grind your pussy against his face, meeting his fervent motions with your own. He locks his lips around your clit before pulling away with an obscene, wet pop that echoes through the cab of the car.

He reaches one hand up to your shoulders while keeping his lips on you, quickly tugging down the spaghetti straps of your dress and then pawing at the fabric covering your chest to free your tits.

At the same time that he plunges his tongue inside you, he rolls a nipple between two of his cool, metal digits, yearning a sharp yelp from you. He releases his grip and then palms your breast in his hand, continuing to work your folds with his lips and tongue.

You don't know if it's the fact that it's been a ridiculous amount of time since you so much as kissed someone or the fact that Bucky eats pussy like he's starving, but you're approaching your climax insanely fast.

You clench your thighs around his ears and push your hips upwards, the friction building that warm tension in your lower belly that comes spilling over when he lets out a guttural moan across your core.

You cum against his face, feeling your juices drip down the insides of your thighs - there's a pesky voice in the back of your head telling you that you're going to have to pay to have this car detailed before giving it back.

He sits up, his back resting against the middle of the leather seat. He unbuttons and unzips his suit pants, raising off the seat just enough to tug them down to mid-thigh along with his boxers. You're still coming down from your orgasm when he's pulling you up from the seat and into a sitting position.

You tuck your legs underneath you so that you're propped up on your knees on the seat directly next to him. Bucky pumps himself in his hand as you lean over, gathering all of the saliva in your mouth and letting it slide between your lips and over the head of his cock.

You push his hand away to replace it with your own, using your spit as lubrication as you stroke him up and down. He throws his head back against the headrest, looking up at the roof of the car as he brings his hand around the curve of your ass, flesh hand finding your pussy that's still throbbing from how hard he had made you cum.

You can feel the smooth band of the engagement ring that you'd been wearing all evening repeatedly caress a large vein on the side of his dick - you remove your hand from him, causing him to snap his head back down to look at you. You bring your other hand to remove the ring from your finger, planning to tuck it into a cup holder for safekeeping while you use your hands on him.

“Leave it on,” he breaks the thick silence when he realizes what you're doing. “Want you to keep wearing it.”

You push the ring back down on your finger, his command sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You're extending your hand back to his cock when he cuts you off, pulling you to him and across his lap.

You straddle him, his erection locked between your pussy lips and his lower belly. You move forwards, and then backwards - earning another deep groan from him as you coat the underbelly of his cock in your juices. You grind up and down against him several times, until you're feeling impossibly empty and can't take the feeling of not having him inside you any longer.

You lift yourself up on the balls of your feet, high enough for him to guide himself to your entrance. He teases your hole with his head - or at least tries to, before you're sinking yourself down onto his length. You go still for a moment when he's fully inside you, giving you both time to adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation of each other.

You begin to ride him, slowly at first - he stretches you blissfully sweet and soon you're picking up the pace, your ass bouncing off of his thighs with each comedown.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, pulling your face down to his in a sloppy, searing kiss. It hits you that he's inside you raw right now, and you're just now kissing. You taste yourself on him, warm and salty sweet. He sweeps his tongue along your bottom lip and you open up for him, letting him explore your mouth from the perfect angle that he's at beneath you.

He continues to kiss you but removes his hand from the back of your neck, moving both of them to cup your ass. He begins to meet your movements with his own, thrusting himself upwards so that his cock is ramming into that sweet spot of your cervix and sending you towards a second climax.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” you moan into his mouth, breaking the kiss for air. Your encouragement spurs him on, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Your legs turn to jelly beneath you, but he's got you - he holds you up by your ass cheeks and leans forward to take one of your nipples in his warm mouth.

It's enough to send you over the edge again. Your orgasm builds, heat exploding through your abdomen as his movements grow erratic and he spills into you from below.

He stills beneath you when you're both spent, your chest heaving against his. You make no effort to remove yourself from him, and he seems more than happy to keep you right where you are - his arms locking around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“I guess now would be as good of a time as any to ask you if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Go on a date with you sometime?” You lean back, looking down with him with the limited amount of moonlight and neon lighting that breaks through the tinted windows. “We dressed up real nice, slow danced, spied on a bad guy, ate greasy diner food, played arcade games, and you're inside me as we speak. I think it's safe to say we're currently on a date.”

He snorts, breaking into laughter beneath you. “A second date, then,” he concedes. “I would love to take you on a second date.”

♡♡♡♡♡

thank you for reading!!! kind of nervous to put this one out there tbh, i've been working on it off and on for weeks but i love how it turned out and i hope you all do too. as always comments and reblogs are very appreciated 💕

it's nice to have a friend

moth to a flame

oil & water

[sundew199]

Lunch Date

tags: reiner x f!reader, public sex. construction worker!Reiner, fingering, dirty talk , a smidge of possessiveness

kinktober day four: public sex for @wintrrxxo

Your husband was notorious for forgetting his lunch, to the point you questioned if he were doing it on purpose at this point. I mean how hard is it to grab it from the fridge on his way out? Sure it never bothered you to have to bring it to him, but if he were trying to play it off as mindless forgetfulness, Reiner was going to have to try hard as you weren't buying the bit anymore.

Whatever. It's not like you were doing much to begin with, so driving down to his job site added a bit of excitement. Reiner made enough for you not to have to work and as tempting as the offer was, you still worked a part-time job just so you could feel like you were contributing as well.

Pulling up to where you knew to meet him, you parked the car and sent him a quick text for him to grab the lunch you worked hard on the night before. Normally it was a quick little drop off, sometimes he'd climb into the passenger seat to scarf it down real quick and spend his lunch break with you.

Shortly after sending the text, you caught him jogging up to the drivers side of the car, hair a mess from wearing the hardhat with dust and cement caked on his jeans, boots and shirt. Why did you even bother doing laundry at this point?

Rolling down the window you smiled, beginning to hand him his lunch, only to be blocked by him sticking his head through the window and giving you a kiss.

"Thank you sweetheart." Murmuring before he even pulled away from the kiss, playfully nipping at your bottom lip to be the annoyance that he was.

You didn't even have to ask if he were taking it with him or eating in the car, already opening the passengers side door, climbing in and getting the seat and floorboards dirty.

"I just cleaned the car," Sighing dramatically, because it wasn't a lie, you really did work hard to get it pristine.

"I'll clean it for you this weekend."

Of course he would, cause there wasn't a thing in this world that Reiner wouldn't do for you, no matter how big or small the task was, he was already saying yes. He could be coming home from a twelve hour shift and still find ways to get whatever you needed done. There were times you begged him to just worry about it later, but he always insisted.

"You look good by the way, shame I'm only on lunch."

A scoff served as your reply to his out of the blue compliment, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms, slouching in the drivers seat. "I grabbed the first thing I could find to come drop your lunch off."

"And?" Responding between scarfs of him shoveling his food into his mouth, eating like it were his first meal in days. "I'd still fuck the shit out you, right now actually."

That last bit of his statement should not have stirred the heat in your stomach like it did, but your desires were always so much stronger when it came to him. You had yet to figure out what it was seeing him in his work clothes, dirty and sweaty that made you so horny. Probably just the masculinity oozing off of him, imagining those thick arms of his straining as he tighten bolts on pipes, or his shirt riding up as he held a much larger pipe over his head while someone else screwed the bolts in.

Great. Now all you were thinking about was his happy trail that went all the way down to his groin and his dick. And this would be all you thought about for the rest of the day until he got off work a couple hours from now. You wouldn't even let him take a shower first, undo his belt yourself and shove his dick down your throat before he fucked you stupid and numb.

Ugh. Why did he have to say that. This was going to eat away at you for the rest of the fucking day.

"Fuck me." Muttering under your breath without realizing, assuming you had only said that in your head.

"Okay."

"Huh?" Reforcusing your vision back on him after drifting from reality, seeing Reiner look serious.

"You said you wanted me to fuck you, cmon." Snapping the lid to the Tupperware you brought his lunch in, shoving it back in the cooler that acted as a lunch box and reaching for the door handle.

"Reiner hold on." Cocking a brow, not a bit surprised he took you for being literal when it was purely on accident.

"For what? I've been thinking about it all morning."

"And where exactly are you going to fuck me? In the car?" You could not believe you were actually entertaining this. Obviously there wasn't anywhere secluded enough to do it in the car, nor would you be willing remembering the last attempt and how little room there was for either of you to move. And even then, this was a job site, it's not like there was some perfectly secluded part of the building he had access to that nobody wander over for him to get a quick fuck in.

"God no, last time was enough." Looking offended at the suggestion and still opening his door to step out of the car. You had a hard time trying to figure out what he was doing when he came over to your side, opened your door and turned off the car, shoving the keys in his pocket. "Just come on, it'll be fun."

Oh that stupid knowing smirk was on his face giving you a sort of answer to your internal questions about where this might take place. I mean if you really didn't want to, Reiner wouldn't force you, so why were you stepping out of the car and following behind him.

At least you could say your marriage and sex life weren't boring, your husband always willing to try new things and this should've come as expected on your end.

Reaching a small building that look nearly complete, Reiner made you wait as he went in first to check, sticking his head back out and yanking you by the arm inside. It was stuffy, no central air installed in the building, but you didn't have room to be picky.

"You're fucking insane." Whisper yelling like he hadn't just checked to make sure no one was in here.

"Maybe." Only giving you a shrug and grabbing both sides of your face, pulling you into a kiss and walking you back into a wall. It was ridiculous how quickly you melted into it, wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed into his mouth. His hands eventually moved to hold you at the hips, caging you in to the wall and using his size and height to make as if you weren't even there.

Both of you knew this had to be quick, his lunch break only allotting forty five minutes and maybe twenty had been spent waiting for him and in the car. Reiner inhaled sharply, trailing his lips from your mouth to your jawline, leaving wet sloppy kisses as he worked. He laughed when you pulled him closer by his belt loops, followed by an approving hum and wedging his leg between yours.

"Why'd you wear shorts, not much easy access." Snapping the waist band against your skin, removing himself from your neck to look at you.

"Oh what? Were you expecting me to expect this and save you the trouble by wearing a skirt or dress?" Sarcastically snapping back, rolling your eyes in amusement.

"Mhm, but I can work with this." One corner of his mouth curling upwards deviously, slipping the same hand that messed with your waistband behind it and cupping between your legs. Your head fell back to the cement wall with a sign, suddenly gripping his wrist to try and pull it back.

"And yes before you asked, I washed my hands, wouldn't dream about fingering you into an orgasm without taking necessary precautions." Answering your question before you could even ask, meeting you in another kiss while the pads of his middle and ring finger curled over your clothed clit, swallowing that surprised moan from you.

You were turning into putty the longer he pressed and circled over your clit, stifling your moans and digging your nails into the back of his neck. Reiner tried to keep you occupied with his mouth on yours, or sucking intently on your neck but even he was having a hard time staying focused. Already so wet and ready for him, but even being short on time, Reiner didn't want to immediately fuck you.

Slipping his middle finger between your folds, he groaned into your neck, nipping gently and circling the pad of his finger at your entrance.

"Be honest, were you thinking about me earlier? Wanting me to fuck you before going back to work?"

"Yes, but now isn't the time to tease." Biting back through clenched teeth, trying not to rock your hips onto the finger teasing your entrance, even if you were desperate for it.

"Perfect time to tease actually," Slipping his entire middle finger inside, breathlessly laughing at the way your head tipped back and your moan cracked. "Can't fuck you properly until you're writhing on my fingers."

"Reiner." Speaking his name with a hiss, snapping your head back up to get your point across, but determination was all you were met with as his ring finger started making its way in. The cool metal of his wedding band entering you, made you shutter and let out such a pretty moan.

