#but this is. its at the core of him now. and he can’t control it and he can’t undo it and it’s just there. it’s there.

[quietwingsinthesky]

it’s like. for a guy who is such an active, gleeful participant in fucking shit up. like, the number one thing he wants to do is be at the forefront of when things get messy. he wants his face plastered on it, he wants to be the one who gets to hurt everyone, he wants to make sure everyone, and especially the doctor, sees him doing it. to then have the drums also there, always there, so loud that they’re all he can think about when he’s dying, that he doesn’t know what he is without them. there’s a powerlessness at the core of it. this thing that was done to him as a child, in secret, that no one ever believed him about, that he doubted being real despite it constantly ringing in his ears. it just won’t go away. it can’t go away. he can conquer earth and the doctor and he can’t make it go away. there is no longer a version of him that doesn’t have this violation woven through every part of his life.

it really is just horrifying.

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[thef1diary]

Dreamy Desire | C. Leclerc

Kinktober 1/11 ~ Somnophilia

Summary: Even though you were in deep sleep, Charles found you irresistible.

warnings: 18+ smut, somnophilia obvs, fingering, oral, unprotected sex

wc: 1.6k

kinktober masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The steady rhythm of your breathing fills the room, a gentle sound that lulls Charles into a state of restless anticipation. Moonlight spills through the window, casting a silver glow across the bed where you lie, the comforter having slipped down to reveal more of your body. Your legs are slightly spread as you shifted around in your slumber, the hem of your night slip dress riding up, exposing the delicate fabric of your panties. 

He sits beside you, eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face, your slightly parted lips, down to your spread thighs. 

He knows he shouldn’t, knows that waiting for you to wake up is the right thing to do. But tonight, something inside him stirs more intensely than ever before. The way you lie there, so peaceful and unaware, ignites a desire in him that’s impossible to ignore. You’ve discussed this before, shared your desires and given your consent, but Charles hadn’t been tempted until now. It’s a trust he’s grateful for, an offer he’s careful to respect even as his pulse quickens with anticipation. 

Charles reaches out, fingertips brushing lightly against your cheek. Your skin is warm, soft, and he lets his hand linger, savouring the undisturbed contact. His breath catches as you shift slightly, your body responding to his touch even in deep sleep. It takes all of his self-control to keep his touch light, refraining from letting the bulge in his boxers make all the decisions. 

In the quiet of the room, his mind races with thoughts of you, of how much he loves you, desires you. A smirk plays on his lips as he realizes how utterly vulnerable you are, allowing him to ruin you in any way he chooses. 

His hand moves down, tracing the curve of your shoulder, then the length of your arm. He leans in, his breath warm against your neck, inhaling your subtle distinct scent. It’s intoxicating, this quiet intimacy. He presses a soft kiss just below your ear, barely more than a whisper against your skin. 

Your body reacts, a shiver running through you, and Charles freezes, heart pounding. But you don’t wake. Instead, you shift again, turning slightly towards him, lips parting in a sigh. The sound is like music to his ears, and he can’t help but smile. 

His hand continues its journey, removing the comforter completely before sliding his palm underneath your slip dress, lifting it higher. The warmth of your body against his palm sends a thrill through him. 

Unable to resist any longer, Charles leans in, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. After peppering a few kisses, he moves higher, his kisses growing bolder as he reaches the edge of your panties. He can feel the warmth of you, the heat radiating from your core as he spots the wet patch on the flimsy fabric. 

His hands slide under the hem of your dress, fingertips grazing the fabric of your panties before gently pulling them aside. The sight of you, so exposed and vulnerable, ignites a fire in him. He lowers his mouth to you, his breath warm against your skin, and begins to kiss and lick with a reverence that borders on worship.

You moan softly in your sleep, a sound that spurs him on. His tongue teases your sensitive folds, tasting you, savouring every moment. He knows your body, knows what you like, and he takes his time, enjoying the way you respond even in your unconscious state. 

Your hips start to move, a natural response to his ministrations, and he can’t help but smile against you. He slips two fingers inside your cunt, the slickness and heat pulling him in. He begins to move them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit.

The soft sounds you make, the wet sound of your slick, the way your body reacts, it’s almost too much for him. He wants to wake you, to see your eyes filled with desire and love, but he can’t help but feel a tad bit selfish too, wanting to keep this moment for himself. 

Charles continues, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure. You shift around, eyes still closed, and he feels you clenching around his fingers. He knows you’re close, so he stops. 

Removing his fingers and detaching his mouth from your clit, he pulls back, watching a string of spit connect to your pussy from his lips. He raises his fingers to his lips, lapping up your taste with his tongue. 

He watches as your chest rises and falls, knowing you’ve fallen into the depths of sleep again. He wanted you to wake up clenching around his cock, whining and begging as soon as you woke up, which was all you were good for anyways. Always begging for him, to stuff you up with his cock. Nothing else ran through your mind, and this time he was going to prove it by waking you in that manner. 

Spreading your thighs further, he shuffled up after discarding his boxers. He paused for a moment, wrapping his hand covered in your slick around his cock, moving it up and down as he admired your compliant state. 

Your hardened nipples were visible through the dress hiked up to your waist, your spread thighs and wet pussy was a sight for him, and him only. 

Charles takes his time, savouring the anticipation as he strokes himself, eyes locked on you. Your peaceful form is almost too much for him to bear. He loves you deeply, but in moments like these, the raw, primal desire takes over, and he can’t help but revel in it. 

He leans forward, positioning himself between your legs. He teases you, running his head up and down your slit, coating himself further in your slick. You twitch, hips moving on their own accord as he pushes inside with deliberate slowness. The tightness, the warmth, it’s all so perfect, and he has to bite back a groan. Your body welcomes him, even in sleep, and he watches as your face contorts slightly with pleasure. 

The feeling of you wrapped around him is intoxicating, and he takes a moment to control himself, not wanting to rush this. He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust measured and deliberate. He can feel the tension building, knows you’re on the edge even in your sleep. 

Your eyes flutter open, a soft moan escaping your lips as the sensation pulls you from your slumber. You shift slightly, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, then into his hair, pulling him closer. The look in your eyes, that hazy mix of sleep and desire, is everything he hoped for. 

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice a breathy moan. “Please…”

“Shh, go back to sleep, chérie,” he mumbles, his lazy thrusts hoping to lull you back to sleep. 

You try to hold onto the pleasure, but the slow, deep rhythm of his movements is soothing, making it difficult to stay awake. Your hands move through his hair, a soft, instinctual gesture that makes him shiver. Charles’s eyes remain locked on yours, filled with an intensity that speaks volumes of his desire for you.

The feeling of him inside you, the warmth and fullness, is comforting and intoxicating. Your body reacts to him, hips moving in time with his gentle thrusts, but your eyelids grow heavy, the call of sleep too strong to resist.

Charles watches as you struggle to stay awake, a small smile playing on his lips. He knows how much you crave him, how much you need this, and it only fuels his desire to give you everything you want.

“That’s it, just relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”

Your grip in his hair loosens, your body melting into the mattress as you begin to drift off again. The sensation of him moving inside you, combined with the warmth of his body pressed against yours, lulls you further into the depths of sleep. 

He feels you clenching around him, a sign that your body is still very much aware of his presence even as your mind slips away. Charles’ movements remain steady, the slow and deep thrusts designed to keep you on the edge of consciousness. He watches you, captivated by the way you surrender to him, trusting him completely. 

As he feels your body beginning to build again towards release, he knows he’s close too. The slow, steady rhythm becomes a little more insistent, his own need becoming harder to control. He wants to feel you cum around him, to know that you’re as lost in this as he is. 

His hand moves between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it gently, knowing exactly how to push you over the edge. Your body tenses, your breathing hitches, and he can feel you getting closer and closer. 

He leans closer, whispering in your ear, “cum for me, mon amour.” 

The command, mixed with the pleasure he’s giving you, is enough to send you spiraling into bliss. Your body clenches around him, and a soft cry escapes your lips as you cum. 

The sensation of you tightening around him is too much for Charles. He thrusts deep one last time, his own release hitting him hard. He groans your name, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he spills inside you. 

As you both come down from the high, Charles kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours. You nuzzle closer to him once he pulls back, wrapping your arms around him to keep him close. “You need to do that more often,” you say, your voice still laced with sleep. 

Charles chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you, chérie.”

With a final sigh of contentment, you drift back into a deep, peaceful sleep. Your dreams and reality blur together, the only tangible evidence of your dreamy desires becoming reality are the mingled traces of your arousal and his cum slowly leaking from your cunt onto the sheets. 

taglist: @cheer-bear-go-vroom @ggaslyp1 @nominsgirl @moll1701 @mrs-saturday @teamnovalak @sassy-chan @ruti26-11 @kennysimp101 @falling-feels-like-flying @laeblue @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bountychanti @savewaterdrinkvodka @cloud-55 @aarchiives @holylovercopsludge @black-fireproofs @lazydragonpeach @biancathecool @myownwritings @rebelatbay @ethereal0810 @leclercsluvs @01rrdbull @fallingforfalll2 @lilorose25

[nottsangel]

Now hear me out, Stalker!Theo seeing y/n touch yourself in her dorm room for the first time?

it is so, so risky. one sound and he’s fucked. but he’s too entranced to even care as he stares at you with your delicate hand between your pretty legs, rubbing your aching clit at a slow pace, your head thrown back in pure ecstasy. he almost can’t believe it— you look so heavenly, and your moans sound like those of a sweet angel. he caught fleeting glimpses of your stunning body before, but this? you, blissfully unaware, fully naked on your soft bed, masturbating merely inches away from theo? this is more than he could ever wish for. how did he get so lucky to have ‘found’ an invisibility cloak? he will return it to its rightful owner, eventually. but right now, he has far more important things occupying his mind.

he can feel his entire body react instantly to the breathtaking scene unfolding before him— his breathing becomes rapid and shallow, his heart rate increases and the blood in his veins surges towards his cock, which grows fully erect in merely a matter of seconds. so fuckin’ beautiful. one day, you’ll be all mine. theo thinks to himself, his hand slowly wandering towards his hard, throbbing cock, begging to be touched as he palms himself over his tight pants. he attempts to mirror your rhythm, his hand moving in synchronisation with yours as if an invisible, irresistible connection binds you both.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, feels— feels so good.” you moan softly with your mouth agape as your fingers speed up, legs instinctively spreading even wider, giving theo an even better view of your glistening, dripping cunt. and that’s when he completely loses control— shattered, ragged breaths uncontrollably escape from his lips as a warm, wet patch starts forming on his pants.

“oh, fuck.” he mutters softly under his breath, for two reasons— first, he has just come in his fucking pants. but second, and far more alarming, your eyes snap wide open and lock in fear on the exact spot where theo’s standing. he anxiously holds his breath, but luckily for him, you quickly brush it off, thinking it must’ve been your mind playing tricks on you while you were too focused on nearing your release, so you move your hand back to your aching core, and continue where you left off. that’s my girl.

ੈ♡˳

[reidsdimples]

Like Puzzle Pieces

18+ ❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

Spencer Reid x Reader

no plot, just spice (who’s surprised) 🤣

“You can do it baby,” Spencer exhales.

He grips your hips as you hover over him, trying desperately to sink down on his cock despite the aching stretch you felt. Your legs shake and the delicious sensation of being too full, too stretched out mixed with a dull ache.

You whimper and jerk upward with your fingers curled in his hair as the pain intensifies.

Spencer had warned you of this. His… girth mixed with his impressive length was challenging for most of his partners to take. You were determined, however, despite his protests that you didn’t have to.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks gently as he cradles your cheek in his large hand. You pout your bottom lip out.

“No, I want it. I want you,” you frown.

“I know,” he pauses for a moment. “Lay on your back, we’ll try missionary.”

“We probably should have tried that first,” you admit. It was you who insisted gravity would help and you just HAD to ride him. He argued that missionary allowed you to relax more. Hopefully he was right.

He moves on top of you and nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling slowly and planting kisses there. You run your hands up the planes of his body and moan against the sensation of his cock rubbing upward between your folds.

He bares his narrow hips downward, inching into you with cruel slowness. Still you gasp, your walls stretching as they try to accommodate him. This time though it feels more delicious, more sinful, less painful to open up for him.

The gasp he lets out is like floating in space, breathy uncontrolled. It’s unreal, having him like this. Where at work he’s the picture of control, logic, wit. Here he’s a panting mess as you take that final inch of him. Your swear he’s in your stomach and you moan his name.

“So so good,” he shudders.

“You like that I can take all of your cock, Dr.Reid?” You purr and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your fingers twist into his hair as he works his way in and out of you again.

He mutters an incoherent answer and buries his face in your neck. Your pull you knees up higher, giving him an angel to get deeper. You think time stops when he obliges and pushes himself down into your core. Fuck.

“Look,” he grips your jaw and turns your head so you can the reflection in the mirror.

The way his muscles flex as he thrusts into you? Your legs dutifully moving to wrap around his waist, his hair falling around you. You want to paint the image into a masterpiece, one to rival the greats. The beauty of him inside of you is unreal, its art. Fantasizing about it didn’t do it justice.

The sight has your heart racing, your pulse chasing your orgasm to the edges of eternity while he makes certain to hit that spot inside of you.

And when he moans your name?

You’re done.

Cosmos explode in your vision your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around him, trying to keep his hard cock inside as you pulse and come apart. He shudders at the sensation, exhaling open mouthedly as you capture him and force him to still inside of you as your finish rupturing.

Chills shoot over your skin, goosebumps left in the wake of your orgasm and you can’t even see straight. A simple Spencer shaped blur above you. But he starts moving again, pulling something like a pleasure laced cry from your chest.

“You fit me so well,” he huffs. He’s right, you were scared at first but now it’s like the two of you are puzzle pieces, destined to connect.

He feels amazing, you can’t escape the feel of him as if he’s touching every part of your insides. It’s delicious, it’s torturous, it’s perfect. But you can’t imagine ever not feeling this full, how could you adjust again to not having him within you?

Your nails claw down his back, causing him to suck air through his teeth as he murmurs a string of praises and you’re climbing again. Climbing toward that peak, towards him.

His hands grip your heart, wrenching your head back slightly. Those damned hands…

You lose sight of reality as your second orgasm threatens to take you and he’s close to it wouldn’t it be perfect if…

“Spencer!” It takes you by surprise.

