#certain jaw or lip shapes

[sidollie]

┈─★ Simon Riley ruining reader cw// ᴍᴅɴɪ, simon riley being a big meanie, choking, rough sex, creampies, throat fucking, nipple play, mentions of breeding, simon being a bit disgusting

ᯓ★ Simon Riley knew that he was big, big in every possible sense. a huge mass of a man that wore a skull mask to hide his rugged scarred face from the world and it was only natural for people to get intimidated by him. And being in the military on top of it he wasn't exactly shaped to be a gentle soul but he always tried to be very gentle with especially you, to his pretty little dove.

But here he was, pounding mercilessly into your swollen little cunt. His thrusts made the wooden bed frame slam into the wall and he was certain that it will only take a couple more thrusts for it to break completely.

He tore his gaze away from the frame and looked down at his dumbed out girlfriend. His thick tatted arm choking your pretty neck while his hips maintained their ruthless rhythm to let his thick mushroom tip graze on your cervix,

"look at ya lovie, takin' my cock so well"

his other hand moves down to pinch and twist your sensitive nipples while he continues to pound you, your mouth hangs open in a silent scream of pleasure. your eyes blur with tears as you struggled to breathe from his large tatted hand that is clasped around your throat like a collar.

"s-simon c-can't! 's t-too much"

"c'mon swee'heart, ya can take it now be good f'me"

His rugged face broke into a smug smirk as he sped up, his hand abandon your abused nipples and travel down to your swollen puffy nub, pulling on it playfully as your hips buck into him. Your walls clamp down on his fat cock, gripping it like a vice as your orgasm rips through you.He grunts loudly, his jaw tightening as he bottoms out, his fat tip pushing against your womb as he releases a huge load in you

He grunts loudly, his jaw tightening as he bottoms out, his fat tip pushing against your womb as he releases a huge load in you.Still fucking you through your intense orgasm, he collapses onto your chest, breathing heavily. Simon licks the trail of sweat that was running down your neck slowly, whispering into your ear,

"feel my cum inside you, dovie? Hm?"

He slowly releases your throat, feeling your sensitive walls flutter around his still hard cock. He pulls out of you and watches as his hot load leaks through your spent cunt, feeling immensely proud. You watch in confusion as he repositions himself on top of your face,

"s-si? wha-?"

"Shh lovie, jus' be a good girl and open yer mouth"

He puts his knees on either side of your face and lightly settles on your chest making sure not to crush his precious girl. You obeyed, nails digging in his thick trunk like thighs as he grips the base of his cock and lightly slaps it on your lips

Without a warning he forces his thick length down your throat making you gag and choke as he fucks your mouth harder, not slowing down even as you cough and sputter around his thickness. Saliva slobbering everywhere as you take every inch of his fat cock.

"that's it babygirl take it all, yer doing so good"

You sucked hard on him, lips parting wide because of his dick as he groans, bottoming out feeling your throat while holding you down by your hair as he releases and insanely huge amount of his hot load down your throat.

"fuckk, good girl swee'heart! being such a good lil slut f'me"

You gulped down his cum while some dripped down from inbetween your lips, he chuckled and leaned down licking his cum from your pretty face. He let out a breathless chuckle, watching your teary eyes and tired expression.

"we're jus' gettin' started dovie"

@sidollie

ᯓ★ masterlist

[callsignfawn]

18+ mdni. slight choking.

john price smothers you when y'all fuck. he's not mean about it, simply needing to feel every single inch of you pressed against him. skin against skin. you're lying flat on your stomach atop your shared bed, head nestled between his meaty bicep and forearm as he holds you in a headlock, pounding into your awaiting cunt from behind. his weight pins you down, chest to your back as he takes you, claims you as his own.

“doin’ so good for me, beautiful,” price rasps, hips rutting against your ass as his cock slides in and out of you. his breath is warm against the shell of your ear, beard tickling the skin there. the pillow propped beneath your hips helps to alleviate some of the pressure caused by his weight, smushing your body flat against the mattress. he's obsessed with the way your body fits against his own, shaped like some goddess crafted solely for his pleasure. his woman.

one of price's big hands moved to brush hair off of your sweaty forehead. the movements are sloppy, but he gets the job done, swiping the locks away from your face. with that same hand, he grips your jaw and forces your head to face him. his lips smash against your own, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as his cock hits that spongy spot deep inside of you that has you seeing stars. the pleasured cry you let out is muffled by his lips, and he swallows the sound greedily. price breaks the kiss with a groan, a line of spit connecting your lips to his before his tongue darts out, breaking the connection.