Planting his boots firmer into the ground, Reiner used the leg between your legs to press into the wall to give you something to balance yourself on as he fingered open your pussy for his dick. He let out another low laugh at the squelching you made as his fingers curled and pumped in and out at a moderate pace, your eyes rolling back into your head and your lips parting. You were so expressive for him, never being good at hiding the pleasure etched and written into your face and Reiner loved it.

Despite your shorts being an obstacle around his hand, Reiner was still able to get his thumb to press down and rub over your clit, even letting out a groan of his own when you clenched down on his fingers. His hand, along with your panties were soaked and all he was doing was awkwardly fingering you behind your shorts like fucking teenagers going at it for their first time.

"Gonna have to take these off here in a minute." Muttering mostly to himself, but not missing the way your eyes suddenly widened and your breath hitched.

"What? How are we suppose to explain that if someone - ooh - sees us" Tucking your bottom lip behind your teeth once you felt his fingers run across the spongy spot deep inside you, stifling a whimper and trying not to let the lust overtake the possibility of being caught.

"No one's going to see us baby." Reassuring you, curling his fingers particularly hard with a grunt and watching you fight against your body's natural reaction to prodding at your g-spot.

"But you could get in trouble."

Pulling his fingers back and dropping his leg some so your feet you plant flat on the ground, Reiner stepped back to undo his belt buckle, pulling out his throbbing dick. He then went ahead and turned you around until you were facing the wall, pulling your shorts and panties down just enough. He glided the head of his cock through your slick folds, the knot in his lower stomach tightening significantly at the prospect of slipping inside the welcoming warmth of your walls.

Your hips pushed back enough to where the head slipped inside, giving him a full body shutter. Taking in a deep breath, he held you by one hip, yanking you back all the way until he was all the way inside you. Might've not been the best idea, nearly cumming from just that, but it got you to squeak out a shaky moan like cry.

Pressing himself to your back, with one arm wrapping around your chest, he kissed the outershell of your ear as he slowly pulled his hips back to thrust in.

"Fat chance of me gettin' in trouble sweetheart, and even if they somehow found out about me fucking my pretty little wife on the job site, what are they going to do? Fire me?" Arrogantly stating, taking it upon himself to squeeze one of your tits in his palm and groan low in your ear, welcoming the sudden tight clench around his cock.

To give you a chance to regain your bearings, Reiner pressed soft kisses to your cheeks while barely thrusting into you from behind, wanting to make sure you could fully enjoy this before stuffing you full and sending you on your way.

But you moaned and pushed your hips back faster, wanting more and not caring about the precautions your husband was taking in mind of you. Now that his fat dick was stretching you out, you were needy and whiny, wanting to be fucked and pressed to this wall, other people be damned.

"Then start fucking me like you're untouchable then."

Reiner laughed a little louder this time, removing himself from your back and standing up straight behind you, using both hands to hold your hips. He sighed, running his thumbs in circles on the bone , admiring the sight of your plush ass to his pelvis and your cunt swallowing his dick. To give himself an even better view, Reiner pulled your shorts down to your knees, spreading your ass cheeks apart and feeling himself pulse inside you at the sight.

Moving his hips nearly all the way back, just the tip still inside you, Reiner thrusted forward harshly, watching your hands up against the wall curl around nothing and a more vocal moan leave your lips. He repeated the action again, and again, picking up speed with each thrust until he was pounding into you at an ungodly pace. His belt buckle rattled against itself, echoing off the walls with your moans in the empty building, making him shutter.

"That's it, fuck yea baby." Breathing out when he noticed his thrusts were being met with ones of your own, throwing yourself back into his pelvis with desperation for more than what he was giving you. The warm palm of his hand moved to grip your waist, unknowingly pressing his fingertips into your subtle skin harshly, leaving indents he wouldn't know about.

A whimper of his name and the flutter of your walls gave him the sign to fuck you faster, your orgasm within reach, even if his was nowhere near. To help out, like the dutiful husband he was, Reiner reached around to play with your clit. Your back arched and head dipped even lower, moaning uncontrollably with the small orgasm.

"Louder, want everyone to hear how good you're taking this dick." Deeply laughing in his chest, enjoying the idea of someone walking by and hearing him fuck his wife, warding off all his coworkers who made off handed comments about how pretty you were and how there was no way he landed someone like you. Possessive or not, Reiner hated the comments, fueled his desire to claim you like some animal.

"You fuck me so good, don't stop." Giving an airy reply, seeing your head pop back up and your arms tense as they pressed into the wall.

"Not stopping till you're dripping down your legs, let every one of those bastards know that you're my wife, mine to fuck, wherever and whenever I want." Something of a growl came out with statement, leaning forward to wrap a hand around your throat and pull you back into him. Sweat was beading at your hairline, rolling down your temple and neck, breathing so heavily against his palm around your throat.

Holding your hips tight to his pelvis, Reiner shoved his dick deeper inside you, poking at your cervix with the goal to shoot his cum directly into your womb if he could, any way to keep the reminder present that you were his and his only.

Pressing down harder on your clit, groaning to the whine you let out, Reiner thrusted his hips faster and faster, vision going blurry from the way your walls clamped down around his dick, begging for his cum to paint the inside.

"Give me one more, m'close." Trying not to sound to pathetic in your ear but knowing that was all he sounded like, his poor dick throbbing with the need to release inside you while also craving the tight flutter of your pussy as you came around him.

Giving him a small nod, you reached to hold onto his wrist around your throat, letting go of all worries of being caught and moaning like Reiner were fucking you in the privacy of the bedroom, doing more than enough as two or three more thrusts from behind were felt. Your second orgasm was timed perfectly with his, mixing together as he came so much inside you it was already leaking out. So filthy, but what more could you expect from Reiner.

He slipped out to smear the last bit of it on your ass cheeks, returning to being annoying and childish. Both of you try to make yourself decent for the possible shameful walk back to the car so Reiner can say bye before heading back to work.

Waiting for him to check if the coast was clear, he snickered at the way you squirmed from the cum leaking out onto your panties, but also trying not to get turned on all over again.

"You're picking up dinner tonight for this." Grumbling at him once you saw the amusement he found in your predicament.

"Only if that means I can have you for desert." Throwing an arm over your shoulders like you were one of his buddies, drawing you in closer to his side as you walked.

"You're so corny." Laughing despite trying to be irritated, pursing your lips to try and fight off the smile.

"Mhm, corny, handsome, strong, amazing lover, how on earth did you end up so lucky." Opening the car door and leaning on the frame before closing it, waiting for you to roll down your window so he can spend the last few minutes of his lunch pecking you with kisses.

"One of the world's greatest mysteries." Chuckling a response to his little quip, holding his chin as you pull him through the window to give him a kiss. Reiner smiles into it, getting a few more out of you before having to pull away.

"I'll see you at home, thank you for the lunch." Adjusting his pants over his hips and shooting you a wink, stealing one last kiss before jogging to catch up with some coworkers who were all walking together back to the main area of the job site, shaking your head and letting out an amused sigh at your husband being himself.

[ultram0th]

Can you help me out? i love my boyfriend a lot, BUT, i also think his dad is super hot. what should i do?

You and your boyfriend had just gotten back to your place after a lovely date night. You enjoyed your time with your man, whom you truly love with all of your heart and you can imagine spending the rest of your life with, but there was one teeny tiny issue that lingered in the back of your mind:

You couldn’t help but make mental comparisons of your boyfriend with his dad. Whereas your boyfriend was skinny and youthful, his dad was a pure rugged man. Seriously, he oozed masculinity and looked like he belonged on the front packaging of a certain paper towel brand.

You’d almost drooled when your boyfriend had introduced you to him, and then started to get hopeful that your man had inherited his manly genes.

“It’s a little early still,” your boyfriend said, snapping you out of your daze. “It’d be a shame if it were to end.” He gave you a coy grin, making you laugh.

“Well, c’mere then,” you slyly responded, beckoning him towards the bed where you sat.

In a manner that was meant to be sexy, your boyfriend slowly began to unbutton his shirt, shimmying out of it when the both of you paused.

“What the…?” he wondered aloud as he ran a shaky hand over his flat chest, feeling the thick hairs that had magically sprouted over it.

Usually, your man was smooth, so the new chest hair was a jolt to you both. 

Before either of you could react, the hairs started to grow more, traveling out across his slender chest and down his stomach. It thickened over his limbs and even moved upwards to his neck and jaw, giving him some serious scruff.

Your boyfriend ran his hands over his new body hair in confusion, but then winced as soon as his body began to expand.

“What’s happening to me?!” he panicked, watching as all the muscles in his body ballooned.

Your boyfriend’s newly hairy pecs inflated and packed on size as they rounded out, protruding out in front of him. His little, pert nipples shuddered before they expanded and stuck out in large nubs. His shoulders broadened as his back widened, his arm muscles inflating too. Next, his legs grew bigger as his thighs widened, and calf muscles packed on more meat. The new size of his lower half ripped his pants to shreds, leaving the tattered denim to fall to his feet. This gave you an uninterrupted view of his cock, which lengthened out in spurts before it rocketed to attention, standing at an impressive eight inches.

Finally, you witnessed your boyfriend’s face become rougher as it matured. Slight wrinkles that were more indicative of experience appeared on his face as his lower jaw widened and squared out. As a last touch, his hair progressively lightened until it was a grayish color.

Where your cute boyfriend had stood mere seconds before was now his manly looking dad.

“What the hell…” your boyfriend, now in his dad’s body, muttered, shocked by the deeper quality of his voice. However, he also winced at how familiar it sounded.

In a hurry, he rushed over towards the bathroom (with you tailing behind), his hard cock bobbing in front of him the whole way. He slammed himself inside and looked in the mirror, paling at what he saw.

“Babe?” he asked in his deeper voice. “Why do I look like my dad?”

His meaty, hairy pecs heaved with panic as he explored his new daddy body. He ran his hands over his larger muscles in shock, confused by how good it felt to run his fingers through his new chest hair.

You couldn’t help it. You were so turned on by watching the man you loved turn into the man you lusted after. “I think you look great…” you smiled, “…Daddy.”

On cue, your boyfriend’s bigger cock twitched at the sound of you calling him Daddy.

Your boyfriend’s very smart, so it didn’t take much for him to put two and two together. Still, he was so insanely turned on in his new body, and he swung you over his broadened shoulder, carrying you towards the bedroom where you can explore his new daddy body.

[wolviensabes]

NSFW Alphabet: Mane!Sabretooth

RQ: 'Can I request the NSFW Alphabet for Victor Creed/Sabertooth? Specifically Tyler Mane's version? Love your work btw! 💕' - @im-his-druidess

Warnings: Neutral as possible, the terms of good boy/girl are used and mentions of feminine/masculine bodies are used. Tried to include both while maintaining an open look so anyone of any identity can enjoy, but made it as vague as possible. Also uhh general sex talk, mentions of BDSM and stuff like that lol. Ignore grammar mistakes ty.

A/N: Yess you absolutely can. I did a SFW/NSFW Sabretooth on my other blog, but I sort of left the Sabretooth up for whatever the reader wanted to imagine. For Mane specifically, this will be fun! Mane is my favorite, has been since I saw X-Men 2000. Sooo thrilled to see him again in D&W, even if just for a moment. He looked so good and yummy. I did keep one or two things off my previous list. I hope you enjoy <3

Minors DNI below the cut. 18+

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

I see him as being pretty smug, he likes seeing you disheveled and breathless. He lets you lay on his larger body, he relaxes while you splay out completely spent.