Your orgasm rolls violently through you, a malevolent being conquering your existence. Then you feel him tense, hear that moan, that string of whimpers, then he’s pumping into you. You feel his warm cum filling you and it’s so delicious mixed with the way you’re soaking him. His groin, his stomach, his hips, his bed, all coated in you.

He looks down at the mess and exhales a small laugh in awe. You try to catch your breath and cover your face in embarrassment, your cheeks burning.

“Hey,” he implores in a gentle voice as he moves your hands.

“Don’t hide from me. I want everything you have to offer,” a devilish grin plays on his lips and he leans down to kiss you.

[draconic-desire]

Ad Experimentum

Yandere Dr. Ratio x Reader

Veritas catches you reading one of your dirty books.

Warnings: Implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, NSFW scenes being read aloud, Dr. Ratio being a dick as always

Within the confines of Veritas’s home, you feel like a mouse in a maze, reduced to a caged animal, always under scrutiny and experimentation.

Escape is impossible. Dr. Ratio has ensured that you’re never out of his reach, even though he acts as if you are the burden and he didn’t kidnap you and imprison you in his home. Sometimes you wonder why he even keeps you; surely he has better things to do than to quip at your inadequacy or lack of genius. But alas, the pretentious prick seems keen on pushing every one of your buttons to see how you tick. You might even call it intimacy if he wasn’t so clinical and judgmental about it all.

Because physical escape is impossible, you’ve turned to escaping within the confines of your own mind.

Books provided the perfect retreat. You’ve since abandoned any non-fiction to focus on fantasy, to worlds that effortlessly whisk you away. Novels that depict true, romantic love, not the twisted ownership you’ve grown used to. Like you’re some pet to be controlled and prodded at, like Pavlov’s dog, waiting and drooling for its master’s hand at the ring of a bell.

So, in your hopes to feel something real, you’ve started to delve into stories that are a bit…spicier.

With the latest read in your hand, your eyes skim hungrily over the pages as the tension between the protagonists builds. The lovers begin to undress each other, the one spreading his partner’s pussy as she grinds into his hand—

Veritas effortlessly plucks the book from your hands, earning a cry of protest. You try to snatch it back, but, with the help of his towering height, he dangles it just out of reach. “What in the heavens is this?”

The way he holds the book between his thumb and pointer finger, as if merely touching it would taint his self-proclaimed perfect set of knowledge, was almost comedic. You would laugh if he wasn’t such a condescending asshole.

Instead, you scowl. “Give it back.”

He merely hums and turns the novel in his hands, inspecting the cover. Licking his thumb, he flips to your bookmarked page and begins reading aloud. “My hand caressed her core as I speared her with two, thick fingers. She moaned and arched into my palm in response, causing my cock to twitch in anticipation. God, I wanted to taste her arousal. Her pussy was perfect, so wet and tight and ready for me to claim, to fuck.”

Embarrassment rages across your cheeks like a burn. You fling yourself at him, pounding your fists against his chest when he lifts the book out of your reach easily. “Stop, just stop.”

Amused, Dr. Ratio continues to narrate the scene in painstaking detail. “I lowered my head, letting my tongue swirl around her clit and rendering her voice to nothing but pitiful mewls. She tasted like heaven, like my own personal feast. I buried my tongue in her, then, and held her hips as she bucked into my mouth, begging for release—”

“I will do anything,” you beg, face in your palms, “just please stop.”

Finally, mercifully, Veritas closes the book and lowers it down enough for you to snatch it back. You cradle it against your chest, heart pounding and palms sweaty with a chaotic blend of shame, anger, and relief that it was over.

“This is what you indulge in while I’m working? Though you are hardly an intellectual exception, I believed you to be above this brain-rotting nonsense, (Y/n).”

In spite of your embarrassment, you boldly meet his golden eyes. “And what do you care? I enjoy it, and it’s not meant for you. Go stick your nose in a dictionary for all I care.”

“At least I’d be learning something,” he sneers in return, looking down his nose at you. He sniffs, tilting his chin up. “What do those books have that I can’t offer you?”

You still, observing his features. Now that the fun of teasing you has worn off, his eyes flare with loathing. With a jolt, you realize it is not aimed at you but at…the book?

Wordlessly, you glance between Dr. Ratio and your novel. Then, a stilted laugh escapes your lips. “Wait.. Are you seriously jealous of a book?”

“Don’t be preposterous,” he scoffs, though you notice his white-knuckled grip against the back of the armchair you were previously lounging in. “I would never stoop so low as to associate myself with that plebeian filth. I simply wanted to ascertain your reaction to it being read aloud.”

You resist the desperate urge to roll your eyes. “Fine, then. Please leave me to my uneducated filth.” You spin around, intent on finding a new place to finish your reading.

“Not so fast.” Veritas is on you quicker than a cobra, large hands gripping both your shoulders. “Perhaps all is not lost. We may yet transform this circumstance into an educational opportunity for you.”

A chill runs down your spine at the heavy touch, and a sudden sense of foreboding warns you to run. You’re all too aware you’re the mouse being fed to the snake in this moment.

Veritas spins you to face him, eyes slowly trailing down your form, as if taking you in with a new perspective. “I believe an experiment is due.”

You go rigid. “I’m sorry?”

“If you’re so intent on reading about all those fantasies in your books, let’s go ahead and put them to the test, shall we?”

At his clear implication, you yelp and make a run for it. In that moment Veritas strikes, fisting your hair with one hand and cupping your chin with the other as he presses your body flush against his own. You can already feel his hard desire digging into your back.

“Here’s my hypothesis,” he purrs in your ear. “I predict that by the end of tonight, you too will be begging for my cum, whether you want to or not.”

His theory, as always, was proven to be correct.

[angelribbon]

CNC LUKE WHERE HE JUST FUCKS YOU WHIKE YOU SLEEP

tw: somnophilia, pre-established relationship, smut, dark!luke

a/n: Luke and his somno kink 😵‍💫💨😵‍💫💨

it’s 11pm when he wakes up, already feeling the strain of his cock against his boxers. he’s felt it before-vivid nightmares equal even more evocative wet dreams. Eyebrows furrowing as he gets up, every step worsening the throb in his stomach. Curfew being 3 hours ago-you’re asleep, more than likely and he sees this, knowing that he should turn right back around to his cabin but can you blame him?

you’re right there, so pretty and soft, letting out quiet, contented hums as he watches you through the window. the sight of your plush lips against the silk pillows worsening his need for them around his cock. so he does it, hoisting himself through the window beside your bed as your face contorts into something confused.

He goes still.

When you’re face relaxes, he’s right back on you, knees creating creases in your sheets as he positions himself behind you. he can’t take it anymore,never being one to resist temptation.

And he’d never have the strength to refuse the invitation that you pose.

He hikes up your dress, revealing your bare ass as he lets out a hiss.

No panties.

You have to be trying to kill him. He lets out his cock, the brush of the cool air making it twitch as he begins to rut against you. It starts out slow and controlled.

He’s trying to not to wake you, at least be considerate.

“L-luke?”

The second he hears your hazy,voice-all inhibitions are thrown out of his head as he picks up his pace, pre cum trickling down onto your thighs.

“makin’ me a fuckin” mess, baby” he mumbles, eyes turning dark as he taps his dick against your glistening pussy. “couldn’t even sleep, was dreaming of your pretty, little cunt”

He gives your clit a light pinch as you let out a whine. “‘S just me yeah? gonna let me use that pretty hole of yours, angel ?”

You let out a muffled whimper when he pushes all the way in-and he takes it as confirmation .

“‘like you’re made for me-christ ”

His hand moves to your mouth, fingers prodding your lips as he resists the urge to gag you with them instead choosing to use his hand to stifle your moans-your eyes flicker at the movement and you subconsciously tense around him.

“Never knew my girl was such-such a slut”

His expression grows almost enamored at how your squeezing him-tense, as he thrusts into you, balls slapping against your ass at his relentless pace. Hot, searing pleasure makes its way up your spine-emitting a low, almost inaudible,squeal from you as he pinches your clit. Your constantly on the edge, slipping in and out of consciousness from his assault on your cervix, harsh-angry thrusts punctuating his words.

“quiet, can’t wake up your friends now?”

Hes so mean for it, knowing its almost impossible to keep silent with his pace.

Stars dance across your tunneled vision, white blurring into a little galaxy in your head as you feel the tensing of your core, as you tiptoe the line, knowing how close you are to slipping into that pure, visceral release. Another slap is all it takes.

“m-maybe you want them to see you like this, being used like my good fuckin’ you”

Your eyes roll back, and he fucks your hips right back on him with his tight grip on them. Even when the rope breaks, and you’re pushed under-thighs shaking in illicit euphoria as you leak around him, he doesn’t stop. Like some rabid animal, he takes you back in-then out again with his movements-his thoughts becoming scrambled, accentuated with primal, violent pushes and pulls before he’s slamming back in you again as tears gather in your eyes.

“shit, just me yeah? got you, sweet girl” he mutters, but it’s like he’s saying it to himself as all you hear is ringing as he slam’s into you once again.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck-“

He’s close, sloppy movements giving you a perfect indication, as he bites his lip to stop a moan from coming out as he cums, spilling his seed into you as he stops, making sure you’re all stuffed with his seed. he pulls out of you lazily, unbeknownst to your unconscious body as you fall right back into dreamscape. Pulling back down your dress, he gives you a soft kiss before disappearing just as he came, your bunk mates none the wiser.

[barnacles34]

Diamond Ring (Karina x male reader)

tags: 2.4k, historical smut (French Empire), subby sub karina, marriage, and sex.

Wealthiest of them all, you are the Medici of North Europe. Your vast estates span back to the plantagenets - an everlasting relationship established between the English and French - Duke of Touraine, wealthiest of them all. 

It would be an understatement to state that you have seen greed - you are the epitome of greed, and even you would be appalled by the display of greed and such bad humors. And there’s no such thing as the French without bureaucracy: a long, lengthy, powerful bureaucracy.

And, you, Duke of Touraine, are the master of the bureaucracy. This wasn’t some practiced effort or a hereditary nepotist agenda. You were akin to Ivan the Terrible: all hereditary claims stripped, your entire family stripped of its glory and massacred in cold blood, but you weren’t killed - that was Frankia’s fatal mistake.

Coal turned diamond, endless pressure as if you were held under the deepest part of the Earth, and forced to endure its endless torture for years gone will drive anyone to adapt - it just happens to be you.

This backstory, alongside the natural cunning of the plantagenet dukes before you, led you to gain some significant, absolute, palpable advantage over all else. Stories of you utilizing those very debased by this society: cunning troubadours, your faithful concubines (most of which you never engaged with in lustful relief), and all else ignored with a distaste. Somehow, someway, this became the lever with which the entirety of medieval Europe moved, and you jammed it, over and over, until you became Master of Europe.

And, this lever, also became the bane that you resent - the lever that led you to fall in love with the serene, beautiful Karina. 

“Emperor Napoleon? He’s decided to invade Prussia?” You ask, with a pen in hand, mostly focused on the writing rather than the person begging to talk to you.

But when you hear that first word, laced with everything that you desire, deeply pavlovian, your eyes stick on Karina.

“Yes, Master, he’s set his sights on Prussia and likely Russia if he crushes the coalition.”

“He’ll crush the coalition.”

“What?” A surprised remark from Karina, she’s never so informal, dear bird.

“He has an army that has stuck with him since the time he first commanded control, dear. Experience in this dastardly elitist century beats all else. The only thing that could possibly kill his momentum is if his army is slowly dwindling, and that’s something that he hates to the very core, paradoxically, those who die first are one of the most faithful to him. He’d rather use them for menial and laboriously easy wins.”

“Excuse me, amor, but how would he go about this operation? Winter is rapidly approaching and the coalition is only of the most efficient winter warriors.”

“Confidence is a trap that is waiting to be set up. Expect some sort of feigned retreat, then absolute destruction.”

All of this conversation, natural to the core, all happened during the duration while Karina - now, your only concubine, and by proxy: lover - placed your favorite tea and a cup of the sweetest Swedish mead atop your table, that was brought across the Ottoman Bosphorus.

And during this moment, slight and short kisses were exchanged. First, she’d plant a peck on your cheekbone; then, she’ll decide that it wasn’t enough, then plant a peck on your lips; then, she’ll indulge her own desires, into a kiss that was more involved, of tongues and spittle.

It was clockwork, and she didn’t for a second notice this routine that she so adorably set for herself. And, how could you resist her? This matchwork routine never bored you, in fact, excited you to the very core.

And so, it’s very distressing when you can’t destroy her over the table, let her back bend in angles only ventriloquists even dare to attempt, let her throat return to its usual color after a daring handprint - white where you gripped - makes her squirt all over your expensive table.

But she leaves regardless, that’s her duty, because you’re so buried in work these past months, of course, being master of Europe is a job that’ll always be difficult. But, you don’t let her leave without a few words of encouragement. You grip her thin, soft wrist, leading her on so that her ears are closer to your mouth.

“I’ll fucking destroy you today.” The words had the intended effect, you felt the tremor in her body, that’s how you deconstruct Karina. If she’ll train you pavlov-style, you’ll fight back, fire with fire, and you’ll fucking win.

You let your hand go below her dress, and grab, hard, on the soft ass-cheek that so cheekily points towards you. God. You’re already salivating thinking of all the ways you can get Karina to wet your entire master bedroom.

It’s a shame she’s so brilliant at desktop research: you would’ve had her, under your desk, suckling on your nuts and your length till hell freezes over.

Royalty from the eastern world, Karina was suddenly here, in Paris. She cites her reasons to be fairly absurd, she was just forgotten: she wasn’t royalty to the extent of high status, rather a scholarly sort of lineage that lost any sort of favor with the Chinese Emperor, and to your understanding, was a sort of exile. You just hope, somewhat, that you provide her the homeliness that she deserves and desires.

Oh, and, yeah, it’s a fucking surprise that Karina loves to be submitted so fully.

—

The steam of the bath rose in the heavily humid room, dew drops form on your face - the day’s hardships melted off your face, physically and mentally. Especially because Karina was next to you, with a scrub that’s often too harsh for princely skin rubbed considerately all over your body.

“Eyes up here, amor.” While she scrubbed the remaining area of your chest.

“No.” As is, cause, how can anyone keep their eyes off.. that?

“Heyy!” She splashes some water toward you, some sort of cover to hide her beautiful breasts.

Oh, now her arms are covering it, such a shame.

“Karina, let me.” Pointing towards the scrub, and of course, Karina suspects some ulterior motive; and, it’s justified, you’ve failed 100% of the time to avoid her breasts.