“mmh, getting there, lovely,” he groans into your ear, gritting his teeth. “just breathe with me.” the grunts he lets out with each thrust grow louder, mingling in the air with your moans and gasps. he's sweaty and loud, high on the feeling of your walls clenching around him. price quickens his pace, strong hips thrusting into you with a certain ferocity that has the bed creaking, headboard thudding against the wall. and the arm that's circling your throat? it tightens, nearly choking you in the headlock he has, temple pressed to your forehead as he chases his release.

[erenists]

BREAKING NEWS: MEN CAN WHIMPER?

Synopsis: Situations where JJK MEN whimper! MDNI 18+

Warnings: Sub!Gojo, Sub!Geto, Sub!Toji, Sub!Choso, Sub!Sukuna, Sub!Nanami

Overstimulation (m receiving), riding, bondage (ribbons), sex toys (vibrator), teasing, orgasm denial, begging, whimpering, crying, humiliation, praise/degradation, multiple orgasms, orgasm control.

WC: 3k

Gojo Satoru 𝜗𝜚

The grip he has on your waist doesn't loosen, in fact it tightens not to get you to keep going like he usually does but to try and stop you.

"agh— sweetheart m-mind slowing down hah?" You only smirk looking down at him with your eyes lidded as your hips keep snapping down onto him riding him like you've got places to be.

"S'ok toruu, you can handle it big boy" cooing you take his face into your hands pressing a soft kiss on his forehead making him groan.

"Keep going and I might jus—" Before he can finish his sentence your hips roll in a certain way making him jolt his grip tightening and eyes squinting his jaw falling slack. "ohh fuck baby s-so good" He can already feel himself coming and you can too.

you speed up and he comes with a loud groan finally he can rest he thought — until you kept up the pace quickening. "Holy shit fuck fuck— baby w-wait fuck wait" He lets his head fall back tapping your hips trying to get you off. You shake your head grinning and then Gojo whimpers he whimpers like a lost puppy and you feel your pace falter a little. "toru.. did you — did you just whimper..?" You ask your pupils dilated and the look in your eyes scares Gojo half to death as he hesitantly nods. You lick a stripe on his neck and that's when you feel your hips bouncing like never before Gojos forced to dig his face into your neck not being able to hold himself back. "Haah— s-so fast b-baby soo good best pussy ever t-thank you fuck fuck cant handle thisss" you rub your clit to his whines nodding at his incoherent words hes spewing. one final strong bounce of your hips and both of you are gone, Gojos thighs shake his nails digging into you as he's cumming deep into your womb while you're squirting all over him.

"mmmm — we should do this again toruu~" You trace little shapes on his chest laying on him and grinning, you peek up and your grin falls into a soft smile seeing him sound asleep.

Geto Suguru 𝜗𝜚

Your boyfriend was so beautiful, his long hair was always so shiny and healthy, his face always clean and smooth and god did he look divine tied up with your pink ribbons against a chair, his cock out begging to be touched, best birthday gift ever.

You smile, approaching your boyfriend bending to your knees so you're at eye level with as he stares at you with a desperate look in his eyes.

"you should see yourself right now suguru, you look delectable" You drag your acrylic nail down his bare defined chest and he smirks up at you.

"Oh? is that so sweetheart, perhaps you should take a bite of me hm?" He purrs and you grin resting your free hand onto his head before slowly and softly dragging it down to grip onto his chin and tilt it upwards.

"Might just have to" Your tongue runs over your lips before you smash them on to his.

"Sugu — I got mph" you moan trying to speak in between the kisses but he really doesn't let up until you pull away. He stares up at you, his lips still chasing yours.

"as I was trying to say.. I got something I wanted to try on you sweetie..." His eyes lighten up with curiosity and excitement. "What is it sweets?" he tilts his head and you get up walking towards a small bag and pulling out a box.