He might ask you to get him a beer, even if you're exhausted, a slap to the ass as you wobble to grab one from the fridge. But when you come back he pulls you close and licks your neck. "Good boy/girl...you know how to make me happy...~" he purrs.

While by definition, he doesn't understand the full extent of what aftercare is, he sees that you need it, so he grumbles and bites his tongue, doing it regardless of his own opinion on it.

"Upsy daisy..." he grunts, lifting your exhausted body up, watching you whine. He smirks, knowing he's reduced you to a shaky form, "Ya look like a lamb tryin' to walk for the first time..." he chuckled.

He does try after seeing how badly he fucks you up. He's a big dude so...he really throws you around and you have wounds from his teeth and claws. He can't have his darling lamb all messed up...

He licks your wounds, his saliva has an antiseptic enzyme so it disinfects the wound, however you still insist on using peroxide. "Hold still...gotta clean ya."

He's not the best at it at first, but he will learn what you like and accommodate.

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

Primal dude is insane about your body. Whether you are more feminine or masculine, he goes nuts for a good ass. He grabs and kneads and squeezes.

If you are more masculine, he likes feeling your chest and trails down your sides, feeling your narrower body.

If you have TS scars, he is gentle with them. He rubs his rough thumbpads over the scars and how they trail over your chest. He's obsessed with them. He thinks you look great, and he licks them a lot, gently and mindfully if you let him. He won't touch them if this bothers you though.

If you are more feminine, he loves your breasts and plush hips. He grips you firmly a lot and loves to see how your skin pools around his big hands and claws.

He also really likes necks, he bites there a lot so be prepared to always have his teeth somewhere on your neck.

Victor is also egotistical as hell, he thinks every inch of himself is perfect. He's proud of his lion's mane and cock size for sure, but also prides himself in his stature.

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

Victor has an insane amount of cum inside his body, you genuinely don't know how he produces so much. He is like a faucet, just oozing it into you.

He cums like a horse and his amounts are crazy. You are full to the brim and he's still shooting the load, it comes out of you there's so much of it. He jokes about turning you into a twinkie.

He gets so pent up and he snarls a lot, he growls and groans, then when he pounds you and you feel him swell more than usual, you know he's about to release a ton.

It also gets everywhere so...you should always have sheets on standby. You can't count how many times you've lost fancy sheets because his load stains them. You don't bother buying silken bedding anymore.

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

He doesn't keep a lot from you, simply because he has no shame.

But, he does like scents and smells a lot. He often smells your body in the morning or when you're the most natural. He memorizes it, keeps it in his memory.

He leans down and before he licks or sucks, he inhales deep breaths of your sex. Just the scent alone makes him horny as hell.

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

He's had his way around, so he's fairly experienced. I don't think anything would surprise him or catch him off guard as 'new.'

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Victor pins you down and uses his strength to fuck you. He likes looking down at you completely helpless while he thrusts his thick cock in and out of whatever hole his dick finds.

Any position where he has you on your belly with your ass in the air for him, he is all over. He likes to bite your neck and hold you down, and he gets to really thrust into you from behind.

He also likes mating press, watching you cry out as he drills the deepest parts of you.

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

His dirty talk can be funny, or sometimes he will say something out of the blue that just makes you smile because it wasn't expected from him. But otherwise, he's not a goofball. Just the quip every so often.

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

This guy has a lot of hair. He's insanely hairy, and come on, he's a primal. So, obviously.

He takes great pride in his hair too, he grooms himself a lot. He licks himself mostly, until you push him to a shower and he uses unscented things. He doesn't like to hide his musk.

He has a hairy chest and a happy trail leading down to his pubic hair. He's pretty hairy below too, but he does try to groom a little shorter because he notices you pull out random hairs after sucking him off.

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

Romantic isn't really his thing. He's not used to being 'romantic' at all. He's more...let me kill something for you and bring you its corpse.

He won't change for anyone. If you can accept his...brutish love habits, then he will attempt to be...less sometimes. On a hunt he drops an animal carcass and hands you a bloody wildflower he ripped from the ground, roots and dirt still attached.

That's as good as it gets. But for him, that's a pretty big gesture.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Yikes. With those claws?

I don't think he does. Not often anyway. He'd rather have you help him out when he needs something.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Sabretooth is pretty damn kinky, he isn't ashamed about any of his sexual desires and is open with you about them.

He obviously loves predator/prey dynamics, he likes to pretend to hunt you in the woods and when he catches you, he fucks you into the mossy ground. It gets his instincts going and he feels like his cock is on fire when he's hunting you. Plus the sex that comes from 'hunting' you is honestly some of the best you've had. Prey pet names for sure.

Breeding is a huge kink for him. He likes making a mess, but he prefers to bury himself into you and fill you up, regardless if you can get pregnant or not. He will pound multiple loads into you and won't stop until you are squirting it out around his cock. This is also applicable if you are male, he doesn't care. As long as he buries himself into you and fills you full.

BDSM is something that's interesting to him, though not every aspect of it. He's a pretty big sadist, so his claws and teeth will definitely mark you up all bloody and you'll be bruised from his hard grip on you thanks to his strength. He'd probably be into impact play, so he'd like to spank you while he's fucking you. He prefers to let himself do the marking rather than a toy. It's more intimate to him.

I think he might find bondage fun just because you'd be completely helpless and it can tie into the whole predator/prey play too. Like a little bunny caught in a snare and he stumbles upon you, helpless to the hungry big cat.

I think he probably would have a thing for housewife type of behavior, things that aren't inherently sexual but can turn him on. So cleaning and cooking, bringing him beer or food while he sits back, I don't know I just have a weird feeling he would be into that.

I also think he'd be interested in CNC. It's something that you'd have to talk heavily about, but I think it would be something he would want to try.

Size difference!! Mane irl is 6'9, so I give Sabretooth a few more inches. Over 7' tall anyway, and he towers over you. Not to mention he's bulked out. Looking down at you, he loves how helpless and vulnerable you are compared to him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

Victor will fuck you anywhere, it doesn't really matter to him.

He likes to do it in his bedroom, his scent gets rubbed into you when you're being thrown around the bed and roll on his bed. Plus, he gets to take his time and fuck the room full of the smell of sex.

He also likes to fuck in the woods. It satisfies his primal desires to take you against the moss in the middle of a thick trail.

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

As mentioned, typical housewife behavior would turn him on. Cooking and cleaning for him, bringing him a beer while he is sitting down, or even fussing over his clothes would get him going. Seeing you in an apron and nothing else would make him completely feral.

Any kind of submissive behavior would catch his attention. He instinctively looks for anyone who submits, his need and desire to be the dominant person in every situation controls him. So if you are submissive to him, even with simple gestures like obeying an order or just lowering your head around him, it definitely gets him interested.

Submission isn't always sexual, but of course submitting in that way also gets him going.

As written on my previous list, purposefully making yourself vulnerable gets his attention. Cats expose their bellies when they trust you, so rolling on your back and showing him your belly is a big deal. Say you're on the couch and you just lay back, he is intrigued and likes this gesture a lot.

Also any kind of gesture that exposes your neck to him.

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

Despite being fucking brutal, he wouldn't want to cause any serious harm to you. You'll definitely be wearing claw and bite marks, but nothing that will have lasting damage.

He also won't be interested in 'making love.' He will fuck you, and he'll fuck you good. He's a primal mutant so when he is intimate he goes hard.

Anyone who would try to dominate him would piss him off, and it would trigger his aggression. He would not be receptive to anything like that, especially with his natural instinct to dominate.

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

Luckily, his tongue isn't covered in sharp spines like usual cat tongues, otherwise that would suck.

He is good with his tongue, he cleans himself all the time so naturally he can move his tongue around in all sorts of ways.

He is somewhat selfish, preferring to receive than give. But when he gives, you feel so much pleasure. His tongue laps and he sucks so good. "Good...let me hear you." he growls against you.

He lovesss seeing you choke on his cock too. "Good boy/girl, choke on it. Is it too big...? Too big for your sweet mouth?" he teases, taking pride in seeing you choke and gag. It just turns him on more.

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

Best way to describe it is a feral man climbing on you and fucking you until your legs can't hold you up. You literally can't walk when he's done with you, and he fucking loves it.

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

He'd rather not, just because he likes taking his precious time with you. He likes watching you unwind, watching his thick cock bury into your hole, your wide watery eyes as you cry out and mewl for him.

"That's it little lamb...watch me split you open..." he says deeply, grinning wildly as you fall apart below.

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

Victor is chill enough to try anything once, as long as he's not the bottom or the one taking it.

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

Forever. Victor's stamina is crazy high, he can go multiple times without stopping. Even when your body is worn and exhausted to the point of not being able to move, he could fuck you to sleep.

He lasts for a long time, though he can cum many times in one session and not soften.

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

He doesn't own any for himself. But he has things to use on you for when you want to get more adventurous. Things for BDSM or toys to pleasure you. But he has nothing for his own pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Victor will tease you until you are crying and begging. He loves to see you desperate, screaming and mewling below him while he whispers in your ear how he could make you cum right now, but he doesn't.

The damn man also gets you so so close...then stops, watching you fall apart and cry. "Shush, I will let you when I am ready...now, let's see how close we can get you..."

"More tears? Now, don't cry pretty thing...maybe if you ask nicely I will let you..."

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

Victor is a dirty talker. He is a growler.

He is either snarling and grunting against you, or dirty talking you to your orgasm or so desperate you don't even know what to do. His words are so crude and filthy, you can't help but react. He just has a way with you and knows exactly what you like to hear.

That 'scream for me' that he whispers, UGH. He def whispers in a calm, low voice while he's toying with you.

And when he snarls in your ear, growling in pleasure that you are providing for him, ugh you could cum right then and there.

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

Victor 100% drinks warm milk, and he usually does after fucking you and you've fallen asleep. He doesn't want to hear your teasing.

Also goes without saying that he purrs.

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

Victor is a BIG dude. So, obviously his dick is gonna be big. He's definitely a shower, but he grows a bit when erect.

Flaccid, his bulge is already large af, so it can look intimidating before you even get his pants off. His ego always flares up when he sees how you look at his crotch.

Erect he looks near impossible to put into you, but somehow he fits. He's anywhere between 7.5-9 inches. He is girthy too, which is really what you feel when he fucks you.

The first time you saw him erect you were so nervous, in which he found amusing. "Don't worry, sweet little lamb, I'll make it fit."

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

He can literally fuck anytime. His drive is super high, especially when he hunts and kills. Those feelings go hand in hand, and since he hunts daily, his sex drive spikes up.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

He knocks out pretty quick. A cigar and beer, then he is out. It's like warm milk.

Victor will clean up a little, just enough not to be gross and sticky. Then he sits back and demands asks you to grab him a beer. He downs it, then knocks out.

If you are wounded, aka clawed up, he will watch you while you sleep for a bit and then he will fall asleep. You usually bare new wounds, he honestly can't help it with those damn things, and he watches you limp to grab him a drink, though he will clean and tend to you as a silent apology.

His bed is very soft, it's adorned with furs, pelts, and a thin quilt as the comforter, so you tend to fall asleep fast after cleaning up. Your body needs to recover, and you are throbbing between your legs with soreness.

If you lay on him after, he will run his claws along your back lazily, making you shiver. Knowing those claws to maim and mutilate, but they only graze your skin. It's a strangely gentle gesture that you never reject.