You place your hand on her shoulder, let handfuls of water flow off the perfect curve of her back - you could do it for hours. Then lightly press on her skin with the palm of your hand; then, softly moving your palms around the entirety of her body while you are behind her.  She’d already washed, and your request to wash her body was a pathetic excuse to touch her body - but, she never seems to mind it, her face knits in a fake frustration, then when she’s turned around, she slowly vibrates against your firm touch.

Sometimes, this turns into a wet fuck session around the large bathroom, and today, might just be one of those days. Because, the hand that trailed her shoulders, then her collarbone couldn’t stop its firm grasp on her throat. 

She lets out the faintest gasp, she wants it, she so badly wants to be ravaged against these tiles of various blue hues. Her head retreats back, letting it slot right in the dip of your clavicle as you begin pinching her pink nipples - erect in a place as humid and hot as this place can only mean one thing only: an utter rutting desire to be fucked into oblivion.

She’s just begging for it, her resting head on your clavicle turns to the side, trying her best to goad you in some way - and, you’d wish she’d stop, otherwise both of you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Yet, still, she nibbles on your earlobe, trailing kisses on the side of your princely face. If you asked her what reward she desires, and as a joke, she’ll say your dick, your hands, your lips, but sometimes you suspect whether or not that was some Freudian slip showing her true intentions.

That hand that endlessly teased her breast trailed down her body, letting you feel the curvature from the tip of nipple to her underboob, then the slight curvatures of her abdomen, sleekly muscular yet feminine. Then the purely smooth lower pelvis, and finally, her flower - a word that she begged for her pussy to be called, rather than it being used for its intended purpose, it quickly turned to a joke.

And… this is where she seriously breathes in, preparing for the soft onslaught she has to face with the pads of your fingers trailing over her sopping wet cunt. Circles around her hooded clit, wet to the touch, slick, and you’re just dying to have a look. And she’s just dying with the arousal, not even penetrative, and she’s already creaming on your fingers.

“You’re a fucking slut.” You nearly growl into Karina’s ears. 

And her eyes are closed, fighting back against the onslaught of pleasure, yet still, she has something witty to say, “I - I’ll seri- seriously just leave.”

“I doubt that, you good-for-nothing slut,” you tighten the grip on her throat, and she just begins gyrating her hips over your fingers, speeding up every so often until she’s just about to climax.

And then she’s just rutting her hips, against nothing, and every so often her pussy looks for the phantom feeling that your fingers left just at the cusp of her orgasm, leading to an unsatisfactory orgasm. Now, that’s fucking irritating, and she’ll press you until the end of time for that, and you’ll fucking love it.

The finger that dwelled on her wet cunt, that also left prematurely, swiftly went to her face, first, a soft slap on her cheek, then a shove into her mouth - there, she’ll taste the essence of herself. 

Oh, and she’s just loving it, you don’t even have to look at her to see in your peripheral that her mouth is just perpetually letting out these uneven moans - moans indicative of the highest pleasure - and her dilated pupils just rolling everywhere.

“How do you feel that you get an intense orgasm from just the cyclical motion of one or two fingers, huh?”

You pull her neck in, and she’s just blasted out of her mind - all sorts of pleasured, and she hasn’t even sampled the main course yet.

“I lo…ve it… so much,” you swore you could see heart pupils for a moment when Karina was staring at you: she wants your dick to punch against her cervix.

“That’s right. Who’s the master? Who owns you entirely?” 

“You! Amor, you are my master.” She’s back to reality, but she’s even more insatiable, the way her eyes dart every second down to your erect length.

Well, you’ll just have to give it to her.

This time, you both enter back into the knee-deep part of the bath, and as standard protocol would have it, she’s bent over, perniciously waiting and rutting.

And then you realize something, that she doesn’t have the largest bedazzled diamond ring on her ring finger. The smack was loud enough that Karina immediately, abandoning all pretenses of a submissive session, came over to attend to you. 

“I’m sorry Karina.”

And, she seemed to know exactly what you were thinking about, the facepalm, the tone.

And she hugged you, “That’s okay, amor, I would’ve waited until the end of time.”

A contradiction that shows how badly she wanted to be called your wife.

It’s rather ridiculous, this situation, this relationship, all of it, but you couldn’t be happier.

You’d propose, and she’d say yes, then you would resume destroying her soft and supple pussy, then cream it with your baby batter.

“I’ll get the biggest diamond ring.”

“Hmph. You better.” Pretty angel.

“That’s a yes?” You ask, just to be sure.

“Dummy.” Karina kisses you deep, stroking your cock while she’s at it. 

And she knows that you’re gonna say something stupid like, “cockdrunk slut, you want it so bad?” so she’d rather just seal your mouth with a kiss, either way, you’re happy to oblige.

Then, the fateful penetration, the way Karina still stares at you - the same as the day you deflowered her - is always the extra hardness that drives Karina crazy.

Face-to-face, your dick prods at her squishy entrance; then, you enter, the velvety folds full of the arousal that Karina accumulated, likely, from the assgrab at the office, so almost the entire day. That’s why it’s so soft, yet so succulent. Everytime you exit, her pussy drags along, smearing a trail of her delicate arousal, flowery, from her flower.

And, she’s just fucking losing it.

“I love it! Amor! I love it so fu- fucking much!” Her voice gets all manners of shaky, and misconstrued, yet she’ll still profess her love for you.

And, you just know exactly what’ll drive her over the edge. A grasp on her throat, and a steady stream of hard slaps against her ass, or the side of her thighs - any place’ll do, in fact.

Up and down, up and down, her breasts - perfectly aligned with the law of inertia, has a delayed bounce that just interests you to no end, and Karina will stare at you, confused at how a person could love someone’s breasts so much. You probably couldn’t name a single thing that you disliked about her body, or her personality or anything for that matter.

And that’s the progressive upscale, the deadly slope that you climb, your thoughts get more opulent and luxurious as you approach climax. Everything becomes one-sided truths, that’s when you know you’re about to cum.

“Karina, where do you want it?”

“I want it everywhere, especially inside me.” 

“As you wish, dear.” One thrust, then two, then three.

You grab hold of her asscheeks, one completely red and the other normal, both’ll get the treatment that you administer. Then you enter to the deepest part possible, and you’re just completely painting her insides, your throbbing length pulsating till the very last second.

“Argh!” You growl against her.

And she moans, squeals, an unintelligible amount of squirt trails down her legs while you’re still face-to-face. 

She’s on her 5th orgasm, she must’ve really like the assurance for the ring.

As you pull the plug, a stream of semen just trails out of her, passing her folds, then trailing against her left thigh - what a fucking sight.

And, with an intense propensity, you pull Karina down, holding all her hair as she cleans your cock.

When she finishes, remnants of semen still on her chin, looking up, she says, “Amor.”

And you reply, “Dear.” Rubbing her soft, pliant face.

[schoenpepper]

Despite Everything (It's Still You)

Intro: When he looks at you, he sees everything he could have been.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, kinda angsty, more platonic im pretty sure cus its not specified if ur lovers, might be ooc idk and idc, everytime i write idia i feel 10 years older because i cringe at my own internet slang

A/N: Done! Last request is finished, hope you like it worm anon. On my end, this is super rushed and it's not like, my fave ever so ehhhh.

Masterlist

Riddle thought he’d found a comrade in you. Out of everyone in Twisted Wonderland, he’d thought you would be the one to understand him.

He sees it in your posture, always straight and never slouching. You’re good with academics, a diligent student. Like Riddle, you’d gone through life with the iron fist of a well-meaning parent, so surely, you understand him, right? You agree with him. You believe that rules are important to be upheld lest society fall into chaos. It’s such a refreshing feeling to find a person who, like him, thinks that structure and stability are core values of a proper community.

But you don’t. You don’t understand. No one does. His consciousness is flickering between ink and reality. He’s slipping into the grasp of the phantom and he feels himself slowly being consumed. He’s being devoured. Right before the overblot, even you had stood against him. Why? Riddle wasn’t wrong, he was never wrong—the rules aren’t wrong. Because if they are, then what did he lose his entire childhood for? So you must be the one at fault. This is your mistake. You just don’t understand. You tell him that the rules and the competence and the structure matter less than people. You try to convince him that there’s a better way of living. Is there?

Riddle doesn’t know why. He’d thought you were a comrade because he saw his own experiences in yours, but he’d never been so wrong. While he was still caught up in the chains of his mother’s words, you’d already broken free from the cage. You help him to reclaim the shards of childish wonder he’d never been allowed to have. You help him learn how to breathe, how to relax. Little by little, you bring him onto your path.

He doesn’t understand you anymore.

Leona doesn’t have any opinions about you. You never really talked to him at first, and he can respect that; you don’t go out of your way for bothersome, meaningless things.

Every time he sees you, you’re sleeping or slacking off. Whatever, it’s not like he can judge you for it. You also have a real competitive streak for spelldrive, and your wit’s not half bad, especially when compared to the muscle heads in his dorm. Clever and snarky, talented and strong. He can respect you. Maybe just barely, and he’ll never admit it, but he sees a part of himself in you. So, a sort-of equal. He’s still better than you though.

The taste of sand lingers on his tongue as it swirls in the air through the storm. There’s a part of himself he can no longer control. It makes him wrap his fingers around Ruggie’s throat and Leona… He doesn’t want this. But he can’t stop. He can still recognize you on the edge of his vision. Weren’t you just like him? At birth, everything good was handed right over to your older sibling, leaving nothing but scraps for you. You found it unfair too, didn’t you? So why are you standing against him? This is his chance to be someone worth more than his birthright. Why…are you not agreeing with him?

Leona tried to stay away from you. But call it his instinct or whatever; he can’t seem to avoid you at all. The second prince of Sunset Savanna is awestruck by your words. You tell him that birth doesn’t determine everything. You tell him that you’d learned from your own past. That you can still make something of yourself without that which was given. You sure are chatty now, but who is he to stop you?

You’re not his equal. You’d long since left him in the dust.

Azul sees you as an opportunity. He likes you, really, because you know how to do business and you find a way to compromise that doesn’t step on either person’s lines.

It’s not difficult for him to find out about your past, and to be honest, he’s greatly delighted to find out about all that you have in common. Did you feel the way he did when he was isolated and bullied? Did you feel his pain? You were an outcast too, weren’t you? But wow, look at you (and him) now! It’s rare he sees someone as diligent as himself, as cunning and as smart. Resourceful and oh so benevolent, you’d fit right into Octavinelle!

He’d steered himself long ago; he would never be weak again. He had long, long since forgotten humiliation and defeat. But he’s here again. This time, defeat was brought by your hands. Azul had thought you were allies. Business partners, at least. Why betray him like this? Don’t you get it? He’s powerful now! Why try to stop him? Why did you succeed? He’s left in the aftermath of heartache and debris. He doesn’t know why he did the things he did, but he’s sure that he was so close to being all-powerful. Perfect. A being so beautiful and flawless and strong… You took that chance away from him.

Azul wants you out of his life—your presence now is only a reminder of everything he could have been, and everything he failed to be. Unlike him, you’ve already moved on. You’ve learned to forgive your tormentors, and most importantly, you’ve learned to forgive yourself. You tell him that it was never his fault, but that revenge was never meant to be the answer.

He finds that he had nothing in common with you, after all.

Jamil is perceptive. Next to the one who’s attracting the attention of the whole room with a bright smile and sunny disposition, he finds a kindred spirit in you.

You seem responsible enough, and like a mirror, he sees you taking care of that person the way he does with Kalim. It’s easy to pierce through your act because he knows how to do it too. Seemingly not too smart, not too dumb, not too strong, not too weak. You’re good at pretending to be average. Like Jamil, you’ve lived a life of servitude. Are you tired of forced humility? Of feeling like your life isn’t worth anything when compared to the one you serve?

He’s tired too. He’s so, so tired. Why was freedom unreachable to Jamil right from the moment he was conceived? Was he unworthy of a life unbound by shackles? You’re looking at him like he’s a stranger. Jamil looks at you like you’re a mirror. A mirror that’s shattered, and damaged, and every piece is covered with ink and regret. You know what he’s been through, so why are you in his way? You should be an accomplice. Do you not yearn to be your own person? The phantom is whispering promises he knows it won’t keep. But nothing is more tempting than just…one day of happiness. Of his own happiness.

Jamil is inevitably drawn to you. You live so brightly; you see your master as a friend. You tell him he doesn’t need to do the same. That the only thing he needs to do is find a way that works for him. And you’re asking about things he hadn’t thought of before. An employment contract? The legal status of slavery in the Scalding Sands? Wait, you’re serving that person out of your own volition in exchange for salary and other related benefits?

In you, he sees a light at the end of the tunnel.

Vil approves of you. Like looking in a mirror almost, he sees beauty and a passionate drive to remain beautiful in every single way.

You’re a person with a consistent goal and a persistent drive to do better and be better; a hard worker with tenacity like that of the Queen herself. You are no potato. You are a diamond that has found a way to shine uniquely, and like him, you are already a master at your chosen profession. And yet, he sees the trophies and the medals are all silver and never gold. It is frustrating, but Vil knows that you as well know what it’s like to always be second best.

He’d worked so hard. He’d tried his very best. Professional music and choreography, styling and costumes. He’d set up a multi-week boot camp for his team members in order to whip them into shape. It’s all swept away by that person. Again. And again. And again and again and again and— No. No more. He will take matters into his own hands. But you stand in front of him with a familiar determination, only this time, you’re determined to stop him. Rook had betrayed him and now, you do too. Is he not worthy of a victory? Not even once? The blot is so, so ugly. But if it means he’ll get to wipe out everything that’s opposed to him, he’ll take that blot and use it to his own advantage. Like the queen who’d disguised herself as an ugly witch in order to take down the princess; everything can be sacrificed for the sake of ultimate beauty. If you’re not with him, you must be against him.

Vil apologizes sincerely for his faults. He knows he was wrong, even if it hurts his pride to admit it. But you accept him so easily, so readily, he can’t believe you’re acting like he’d never even hurt you. You forgive him. You help him accept his losses and continue to strive. Because you’d been in his position before, but you’d grown to be happy and appreciate the wins in life instead.

You are no mirror image of him. You are better.

Idia’s never been this happy before; through his screen is someone who just gets him. You’re good at games, and an introvert too? Score!