"Are you ready to see sugu?" He nods slowly and you open the box revealing a vibrator. Getos eyes furrow before looking at you."Oh. Are you going to.. use that? on me??" Your sweet smile drops.

"No good?" "No s'not that just — whatever s'fine let's just try it out" It's not that Geto was entirely against using a vibrator on him it's just that Geto knew he was gonna have to prepare himself for a long night. You smile widely.

"YAYY thank u suguu~" You engulf him in a hug, his face pressed against your chest and to that he softly smiles. Who knows maybe you'll have mercy on him? ...

"Fuuuuck — I caant~ no more darling I'm all d-drained gagh-" He whines loudly thrashing around in the chair, the highest level of the vibrator abusing his tip. it was no use his pleads just fueled you to keep going.

"Sugu.. you promised me one more tho-" You look at him through your lashes and Geto swears he can feel a whimper brewing up as he shakes his head.

"I caaant" He's tearing up at this point not shutting up his whines on blast your smirk widening.

"S'ok keep going baby~ almost there mhmmm" You cheer Geto on and his teary eyes find yours. The look in your eyes has him squeezing his shot as his moans grow more and more pathetic.

"Haah — s'to much t-to much gonna fuck explode..." His brows stay furrowed, a look of bliss fully painted on his face and you slide the vibrator up and down his shaft.

"Goood boy..." His cock twitches at that and you don't fail to notice,

"Does someone like it when I call him a good boy? hmm..??" You start sliding the vibrator faster and faster and he swears he's about to meet god. "yesyesyesyes love it so agh m-much love you so hah much" he's straining against the ribbons and regretting agreeing to being tied up as your gift. He tenses before his cum shoots out flying all over you as he screams out.

"MOMMYY FUCK" your eyes blow open wide before smirking and he digs his face into your chest out of embarrasment.

"wow Suguru.. you did s'good for me huh? Give me another one?" You smile innocently and Geto actually sobs at that last question of course how could he say no to his princess on her birthday though? Toji Fushiguro 𝜗𝜚

You’re perched on top of Toji, completely in control, thighs pressed tight around his waist while he’s the one staring up at you like you’re a dream and a curse. He’s panting, trying to keep still, but his big hands flex like he’s dying to grab you.

“Aw, poor baby,” you hum, cupping his face, “too big for your own good, huh?”

Toji groans, clearly trying not to thrust up into you. “You’re so fuckin’ small, I’m gonna break you—”

You tighten around him just to hear him choke on a moan. “Don’t be silly, sweetie,” you whisper, lips curling against his ear, “I’m the one doing the breaking here.”

You roll your hips again and he sighs like he’s trying not to sob. His brows furrow, jaw clenched like he’s holding onto the last threads of control. But his thighs tremble under your hands. His cock twitches inside you.

You grin. He’s already close.

You lean in, pressing your chest against his, so slow and sweet it makes his breath stutter. “Look at you,” you murmur, grinding down just enough to make him twitch. “All those muscles, all that strength... and you’re just lying here. Letting me use you.”

Toji’s eyes flutter shut and his hands grip the sheets like a lifeline.

“F-fuck, I’m tryin’,” he chokes out. “Tryin’ so hard, but—shit—can’t hold back when you’re so—”

“Say it,” you purr, rocking your hips in slow, deep circles. “Say what I am.”

He lets out a sound soft and broken.

“Perfect,” he whispers. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, you feel so good, I—”

You shut him up with a slow drag of your cunt down his cock, your walls fluttering around him as his voice breaks. He gasps, a desperate little whimper catching in his throat. “There it is,” you smile, your voice like honey. “That sound I wanted.”

Toji whimpers again, louder this time, and his whole body tenses under you like he’s about to snap. His face is flushed, slick with sweat, lips parted as he moans helplessly with every motion of your hips.

“You gonna cry for me, big boy?” you tease gently, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. “Wanna see you fall apart. Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you’re mine.”

“Yours,” he moans without hesitation, hands still clenched into fists. “Yours, fuck—I can’t, I can’t gonna cum—”

You clench around him and he shouts, hips jerking up involuntarily, eyes squeezing shut.