Thanks for reading <3

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[zweiginator]

I LOVE the purity ring patrick ask SO MUCH!!! what do you think happens if reader asks for it back?

seeing patrick at a party and the necklace is tucked into his shirt but you know it's there; the thin silver chain is obvious, even in the dim lighting. he's talking to another girl, which isn't surprising but it still makes you fume.

you had felt the throes of guilt, of cognitive dissonance and feeling like a fraud and a disappointment for weeks now. and here patrick is, tucking another girl's hair behind her ear, well on his way to poking another notch in his belt.

to him this is a game. a way to prove his masculinity, or maybe just that he can. he made an easy girl out of you and now he's twirling the little golden ring between his fingers while your finger is bare, the tanline of where it once sat still visible.

you ask for it back that night. tap on his shoulder and he's surprised to see you. he had been trying to find a way to get back to you, to see you again. but you were elusive to him. you also hadn't gone out since that night.

"can i have my ring back?"

patrick pulls it out of his shirt. "this thing?"

"yes, that thing." you reach for it, but he moves his body back.

"you want your purity ring back." he says it as if he's trying to clarify what's glaringly obvious already.

"can you just give it back? it's disrespectful to wear it around your neck like some sort of prize."

"you gave it to me."

you take a sharp breath. "i don't care. im asking for it back."

patrick moves so you're backed against the wall. you look up at him, and your ring around his neck taunts you as it dangles in front of your face. you feel like a small child trying to grasp for something way out of reach.

"but you're not pure anymore." his voice oozes with false pity. a mocking tone that makes you twitchy.

"i don't think you can tell me what i am or what im not." you maintain eye contact, but try again to reach for his necklace.

he swats your hand away. "i popped your cherry. so you're not pure anymore. meaning you don't need your little ring. i'd say that's sound logic."

"it didn't count. what we did."

"it didn't?" patrick unclasps the necklace. it pools in his palm, which he closes. "it didn't count when i split your little virgin pussy open? it didn't count when you were saying how good i felt? how deep i was?"

you gulp. patrick pulls your hand away from your side and drops the ring inside.

"you can have it back to continue your little facade." he tilts your chin up and you want to kiss him even though you really shouldn't. "but i'll always know that you're a dirty girl."

[sukunasun]

may i pls get some alpha sukuna… he’s so nasty (affectionate)

sukuna's every bit the perfect alpha on paper. ask the potential omegas lining up to fix a nest in his home and watch them salivate for a knot so large and a bond so deep. an alpha they'll present and prostrate for. there are rumours about the sheer weight and size of his cock, the heady pheromones, not to mention his week-long ruts. call it an impossible excursion—a breeding fuckfest with only one thing in mind. to be used and bred full of his pups. a litter or two or more. fucking without care—brutal, relentless, and insatiable.

but forget that his reputation precedes him. sukuna's true value as an alpha stands solely on his capability to hunt and chase, to capture a coveted mate he keeps...or lack thereof.

contrary to the rules of ritual, courting is by far the least of sukuna's priorities. turning his nose up at romance and the like when he's had potential mates eating out the palm of his hand since the beginning. there's no need to make a song and dance about it when he'd have his pick and fill of omegas without needing to try. much less convince them of his oh so superior traits.

he's attractive, you'll give him that. most alphas are. but there's something extra special about a tall man with tattoos and a mean side. such callousness. oozing masculinity and hot-blooded need. like an impending storm. too intense, too forthcoming, and way more than you're prepared for. after all, an unmated alpha is an available alpha and you're not one to compete.

'she's so inadequate for a mate. he'll reject her soon.' they say. any time now and some other needy thing might just swoop in to take her place. someone who's deserving of it.

what a waste, you've gotten the attention of the most powerful alpha you've ever met and want nothing to do with it—a self-righteous omega who believes alphas should know better. why give in to such baser instincts, how primitive, how primal. moreso in this day and age when suppressants are readily available and cycles can be tracked to a T.

which is why you don't look back when his gaze lingers a bit too long. adding distance when he not-so-subtly attempts to leave his scent on you. going as far as to turn him down the first time he cages you in and offers—upfront and blatantly—to 'help you out' with your next heat. as if you were some charity case. "promise i won't bite," he teases you about your barren neck and inexperience, unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"i'm not interested," you scoff, leaving him there with a hard-on in his pants and no relief. he might be a prized alpha but you won't entertain the idea of proving yourself. stroking his ego and preening for him. you were just as valuable of a partner despite being beyond your prime years with zero experience and still unmated.

••••••••••••••••••••

the only problem is that he won't take no for an answer.

he's made his choice among the other blurred faces and dull scents. been waiting a long time for someone as irresistible as you. "do you fear me?" he asks the moment you bend over his kitchen counter. he allows himself a peek at a round ass and soft hips, also to sniff at your scent permeating the air. omega. he knows as much. you make it pretty obvious with your distaste for alphas. but the sweet-scented slick between your legs is as telling.

geez. he thinks. those suppressants of yours are next to useless if you're already dripping this much within proximity to an alpha. not just any alpha either, sukuna's well aware you're beginning to fall for him. you want him so bad and it's so unfair. he's barely even touched you. but only because he's wondering if your underwear would survive the rest of the day. 'what if she's wearing a thong and her thighs get drenched too.' he grins like a wolf at the thought.

you admit with a heavy heart, "i'm more afraid of what i'm like with you." because how does one resist his advances. sukuna pushes the envelope just enough to make your knees buckle. his domineering aura makes everyone else cower in fear under a cold gaze but watch how it turns into a dreamy one when you push his face away after a kiss gets heated. his incisors poke you slightly like a teasing taunt and you find yourself fighting the pleasure.

"it's natural," he'll justify. how your body longs so desperately to belong to this alpha. succumbing to his...ferventness. his large, heated hands roaming over your breasts hidden underneath his shirt. the collar's too wide but it gives him room to wrap his fist delicately around your neck. you bite back an excited squeal when it feels so right.

••••••••••••••••••••

there's something off about him when sukuna returns home late that night. an unfamiliar scent lingers on his clothing and your stomach twist with a possessive feeling. the same one that eats you alive to the point of guilt. you smell it the moment he walks through the door of your bedroom. 

nothing like yours, it's not sharp enough to be daunting nor is it reminiscent of an alpha's scent. but it's potent. almost as if they were doing it on purpose. releasing their pheromones so he'd pick up on it, or worse, that you'd notice.

you try not to jump to any conclusions and you don't want to be jealous, but it's hard having your boyfriend come home with the smell of another omega on him.

you straddle him against the headboard with a hardened look on your face. involuntarily snarling as you peel his suit jacket off. shirt buttons coming apart under your rushed hands.

he grins at your ferocious display. reminds him of an angry kitten. he grinds his hips upwards, keeping you in place with steady hands. bouncing you on top of his clothed cock wasn't in the plans tonight, he thought he'd shower off the stench. it's not like it was strong enough to affect him.

but he tries to get you off instead, while he tries to get himself some self-control. "feel good?" he dares to question when you're practically losing your mind, a sudden spike of lust spurs in your belly, incited with just that little bit of friction. hoping feverishly that the scent of fresh arousal will be overridden by heat and breathy gasps through gritted teeth.

you're hardly in a headspace to reply but an eager nod shall suffice. "didn't think you'd be the jealous type," you feel him nipping at your ear, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, the slight graze of teeth against freshly washed and oiled skin,

"i'm not jealous—" you lie. holding back a moan when he rocks a little faster, writhing atop him in pleasure. your nipples have risen taut against your nightgown and it makes an incredibly lewd sight. sitting in his lap so compliantly.

“i'd want them to watch us,” he whispers and you'd never do such a thing but the idea turns you on. he tells you that back in ancient times they used to partake in mating rituals and bonding ceremonies. privacy was more a privilege then and so was having an audience. that other omegas and betas would know of their place. how insignificant they are, if only they could watch you now, pussy fluttering and juices leaking all over their prized alpha.

••••••••••••••••••••

sukuna watches your face as you come undone for the fourth time. shushes your sobbing cries with a gentle hand caressing your back. "you don't have to worry," he's too busy holding himself back to find another.

says he wants to do things on your own terms and timing. swears that he won't easily fall prey to the lingering sweet-scented air around you, perfumed syrup and sugar. gently skimming his lips and tongue over a soft nape, a supple shoulder. he'll settle for merely licking the flesh he wishes to sink his teeth into. a caress, a chaste kiss, but never bruising or breaking.

he swallows the protest to earn your approving smile in return. it's enough of a struggle seeing you prancing around unaffected while he's been dying to fuck you senseless. to do what's natural to him. "it's wrong for an unmated couple to live together," seems to be everyone else's motto and he'd like to laugh but there's a shred of truth to it. he realises that it's impossible when he wants to fuck all. the. time.

gritting his teeth and forcing a smile when he's hit with a waft of your scent, he knows you're turned on. you want it just as much—every heat spent away from him in separate rooms. he smells your slick calling out to him. hears your moans poorly muffled and overshadowed by the sounds of you fucking yourself. your pussy bare and gleaming, he'll get on his knees for a taste. prying your twitching thighs apart, forcing them open if he has to, his lips nibbling and sucking your clit til you're crying from the pleasure, thrumming his tongue so fast it drives you crazy. all for the tang of your squirt staining his tastebuds and mussed-up sheets below.

but he shouldn't live life by the balls. no matter how full and heavy they get with the need for release. preferably inside you, so deep and plenty he finds himself picturing it at random times of the day. zoning out in his office, in the middle of traffic. how full you'd look with your belly bulging out. would it drip between your pussy lips or should he plug you with his cock instead, refusing a single drop to leak.

still, he wills himself to stay within your bounds. being lustful and possessive isn't anything to be ashamed of. it's part of his makeup but he's more than that. two people are perfectly capable of looking beyond their sex and desires—or so you tell him.

••••••••••••••••••••

his rut arrives when his symptoms not-so casually appear in the middle of the week. pheromones and a temper not even you can subdue. he's biting into his knuckles from the arousal spurred on by great timing and comically predictable circumstances—just the smell and sight of you there, happily unaware and otherwise tempting.

maybe your expectations have been exceedingly high. you can't change his nature. but how dare he forbid you from entering the home you shared, spare keys hidden and passcodes altered. "leave—" he warns, then breathes a frustrated sigh, "—it's not safe."

not that he feels particularly sorry about his tone, but what separates him from you is but a door and a razor-thin resolve. he's at his limit. he won't survive this on suppressants alone. not with you looking the way you do. "how can i help?" you ask worriedly, wrecking your head over him. wanting to comfort and coddle. for someone who turns their nose up at omegan stereotypes, you're playing the part so perfectly it drives him mad.

because it's the worst experience for an alpha to go through a rut alone. you'd understand the pain of having to suppress a heat. all the years dealing with the fevers and cramps. milk leaking from your sore nipples wishing he'd be there to relieve the pressure. a nest of him and only him. grinding and burrowing within amber, musk, and spice. intoxicating, intense, chasing after the smell found in his sweat-drenched tee, a wrinkled white shirt bearing smoke and aftershave on its collar. snuggling his pillow and getting off with your fingers or a whirring toy at its highest speed, but it's not enough, never enough. pussy contracting on absolutely nothing.

his den is dark and moody when you step inside. slipping into a frenzied haze, there he lazes with legs spread on your shared bed big enough for four, it stretches wider than you remembered, or maybe it's that you've yet to see it in this light, waiting to be broken in and littered with your belongings. he's grabbed at them in a rush. whatever your scent clung to. your duvet, your stuffed toy, and pretty, day-old crimson panties gripped in the same fist he pumps his cock with.

the threads fray, soaked fabric snapping and stretching with every drag down his shaft. rip. rip. rippp. a hole tears through when he tugs too hard and that heavy thing slaps over his stomach with a resounding smack.