It’s not like, ever, that someone who vibes with his genius just comes strolling through his life, so Magicord bears witness to long, late night chats about anything and everything. You’ve got some real fucked up childhood trauma too, big mood tbh. It’s easy to spill his guts out over the internet, because even then, you still don’t really know him. You like the games and animes that he likes, and he’s so glad that for once, there’s a person out there who’s lived through the same villain-arc that he has.

He can’t rebuild the world if so many noobs are trying to stop him. Why? What’s so wrong with wishing for a world that can fit him and Ortho right in? Why is that too much for him to ask for? Why are you, the person he thought was his cool moots, acting up too? Don’t you like Ortho? Bro…no…you’re not actually doing a protagonist monologue rn, are you? Seriously? You think you can defeat him and his phantom through the power of friendship? Lolz, you’re so lame. If the world was a fairytale, he wouldn’t have been born with this dumb curse. If the world was a fairytale, he would never have been trapped in STYX with no way out. If the world was a fairytale, Ortho would still be alive. But it’s not. So he’ll remake it to be the story he’d always dreamt it to be.

Idia thinks you’re 110% cringe, like actually barf-inducing. But you did kinda save him or whatevs, so he can put up with you. Like, begrudgingly yk. You’re just such a weirdo. He really thought you were just like him, but no. You’ve had therapy. That’s like, actually wild. You try to counsel him too, talking about feelings and whatnot, and how to move past grief so that it no longer consumes you from the inside out.

So it turns out you didn’t have a villain arc like Idia did. You’re the main hero.

Malleus finds you absolutely delightful. To see another who can speak to him without fear or nervousness is a marvelous thing that he cherishes.

You are no fae or long-lived species, but he finds you fascinating. You are intelligent and wise beyond your years. You are powerful in your own right. You are familiar, in every sense of the word. Even your experiences seem to be shared. You’d been orphaned too, and experienced loss and grieved. You’d mourned for far too many loved ones who have left before you. Do you see the present as he does? Do you embrace the past as he does?

The world is a sad, sad place. He would like to change it. Into one with happy ever afters, into one where there is no hunger and no poverty. There will be no suffering. In his hands, he will mold the world into one that is kinder to its people. There will be no death and separation. He’s had far too many of those, enough to last his long lifetime. He’s not wrong. So why…why do you stand against him, weapon pointed towards him? The only thing he wishes for is permanence. Do you not see the vision? There is so much sadness in the world, why do you choose to wake from your beautiful slumber and face it head on? No matter. He will help you, even if you deny him.

Malleus is more than happy to take your hand when it is outstretched towards himself. You teach him so many things he hadn’t realized before, like how to cherish the present and treasure each memory more than attempting to find a solution to make them everlasting. He had believed wholly that he was right; that the answer to death was a long period of dreams in which everyone lives in a happy ending. He had believed you to be similar to himself—he is wrong about many, many things.

You’ve always looked to a brighter future than he could even imagine.

[togament]

i am RATTLING the bars of my enclosure thinking about togame im so insane about him its not even funny hebrgkdlcjfslfj

i love his nose shape bc its not one i see very often on characters but like i KNOW he puts it to good use while ur riding on his face I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES 😩😩🥵🥵🥵😩😩😩😩😩🥵

STAAAAWP. bc that’s the exact reason why i fell for him holy shit (and the exact same dirty thought SHDJNDDNDN) how are you literally meeee? i legit paused the episode he first showed up at and ran to his wiki. i have a thing for guys with pretty, beautiful, gorgeous noses ok (and the fact that i could kinda rub up against them when i—)

"when togame’s nose fucking distracts you (same) when you’re out in public. you’re needy and he’s more than willing to provide."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : TOGAME’S NOSE OH MY FUCKING GOOOOODDDDDuh, togame palming himself while he eats, swearing, fem!reader, squirting, SLURPING, togame’s a GIVER, oral (female receiving) ((good for you)), sliiiight breath control play if you hold a little magnifying glass to it, togame straight up jorking "it", and by "it", haha, well. lets just say his peanits, togame.

staring up at your boyfriend, you can’t help but admire his features. how soft his gaze always is, how he pouts slightly every time he’s deep in thought, how he hides his dimples when he laughs but they still show even at the slightest smile.

but what really gets you, what really grinds your gears, is his nose.

“let me sit on your face.”

“hm?”

“…Let. Me. sitonyourface.”

“eaaaasy, baby. what’s got you worked up all of a sudden?” he purrs.

———-

NSFW under the snippy snip. MDNI. nobody below 18 pls mua mua mua.

you’re hovering your sopping wet cunt over your lover’s face now, his hot breath kissing the insides of your thighs with both of his hands cupping your ass, giving them little squeezes to ease your descent. looking down at him, his lustful gaze never leaves your form. Watching you slowly lower yourself onto his face, he blows upwards and onto your glistening folds. you clench over nothing and he lets out a hum.

“lookin’ so pretty fer me, bunny,” he coos, not even trying to mask the absolute desperation in his voice. “all wet just from my voice alone. missed me that bad?” you nod, lowering further, further. his nose brushes against your clit and you gasp. he’s fully aware that you love his nose, how you focus on riding his face only to bump your clit onto it. gets you every single time.

the grip he has on your ass eases up as you fully seat yourself on his face, your cunt directly on his tongue. you let out a soft mewl as you feel his thumb raise the hood of your clit, exposing the more sensitive bud underneath. it’s absolutely engorged and fat now.

he’s torn between savoring the taste of you and just fucking you senselessly. he missed you as much as you missed him, after all.

that could wait, he realizes.

he’s enjoying the view above him.

his rough thumb flicks at your clit while you continue seesawing on his tongue, unbidden curses and moans escape your kiss reddened lips. you swear you could feel his tongue moving, tensing it and laying it flat for you to ride on. but then you move higher, higher.

rubbing your sensitive nub against his tall nose. his thumb holds the hood of your clit back as you help yourself to the pleasure, expertly riding his face like you often do when he gets you alone. if he could, he’d stay like this forever. eating you out, having you cum on his tongue over and over again.

you’re riding faster now, practically humping his face with your fingers tangled in his curly, jet black hair. god. he can’t take it.

he starts palming himself underneath you while you ride his face into oblivion, getting off on the fact you’re getting off on his face. plus the added restriction on his breathing is making him feel dizzy but in the best way possible.

moaning underneath you, it sends vibrations up your core. you let out a salacious moan and that further eggs him on. with one hand, he pulls his gray sweatpants down to finally pump at his cock, moaning louder into your cunt. god. this is the closest to heaven you'll ever be without dying.

your grip on his hair tightens before your breath hitches, growing more and more staggered with every moment that passes. you look down again and you meet his eyes. like he's silently telling you to cum. throwing your head back, you continue riding, and riding, and riding....

just cum.

and you do. fuck, you do. squirting down his lips, the liquid dribbles down his neck and into his hair. but god. he's holding onto your hip hard with one hand when he follows you, cumming just after you did, groaning into your pussy. you whimper, relaxing your muscles that have been taut the entire time you were chasing that high. meeting your boyfriend's eyes once more, he fucking winks at you before he maneuvers you, pinning you underneath him on the couch. he pulls you in for a much deserved cuddle, massaging your shoulders while he coos at you. "was it my nose again?" "...yes."

a/n: ehehehehe togame and his fucking nose, brother. i'm so so SO happy to know we got togame nose fuckers around too. i see you.

a/n 2: togame knows you’ve got a thing for his nose btw :)!!!!! he’s a sweet boyfriend BUT!!!!! he can be a little shit if he wants to be. uses that shit to his advantage.

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 8TH 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS ━━ yoichi isagi + overstimulation !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. yoichi isagi + overstimulation. if winning a street race means getting ravaged by your ex boyfriend over the hood of your car then… move bitch! get out the way! (5.6K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, street-racer!au, exes to lovers, toxic relationships, overstimulation, scratching, fingering, sweat kink, pain kink, food play (candy), dry humping, multiple/forced orgasms, oral sex (f!recieving), public sex, possesive sex, unprotected sex, street racer + fem!reader, ex boyfriend + street racer!yoichi isagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. slay! the third kinktober installment is here! i hope you guys like this one, isagi makes me so dizzy...i think he has the bes dirty talk!! enjoy mwah mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

there’s something about street racing that just…gets you off. 

you’ve always enjoyed its thrill, the way having control over the wheel makes you feel when you push yourself to top speeds. adrenaline becomes your new dopamine. like a drug injected straight into your veins — driving makes you feel high. more alive than anything.

the glamourous pink S2K that you drive is your lover, the unpredictable twists and turns of the race course — your best friend. you adore beating men at their own game and looking absolutely fucking stunning at the same time. though, what you love the most, is the thrill of chasing after yoichi isagi.

next to you — your on and off boyfriend, isagi, is probably the best street racer in town. an unpolished gem of untapped potential and a beast of a driver. though with a man like that, competitiveness between you both comes easy — like a third party in your own relationship. its been that way since you met, the two of you falling into the toxic cycle of, racing, winning fucking and breaking up.

and as bad as it sounds, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“you lose tonight, precious,” isagi wipes the grease from his knuckles with a rag as he approaches your car, cocking his head to the side with a smile so twisted it sends a pang of heat from your head to your core. together or not, he’s always had this effect on you — like a fog sweeping over your mind or the oceans waves pulling you under. “and we get back together.” 

“boy, don’t you know i have a race to win?” leaning over the hood of your car, it’s your turn to tilt your head to the side — like a puppy dog, mocking him. your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you peer up at him, the pink of your tongue wrapping around finding a centre point for the bubblegum you’re blowing. it pops on its own. all the while,  a flirtatious confidence seeps from your bones into the night air, luring isagi into your usual game of cat and mouse right before you’re due to race. “i don’t need any distractions, ‘ichi.” 

you can’t help but revel in the way that he shudders upon hearing your name drip from his lips, like the finest and purest form of honey. out of all the girls he’s ever known, you’re the only one who gets him riled up like this without even trying — activating his raw instincts, that carnal desire he always has for you that he keeps locked away whenever you’re not together. 

“baby,” crouching down to your height, isagi smirks as your predatory gaze follows his actions like a vixen in the night. “you know i’d never mess up a race of yours on purpose.” one of his elbows comes up to rest on your hood, the glittery vinyl stickers reflecting against the deep ocean blue in his eyes. your ex lets the weight of his head rest in his palm, a faux pout on his lips as he speaks to you. “how about it, wanna make a bet?” 

you inch closer, close enough for isagi to catch a the whiff of strawberry candy in your breath over the thick sexual tension brewing between you both. “wha’do i get if i win?” you hum slyly, blowing another bubble into the face of your ex lover. 

yoichi mirrors your movements, sliding closer to you so that he lick through your bubblegum, landing a breath’s width away from your sugar-coated and syrupy lips. “you win, ‘n i promise to leave you alone forever.” he rasps, pushing past the lustful tone lodged in his throat. 

standing to your full height, you ruffle his midnight locks with a condescending air about it. “oh baby, you’re so silly.” the superlicious murder slips from between your perfectly glossed lips before you even think to stop it, accompanied by your light laughter. testing your man’s patience has always been your strong suit. 

but before you have a chance to walk away, isagi hooks his fingers through your belt loops and tugs you flush against his tone frame — chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. “what, you don’t like those terms?” he huffs. “i thought they were perfectly reasonable.

“it’s just that… it’s cute that you think winning me back works that way.” shaking your head, you fail to let isagi have the last word and finally manage to pull yourself from the tendrils of his grip before you become putty in his arms and a mess under his gaze — that twisted mix of annoyance and desire already turning within your stomach, oozing into your nether regions in the form of liquid lust.

“fuck me,” a breathless and playful chuckle resounds in isagi’s throat like a tune base boosted on the stereo, only interrupted by a slick statement that serves to frustrate you even more. “so you’re sayin’ you don’t miss playin’ with my joystick?” he calls out to you while you’re still in eyeshot of his cerulean orbs — the ones that track the sway of your hips as you walk away from him. isagi wants nothing more than to dig his fingertips into the fat at your waist, pull your hips over his hardening cock as blood pulses through it and make you eat those words. 

but he also knows, and from experience, the more pissed off you are — the better you’ll race and the more you’ll want to fuck him later on. 

“i’ll start missing it when you get the right set of tools.” you sing back, sending a wink his way as you hope into the driver's seat of your precious pink baby, shooing off the girls who’d helped you prep your S2K for the race. he watches as you wave to your competitors, buttering them up with your charm before you leave them in the dust. 

and even though he has no right to be jealous — especially when you’re broken up like this, isagi can’t help but want admit to you how seeing you race makes him feel. like now — how you drive right up rin itoshi’s ass and curse at him  to ‘bend over’. everything has sex crazed hormones rushing to his cock and his head gets a little dizzy like he’s been inhaling car fumes and diesel for too long. you fuck him up like no girl ever has before — he’s completely obssesed with you, the ups and downs and fall out of your messy relationship. 

he wants you. feverishly, carnally, and in every way possible and as you pull up in first place after the race — isagi realises, it’s not the race that makes him feel alive.

it’s always going to be you. 

“you’re so fuckin’ frustrating.”

the cash prize isn’t the only good thing about winning your races, it’s the way isagi lives to devour you whole afterwards. 

dark ocean eyes drink in the way your back arches from the hood of your car and it’s cool metal surface — chasing isagi in the heated and humid air, while his hips rock against your cunt almost in tune with the music in the background. the tune of your celebrations. “am i?” you grin, wild and delirious and breathless. “it’s not my fault. thought i told you to quit chasin’ me, yoichi.” 

you giggle, earning a delicious twitch of his dick between your panty-clad folds, spreading a delicious layer of arousal over his clothes. your rival racerpretends to ignore your antics, knowing that he’ll only get riled up and instead focuses on tugging down your flimsy tank top to reveal your sweat shined skin. 