“No,” you command softly, grabbing his chin and making him look at you. “Ask.”

Toji’s lip trembles. You’ve never seen him like this—wrecked and obedient, so desperate he might lose his mind.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please let me cum, baby—I’ll be good, I’ll do anything, I-I can’t—please”

You hum, so sweet, so cruel.

“Good boy.”

And when you finally let him, when you start riding him like you mean it? He falls apart completely whimpering, moaning, shaking underneath you as he spills into you, cock twitching wildly.You ride it out, watching his eyes roll back, his mouth open in silent shock. And even when he cums, even when he thinks he’s done—he isn’t. Not until you’re finished. Choso Kamo 𝜗𝜚Choso is already breathing heavily beneath you, lips parted in a silent moan as you slide down on him slowly, dragging your nails up his bare chest as his head tips back.

“You okay, baby?” you whisper with a smile, even though you already know the answer. His hands are shaking. His thighs are trembling beneath yours. His whole body is tense from trying not to fuck up into you.

He swallows thickly, nods. “Y-yeah. M’okay.” You roll your hips once just once and Choso whimpers. You tilt your head, grin. “You sure?” His hands grip the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Y-yeah, I promise—just... fuck, just don’t stop.” You hum softly, cupping his cheeks in both hands and leaning down, your breath hot on his lips.

“You sound so sweet when you’re like this, y’know that?” You trail your fingers down his chest again, stopping to brush across his nipples—and his whole body jerks.

“A-ah—wait—” he gasps, squirming as you circle one with your thumb. “Sensitive, I—fuck—” You pinch gently and he lets out a high sound, eyes wide and glassy.

“Choso,” you murmur, mouth brushing his, “why’re you acting like you can’t take it when I’ve barely started?” He blushes hard, but he doesn’t look away he never does. He wants you to see him like this. Wants to give himself up completely.

“I can,” he whispers, desperate. “I can take it—just need you, need you to ride me—need you to use me—” You moan softly at how wrecked his voice sounds. You grind down again, this time more purposefully, and he shudders, hips jerking beneath you. His fingers dig into the sheets.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, “I’m gonna cum—please—please let me—”

You stop.

His whole body jerks at the denial, brows pulling together like he might cry.

“Not yet,” you whisper. “want you to wait a little more”

He whimpers again, a shaky, breathless thing that leaves his lips like it snuck out before he could stop it. His chest rises and falls rapidly as you start to move again, slow and deep, grinding your hips just right until his hands are shaking.

“Feels so good,” he gasps, staring up at you like you hung the stars. “I c-can’t think—‘m gonna cum, please let me cum, please—”

You lean down, kiss his cheek, and coo in his ear, “Then cum for me, baby. Be my good boy and let go.” And the second you say it? He breaks.

Choso cries out, clinging to you with trembling hands as he spills inside you, his thighs shaking uncontrollably. His whole body twitches with aftershocks, his head buried in your neck, panting like he’s run a marathon. You’re still moving, still grinding into him, milking him for everything he has.

“Good boy,” you whisper as his whines grow higher, more helpless.

It’s perfect.

Sukuna Ryomen 𝜗𝜚

He hates how good you make him feel.

The King of Curses reduced to this. Chest heaving. Lips bitten red. Fingers curled so tight in the sheets his claws have shredded the fabric. And worst of all? You’re smiling down at him like he’s the pet.

"You’re really gonna cum again?” you murmur sweetly, grinding down on him slow and steady. “Tsk. Didn’t even give me permission yet.” Sukuna bares his teeth at you but it’s all bark. His hips twitch up helplessly. He’s trembling. “F-fuck off,” he growls, trying to hang on to that last shred of dominance.

“You think you control me—?” You cut him off by rolling your hips just right tight, wet, perfect and he chokes on a moan. Loud. Desperate. So unlike him. You lean down, pressing your body over his, hands framing his flushed face.

“I don’t think, baby,” you whisper. “I know.” Sukuna’s tongue flicks out, panting, red eyes darting down to where you’re riding him like you own him which, by now, you kind of do. “You’re fuckin’ lucky I let you do this,” he hisses, voice cracking at the end. “Should tear you apart—should make you beg”

You slam down on him with a sharp snap of your hips and he gasps, eyes rolling back.