you see it for the first time and wonder why not sooner. the perfect dick hiding in plain sight. actually, that's not true. you just haven't seen it this up close and personal. but given the sneak peeks—when the steam clears in the shower and it hangs soft and hefty, the way it juts out of tight gym shorts, or just...the swell of it rubbing in between your ass cheeks when he gets needy—none of them could've prepared you for this.

sukuna thinks it’s so ugly and brutish. he's found many an opportunity to tell you so, even now as his head cranes backwards with a frustrated groan, a growl that rumbles from somewhere deep within. ”it's enough to scare off any omega—” he says, a knowing smirk on his face when he can practically smell the slick dribbling down your thighs, saturating your panties, "—but not you."

a thick vein throbs on the underside, tip bulging and a little darker than the shaft, girthy and gushing with precum. his balls are heavy, taut with tension under the soft skin, and you shudder at the thought of what his knot would look like...who would've thought that such a monstrous-looking thing would have this much of an effect on you. weak in the knees and stomach fluttering in anticipation. the way it seems oh so daunting, how are you meant to take all of that inside you. if he laid the entire thing right against your stomach, how far would it go? it'd be enough to knock the wind out of you.

you try to calm your nerves. it's just a rut. it'll be over in no time. quick and simple. although you've read plenty of stories and watched the videos to know this wouldn't be a passionate embrace. no tenderness or care for your pleasure let alone your comfort. you wish to believe that he'll be careful if not a bit rough. and maybe a part of you wants to please him. despite all your certainties, would it be so bad to make him feel good and satisfy his needs? would it be wrong to wish for his scent mark, and his bonding bite. to be claimed and chosen.

it's an expression you've never seen before. as if he wants to devour you. he won't explain himself as he makes you watch. turning you into a voyeur as the urge takes over him. hooded eyes locked on yours, his blown-out pupils and slobbering drool are enough evidence for you—he intends to mate.

whimpering his name does nothing to quell his madness or ministrations. he's so far gone you don't think he comprehends the things he says, "can't wait to knot you...breed you...been wanting to taste you for so long..." he purrs, low and rumbling from his chest. sharp teeth grazing against your earlobe teasingly but never biting down on the cartilage, just a light nibble that turns you into a shivering mess. he's caught you within his jaws and your instincts argue against your better judgement, you're beyond fighting and struggling now while your weak hands push against his hulking mass to no avail.

yet, it's thrilling. amazing even. an alpha pinned atop you and nowhere to run. his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck, the back of your ear, both your arms lifted in his singlehanded grasp. he dives for every inch of skin, every spot that bears your aroma the strongest, going as far into the divot of your armpit while he's laving at the salt and sweat greedily. his saliva scenting sugar-sweet skin, marking you as his chosen victim. "you're so dirty—" is more of a plea for him to snap out of it. already embarrassed, exposed, and so eager.

he takes a pebbled nipple between his teeth and swirls his tongue around the tip of it. you're too distracted to realise he hadn't responded to your quip, because your scent told him all he needed to know, so did the soft whimper when he abandons one nipple, and the moan when he takes the other in his mouth.

there's a way to do things and sukuna's way is unmerciful. a man has never been this good at finding a clit, which is probably why his tongue won't leave it alone. he keeps his tongue broad until it comes out of hiding before he's got his lips wrapped around. he sucks on it languidly. pulls away just to spit and slaver, blow a raspberry for fun. marvelling at the drool and the mess you've made.

no time to waste when most of it was spent not eating your pussy. sukuna hums and hungrily feasts, tongue flicking frantically. your screams come out involuntarily, unable to hold back your moans coming out in short staccato bursts. a little panicked, but nonetheless agreeable. "something's happening! wait—" you hiss when it starts to burn a little. your hips lifting off the bed while his fingers keep prodding that special spot inside.

it only makes it all the more pleasurable when the pressure builds, when the squeeze feels so tight. you clench and feel every pass of his digits, every purposeful lick. "—kuna, i think i'm gonna—" his fingers quicken while his other forearm presses down on your pelvis to keep you in place and it's more than enough to make you come hard. gushing again and again, streaking the sheets and his smug expression.

"i've always wanted to do that," he admits cheekily. a face you can't stop admiring now that it's covered in your juices. your legs tremble and you can't catch your breath whilst he's leaving gentle kisses on your oversensitive lips, but he's far from finished with you.

with his cock leaking in his hold, he taps it on your sticky heat for good measure before gliding it back and forth, the opening of his cock prodding, getting caught on your clit as he slips in slow. with how thick he is, you feel every ridge and vein. gasping at the first push and fisting the sheets to try and accommodate.

unsurprisingly, it hurts just a pinch. "please,” you mewl, just that single word slipping past ragged breaths as you struggle. throat dry and crackly from the heaving and the foggy, post-orgasm haze. you don't know if you want him to stop or to go on but—"what if it can't fit?" you're genuinely concerned because it might not physically fit. already full to the brim, your pussy stretches so snugly around his shaft like a glove.

"there's a lot more to go," he hints at the rest of his cock he's yet to sheath inside you. "but we'll make it fit," a large palm rests over your womb as he swipes his thumb against your clit, hoping it'll ease the discomfort.

you nod weakly, whimpering "i trust you," but he's so big. you can feel your pussy trying to suck him in, a bead of sweat travels down your chest. mouth falling open as he slips in a little at a time, girth forcing your entrance to open wider. buries his cock in the one pussy he’s fantasized about the most and ruts like he's always wanted to.

••••••••••••••••••••

on the third day, you start getting restless. feeling sore and exhausted while running on no sleep and little bites of food. the room is in dire need of fresh air and the bed frame is on its last legs, but sukuna's urges grow stronger by the day. he barely manages to pull out to hydrate before he goes back to fucking you. always so slow and gentle, however, your moans and whines spill out, slowly but surely you succumb to every orgasm that rocks through you. wave after rippling wave.

still hard and throbbing the entire time. it's probably because every time your neck cranes upwards as an offering, baring your mating gland, he avoids it. fighting it. "why won't you knot me?" comes out sounding pouty and petulant but you don't care. your delectable scent slowly fades into a bitter note, anxiety and insecurity filling your voice. sukuna hasn't even tried to push it past your folds. steadily milking his knot outside of where it should be with his own hands is enough of a blatant rejection.

he reminds himself that he'd sworn to never let it go that far, knotting you would change everything, what if you couldn't see him the same way, that he was just another alpha who took you for himself. "i can't," guilt laces his voice and so does his frustration when his conscience appears from behind the pussy-drunk fog. his heart bleeding, his instincts yearning. 'i don't want to hurt you' is what he means. but what you hear in your dejected state is 'you won't be able to handle it.'

was it your inexperience that made him uninterested? you knew alphas liked them subservient, obedient. just like an omega should be. taking his knot without qualms. consummating in perfect rhythm. a tinge of pain shoots through your chest at the thought—sukuna could have any omega he wants, you've kept him waiting too long, you've made him doubt. you're not able to keep up, to please him, to be enough...despite giving in. despite trying your best to take him. he won't claim you,' says the voice in your head.

a whimper breaks from you at his words. you shouldn't have to ask, this was meant to be innate, instinctual, not something he has to restrain himself from. "aren't i your mate? don't i belong to you?" you sob, hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

he presses his forehead to yours, "you're gonna bleed, i might break you," he tries to explain, getting uncharacteristically soft in the moment. it's your fault for stumbling across a wounded beast. finding your way into his broken heart. binding the pieces back together while you soothe the aches and kiss his scars. 'yes you belong to me.' his beautiful omega who begs so nicely to be mated, if this is what you're like three days in, he longs to see what you're like in heat.

you shake your head, getting stubborn. you won't accept it and you're on the verge of clawing at him to get away. you've been ready at his mercy and what for. just to come out the other end dissatisfied and unfulfilled. fuck. you just want it to be done with. defile me, ravage me, you want him completely.

in an attempt to fight him, you let out a harmless threat, one you regret the moment it's uttered because you've gone too far—"if you won't do it, i'll find another alpha who will!"

suddenly, sukuna's thoughts are invaded by that sick thought. scenes of you naked and oozing slick. pinned beneath another alpha, his weight pressing into you along with his knot, glaring at him as he makes his claim the way he couldn't and it makes him snap.

the growling sound that leaves his mouth is a warning, and so is the hand that slips around your throat. large fingers coming together around your neck. the squeeze cutting your gasp short. it should frighten you, he could snap your neck as easily as it is to split a matchstick in half and right now, he seems just about ready to.

"careful now, omega," he spits out, teeth bared and demanding submission. forbidding and looming above you, his fist tightens ever so slightly. "you've forgotten your place," it seems you've misjudged your role and the precarious position you're in. fucked out in his den, in his bed. intentionally riling him up won't do you any good. no one touches you, scents you, or claims you but him no matter how your feet kick him uselessly, he doesn't move an inch.

"i'm sorry—" you pant, "i'll be good, i promise." you squirm and wriggle underneath, uncertain if you should run or relish in it. so ominous it turns you on even more. he's never put you in your place like this and you think you should make him jealous more often if it means he'd choke you out and go feral on your pussy.

"is that so?" he tries again. presses his cock in slowly inch by inch. feeling your pussy open up and yield to his girth. sukuna leans in close so he gets to watch your eyes roll back. bullies his way through with one deep thrust and finds himself balls-deep. "you want it so bad? want me to ruin this perfect pussy all because you wanna cum all over my knot, i won't stop til you're screaming and milking me dry—"

muscle memory forces your back to arch towards him. his broad chest against your nipples, delicious hot skin rubbing your hardened nubs the right way. he stills for a moment before he withdraws slowly, a mix of pleasure and anticipation coiling in your belly.

watching him, watching you. he looks down and groans at the obscene sight of cream and slick coating his shaft, viscous and too much to bear. the bulge in your tummy protrudes where his cock takes up all that space, rearranging your guts had never looked this lewd.

when his knot finally kisses your entrance, you feel it hot and prodding against you. desperate for him shove it in. to feel it pop through and nestle so deep, all the way to the hilt while he stays there and unloads himself inside you. balls twitching, sitting in a warm crook he’s found. your omega instincts sing at the thought of him filling you up. "knot me, breed me, my alpha—" you cry. begging for it, hot and immensely copious. a sticky mess all over, both the mattress completely drenched in fluids and your insides coated in his seed.

he feels the give of your womb, the tightness around the head of his cock. groaning at the sensation. just a little bit more and he'd be buried, finally. he fucks you violently, no holds barred. hands gripping your hips so achingly tight he might shatter your pelvis into pieces. you'll count the bruises later on but shall forgive him for the fact that he's cumming his brains out.

you're crying and babbling mindlessly, yes yes just like that. your limbs begin to shake as your peak edges closer, hand gripping his bicep while bracing yourself. wild and frantic hips jerking and shallow thrusts bumping and nudging against your cervix. striking deep and rocking you against the sheets.

your shivering doesn't go unnoticed and there he leans in to give your oiled and mouth-watering neck a final lick, shushing you with a gentle, calming kiss to your mating gland in preparation for his teeth.

and when he finally pushes his knot in, cock piercing your womb as your pussy clamps down viciously on its slim spot at the base, his teeth spears into your flesh with ease. there's the give of taut skin and tight muscle but soon he settles deep enough for blood to trickle and you come several times, pulsing and fluttering along multiple orgasms rolling in after the next, enough that you're shaking in his hold.

you cry and cry, overstimulated, sensitive, and so in love. not only with how full you feel but you surprise him with your own teeth sinking down into his trapezius, not too deep into muscle but just enough to leave tiny dents in his skin. your chattering jaw and slippery lips can't find purchase while you're preoccupied with whining his name. so you try again, this time closer to his neck.

sukuna catches on to your efforts and finds it all the more endearing. helping you find the perfect spot, he manoeuvres his neck closer while you give him light nibbles and sharp pinprick nips here and there but they're all too soft to pierce the skin. "do it," he pants, "mark me anywhere, i'm yours."

it must be his words that urge you but you think it's more to do with the greed roiling inside you. you want to leave a mark that he'd never be able to cover up. by the time he's grinding his knot into you again, pulling at your hips and guiding you on it like a toy, milking him of whatever's left, your lips part around the front of his neck without any more hesitation. inhaling his scent deeply, the vibrations of his groans rattling against your teeth, before biting down on his throat. teeth embedded deep and tongue lapping at his bobbing adam's apple.

he leans in to kiss you filthy and open-mouthed, tongues swapping spit and bloody iron while your thumbs caress his jaw and neck, adding a little pressure to the spot where his freshly bitten mating gland throbs quickly. a hummingbird wingbeat beneath your fingertips.