“you could never get rid of me, baby.” you’ve never been immune to the charm of isagi’s hypnotic voice paired with his teasing rows of pearly white teeth that coast over your flesh until goosebumps rise over its expanse. your ex has a way about him, a way that makes it hard for you to shut him out and easier for you to hold your breath and deprive it of the oxygen you need to think clearly. 

to think about escaping this toxicity. 

sloppy kisses to taste the salt on your skin turn to little bite marks, barely there whilst leaving a warm shine to your throat — the temperature proving to be a lustful contrast to the cold metal of your car. he licks and sucks at you possessively, even when other racers pass by and in the back of your mind you briefly recall bachira hollering at the two of you loudly.

just as you reach out to him and wave back, yoichi grabs your wrists in one rough palm and pins them above your head — chuckling into the trail of wet smooches he drags down to your tits, followed by a wild whine that resonates deep in his chest when his cockhead catches on your rock hard clit from behind the many barriers of your clothes. you huff at your newfound restriction. 

a slow, cocky smile spreads over the film of isagi’s lips as if he’s remembered something about your body, that only he knows, in your time apart. how it anticipates and tingles while waiting for his every move, craves to be ravaged and torn apart by him. “focus on me, baby. don’t miss what’s most important to you.” he drawls, gentle notes of condensation slipping into his usually chipper voice. “me.” 

lifting his head from your chest expectantly, being a gentleman and waiting for your consent to kiss. another laugh escapes him when you writhe desperately in yoichi’s grip and wrap your legs around his taut waist to drag him closer for the lip lock you deserve. your prize for being such a winner. he follows your lead, selfishly trapping your lower lip between his teeth before toppling into a hungry kiss — his devious tongue delving it’s way into your mouth to claim it’s every inch possessively. the more you kiss, the more it knocks the lollipop on your mouth about.

all the while, isagi never stops grinding against you — cockhead oozing precum over your cotton decorated pussy lips and budding clit, painting you in the early signs of his arousal. the heat in the air only carries the scent of your sex and mingled notes of diesel fuel — enough to make you dizzy and crave more friction from the street racer as he ruts between your thighs. you’re growing delicious, letting ecstasy trickle through your veins and onto the hood of your car while yoichi drags his cock through your silken slit over and over again until his clothes and his erection are dripping in your sweet juices.

“didnt plan ever plan on… on g-gettin’ rid of ya, pretty boy.” you say through thready breaths, using the strength in your thighs to squeeze isagi close. maybe it’s the adrenaline from your racing high or the fact that isagi cages you in against the car, using his free hand to pinch and pull at sensitive parts of you while he humps at your fluttering and sopping mound — whatever it is, you can feel an orgasm approaching faster than you can register. 

tucking your lollipop into your cheek, you gaze up at isagi with glassy, angel eyes — your mouth open as you pant his praises like a common whore. “did you miss me? i know he did.” then, your eyes shoot down to the rough outline of his dick as it makes you shudder, sex clenching over the veins on his shaft while you practically ride your ex’s precum loaded tip. your dirty talk earns a hearty moan from isagi, his tongue rolling out of his mouth like a dog in rut while he laps at the sweat bearing on your collar bones and neck. “missed my cock so much.” you goad adoringly, a little sick and a little twisted. 

your possession over him fills isagi’s body with concerning amounts of desire and only serves to make him feral — snapping his hips into you faster and harder. his blue eyes drown in an ocean of mirth as they hone in on the light bounce of your chest, his tongue drips in the taste of your light perspiration while he finds his voice over your salacious bump and grind. 

“missed you too baby. missed my fuckin’ pussy,” yoichi grunts selfishly, breathing heavy against your skin and adding to your chorus of shared high pitched moans the closer you get. with one hard thrust, isagi has your unused little hole drooling and your head flying back onto the car’s hood, banging against the metal. the pain only fuels the expanding fire of desire burning bright in your lower tummy — raising the temperature between your bodies. “she’s so sensitive, guess you haven’t fucked anyone while i’ve been gone.” 

his voices oozes condensation, messes with your mind and drags you under the control of your toxic and selfishly possessive ex. it’s like he lives for the the way your thighs quiver around his waist and give all your neediness away, you can’t hide anything from him. he puts your pleasure under a microscope. 

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” isagi grins evilly, letting go of your hands as he watches you tremble and spasm and twitch beneath him. rendered useless against the very car that got you to win your race. 

he’s not wrong, however, for the knot that had been tightening up in your lower tummy begins to unravel too fast for your own liking. an orgasm crashes down on you like a heavy storm that’s escaped isagi’s deep blue eyes and he bucks into you monstrously through it all — hardly giving you a second to breath. your release pours out of you in a clear stream, your eyes disappearing into your skull and your shaky fingers into the roots of your ex’s hair as you tug on it to ground yourself. 

it gets everywhere, seeps through your ex boyfriend’s clothes, splashes against your S2K and gathers in a pool beneath your shaky ass. yoichi coaches you through it with soft, loving praises as if you’d never been broken up. kisses that make your knees knock and breath hitch. you cum so fast, so hard and so soon that your lollipop rolls out from between your swollen spit slicked lips, but isagi is quick to grasp the sugary treat dragging it over your them and down your body. 

he follows it’s sticky trail over your clothes, sucking its flavour from the planes of your skin. the sound of tearing fabric flies under the bustling crowd and revving engines — isagi having ripped off your shorts to expose your temperate, glistening mound to the night air and gleam of car headlights. 

“h-holy shit, ichi! wait—!”

your nails sharply rake at the racer’s scalp in surprise, shocked at the warm-ish sensation of your lollipop pressing against your budding clit as it throbs between the slickness of your folds. “awh, is it sensitive? good.” he tuts down at you menacingly, his voice lowers scratching at the patch of your brain that controls your lustful drive. with the sweet treat still in his grasp, isagi rubs tight circles into your pleasure centre and grind to himself when your thighs instinctively jump apart to give him a better view of the even sweeter dessert between your thighs. 

he knows you. inside and out. 

knows what you even with how on-off your relationship is — as if he’s always been genetically programmed to make you feel good, get you that same high racing gives you. yoichi crouches, no longer standing over you so that he can get a whiff of your scent — the musk of your sex more dizzying than the fumes of gasoline throughout the track. “wanna taste you gorgeous, while you’re still cummin’ for me.” he groans, deep and hungry like he’s been waiting to eat a good fucking meal all day. “that okay?” 

“please…fuckin’ hurry.”  comes your impatient reply, bucking your hips up into the humid air as you chase the friction of the candy against your clit. you feel as though you’re seated right on the edge of another orgasm, inches away from crumbling off of the cliff of euphoria. “you’re so slow,” you heave again, head lolling to the side with your drool oozing onto the hood of your pretty pink car. “see you never learned how to use your…oh—! tools!”

your voice escapes you, shock intertwining with the electrical spark of desire running down the length of your spine to the heartbeat in your pussy. you’re surprised once more when isagi gently nudged the lollipop past your entrance to tease you — ripping it away when you gush like you’re about to cum.

sitting up and resting on your elbows, you glare down into mischievous blue eyes as he pops the candy into his mouth. “mother fucker.” 

“alright, watch it.” the corner of isagi’s lips quirk up into a cocky smirk, enjoying how you writhe against cool metal in contrast to how hot your skin is to the touch. like a furnace, burning from the inside out. 

“you said you wanted to taste me!” you whine, auffovating in the humidity and anticipation. you want him to touch you, but the ghost of kisses he presses along your inner thighs just aren’t enough. 

“i didn’t say i was gonna eat you out though, pretty girl.” isagi whispers, pushing the lollipop into his cheek so he can focus on sucking an array of marks into the swell of your to leave his claim on you. the pointed edge of his teeth sink into the doughy flesh, imprinting a ring of bite marks in place as well. “dunno, don’t think you deserve it.” 

he simply rolls his eyes in response, grunting as he spreads you even further — revealing the webs of cloudy slick that tie your shaky limbs together. yoichi drags a finger through your puffy pussy lips, it’s tip dragging on the silken strings of your arousal until he’s able to circle it over your clenching entrance. 

you let out a defiant whimper, hips rising from your car while a trail of your sweet juices ruin the paint job on your car. “hate you.” comes your weak whisper, trapped in the lodges of your throat while isagi pressed further into your tight little hole and stretches you open. 

“yeah whatever.” he grins lazily, warm breath fanning over your pulsating mound while his nose nudges your sensitive clit. “that’s why you keep coming back to me, precious.” 

the sensation makes your hips buck up, chasing the delicious friction of your ex’s fingertips against your soaked ribbed walls as they ripple around him.  but isagi lives to punish you, make you work for your pleasure or torture you with it for leaving him the dust each and every time. his free hand splays over your navel, pinning you to your own car as a second finger joins the first inside of you — instantly curling to bare down on your spongy g-spot.

the cry that escapes you is raw and powerful, louder than any engine in any model of car — serving to remind isagi of where you are, how on display you are for the hungry eyes of his competitors. he takes this as a chance to remind everyone of who you belong to. no matter how much of a hot shot racer you are, you’ll always belong right underneath yoichi isagi. 

he does nothing to soothe your whimpers and cries, thrusting his fingers deep into your squelching pussy as it echoes into the parking lot in a sweet symphony with your moans. you drool into the seat his palm, thrash on the hood of your car and squeeze down on him with a grip so tight isagi fears that you’ll never let him go. 

“you’re so tense, baby. relax for me,” the man mumbles darkly against your sex. “what’ll make you feel good? should i play with this cute little clit too?” pressing a loving and syrupy kiss to the pleasure nub, isagi moans at your arousal as it pearls on his eager lips. “oh i knew you’d like that. my girl always likes it when her man plays with this messy pussy.” spitting onto your cunt, a sick laugh rumbles in yoichi’s throat as he fucks the frothy mixture back into you, drinking in the way you whine and writhe about the place. all for him. “c’mon, louder baby. let the people hear how pretty you are. how good i’m making you feel.”

saliva coats your tongue, making difficult to breathe between the languid push and pull of isagi’s fingers as they stroke at your insides. he has you ruined, for any other man—  sticky and sloppy between the thighs. the both of you know that only he can get you like this. 

and the sick part about it all, is that you’re fucking enjoying it.

the thrill of being watched by your fellow racers makes you act up, has you crying and moaning a little louder than usual — putting on a show for your ex as you fall back into your toxic routine. those sweet salacious sounds spike higher and higher the closer you get, the more isagi sucks on your clit and scissors his fingers around to press up against sensitive spots along your gummy walls. 

“that’s it pretty girl, give it to me. louder. good girl, good job.” he coos into you oh so condescending, face coated with a crude mix of spit and slick that glistens under the artificial light from the street lamps above. a blistering sense of pride lodges itself in yoichi’s chest when you scream his name, tugging on the roots of his hair once more. “you can do better than that, louder.” 

“ohmygod—! yoichi!” you yelp sheepishly, throwing an arm over your heated face. though it’s not in shame, you can hardly bring yourself to feel embarrassed about gushing on your ex’s face in front of your fellow racers and racing crew. the pleasure he gives you has you too far gone, like a smoke screen over your hazy mind. “g-god i’m… y-yoichi i’m close!”

“yeah?” he laughs breathily, flicking his tongue over your budding clit, pulling the lollipop from the confines of his greedy mouth to slap it against your quivering pussy as well. “you gonna cum?” it’s far too soon, far too much for you to be reaching another orgasm. but there’s been a steady pressure bubbling up just below your navel, tightening and tightening until it threatens to snap. 

you shake your head pathetically, the metal of your car creaking below your hips as you try to run from isagi’s fingers wildly pumping in and out of you. “c-can’t!” 

“can’t? you don’t wanna, hm.” he sucks his teeth, the sound layering softly over the lewd slushy noises echoing from between your thighs. “too bad. i don’t care. cum for me, precious.”

its like your body has a mind of its own, wilfully ignoring the pain of overstimulation as you cum for isagi once more. milky white runs down your ex’s arms in a boiling hot stream, squirting from your abused and used sex. white spots blur the edges of your vision and you shake violently all throughout your second high, the stacks of ecstasy isagi had been building up within you coming crumbling down and leaving you suffocating in your own dust-cloud of lust. 

the rest of your arousal burns a trail down your pudgy thighs like fuel that’s been set on fire, and you can’t even tell what’s up or down anymore. “c-cumming! ‘m…fuck, yoichi.” you scream, chest heaving, head rolling to the side— pressed against your car’s cool surface. “please, i can’t.” 

“already? you were talking so big before your race now look at you. s’all too much… poor baby.” isagi works you through your orgasm, controlling your every twitch and every aftershock until you damn near pass out. 

you’re almost too far gone to register the sound of rustling clothes and the feeling of your rival (and ex) pressing himself over you. but then he’s patting your cheek lovingly, drinking in your sweet and tired expression with big blue eyes full of adoration before slipping his lollipop into your drooling mouth to pacify you. 

“‘ichi…” you bleat, exhausted. 

“yeah, yeah. i know, precious. but i think we can manage one more, yeah?” he asks you softly, a little more tender than before as he kisses your forehead, licking up a bead of sweat that runs down it. no matter how many times you break up, he’ll always be good to you. always check in with you. make you cum as many times as you can manage while still making you see stars. “need to show all those fuckin’ losers who you belong to. need to make you mine again.” 

weakly lifting your head, you notice the slight audience of racers you’ve gathered while letting isagi fuck you publicly. all the men you’ve beaten in races over time, staring at the way your man ravages you like the sight is a cool glass of water. it would be a lie to say that the feeling of being watched didn’t send another spark of lust shooting down your spine. 

“one more?” you question him and pout around the lollipop that tastes like you, big bambi eyes blinking up at your ex boyfriend. 

“one more.” yoichi confirms, pressing his forehead to yours in order to coax a kiss out of you. “don’t worry, you can take it.” there’s reassurance hidden in his lustful tone as he lines his drippy cock up with your ruined entrance (having pulled it out earlier). he pulses to life against you, the blood rushing through his shaft teeming with desire for you. isagi lets you sit up on your elbows so that you can watch him bully his cock past your fluttering entrance. 

isagi’s eyes gloss over with debauchery while you swallow him down, brows creasing in the centre of his forehead when he bottoms out inside of you — both of your mouths hanging open in hot moans. only adding to the humid air. blindly, he fumbled for your pretty throat, squeezing it gently with each clench of your slippery walls around his aching shaft. 

“you won’t break, baby.” he tells you, drawing his hips back from the snugness of your cunt to set a slow roll to his thrusts. the feeling makes you cry out, hoarse and needy before being soothed by isagi’s leaking tip pushing along every pleasure spot he knows by heart inside of you. “try a little harder for me.” 

his words leave you breathless and dumbfounded, every logical thought and smart-ass retort having escaped you while isagi’s milky, bulbous tip churns up your insides. your sexes slot together perfectly, his girthy dick wrapped in gorgeous blue and green veins keeps you nice and full and reaches the spots you couldn’t dare to reach on your own. isagi hands over you, supporting his weight on one hand, with his lips a breath’s width away from your own. 

the both of you are love drunk on the sex-crazed hormones buzzing in the hot air between you — particles of lust smashing together the more your bodies start to sync up and move together. yoichi devours you, takes parts of your body and claims them with his teeth and tongue and hand gently squeezing around your throat. he fucks you with vigour, so hard that your car shakes beneath your ministrations and you nearly lose the candy in your mouth once more. 

you return the favour, clawing up and down isagi’s back while his dark hair tickles your forehead, cascades down to your neck as he kisses you wetly and laps over the salt on your skin. everything about you never fails to pull him back into your toxic cycle. where he loves you, fucks you and breaks you. a satisfied groan takes root in his chest like a sturdy tree at the taste of you, his hips still pumping into you at a rapid pace, painting you with thick layers of opaque white that cling to your swollen pussy lips and clit. 