“Oh, please,” you scoff. “If you could take control back, you would’ve by now. But look at you.” You trail your fingers down his chest, scratching lightly. “Look at what I’ve turned you into.”

His skin is covered in bite marks. Scratches. Bruises from your fingers. He looks ruined, stretched out and stuffed full of you, whining like a toy wound up too tight.

“F-fuck,” he breathes, “too much—can’t—can’t—!”

“You can,” you purr, rolling your hips slow and deep now, savoring how his thighs tremble under your grip. “You will. Because I said so.”Sukuna’s fangs dig into his lip and his face scrunches up in frustration and humiliation lust. He doesn’t know whether to spit in your face or cry. And then you say it.

“Be a good boy for me.” Something snaps. He gasps, jerks forward, and cums with a half-strangled moan, shaking under you like he’s been shocked. His claws dig into the ruined bedding. His back arches up. He whimpers. You laugh softly.

“Aww. There it is.” Even after he cums, even as he’s still twitching from it you don’t stop. He lets out a wrecked sound, eyes wide with panic.

“N-no—wait, wait—fuck, too much—!”

“Shhh,” you coo, dragging your nails across his stomach as your hips keep moving, chasing your own high now. “You wanted to act like a king, baby. But look at you now. Crying for your queen.”

And the worst part?

He loves it. Nanami Kento 𝜗𝜚

Nanami’s always so composed—so serious. But now, under you, he’s a mess.

His usually steady breath is ragged, chest rising and falling beneath you as you slowly grind down onto him. His grip on the sheets is tight, knuckles pale, and his gaze is torn between pleading with you and still trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“You okay, Nanami?” you tease, keeping your pace slow, just enough to make him twitch but never enough to drive him to the edge. He looks up at you, face flushed, and his lips tremble.

“Please,” he pants, voice tight, “don’t tease me. I can’t—I can’t take it, please.” You hum thoughtfully, leaning forward, your breath hot against his ear.

“You’ve been so good for me, Nanami. I can see how badly you want it.” His body jerks under you as you slow your movements. His eyes squint shut, fists tightening.

“Fuck, please—” He’s begging now, desperate. He’s so proud, so used to being the one in control, but all of that cracks when you smile and lean down to kiss him, slow and deep.

“Shh,” you whisper when you pull away. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. So obedient.” That praise makes him shudder. His breath catches in his throat as you start moving again, this time a little faster just enough to get a strained moan out of him. His head falls back, and his hands fly up to grab your hips needy.

“Please, I’m—I’m so close,” he gasps, eyes wide. “I can’t—don’t make me wait—” You slow down again, watching him twitch beneath you.

“Don’t make you wait?” you tease softly. “But you’ve waited so patiently, haven’t you?” You circle your hips slowly, deliberately, watching Nanami’s face twist with frustration. He’s trying to hold it together, but you can see it—he’s losing it. He needs it so badly.

“God, fuck, don’t tease me like that,” he grits out, chest heaving. “I’ll do anything—please, I just need to—”

You cut him off by leaning down and kissing him, long and slow, pulling back just before he can get too comfortable. His eyes follow you, heavy with need, as his mouth opens again, and the whimper that escapes him is so soft, so broken.

“I’ll let you cum, Nanami,” you say, your voice smooth and sweet. “But not yet. I want to hear you beg for it a little longer.”

His hands shoot out to grab your thighs, holding you in place as his hips push up, desperate for more friction. His body is already trembling from the need, his face red, his voice small.

“Please,” he gasps. “I—I can’t wait anymore, I—please.”

You let him squirm under you for a few more seconds, drawing it out, until finally, you give him the release he’s been begging for. You start to move faster, your hips slapping against his in a steady rhythm, and his body reacts immediately—crying out as his cock twitches and he’s finally spilling into you, his whole body shaking from the force of it.

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur softly, kissing his forehead. “You did so well for me.”

He lets out a broken, desperate sob of relief as he comes down from his high, face buried in the crook of your neck, body still shuddering beneath you.

“Thank you,” he breathes, barely audible. “I’m yours...”