[sashi-ya]

THERAPY 🍯˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

🧸 byakuya kuchiki x masseuse! f! reader 🐝 tw: +18 mdni. masturbation. rough sex. domination. 🍯 wc: 821

The curve of his back, the slight bump of his buttocks against your thighs. Hands sliding to the front, index fingers following the V carved in between his abdominal muscles until down, down sinful territories.

“ngh…”

He squirms just a little, so sensitive to your touch… to the biting on his nape, to your hard nipples grazing against his back.

A skin so feverish; you are hot, captain… are you running a fever, captain?

“no… ugh…”

Soft hands, drenched in oil, surrounds the base of his shaft. Thumb going up and down until the tip. Oh, the oozing transparency of pleasure, dripping on the floor.

“are you so very needy, captain? Are your muscles still sore?”

He can’t say much; he doesn’t need to, anyway. Byakuya Kuchiki has been visiting this special therapist for some time now. Every time, every afternoon, his back pain is gone by your magical hands. He comes back home so… relaxed, because those hands of yours do wonders.

“I am… good, I-“ he looses his mind when you pump up and down, and your wrists twists just enough to add that special spice. Byakuya’s legs shake, inner thighs twitch, spasm.

“Oh yeah? Are you, Mr. Kuchiki?” a sweet whispering, playful and naughty, leaves your juicy lips. Lips that are avid to be kissed, to be bitten, to be almost ripped by his. “Relax, Captain… relax more and more. You need to let it go all of your stress, cap”

Your words give him chills, his lower belly shows signs of tensing, and his shaft gets hard, harder… like a rock. He is about to break; he needs to relieve the tension building inside of him.

Wet sounds come from your palm and his sex. Sex that’s imbued in pleasure elixir of lust and aphrodisiac oils dripping down his inner thighs. The scent of cinnamon and honey mixed with manly sweat fills a warm candle illuminated private room.

You shiver to such depiction of masculine fragility; the dichotomy of pure primitive desire versus the class, the delicacy of a cherry blossom man.

“I’m com- coming…” he whimpers, contorting around your grip, around the pinching of his right nipple while you give him pleasure too.

His pointy nose lets a drop of sweat detach and fall to the ground. His everlasting frown, erased by pleasure grimace. His long, silky hair becoming a mess as you nuzzle right into his nape.

“Come, then… captain. Work for it. This is why you came here, right?”

Is not a surprise that such freak control enjoys from time to time to lend control to someone else. To give you total power over his body, as you push his intelligence down until his brain becomes a mush of nothingness but mere need.

Byakuya’s hips move on their own, giving thrusts to the air, fucking almost your hand. Oh, poor man… why would you stop jerking him off right when he is about to come? Edging him so badly… to punish him, perhaps even, of a neglected so needed eruption?

“Keep- please… don’t… stop” he begs, pleading so stupidly for more.

Your devilishly, mocking laughter makes him as mad as humiliatingly harder. Byakuya feels like he is going to burst, coming, squirting and who knows of what more his body is able to react to such torture.

“Mr. Kuchiki, you are just like a teenager…” “You went to far…”

You pushed too far your own limits, honey… and now you are the one being pinned against a massage table.

Your legs become spread with brutally snatching, and your hair painfully pulled by hands of blooming flowers.

“You made me this way, (Name). You wanted me to do this, didn’t you?” he grunts, pumping his slippery sex that’s painfully swollen with desperation.

You are speechless; yet, he is right. Of course you wanted this, violated by a man turned into a beast. Someone who neglected his heart to took over because he denied his own humanity… now is allowing to an even deeper part of himself to reign. There is nothing more deliciously desirable than a man ruled by animal hunger.

The deepest instincts of Kuchiki Byakuya. The deepest thrust into you, in between swollen labia, covering it all with dripping honeys.

Your arching back, forced to stay in place, with breasts squeezed against a hard surface. Aching buttocks from the slam of his legs as he fucks you so hard you can barely think…

But it’s not enough, of course it isn’t.

His right hand, sliding from behind to your belly as you did, lifts you up. Completely curved, your back and body tries to take it all. With feet hanging barely above the ground, with pressure trying to scape in between his sex taking over everything inside of you… of his seed flooding it all.

“Now, my stress is completely gone (Name)… thank you for your service”“Kuchiki-sama… nghh… I’m glad you enjoyed today’s session”

[solbaby7]

(For the blurb bar thing)

*sits on one of the bar stools and leans against the counter)

Can I have a frozen vodka cran with a sugar rim, and add lime please

Oh and here *slides a ten dollar bill across the counter*

oops, i may have added too much lime 😭🫣but it’ll still taste good i swear😬, bottoms up 🍹 alsooo idk what cave you cassian girlies crawled out of but when i tell u my inbox is flooding with cass requests. here yall, you get a beefcake, you get a beefcake, everyone gets a batboy beefcake

[ “why do you even care?” “because i do” + fluff / angst + cassian ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

It is what it is.

That’s the only phrase that keeps you going after countless hours spent hunched over bloodied bodies with their entrails held in their hands. Deep slashes from sharpened blades that leave skin flayed and muscle severed, tendons plucked out of place until sensitive nerves are screaming in agony. “I know it hurts,” You croon softly, care oozing out of every pore as healing magic pulses from you. “I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon.”

Dab with disinfectant there. Pressure to staunch the bleeding. Fire to cauterize. Magic to smooth it all over.

It’s an exhausting process, one that leaves you aching and has your head swimming as you shut the curtain for patient privacy but this isn’t the place to complain about that—not around all of these tortured souls as they endured a pain you couldn’t dare comprehend. “You should get some rest.”

You can’t fight the roll of your eyes at the sound of his voice. “And you should go back to your friends.”

Cassian keeps up with your stride with ease and while you refuse to acknowledge it, you walk a little slower when you catch sight of the neatly wrapped dressings around his thigh. “My friends are fine. You made sure of that. Azriel wouldn’t have made it if you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, well that’s my job.” You don’t bother hiding the irritation in your tone. It’s not normal for exes to be this present. But, you’re certain you catch the scent of him by your window every morning; sandalwood and eucalyptus, crackling embers and oak. A perfectly annoying blend of masculinity and comfort. It haunts you—follows you around the shops when collecting groceries for the week and lingers in your blind spots when treking home after a little too much to drink. Quiet but constant; an unspoken rule that Cassian was definitely breaking. “Something I really need to get back to so if you’re finished—“

“Don’t think I’ll ever be finished with you, peach.”

You hate that charming cadence. Despise the handsome grin that’s flashed your way because he knows how much you (love) loved it. “What do you want Cass?”

“Want you to take better care of yourself.” That’s a lie. At least partially because Cassian knows that what he really wants is to be the one to care for you. He knows he’d do it well—dedicate himself to the roll because there had been a time where it had been his only desire. But Rhys had come back after fifty years and Cass had a High Lady to protect now; had duties to uphold—responsibilities that wouldn’t allow the freedom necessary to take you on picnics in flower fields or to remember anniversaries. “You haven’t been eating enough and you’re always working. You barely even sleep.” He says it oh so gently but you can hear the underlying worry there. Can see it in the way his wings rustle and gaze scans the length of you, most likely noticing the way you resemble a deadman walking.

“You stalking me or something?”

“You promised.” His stance straightens out a little, syllables carrying a little more conviction as he tries to get his point across. “After everything between us, you at least promised that you’d be safe and take care of yourself.”

“You left me, Cassian.” His throat rolls under the shame, chest constricting as he’s forced to witness the way your eyes go glassy. “You walked out on me so what I look like without you shouldn’t matter.” Emotion holds thick in your voice and it takes true effort not to let tears fall down your cheeks. This was too confusing, the back and forth too exhausting, the hope too draining. “Why do you even care?”

A million possible answers claw to the forefront of Cassian’s mouth. Ones that scream, ‘because I love you! Because you’re everything to me.’ So badly he yearns to just let it out and confess how your safety was everything he thinks of when suiting up for battle and drenching himself in the blood of others with no regard for his own life. “Because, I do.” He says instead and he knows it’s not enough—can see the way the light in your eyes die out when you’re left hanging yet again. “Please peach, just get some rest. For me.”

He almost wishes you’d resist; to give him another reason to seek you out and darken your doorstep even if meant just a glimpse at you.

Your shoulders fall too low to be gearing up for a fight and the furrow of your brow wobbles with the effort it takes to keep you from crumbling all together.

Gauze patches at your battered heart. Dab with disinfectant there. Pressure to staunch the bleeding. Fire to cauterize. Magic to smooth it all over. “Fine.” You nod stiffly, the picture of professionalism. “And thank you, General, for your service.”

It is what it is.

[izzabela]

How about the linkuei trio with a female partner who is just a little bit taller than them? Personally, I find it adorable when in couples, the woman is taller. Plus, our boys are also very tall :>

Height Difference - Lin Kuei Trio x fem!reader (headcanons)

in which you were blessed with great vertical length

a/n: something something something Tomas would ask us to sit in his face

ship[s]: tomas vrbada , bi han , kuai liang x fem!tall!reader (separate, headcanons)

warning(s): MDNI beyond a certain point

Tomas Vrbada

- Tomas minds his business when you pick something to wear. heels? lovely, put em on and make yourself tower over him. short dresses? absolutely, let him see your legs

- he absolutely loves when you feel yourself, confident in the blessing of your genetics

- he's little spoon fifty percent of the time. no, he doesn't care ("please hug me like i do you", he asks constantly)

- head pats. head ruffles. mess his hair up. anything involving your hand on his head is a must

- he will still carry you- bridal style is his favorite. thats definitive

- he loves dancing with you. slow dancing especially, the way you look at him as your head tilts down ever so slightly to meet his equally soft gaze

Bi Han

- Bi Han is reluctant to show intimacy in public, but in private he loves leaning on your shoulder when it's just you two

- Bi Han is a confident man, and he would actually put anyone in their place of they told you that you weren't allowed to wear things because you were tall

- you're a good sparring partner. when he's alone with you, he'll probably mention you're a good reference for fighting people

- you like it when Bi Han makes you feel like a woman. what i mean is that you still feel feminine and cutesy and lovey-dovey with him because of the natural masculinity he oozes- basically he still makes you feel like a cute short girl when you're having those days

- just like Tomas, Bi Han will carry you. except he's more than bridal style: over the shoulder, bridal, one arm- i don't know, i don't care

- Bi Han, when not around others, will rest his head on your shoulder

Kuai Liang

- he will always look up at you, smiling and giddy. he just loves to look up and see the love of his life