“you’re mine, f-forever. not gonna let… mhm.. anyone else touch you.” he slurs menacingly into the junction between your neck and shoulder, finally letting go of your throat so he can push your knees into your chest — forcing his heavy cock into your cunt as deep as it can go. “never gonna let you go again, precious. never gonna let you go without my cock this king again. you’re fuckin’ mine.”

“all fuckin’ yours,” you drawl back with a delirious smile, dizzy from the new angle. your pleasure mounts once more but with the addition of a spark of pain from the overstimulation. yoichi knows your limits, he knows how much his precious girl can take but delivers it in the best of ways — sinfully bucking down into you so hard that his heavy breeders balls smack rhythmically against the curve of your ass. he succumbs to the tight grip your iron hot core has on him, begging him to stay and to never leave you ever again. 

you have one another in a choke hold, falling into a synced up and salacious bump and grind against the hood of your car. every time isagi ruts into you, you clench down, gushing on his dick and covering him (and your car) in an early release. 

“that’s right baby,” isagi seethes through gritted teeth, blinded by white and the stars from up above as he gets closer and closer to his high. he can no longer stave it off for the benefit of overstimulating you, strung along by each twinge of pain he feels from your nails forming crescent moons in his shoulders and drawing blood. “say it like you mean it. scream my fuckin’ name for all these people, yeah? you want me. the only man who’ll ever make you feel this good.” 

you will yourself to speak but barely have the chance to with the way isagi fucks you sensless.  you choke on air, following your biological instinct to rut up into him, whilst you’re reminded all the reasons why your rival racerwill always be the only man for you. he fucks you like he’s never loved you, like a stranger he may hate but he moans and mewls against you like you’re the only person he’s ever loved. 

isagi doesn’t care about the racing, or the money or the people watching him ruin your sluice sex over and over again. 

he only cares about you.  

“c’mon baby,” he goads, licking up your cheeky nastily. “you can do it, tell me how much you want me. how much you love me, precious.” each syllable that he purrs out shoots straight to the winding, orgasmic knots in your belly. making them tighten painfully. “god, you’re fuckin’ milking me.” 

so you wrap both arms around isagi’s neck, yank at his hair, rip through the skin on his back with your nails (because you know how much he likes it when you hurt him) and say. “i need you, ‘ichi. y-you’re the only one i’ve ever wanted!” 

and that’s all it takes, to give isagi that last burst of energy to make the both of you really feel it. after one, two, three more thrusts — you’re both sent flying over the edge in unison. “m-‘my precious baby, fuuck, all mine. gonna cum…you better cum for me.”thick waves of viscous white cum floods your puffy folds, whilst yoichi bites down hard on your neck to state his high pitched whines, fucking his seed deeper into you until he calms down. 

you’re in no better condition, squirting so hard that you almost lose your grip on reality. a world of colours flash behind your darling eyes when you cum for the third and final time that night, static ringing in your ears alongside the sweet symphony of your ex boyfriend’s moans and the groaning metal from your car. 

you’re sure the paint has been completely tainted with cum by now.

by the time you finally come to and stop spasming around isagi’s softening cock, he’s peeling your sweaty skin away from your car to coddle you in his chest — shielding you from the hungry eyes of your competitors. “keep your eyes to your fuckin’ selves.” he snarls with teeth bared, despite how gently he holds you. 

“easy there tiger,” you sigh, snuggling against him as exhaustion settles into your fucked out bones. “i think they know who i belong to now.” grabbing at his neck, you pull isagi  down for a sloppy kiss — mewling happily at the taste of sweat, sex and sugar on his tongue before passing him the lollipop once more. “guess the money wasn’t the only thing i won tonight.” 

“you’re kinda sick, you know that?” he laughs in response, but before he can kiss you again — the racing crowd starts to scramble at the sound of police sirens.

still curled into your (ex? oh what the hell) boyfriend, you crack a tired smile. “looks like we gotta split, boy.” 

“you comin’ back with me this time, precious?” a smooch is pressed into your hairline while isagi gathers you into his arms fast — bundling you into the passenger's seat since you’re clearly in no state to play get away driver. he doesn’t bother with your clothes. 

“you know that you can’t get rid of me, baby.” you got the keys into the ignition in time for isagi to slip into the driver’s side — steering you away from the scene of the crime. “i’m yours forever, remember?” 

he only chuckles at that, wild blue eyes reflecting the blue and red cop car lights as he looks to you while speeding away.

“god you drive me crazy, i love you. you fuckin’ maniac.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝟱 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦, 𝗠𝗩𝟭 max verstappen x fem! reader (fluff) “. . . using his five senses, these are his favourite things about you.”

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Sight

his blue eyes appreciate anything and everything you give him.

He already thinks of you as eye candy or an angel right from a rococo painting.

But what it does for him is seeing you do something you enjoy.

If you’re playing video games or playing with his cats.

He sometimes takes videos or photos secretly so he can watch later or just to open and randomly appreciate you when he’s travelling and misses you.

“They’re so pretty,” You giggled as you watched the dolphin swim around in its tank. Max was glad he was already filming your excitement because one of the mammals noticed you and was playing with you. Sliding right and left, Max knew he was going to set the video as his lock screen later if he doesn't record for over three minutes like he always does.

Touch

One of Max's favorite things ever is hugging you or holding you in any way.

It helps keep him grounded other than the fact that you’re warm and he loves having contact with you.

You’re one of the first people he hugs after a race, an anchor helping him return to the world.

You’re the first thing he reaches for when he wakes up in the morning or before going to sleep at night.

It’s also the reason it’s difficult for him to travel without you because you’re his safe person and his source of comfort.

“All we are missing now is-” You paused, lifting your eyes from the shopping list to the hand, trying to uncross your legs. You didn’t question it, sitting properly so the blond can gently hold your thigh as he wished. Max was driving with you in the passenger seat so he couldn’t really turn and see why you paused. “Schat, I can’t read your handwriting- but we need cat food.” Max nodded in agreement, his thumb gently caressing your thigh as he made a left turn.

Smell

One of Max’’s favourite things is when you put on lotion

It has a certain sweet stubble scent that’s quite calming

he considers it your signature scent. only yours.

he also likes it when he randomly smells you on his things, like his shirts or jackts, msybe his controller or his car. it makes him all giddy

He always tells you ‘that smells nice’ and other times he just holds your hand to take a whiff

“Did you put sunscreen on?” You ask as you make sure you packed everything you need. “I don’t need it.” He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence because you already squeezed a bit and started gently rubbing it on his face. Max rolls his eyes for a second before scrunching his nose. “The sun screen covers your lotion.” He complains disappointed, making you playfully shake your head.

Hearing

max adores hearing you calling him pet names,

whether it's something like love, sweetheart, maxie, baby, darling, sweets,

or something sweet in french; amore, mon core, mon cher,

It gets worse if you speak dutch. Liefje, honing, schat, schatje.

It makes his heart go ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum and his thoughts get all tangled up and mushy

"Maxie, Shatje," You call from somewhere far in the apartment, making the blond turn around instantly, his big blue eyes searching for you and your voice. He hopped out of his chair and abandoned his sim in favour of finding you. “Amour?” “Yea?” “Liefje, can you zip up this dress for me.” Oh you got him right in his excited heart.

Taste

Max is not a huge coffee or juice drinker. All he ever drinks or needs are in his protein shakes or his red bull fridge.

But if you’re making a smoothie or experimenting with coffee and offer him a sip for his opinion or to show him how good it turned out,

he takes it as an honor,

especially if he’s drinking it out of your hand.

“Woo!” is the first thing he hears from the kitchen a few seconds after the loud noise of the blender stops. He peeks his head out of the bathroom still wet from his shower when he hears your excited hops/sprinting to his direction. “Maxie!” You hold up the glass with the pinkish smoothie he can assume is strawberries and something else. “Try?” You offer, and Max doesn't hesitate to lean forward, taking a sip, his eyes lighting up at the taste of bananas and a hint of mandarin. “That’s too good, I’m keeping this,” He teases, gently taking the glass from your hands, continuing to drink the smoothie while you follow the half-naked dutch in protest.

[sxcret-garden]

San ღ Kitten [M]

ღ Ateez San x fem-bodied!reader ღ words: ~1.8k ღ genre: smut (dom!San, sub!reader is called “kitten” and calls San “master”, (implied) edging, reader has handcuffs & a collar, praise, spanking, orgasm control, a bit of dumbification, breeding kink, a bit of dacryphilia, denied orgasm, aftercare) ღ reader: has a vagina, no description of chest, no pronouns used to refer to reader ღ warnings: heavy power dynamic

Desc.: Your master playing with you and subsequently riling you up turns into him teaching you a lesson.

Author's note: I am back from the dead akjdflkads somewhat at least... I hope y'all enjoy <3

“S-san…” a stuttered mewl escapes you as you turn your head to glance at your boyfriend.

“Yes, kitten?” His lowered voice resounds in your ears and makes you clench around his fingers that are working you at a leisurely pace. Your reaction causes him to grin, one corner of his mouth rising up higher than the other, and it reminds you of what a helpless position you’re in. You gulp, trying to wiggle your hips closer to him, but he’s quick to pull his digits out of you, placing his palm on your bare ass instead and pushing you away. He does all this while never once taking his eyes off the tv screen in front of the bed - the movie he put on has long lost you, because all you can focus on is how San toys with you, light and seemingly mindless touches playing with your dripping cunt, but you know it’s all deliberate. 

You’re draped over one of his legs as he sits on the bed, his back leaned comfortably against a few pillows. Your ass is pointing towards him and you make sure to remind yourself to keep your back prettily arched for him, while your hands are joint together by a cute set of pink handcuffs, decorated with some white lace. They match your collar, and the harness he’s dressed you up in - leather straps wrapped around your chest, your tummy, and down to your thighs, with nothing else covering your body. It’s one of his favourite ways to make his kitten look pretty for him, and you know that currently you’re only here for his entertainment. He’ll keep you in this position for as long as he wants, not caring about how badly your aching pussy is begging for a release.

And you’re going to be good for him, patiently waiting until he’s satisfied and hoping that he would grant you at least one release.

His hand makes its way up your back, fingertips dancing along your skin and you shiver under his touch.

“Getting excited, kitten?” he teases, and you can’t suppress a pout on your lips as you turn your head to shoot him another look over your shoulder. His warm palm wanders all the way back down and past your ass, until it comes to rest on your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his hand. “Answer,” he demands, and his tone changes ever so slightly. He peels his eyes off the tv screen now, and the second his gaze finds yours, you feel heat rushing through your veins.

“Y-yes…”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Y-yes, master…” you repeat, trying to make yourself smaller, but still your chest fills with warmth as you gain a nod of approval from San.

“That’s what I want to hear.” His hand leaves your skin in order to find his own core instead, and in the corner of your eye you can see the bulge that has formed in his pants. He lets out a deep breath as he begins palming himself through his clothes, all while taking in the way you’re cowering in front of him. Curious to watch what he’s doing to himself, you twist your body so you would get a better view, but he’s quick to stop what he’s doing, his hand flying to your ass instead. The smacking sound of his punishment is accompanied by a pained moan coming from your mouth, and once the pain subsides, pleasure takes over.

“Don’t look,” San scolds you, his voice sounding strict. Then he reaches out to place his palm on top of your head, guiding you to turn it away from him. You try to respond, but no sound comes out of your throat when your lips part. “Stay like this.” The soft rustling of his pants tells you that he’s continuing to pleasure himself, and the way you can faintly hear his breath quicken makes you excited as well. Still, you obey, wiggling your hips on top of him in an attempt to convince him to touch you.

“Needy, aren’t we?” San comments, arousal ringing in his words. “Bet you’re just waiting for me to fuck you dumb, hm? Isn’t that right, my little kitten?”

“Y-yeah…” you whisper, earning yourself another slap against your ass, this time with more force, and an uncontrolled sound escapes you.

“Shit, didn’t I tell you not to be so horny all the time?” San says, and you can feel him moving underneath you, followed by more rustling of his clothes.

“Y-yes, master… c-can’t help it…” you stammer, not daring to move. At this point both of you have forgotten all about the movie, and the upbeat music coming from the tv barely even reaches your ears. All you can think about is San, and how good it would feel if he would finally fill you up. 

“You can’t help it?” he coos over you now, and a shiver runs down your spine as both of his hands find purchase on your hips. “Gonna have to try harder then, don’t you, kitten?”

“Yea-” you try to answer, but the air is knocked out of your lungs when you feel his hot tip pressing against your folds from behind. Slowly but steadily, San builds up speed as he rubs his cock against your pussy, and you bite your lip hard in order to keep any sounds from falling from your lips. However, with how he has edged you before, your body betrays you, and you begin shivering uncontrollably underneath him.

“Bet you wanna have me inside you, hm? You want that?” he keeps teasing you as he rocks his hips back and forth, and when you arch your back just a little more for him, you earn yourself another spank. “Answer me, kitten.”

“Y-yes… master… want your cock… inside me…” you babble. But instead of granting you your wish, San deprives you of the feeling of his length rubbing against you.

“And what did I tell you?”

“T-told me?” you ask, unsure what he wants to hear.

“Don’t play dumb now, kitten,” he mutters dangerously as he reaches around your throat with one hand, bringing you into an upright position so that your shoulders are now pressed against his bare chest. One of his digits finds your lips, brushing against them and making you gulp, while his breath tickles the side of your throat. “Did I allow you to be like this?”

“N-no…” you say, putting one and one together in your mind. 

“Then what did I tell you?”

“N-not to be so… h-horny, master…”

“Exactly. So be good.” He releases you, having you fall forward, back to your earlier position. One light tap to the back of your thigh is all it takes for you to position yourself in front of him, and when you can feel him prodding at your entrance, you bite back a moan. “And don’t you dare cum.” His deep voice rings in your ears when he pushes inside you, and when he starts fucking you as he holds you in place by your hips, tears begin welling up in your eyes. The pleasure makes you feel dizzy, and you feel helpless against it. There’s no way you’d be able to stop the orgasm building up in the pits of your stomach from overwhelming you, and yet you have to try. You have to be good for San.

“Shit, you’re so wet for me…” San groans as he pounds into you from behind, the sensation of him digging his nails into your flesh not helping you keep your composure at all. “Makes me wanna breed you so good… fuck you and fill you up until you can’t walk anymore…” Your throat releases a desperate mewl and you claw into the sheets as your vision turns blurry.

“C-can’t take it…!” you manage to say through gritted teeth - you know if he keeps going you’re going to cum in no time.

“You can’t?” San pants, stopping his motions at once, and your body tenses up. A sense of relief overcomes you when he pulls out, and at the same time you feel bad about not being able to handle him.

“S-sorry… ‘m sorry, master…” you stutter, your thighs still shaking.

“My kitten…” San’s soothing voice calms you immediately, along with him now rubbing circles onto your lower back. “This all wouldn’t have happened if you had listened to your master.”

“Y-yes…” you say. “I’m sorry…”

“Do you promise to do better next time?” he asks, a strain apparent in his voice while his other hand wraps around his cock, and he starts jerking himself off.

“I promise…” you mewl, voice filled with desperation.

“Then I’ll give you a taste of what you’ll have when you learn how to be good for me,” San says, adding, “Turn around.” You roll onto your back, letting him spread your legs, and as you’re lying there, all sprawled out for him, a pleading look still on your face, you realize you can’t do anything but watch as he brings himself closer to his high.

“That’s a good kitten…” he praises you as you hold your breath, not daring to make another sound, and your widened eyes staring at his length and at the hand working himself. “Such a good kitten for me…” With a broken moan and his eyes tightly shut, San comes undone, spurts of cum shooting out of his tip and the warm seed lands directly on your pussy. Your walls clench at the sensation, but otherwise you do everything in your might to stay still for him, watching as he releases onto you.

It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath. Then, he reaches for your arms to free you from the cuffs, bringing each of your wrists to his lips to kiss them, before he leans in to also blow a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Him cupping your face, he checks in with you,

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah…” you say, the adrenaline still rushing through your body. He places a soft kiss onto your forehead, before sitting up and reaching for the water bottle on his bedside table and taking a sip of it. Without swallowing, he draws near and kisses you, passing the water onto you and making you drink it from his mouth. Then he helps you sit up, offering you more of it, and he holds the bottle for you as you take a few more sips. You show him a pleading look before scooting over closer to him, and with one arm wrapped around your frame, San allows you to rest your head against his chest for a little while. Putting the bottle back and instead reaching for the towel he had placed down next to it, he hands it to you, and then brings some distance between the two of you. Resting his back against the pillows, he cocks his head slightly to the left, before he speaks an order, his voice soft like velvet.

“Clean yourself, kitten. Maybe next time you're able to earn yourself what you want.”

[bunnysbrainrot]

No Vacancy - Day Three

Relationship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Content: explicit smut, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight dacryphilia, size kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up), degrading language, and a very desperate Sam

Summary: After the discovery of the lust spell placed on Sam, you quickly learn that he can’t control himself. In fact, you don’t want him to.

A/N: Some paragraphs have different spacing than others. I’m not sure as to why, but I hope it doesn’t affect your reading!

“Fuck,” Sam muttered, pacing in front of the bed where you sat. It had been about five hours since the two of you surveyed Casey’s childhood home, uncovered her identity as a witch, and found the lust spell Sam took as ‘evidence’.

Now, he stood directly ahead, desperately holding back a groan. Sam had turned around, hand reaching to his crotch. You strode to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from your touch, a growl sounding through gritted teeth.

“Sam, give me the sachet, I’ll burn it. It should help,” you offered, extending a hand toward him from behind.

“It’s not going to work,” he snapped, “The spell is… strong. Way too strong. I’m gonna, um, wait in the car, ‘kay?”

He stumbled to the door, doubled over in discomfort. You recalled what you’d said before about spells like these - their efficacy relied on preexisting feelings. The dots were there, and you’d connected them. You rushed to Sam’s side, helping him stand fully.

Sam panted, avoiding your worried stare.

“Sam,” you said softly, “what can I do?”

No response. Sam’s eyes flickered up to yours, and you froze. Within those eyes there was a deadly seriousness you’d never seen. Like a predator sizing up its prey before going in for the kill.

You whispered, “I think I understand now.”

Cupping Sam’s face in your hands, you brought him closer and planted a kiss on his cheek. He let out a whine, and shuddered against your touch.

“Take me, Sam.”

Like a starving animal, Sam’s teeth sank into your neck, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you. His hands tugged and tore at your loose shorts and shirt, the last things keeping you from him. From what was truly his. Sam’s lips worked furiously as reddish purple marks erupted across your skin. They trailed from your jaw to your shoulders, downward to the neckline of your shirt.

Sam growled against your chest, “If you let me to this, I’m not holding back. I can’t.”

You gasped helplessly against his touch, chest arching into him. Sam grazed his lips over your supple skin, denying the both of you what you had ached for. He was waiting for an answer.

“Please.”

He cupped his hands to your thighs, lifting you swiftly to wrap around his waist. A hand found it’s way to your hair, clutching a large chunk and tugging your head back. Sam’s lips crashed to yours, harshly nipping and biting at your bottom lip, his tongue pushing in for entry. You granted it, circling your tongue with his.

A rough push, a free-fall, and you had landed unceremoniously on the mattress. Sam pounced, hovering his body over yours as you lay under him, breathless. You had imagined your first time with Sam, previously hypothetical, to be slow and sensual. This was a shock, but the way Sam’s mouth moved over your collarbone wiped all sense away.

You rushed to tug your shirt off, chest now fully bare to Sam. His eyes raked hungrily over your breasts. He dipped down, taking one perked nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Two fingers pinched and twisted at the other, tortuously harsh and desperate.

Sam let out a hum with each moan that slipped past your bitten lips. Your legs wound around his back, tugging his hips flush with yours. Even still confined in his pajama pants, Sam’s length ground roughly into you, each thrust paired with a rough growl. His sheer size sent heat to your core.

“Sam, I need more,” you sighed.

His fingers fumbled for the waistband of your shorts, roughly tugging them past your ankles and carelessly discarding them.

“Need you inside me.”

“Sam, I need you now.”

“Please, Sam, I need it.”

Though the spell had been cast on Sam, your desperation matched his own ferocity. Every plea you whispered in his ear threatened to send him over the edge. But Sam, to his credit, tried his best to maintain his composure. His lips and hands roamed every inch they could, gaining purchase on each curve, kneading your breasts, dipping his head down your stomach.

He adorned you with hot kisses, suckling at your skin to bring out more of those beautiful marks. After this, he didn’t care who knew you were his, and what he’d done to you tonight. Sam swore to himself that spell or not, this wouldn’t be the last time.

“Open,” Sam ordered, pressing your thighs apart.

You clenched your thighs together, still timid about Sam seeing what lay between them. His hands gripped your knees, spreading them apart.

He needed to see everything.

“Fuck,” hissed Sam, trailing a finger through your wet slit. He brushed against your clit - swollen, throbbing, and aching for him. You bucked your hips into his touch.

Sam removed his hand, “Needy little slut.”

A finger dipped past your entrance, curling masterfully against your sweet spot. You ground your hips into Sam’s hand as he slowly pumped in and out of you, each of your moans earning a deeper thrust, before Sam added a second finger.

“You know how long I waited for this?” Sam’s voice had become strained, as if this still wasn’t enough for him.

A deep thrust. A curl of his fingers. A sharp gasp as he filled you. Another groan from the man taking over your cunt.

“The whole time,” Sam said, “The. Whole. Fucking. Time.”

Your fingers weaved into his hair, tugging him closer to your pussy, eager for him to add his tongue. He took this in stride, suckling onto your clit as his tongue flicked fervently. The added pleasure coursed through you - a familiar coil in your abdomen threatened to snap at any second.

Sam pulled away slightly, muttering against your soaked folds, “Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

Your orgasm crashed through you like lightning. Sam resumed eating at you, lapping up what leaked from your pussy onto his hand. Your walls fluttered around his fingers, even though they still crashed against your g-spot. The overstimulation brought tears to your eyes, calling Sam’s attention.

Normally, your crying would leave him yearning to comfort you, but with the spell overtaking his senses, it sent a wild desire through him. Oddly enough, he liked it. Loved it.

He braced himself on one arm, the other still trained on your cunt, fingers pumping furiously into you. Your tears fell past your cheeks, mouth agape in pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, cry for me.”

Dacryphilia was a foreign kink for you, though Sam’s encouraging words gave you comfort in it. You did as told, letting your tears fall while you writhed in pleasure. Sam let out an approving grunt as he delivered harsher thrusts. He added a thumb to your neglected clit, roughly circling as another orgasm surged through you.

“Attagirl, just let go,” Sam purred.

You’d lost track of time, of how many times you’d came. Sam never seemed fully satisfied - grunting in frustration and palming himself through his pants.

You whined, “Sam… need you… inside.”

He pulled his fingers out of you, ignoring the whimper you gave at the lack of touch. Sam raised on his knees, tugging down his pajama bottoms and boxer shorts. A thick, heavy cock sprung free, twitching and achingly ready. A bead of precum leaked from the head, onto your stomach.

Without a word Sam tugged your hips to his knees. He held the base of his cock and lined it up with your entrance, slipping the head between your folds, smacking against your clit.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Sam praised, realigning his length with your opening. He slowly eased into you, hissing through gritted teeth until he bottomed out. Every inch felt fuller than the last; you were certain you were being split in two. Now taking his full size in, you steadied your shaking breaths before Sam began to move.

“So fucking tight… Might just break you in half, huh?” Sam teased.

His hands rested on your hips, splayed wide for him so he could watch the way his cock sank into your pussy. You let out another whine when he thrusted harder, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix.

“Look at that,” he cooed. You couldn’t, with your head tilted back in a soft moan. Sam gripped your hair harshly, pulling you forward to get a better view.

“Fucking watch. See me stretching you out? Filling you up like the dirty whore you are.”

The degradation sent you into a frenzy. His cock thrust fully into you, then out halfway, the wider part of the middle of his shaft opening your soaked cunt. Each thrust left his length glistening with your slick.

Sam growled as he thrust harder into you. You felt yourself fall apart around him with another climax, wrapping your walls around him in a vice grip. He panted, mindlessly bucking his hips into yours, each stroke harsher than the last.

The room was silent save for the moans, whines, and whimpers escaping the two of you. Wet smacks rung out as skin slapped together - the noises coming from your pussy were borderline obscene.

Filthy sweet nothings came from Sam as his speed increased.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Just take it.”

“Good girl, cum for me.”

A hand wrapped around your throat, now pushed into the bed as Sam plunged his cock into you.

“I know, honey, it’s good, isn’t it?”

“Feels so good, filling you up like this.”

“Get nice and tight, perfect little slut…”

The pressure on your throat darkened your vision, sparks at the edge of a fuzzy blackness. Sam released your throat and gripped your chin, forcing you to look into his half-lidded eyes. Mouth slacked, tongue lolling out playfully, you accepted a finger that rested on your bottom lip. You wove your tongue around his finger, hollowing your cheeks to suck harder.

Sam growled lowly, “Good. Use that pretty mouth.”

You moaned around his finger, bobbing your head as you continued. Sam’s thrusts grew sloppy by the second, his own release not far behind a climax of your own, shuddering over his cock. He bottomed out, pausing to rest himself inside of you.

“Better be careful,” he warned, “you’re gonna make me finish.”

You clenched around him in reply, drawing out another moan from Sam. He slowly moved his hips, pulling from you fully, leaving you hollowed out without him inside of you. You protested with another whine, bucking your hips pathetically into nothing.

To your surprise, Sam seemed to be calming down. His once frantic panting had subsided into quick breaths. Maybe the spell was wearing off, you thought to yourself, as Sam reached for your hips with gentler hands, flipping you over onto your stomach.

Your fingers gripped the sheets as he tugged your hips up. Sam lined himself with your entrance once more, and sank right in until his hips smacked against your ass.

The self-control didn’t last long. Sam kept a relentless pace as he fucked you, relishing in each moan you let out, muffled by the sheets you had bit into.

He lifted one leg, propped now on one knee, and thrusted into you impossibly deeper. This time, you were certain you’d break, barely held together with Sam’s hands gripping your waist.

He gained full purchase on your spread hips, tugging you onto him, crashing against your cervix with each thrust. You cried out into the mattress when another orgasm took you over the edge. Sam shouted as his hips faltered, his cock twitching as his own release washed over him. Thick ropes of his cum filled you, each spurt paired with a raucous moan.

Even still, he didn’t stop after he’d finished. Sam took hold of your hips and continued thrusting, despite the overstimulation that begged him to stop.

He leaned back to watch himself fuck into you; the cum that had been deep in your cunt spilled out over his shaft and onto the bed. Sam threw his head back, another shudder coursing through him. Without this spell on him, one orgasm would’ve had him completely drained, but it persisted regardless. With a few deep thrusts, Sam came again, filling you even further.

You both panted as Sam pulled out completely, crouching down to watch his cum leak out of you. A beautiful reminder of how he’d used you, of how he took claim of your body as his. He brushed a finger through your folds, smiling as your body shuddered at the touch.

At long last, the spell had worn off. Sam’s breathing returned to normal as he stared at your naked form. The spell didn’t let him forget about tonight, even though part of himself shut off when you’d said ‘please’ that first time. He saw everything clearly now, and realized just how rough he’d been, and the things he’d said to you.

He eased your hips down and turned you onto your side, laying parallel to you as you both slowed your breathing.

“I said some pretty, well, rude things back there. I’m sorry,” his voice softened.

You shook your head at him, “I liked it.”

Sam smiled nervously and let out a breathy laugh.

“At least I know what to do for next time,” he replied. Your cheeks flushed a deep pink. Sam leaned in, planting soft kisses along your cheekbones, before finding your lips once again.

He mumbled against your mouth, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I hope you all enjoyed! I have an idea for a follow up chapter, if y’all want to read it! Thanks for all of your support!