- he doesn't care, he will be affectionate in public and love up on you like Tomas

- Kuai Liang does dip kisses. idk i can see him doing ig

- Kuai Liang does the thing where he traces your silhouette like he's drawing. fingers gently gliding across your arm, shoulder, back of your neck- he loves that

- Kuai Liang also big on leaning his head on your shoulder, but he does it whenever and wherever he wants

- Kuai Liang does not mind if you throw your arm over his shoulder. he'll match your energy and wrap one arm around your waist and the other holding your hand that's over his shoulder

MDNI HERE ON OUT======

Tomas

- SIT ON HIS FACE. HE LOVES WHEN YOU SIT ON HIS FACE

- i think Tomas can be switchy- dom one night and sub next. he's a mixed bag of nuts

- when he's sub for the night, oh baby does he love when you're pulling his hair, forcing him to eat you out without air, or just being rough with him in general

- "show your mistress how much you love her," you command. his eyes are glazed and lost, the scent of your slick and the heavy air of sex getting him high

- when he isn't subbing, that man will fuck you like no tomorrow. however, he likes to see you on top of him in some way

- "come on, dove," he coaxes you gently, ironic to how fast his hips buck into you as you're moaning and gasping for air as he fucks you. "you're doing so well, dove. up and down- good~"

Bi Han

- he's on top always, but i think he likes to see your silhouette and admire how tall and lengthy you are (legs and arms wise)

- "beautiful," he says between gritted teeth. in doggy, he's got the perfect view of all of you: your ass on his dick, back dimples so deep that his thumbs were practically made for pressing in them, the fact your back was out in its glory. "my beautiful song bird"

- he'd fuck missionary too. your legs over his shoulders, meaty cock pressing into the tip of your cervix as you beg for more, more, and more

- Bi Han likes to bound you in something. hands behind your back, tied up wrists, etc etc. it might have to do with the fact he can see your entire, elongated figure. you like it too, don't worry

- sit on his face too, for sure, but he's more into 69. you're gagging, sobbing even, over his cock bullying your throat as Bi Han condescendingly asks if you like it ("you do?" he laughs maniacally, bucking his hips deeper. "have some then, my song bird")

Kuai Liang

- i think he'd pick you up and fuck you. whether you're facing him and you're foreheads are touching, or your back is against his and he's practically pistoning in and out of you

- mirror fucking! he wants you to see all the parts he finds pretty about you. "don't you see how pretty you look, darling? pretty little legs out so you can see how well i'm feeding that little hole of yours~"

- dirty talk! so much dirty talk about you and your greedy cunt, sopping wet cunt, how pretty you look spread out and dripping

- i think he's into the bjs where he's standing, holding your hands up by your wrists, and humping into your mouth as you whine and cry on his thick length

- Kuai Liang is probably into the sitting blowjobs too, where you're the one looking up at him instead of the other way around

- something something something, Kuai Liang fucks you sideways. your leg is in his hand as your legs are spread wide open, full access for his cock to fuck deep in you

=====================

whew okay finished

guys the voices are calling me to COD i wanna finish all of these before i hit it tho

[sixgunluvr]

Claimed By An Outlaw

Mature Age 18+ Readers ONLY

Pairing Arthur with a female reader.

His gaze spoke in volumes of the desire burning within him.

It was a familiar hunger in his eyes - one that promised nothing but all-consuming passion.

He wanted to take you right then and there, to bend you over the nearest surface and thrust himself inside you without so much as another second's hesitation.

And God help you, part of you wished he would.

But Arthur had more finesse than that. He wasn't an animal ruled by his primal instincts…well, not all the time anyway.

He sauntered over to you, those gorgeous green eyes burning with the heat of a thousand suns. You felt your heart rate pick up as he approached, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Well now, don't you look absolutely beautiful," he drawled, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You blushed under his praise, biting down on your lower lip as you tried to stifle the moan threatening to escape.

Arthur reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before tangling in your long hair. He tugged gently, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath away from his.

You could feel his hot breath against your skin, making you shiver with anticipation.

"I need you. Meet me at our spot in 10 minutes," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper, and quickly sauntered off.

Your heart pounded so loud you thought the others could hear it. The wetness between your legs grew by the second, your arousal sparking at the mere thought of Arthur and what awaited you in your secret spot.

You quickly made your way to the spot you two had claimed as yours. The anticipation was nearly killing you.

There he was, smoking a cigarette.

The moment you saw Arthur, your breath hitched and your knees went weak. He was stunning. Rugged. Dangerous. He oozed of a masculinity that immediately turned you on, making your mouth salivate and pussy drip with hunger for him.

Arthur grinned when he saw you, his eyes darkening with desire.

He looked like a predator sizing up his prey, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought of being his for the taking.

"You came, good girl," he growled, his voice low and sultry, flicking his cigarette to the side and smashing it under his boot. 

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter by the second. Arthur closed the distance between you in one long stride, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into a fierce kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, tasting and teasing you until you were breathless with need.

You could taste the cigarette he just put out, which just intensified your arousal.

"I need you now," he groaned into your mouth.

His was grinding his cock into your thigh and he was rock hard.

You could feel every inch of him, and it was making you soaking wet.

"Bend over," he commanded.

You quickly did as you were told, bending over the rock that served as a makeshift table. You felt his fingers tracing a path down your spine, causing you to shiver in anticipation.

He groaned when he found you naked under your skirt, that he now had pulled above your waist, leaving you bare from the waist down.

You heard him spit, then felt his fingers tracing through your wetness. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he groaned.

You looked back at him over your shoulder to see him working his cock in long strokes and your mouth watered at the sight.

He positioned himself behind you, his fingers still working their magic on your clit. You could feel him rubbing his cock along your wet folds, teasing you relentlessly.

You whimpered, rocking your hips back and forth attempting to get him inside of you. Arthur chuckled darkly before slamming into you without warning.

You cried out in pleasure as he filled you completely. His thrusts were hard and fast, with a primal intensity that stole your breath away. Each one sent a shockwave of pleasure through your already trembling body. You clawed at the rock beneath you, trying to anchor yourself against the onslaught.

Arthur's grip on your hips was tight as he relentlessly drove into you.

His thrusts were savage, and you could feel his roughness as if it was tattooed onto your skin. His hips slapped against your ass as he pistoned in and out of you, the sound echoing through the quiet night. You gasped for breath as he filled you up to the brim, only to withdraw and plunge into you again. The sensation was intense, and the fear of being caught in the act only heightened your pleasure.

You couldn't help but cry out each time he bottomed out inside you, your slick channel quivering around him with every stroke.

You had your knees locked otherwise there was no way you'd still be standing.

The sound of your wetness was like a symphony to his ears, and it only spurred him on. he growled, his voice raw with lust. "You like feeling me fuck you deep and hard."

You could only whimper in response, your body shuddering with every thrust. You were already close to the edge, your pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside of you with each passing second.

"Such a good girl for me," he growled, smacking your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint on your pale skin. You whimpered at the pain-pleasure sensation, your pussy clenching around his cock in response.

"You like it when I take you like this," he asked, his voice low and harsh as he continued to thrust into you with wild abandon.

You could only nod, unable to form coherent words through the haze of pleasure that was currently clouding your mind.

He spanked you again, harder this time, causing you to cry out.

"You like when I spank you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

You nodded again, biting your lip in anticipation.

"I love how your pussy clenches my cock each time I smack your ass."

"Tell me you want me to fuck you harder," he demanded, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to slam into you with reckless abandon.

"Yes, please!" you begged. "Fuck me harder, Arthur!"

He grunted in approval, his thrusts growing more intense with every passing second.

"You're so goddamn tight, baby," he growled, his voice full of raw desire. "I could fuck you all day and night."

You whimpered in response, your body trembling beneath him as you felt yourself hurtling toward a shattering orgasm.

"Please, Arthur don't stop," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Make me come."

He chuckled darkly.  "You won't be able to walk straight after I'm done with you."

With that, he increased his pace, thrusting into you with a primal urgency. You could feel every inch of him, filling you up completely.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips as he pounded into you.

Your breath hitched as he filled you up completely, his cock hitting every nerve ending in your body. Your orgasm was building deep inside of you, the sensation so intense that you could feel it in every muscle. You could hear the sounds of your own pleasure filling the air, mingling with Arthur's groans.

The rock beneath you was rough and unforgiving, digging into your palms as he took you from behind. But you didn't care, not when it felt this good. Not when he was making you feel like the only woman in the world.

And certainly not when you were about to come harder than you ever had before.

"Oh God, yes," you moaned as he slammed into you one last time, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your body trembling with the force of your release. 

"That's it, darlin'. Come all over my cock," he growled.

He kept pounding into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

"On your knees now, baby," he ordered.

You obeyed without hesitation, dropping to your knees in front of him with a whimper. His cock was still glistening with your wetness, and you couldn't resist the temptation to wrap your lips around him.

He let out a low growl as you sucked him deep into your mouth, your tongue tracing the length of his hard shaft. You could feel him trembling with the effort to hold back, his fingers threading through your hair as he guided your movements.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily as you took him deeper.

Your mouth was hot and wet, and he could feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Goddamn, you're good at that," he grunted, his fingers tightening in your hair as you sucked him with abandon. You could feel him swelling even more in your mouth, and you knew he was close to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," he growled, his eyes darkening with desire as he pushed your head back and began stroking his cock. 

"Open your mouth," he demanded.

You obeyed and he laid the head of his cock on your tongue.

He wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft and continued stroking himself, using your tongue as a guide.

"That's it, darlin'. Take it all in," he growled, his eyes never leaving yours as he fucked your mouth. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, and you knew he was close to releasing. You braced yourself for it, eager for the taste of him.

With a guttural growl, he came. Hot jets of cum filled your mouth, spilling over the sides and down your chin.

You swallowed eagerly, your throat working convulsively as you tried to take every last drop of him. He tasted so good, salty and musky and uniquely him. You reveled in the sensation of him coming undone in your mouth, his body shaking with pleasure.

"Goddamn, that was good," he groaned, pulling out of your mouth with a soft pop. He reached down to help you to your feet, his hands lingering on your waist as he pulled you close for a deep kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting himself on your lips.

It was a primal, raw sensation, a reminder that he had just owned you in every single way possible. You could feel him smiling against your lips as he deepened the kiss, a small chuckle escaping him.

He broke the kiss and looked deep into your eyes. "You're mine now, darlin'. I'll always come back for you."

You blushed at his words, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. But at the same time, you also felt protected. Cherished. Loved.

Protected. That's what Arthur made you feel each time he touched you. And it wasn't just during your heated encounters, but in every moment you shared. He had this way of looking at you - like you were the only person who mattered in the world. As if he saw something in you that no one else could see.

It was intoxicating, and you found yourself falling for him deeper and deeper with each passing day.

Arthur didn't just fuck you. No, he made love to you in a way that no one else ever had before.

His touches were gentle yet firm, his kisses passionate and all-consuming, his thrusts raw and powerful. He took his time, making sure to explore every inch of your body, committing every curve and hollow to memory.

That evening at Horseshoe Overlook, he showed you just what it meant to be loved by a man like Arthur. 

[heartscara]

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝒶𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ⊹. ♡˚

𐂯 𓈒 ˙ ˖ Being a genius is hard. For you have alot stored in your brain yet still not notice your friends romantic hints.

ᨳ ໒ ིྀ ֹ> ꭷ < ა࣪ ‌ ꢆ ◝✩ ꒰ chigiri hyoma x genius male reader !!̲ ✎ … just fluff ノ very very oblivious reader ノpre-blue lock chigiri ノhe!him pronouns and masculine(?) terms are referred to reader. ꒱

“Have you ever noticed chigiri-san well awfully close to you?”