- bunny

[nottsangel]

hello !! what was ur dreaam !!

a drabble based on my mattheo and enzo dream cause it’s way more fun than just telling you guys about it :]

you aren’t quite sure how you ended up in this particular situation— you try to think back, but the last thing you recall is watching awfully bad horror movies with your two best friends while drinking a few beers. so how the fuck did you end up with each one of them on either side of you, their naked bodies pressed close against yours?

“i— i can’t fucking control myself much longer.” enzo groans breathlessly against the soft skin of your neck from behind, aggressively sucking dark hickeys into your skin. his strong hands are gripping your hips so tightly, as if to compose himself.

“you think i can?” mattheo growls from in front of you, gazing down at you with those pretty brown eyes that seem to have turned even darker now as they hungrily scan every inch of your naked body— his best friend’s naked body.

and fuck, you’re right there with them— you feel every ounce of self-control you had left gradually slipping away, with the undeniable ache between your legs only growing, your body practically trembling with desire.

but it shouldn’t be like this. you promised each other that nothing would ever happen between you— the friendship meant too much to risk. yet here you are, both their hands roaming eagerly over your naked body as you feel their painfully hard erections pressed against your ass and stomach.

“shit. you’re so… so fucking hot.” enzo whispers right into your ear from behind, his hands roughly squeezing your tits and his fingers toying with your sensitive nipples, causing you to let out a desperate, breathy gasp.

you feel the tip of his cock prodding insistently against your thighs, his slick precum warm and wet against your skin— but then his erection suddenly finds its way between them, the grip on your hips tightening even further as he lets out a throaty hiss of pleasure at the sensation, slowly thrusting his cock between your legs.

“enzo!” you call out, a mix of worry and uncertainty lacing your voice, your brows furrowed in concern.

“shhh, don’t stress, pretty girl. i’m not fucking you, am i?” he casually replies with a playful smirk, but his soothing tone instantly calms you down, because he’s right— he isn’t fucking you. this is… fine.

“you’re so fuckin’ cute when you get all stressed.” mattheo teases from before you, your attention instantly shifting back to him. your eyes lock with his as your hands find their way to his broad, muscular shoulders, steadying yourself against enzo’s sloppy thrusts, your mind clouded with both alcohol and desire. you feel enzo’s cock rubbing right against your soaked cunt, and fuck, it’s driving you absolutely insane.

mattheo’s wandering hand then moves down to your core, followed by his fingers slowly rubbing your sensitive, swollen clit, causing your eyes to flutter shut in pure ecstasy. your intoxicated state only heightens the pleasure, your legs trembling helplessly as enzo’s throbbing cock continues to move back and forth between them, your slick arousal dripping down all over it.

“does that feel good, baby? hmm?” mattheo taunts, his fingers pressing harder against the bundle of nerves, causing your nails to dig into the skin of his shoulders as you hum in response, desperately trying to hold yourself up. your hand slowly travels down mattheo’s body until it reaches his aching cock, and he lets out a soft groan the moment you wrap your fingers around it, pumping it faster and faster.

loud, pornographic moans fill the room, and with the pleasure between the three of you only building with each passing second, it’s clear that it’s not a matter of if someone will break, but who will break first…

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[semischarmed]

Hunter

In all aspects but his hobby, Hunter was an all around normal guy. Your interactions with the man in Apartment 1B are few and far between, but you did know a few things. You knew he used to play college football. You knew he liked to go the gym every night- 6pm on the dot. You knew he came from a small rural town in the Midwest. But above all, you knew you wanted his delectable flesh all to yourself. 

Hunter liked to go out on weekends. Usually fishing. He seemed to also have a penchant for catching and releasing snakes. Why anyone would do such a thing felt like such a foreign concept to you, but it did spark a particularly devious idea.

You feign interest, listening to Hunter drone on and on about his latest trip. You did like the way his eyes beamed whenever he talked about his interests, but as far as you were concerned, the biggest catch of all was Hunter himself.

Now came the time to strike. “Damn, that actually sounds really fun... No one ever taught me to fish.” That seemed to have shocked him to his core. You shrug. “No one ever took me”. Hunter was eating it up.

“We should go fishing! Next week. I have some extra gear with me, maybe you could get some bait?” He exclaimed in boyish excitement. It was almost cute- and to be honest it turned you on a little, knowing the real purpose of the trip.

The trap was set.

- - - - - 

You eye the bucket of live bait in front of you. A mass of worms wriggling in a plastic container. Right below was a series of strange symbols in a circle of red ink. You stare at the large cut on your hand, before giving it a squeeze over the worms. To your right is a nondescript black book, you read its words as you continue to squeeze, watching the bait seize on contact and appear to die. You hastily bandage your hand. 

You’re not too concerned about any infections, since you knew this would be a one-way trip for the both of you. You pull up a photo of Hunter as you start to chant the next paragraph of words, pumping your dick with your non-injured hand. Because it’s a photo of Hunter, and because you can still distinctly remember his decadent musk from the night before, it doesn’t take long.

You let out an exasperated sigh as your seed begins to coat the bait. It doesn’t take long before the worms begin to wriggle again, now slick with cum and imbued with a piece of you. You moan as you feel each animal as an extension of yourself. You ball your hand into a fist and the worms respond in kind. Perfect. 

- - - - -

You can’t control your sheer horniness. The lake is quiet, aside from the soft sounds of wildlife and, as far as you can tell, it was just you and Hunter for miles. The sun beats down, drawing scents out of Hunter that felt downright divine.

“Told you I knew a spot,” Hunter beams, obviously proud of his secret fishing spot.

He eyes the live bait, pondering on it for a second. You can practically see the gears in his head try to reconcile why a seemingly innocuous pile of worms felt so inherently wrong and otherworldly. He shakes the feeling as you both enter the boat, gear in hand.

The boat sways a bit as you two drift further and further from shore. Your original plan was to draw it out, make it look less intentional, but every moment outside of Hunter felt like a waste.

“Wow, I never realized how rocky these boats w- AAahhh” you scream, as you “accidentally” spill the bait all over Hunter. “Sorry!” It takes all your willpower to not get hard at the sight of Hunter unknowingly covered in pieces of yourself, soaked in your cum.

Ever the cool guy, Hunter laughs off your faked-clumsiness. Though obviously a bit disturbed. “It’s alright, can’t go fishing and not expect to get a little dirt- OOoohhh Ah!” Hunter’s back arches as he feels a cum-soaked worm slip between his clothing and travel down his spine. You order the rest of the worms to follow suit, finding any opening, any crevice to invade.

Hunter starts shaking and screeching, gesturing at you to steer the boat back to shore.

You keep the ruse, steering the skiff into a small island in the middle of the lake. As soon as you make your emergency docking, Hunter is running out of the boat attempting to shake off the worms. Somehow, he is able to catch your first worm before it can slip into his ass crack. “Fuck!” He screams as he stomps on it. That ticks you off.

As he jerks back and forth, you feel a few more parts of yourself shaken off. He can still feel the rest of your bits slipping and sliding beneath his clothes so he starts stripping as well. At last, you feel one worm slip through. 

He whimpers as he feels a cum-coated worm start to enter his piss slit. As you will it to go through, you can’t help but moan. It was an intrusion of the highest order, and feeling some of his seed mix with yours was pure euphoria. His face flashes to you in horror before he too moans involuntarily. It must have been a uniquely violating experience. To add to the confusion that must have been plaguing his mind, you start to strip down as well. He’s in full shock now, unable to stammer out any response. You use those precious moments to ram him into the ground, jamming a handful of worms right into his screaming mouth. 

The small tussle leads to a few cuts on his otherwise perfect flesh, but you capitalize on the opportunity and will the worms he shook off earlier back into his body through these makeshift orifices. You watch Hunter’s face go beet red, neck veins enlarging in struggle, as a giant mass of you floods into his screaming mouth. He manages to regurgitate a good amount, but enough of you is already inside. Before he can shake your main body off, his hips buck forward, hands grabbing his own ass in shock. More worms burrowing into him. This time, from behind. You make sure these pieces of yourself stimulate his g-spot, leaving him bound to inaction by senseless pleasure. You pin his grimy, convulsing body with the weight of yours, relying mostly on the sensory overload to lock him in place as you claim your hunt. 

Hunter’s breaths are hot, damp and shallow with struggle. You take this moment of preoccupation to take an early taste, bringing your lips over his. One of your worms already deep in his flesh stimulates a few nerves, forcing him to reciprocate. More slip in between muscle tendons, willing his arms into a loving embrace. He’s seething, as he feels his own flesh pulling you two closer. The corners of his lips tremble, fighting the commands you inundate them with. Resistance wanes, as he feels his face pull into a seductive smile. It’s entirely out of character and he feels the sheer wrongness in the personality you force him to wear.

“T-told you I could teach you to fish,” he speaks in velvet, winking before leaning in for a kiss. Hunter’s surprisingly soft lips slowly part yours, and you feel his tongue slip into your mouth. 

His eyes seared with rage, but his face reflected a completely different emotion. You make him pull the most obscene smile you can sculpt with your control over his facial muscles. His tongue retracts, eyes briefly showing relief before it reenters in a more forceful manner. You stifle a moan.

Hunter shivers slightly, rubbing more of his sweat over you, as you make him shake off another attempt to reassert control. He was not going to ruin this. His smile widens as his tongue gently swirls in your mouth, coating you with his saliva and bombarding you with his taste. It then wrestles yours, briefing locking your two forms into one. With the smuggest grin you can squeeze out of him, you make him breathe into you, and you into him. His lips moving make yours move as well, though the words he is forced to speak were yours to begin with. “Fuck yeah,” he moans loudly into your mouth. You feel his deep voice reverberate into your mouth, down your throat where it resonates outward. It practically feels like he’s speaking through you. You can’t help but cum, basting more of his flesh with your seed. That sets him off enough to rip away from the extended kiss, spitting revulsion at your face.

You lick your mouth clean. Waste not, want not. Besides, Hunter tastes delicious. He is able to struggle again, rebellion renewed by the sheer horror at his brief glimpse of his future as your puppet.

You feel command waning. You try to rile yourself up in opposing anger, but you can’t help but admit the push and pull turned you on a little. Besides, to have the strength and will able to fight off all the sensations of your wriggling mass entering every port in his body at once only made you want Hunter more.

Feeling your hardening dick press upon him only served to anger the thrashing man further. You sync with your worms, commanding the wriggling mass to move in tandem. In every second of control, you make him play with your bodies, forcing him to grab your hips and center your main body above him grind into you from below. Fuck. You moan.

To be so new to his body, you lack the finesse to control your new vessel fully, so Hunter’s movements are downright vulgar. He grabs your ass with a dominating grip, pulling into a nasty smirk while licking his lips. “Make me yours.” Instantly, his demeanor changes as he fights off your control again. His hands grip dirt, clawing in agony as he tries to get his bearings. Slowly but surely, you feel the dance of authority between you two slow, as your worms settle into more efficient positions in his body. This time, it’s Hunter who’s body grabs a handful of your remaining worms, and, with the biggest shit-eating smile you can get out of him, stuffs his mouth full of it. 

Most of the worms are now safely tucked inside your new home, so you ease up on Hunter. He looks to you in rage as he continues choking, as his muscled arms and legs flail useless, and as your worms find crevices inside of Hunter to slink into. Now, he too can feel how deep into his being these pieces of you are going, so he starts hyperventilating. That just turns you on even more, feeling those powerful lungs of his heave. You couldn’t wait for these to be fully yours to play with.

His body trembles as he tries in vain to stop his kind face from contorting into another lewd smile. Seeing him as your puppet? Watching his flesh defile itself- feeling Hunter do it with your smile shining through? It’s enough to get your new jockbound dick instantly hard. You drool at the sight of Hunter’s enlarging dick. “Complete me,” he moans.

You start by hijacking his genetic material. Your wormy mass is quick. It wriggles deep into his crotch. His body grunts as his hands grasps at his own flesh. ‘Something is wrong’, He feels his body telling him. At least, even more wrong than you had already made it. And something was indeed wrong. You were not content in having, binding, commanding Hunter’s form. You wanted more. 

His face winces in pain as he feels his own brain memories recall his memories for you.

It was nice day in the park with his parents. The warmth of the sun and the light breeze framed the idyllic memory. Then you make him taint it. “Fuck yeah.” It pains his brain to continue, but you press on. “Can’t believe those two bred all this… I’m getting hot just thinking about it.” His face twitches until he is ultimately forced to lick his lips. “Get nice a strong, lil me. Build up those muscles so we can be the perfect puppet for him.” At that, Hunter recoils at feeling his own flesh generate pleasure from the thought you make him have. “I’m your perfect muscle sleeve. Use me.” He gagged as his own younger self in his memory anachronistically replied back. “Hell yeah, can’t fucking wait to be worn.”

Totality. You wanted it all. Past. Present. Future. You force his mind to linger on that last point before a payload of your worms burrow into his balls.

Instantly, you gorge the bits of yourself inside him on his seed. Squeezing each writhing worm into them. Outside Hunter’s body, your main body gasps. Mmmm. Strong genes. You make Hunter’s own hands dance across his flesh, fondling himself inappropriately. His insides fared no better. Hunter’s baby batter factory had been hijacked. Fully controlled. Fully infested. Fully yours. Your wriggling mass is no longer thin. They’ve been enhanced. Imbued with Hunter’s strength. Inlaid with your perversion. You feel them start to expand to their true size and form so you will them to spread throughout Hunter’s body and recondense. His tough muscle and flesh provides enough pressure to keep your new offspring together in a manageable size, just barely.

The next few moments are intense. You immediately back from the heat. Hunter whimpers as he collapses. Body twitching in odd places, skin bulging and then receding as your “offspring” together churn inside him. They find more areas to settle into. This time, Hunter is whining for a different reason. His body was not fighting the intrusion at all. That makes your dick stir. You feel his own seed coating your worms like your own personal Trojan horse. They easily slip into the cores of his muscles, cores of neurons. He tries to will his body into a fight but it’s useless. Betrayal and frustration. You feel these thoughts course in Hunter’s mind. He’s yours.

You can now feel every neuron, every cell and fiber of Hunter’s being scream and fight as you force him to speak his next words. He wraps you in a big bear hug, dousing you in his testosterone-laden sweat. In the sultriest voice you can force out of his vocal cords, Hunter looks to you with a convincingly earnest stare. “I want you to be my boyfriend”. 

= = = = =

The people have spoken and they want “naughty”, I may still work up the “nice” one, at some point.

There’s more parts to this one, but it’s already a bit long.