You looked at your friend with a raised brow, confused on what he meant. “Aren’t friends supposed to be close?” you asked, tilting your head. They only sigh at this as they look at you in a stern manner, “like, he’s really really close to you, like super close.”

“So?” You said in a questioning tone, “look I won’t get your point if you don’t straight up tell me here,” you said cutting to the chase as they scratch the back of their head, “fine,” they said admitting defeat, “don’t you think chigiri has been in love with you and he’s hinting at you for I don’t know how long?”

You gave them an amused chuckle, “funny,” you said in a matter of fact but then you were met by their silence as they looked at you with deadpan eyes, “your serious?”

“yeah,”

They nodded, confusion hitting you like a rock. “How did you make these assumptions?” you asked curious why ready to debunk every claim they could give you. “For a self proclaimed genius you're pretty oblivious,” You furrowed your brows as a pout formed its way to your lips, you were clearly irritated at their teasing remark. Glaring at them they flinched at the sharp glare you gave them as they raised their hands as if they’ve given up.

“Got it, got it, I’ll tell you, well—“

“He seems to care for you, way more than the others nor his friends,”

Recalling the incident the very first day in class, there you came inside the classroom in a disheveled state of course they didn’t care but wow were they surprised to see a student looking quite well… something.

Though what caught their attention was a pinkette walking up to them, “Did you stay up all night again? You do know I’ve told you to stop doing that,” he starts to nag the disheveled boy as said boy pouted. The pinked haired boy took the liberty to straighten his uniform as he fixed his hair, “sleep is merely a little obstacle after all science is—“ but he was cut off by the boy pinching his cheeks quite hard.

“ouch! ouch! ouch!” He whined in pain as the pink haired boy looked at him in a deadpan manner. “If you stay up all night again you're gonna face this every morning,” letting go of his cheeks, the boy looked at him. As he looked down ashamed, the boy looked at the pinkette in front of him, “fine, got it,” he grumbled.

The pinkette smiled at him looking proud.

“That's because as childhood friends it's natural for us to look out for each other—“ though you were cut off, “SHUSH SHUSH I STILL HAVE SOME MORE!”

“he always prefers to be with you any chances he gets,”

They recalled another distant memory but this time they were close with you, y/n l/n a self proclaimed genius who is actually well… a genius, “Okay I’ll be putting you to pairs for this assignment.”

The teacher claimed as she puts everyone to pair, “chigiri hyoma with nanami takenaka,” looking at the pinkette they somehow could feel the disappointment oozing from him. “Y/n l/n with ayato hayashi,” their names were called.

Looking at y/n he said, “looks like we're gonna be partners,” though the genius only nodded at this not caring what he said, only yawning as they tried to fall asleep in class. This amazed them solely because wow they don’t care what the teachers might do to him, then again his marks are way higher than everyone literally.

“Sensei,” a familiar voice caught his attention as he saw Chigiri raise his hands to the teacher. Standing up, he asked the teacher, “can I change partners?” This made the teacher sigh as they shake their heads, “no you can’t chigiri-san anymore question regarding the activity?”

They were met by silence.

“I’m guessing none, you may all have your lunch.”

Thus they start what they usually do in lunch, placing their tables close to each other as they talk about some random topic but this time though chigiri seems to be oozing quite an annoyed aura as he just sits next to y/n. They raised a brow at this, confused why— though now he feels his annoyed gaze at him making sweatdrop.

‘what the hell did I do wrong this time,’

“He’s just clingy—“ you were cut off again by Ayato slamming their table as they gave you another reason, “NO NO NO LISTEN!!”

“you two are awfully touchy,”

Y/n could only look at his phone with a furrowed brow feeling quite irritated as he yet again lost another game. Chigiri only looked as his chin was placed on the boy's neck, his hands around his waist as the boy sat on his lap. “Tsk, this damn game,” the boy grumbled as he started again, chigiri could only chuckled. Amused that he was irritated.

“Hmm…” humming as he looked at the game he observed as he yet again lost, “maybe start going there first?” he suggested as y/n did instead of encountering another loss he won. This made the boy smile at him as he looked at Chigiri, “thanks” He thanked the boy with a small smile as he gave him a quick peck on the head.

“I’ve been doing that since we were kids, it’s normal here,” This made Ayato sigh. Well you were stubborn to admit it and because of this he gives up. “ugh… I bet you're in love with him because of how much you deny it,” they grumbled.

This made you well flustered. Coming up with such a conclusion you could only look away feeling quite embarrassed, “coming up with such a conclusion like that is idiotic.” They only nodded along with this annoyed at how much you are in denial, “yeah, yeah.”

The end of the day came within a blink of an eye. The thought that chigiri may have feelings for you eating you alive each passing second in school as you do what you two usually do. Now walking home with him your hands held each other, intertwined fingers sharing warmth to each other.

The walk was silent as usual. Though the silence felt awkward, not the usual comfort you felt every walk home with him. It’s now just the unburning awkwardness you felt. “Hey… chi-chan,” you called him out by his nickname.

The nickname you gave him since childhood, it was a cute one but he didn’t quite like it at first but grew used to being called it by you. “Do you love me?” you asked him. Eyes meeting him, his eyes widened as he smiled at you as if he was waiting for you to ask that question in a long time.

“Took you long enough, idiot,”

[fieryland]

Red Blooded (Eren Jaeger)

tw smut, heavy degradation, a rockstar!eren au

wc 1.2k

-

Straddling rockstar!eren’s lap and licking his sweaty skin after a concert, lapping at his neck, collarbones, even his cheeks. “Slow down, baby.” you feel the vibration of his laugh over the skin of his neck.

You couldn’t help but get a little flustered, you were so eager to lick him clean— you were practically humping his leg as soon as he came through the door. You release his hair from your fists and it plops back down onto his shoulders.

“I want you to gag on it.” He demands, sudden. Boldness and charm oozing from his voice. A smile creeping up on his lips the second he sees your face after noticing his hard on.

You bite your lip with a smile, hand him a kiss and make your way down between his thighs.

Above you, Eren sat loud and proud. Place a thousand people into this very room and you’d still find yourself looking up at him and only him. As would everyone else, for he is second to none. Anatomy of a God and mannerisms of an animal; masculine, wild & red blooded. Black band tee adorning his torso— that ever so slightly exposes his toned navel, and his cologne reverberating in your lungs.

He smiles a boyish grin and narrows his eyes in unison of you unbuckling his belt. You were eager enough to do just that and take his cock into your mouth right then and there. But as his eyes darted to the pulling of his pants and boxers; he knew what you were up to.

Taking advantage of his exposed thighs, you bring your lips to them, but not missing the way his cock sprung up strong, leaking fresh precum. You take it into your hand, thumb pressing down onto his tip followed by a string of slick as you lift it back up.

You were now borderline making out with Eren’s thighs. Licking, sucking, biting, indulging in the taste of his sweat— sparkling and saline. At the same time, his dick needily twitched in your hand, sticky and waiting for you to pump it up and down. The contrast between his barbaric persona and his desperate cock was insane. A fat fucking cock at that.

He grabs you by your hair and forces you to listen “I told you to do something, whore. Get to it.”

You wince at the burning sensation, clawing at his forearm yet you can’t help but moan out his name.

“I said,” he pauses to spit in your face “get to it.” he loosens his grip but his hand stays in your hair, guiding you back under him as he smears his cock on your spit covered face.

Once his dick gives your face a couple slaps, you begin swirling your tongue around his balls, taking one of them into your mouth as he strokes himself over your messy — but pretty — face.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that.” he grunts and God, you swear you could cum just by staring back at him like this. Tasting him and holding eye contact has your cunt dripping and squeezing around nothing.

While maintaining each others gaze, you brace yourself on his thighs and take the length of him into your hand, spitting on it as you’re about to begin pumping until he fucking backhands you and grabs ahold of you.

“Who told you to spit on it?” He presses and raises his voice “I sure as hell didn’t, or are you too much of a brainless slut to understand what I’m saying? Do that shit again and I’ll fuckin’— I’ll fuck you up.”

At that you smile, mind too hazy to register anything besides ‘fuck, he’s so handsome when he’s mad’ so you plead.

“Please? Please what? Fucking speak up.” he’s holding you at eye level, by your neck and hair. Smirking at whatever comes out next; he knows you’ll say exactly what he’s thinking, you were a match made in dark heaven after all.

“Please.. ‘ren,” you whine “use me.” you grind against his knee like a fucking dog in heat. But at this point you didn’t care, not even when he scoffs, or when he gets up on his feet to drag you in front of him.

You don’t even have time to pathetically thank him for finally putting you to use due to the way he immediately slams into your mouth, and he doesn’t waste time on his rapid pace.

Your nails dug into his muscly thighs, feeling them flex with every stroke down your throat. He was full on skull-fucking you now, splitting your mouth open on his cock however he pleases. That was the thing with Eren; he wanted something? He got it. And you were happy to be of service.

The moment your throat tightens around his length, his hands do the same on your head.

“Fuck- this tight fuckin’ throat. I love it,” he groans “holy shit.”

He felt so good. You felt so good, maybe he was fucking with your head, or there was some kind of spot he was hitting deep inside your throat— but whatever the fuck it was, you were dripping for him, you loved seeing him like this.

Your mouth was so full of precum and spit, it pooled out of it and onto his cock, your chin— even the damn floor.

You continuously gag around him, he could see it, feel it, even hear it; it ran through his veins like wildfire. “Aw, you gaggin’ on me, baby?” he moans out in pleasure, fake sympathy dripping from his tongue “Yeah, keep gagging on it, bitch, that’s what you’re good for.”

With that, you look up at Eren, he was in pure fucking bliss. Hair down, head thrown back as he was nearing his climax, cock stretching your throat like never before.

You stick your tongue out underneath his dick as he lowers his gaze down to you. That’s when you knew he was about to cum. He just loves looking into your eyes when he’s at his limit.

“That’s right, fuckin’ slut. Take it- take this dick.” he used your mouth like that’s what it was made for. A couple more strokes and he pauses just at the back of your throat; warm cum pouring right down it.

It keeps on coming, he keeps on moaning, and he keeps on pushing himself further into your mouth.

Eren, back from the clouds, loosens his grip around your head and frees his cock while tapping it twice on your swollen lips as a thank you.

He kneels down, your head in his hands as if you were a lost puppy he happens to be petting.

He kisses you. Not to taste himself but, well, just to kiss you. You made him feel so good, but you looked even better.

“You did good, baby.”

[statementlou]

I think Louis would hate hearing this but I mean it in the most complimentary way possible: he is so fucking beautiful. The way he’s sort of curvy it’s almost feminine (the highest compliment!) but it’s still very very manly. I can’t explain it. I did not know I liked curves in a man before him but sometimes it’s just jaw dropping gorgeous. Like he is just so gorgeous. I am not calling him a woman or trying to emasculate him in any way whatsoever btw, he just has something really sexy going for him and it’s not a gender thing.

I think a lot about how because he didn't grow up, have the body type to get famous, and then make it big using that look, we get something in the celebrity sphere we otherwise wouldn't have: someone I actually find hot! To me he is soooo much hotter than yet another tall skinny gym guy, like YES let me fucking ogle those curves and thighs, PLEASE. He's not feminine at all but he is sooooo gender subversive anyway in his movements and entire state of being- but people who try to feminize him because he's short or pretty or whatever are missing every point of the gender subversion oozing out of his sexy (and masculine) pores so fucking hard