A/N: i have been so busy this week im so sorry about lowkey going ghost lol I hope you guys like this tho!! 😝

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader summary It’s getting harder for Joel to ignore the way he feels about you—especially on the night you try on new clothes just for him. [post-outbreak, fluff, mildly suggestive, 1k] a/n Here’s something short, sweet, and low stakes as I work on longer requests. Joel is down bad, but don't tell anyone.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Want is a brave, unabashed thing. There’s no ignoring it when it arises as a persistent hum beneath Joel’s skin. Like a brewing storm you can’t escape, the inevitability of the tide as it barrels towards the shore. It’d been years since he felt something rise within him so strongly, yet it insists he welcomes it back like a friend. 

Joel shifts where he sits on the foot of your bed. The sound of your shuffling continues to emit from the closet. He runs a heavy hand through his hair, then scratches the back of his neck. It’s a restlessness he doesn’t quite know what to do with as he waits for you to reappear. It doesn’t help that he can hear every sound you make on the other side of the door—hangers clacking, fabric rustling. 

With a once-dormant facet of his imagination, Joel attempts to paint a picture of the in-between. Of everything he can’t see right now—the slow glide of the clothes over your skin, the graceful way your limbs maneuver. He’s never considered himself much of an artist aside from the creations he forges with his own hands, but he’s certain that with you as his muse, his mind’s eye alone is meritable. 

The door opens, and there you are. 

It’s another sweater this time, but he swears this one fits you better than the rest. It’s a lovely shade of cream with a V-cut neckline and structure that clings to you frame enough to accentuate your shape. Joel nods before any question is asked of him, and your smile is well worth it. Flattered and shy all the same. 

“You like it?” 

“‘Course I do,” Joel insists. “C’mere. Lemme get a good look.” 

Come here. They’re words he’s getting used to rolling past his lips so freely. They’re sweet. It’s as if the ability to beckon someone like you into his proximity is a well-aged wine he’s finally allowed to indulge in. Like the wonder you are, you listen, ready to be drunken in. 

Any hesitance on your end is feigned. You don’t want to seem too eager as you pad between Joel’s spread legs. Outside, the sunlight is fleeting, but it’s enough to illuminate him and your bedroom dimly. His brow bone casts a slight shadow that makes his eyes appear even darker than they are. Another is cast beneath the curve of his jaw onto his thick neck. That intensity doesn’t transfer into his touch. His hands are cautious as they reach out to feel the fabric, as if you’ll startle or step away. But he forgets that it’s you who’d wanted him in your orbit for so long. 

“Feels real nice,” he says. “How do you like it?” He looks up into your eyes as his hands settle on your waist.

“I love it.” You cup his cheek and brush a thumb over the scruffy skin. Joel leans into your touch. “Saved the best for last.” 

“Looked gorgeous in everything.” His voice comes out thicker. 

This sliver of the evening was never about any of the clothes. It was about you wanting to share your findings with Joel and letting him into a little part of your world that he’d never sat in on before. It was all so casual that he forgot, if only for a moment, that the world hadn’t fallen apart. There’d been a pleasant tug in the wait. A small thrill whenever you stepped back through the door donned in something new. What struck him even more was that these first glances were just for him. 

“Is this your favorite too?” The smile on your lips suggests you already know the answer. 

Joel’s cheeks warm. “Yeah, I… yeah.” 

Your hand doesn’t leave his face as you say, “What about it?” 

Joel swallows the lump in his throat as his neck warms. If you’re not messing with him, he’ll be damned. You watch how he combs through his mind for an answer you already know resides in the forefront. Even though he spirals all the more, he’s grateful that your sweet laugh flows into the air before he can stammer through an answer. 

Your free hand rises to cup his other cheek, and he wishes he could look away to preserve whatever remains of his pride. But Joel helplessly looks up at you because that’s what he is these days. Helpless. Despite himself, he begins to smile too. Then you lean down to capture his lips. It’s not the type of kiss you pour into with all that you are but one that’s much lighter. So much so that it borders on playful and comes to a premature end. 

A heavy exhale escapes him as you finally let go of his face. “You like makin’ things hard for me?” His question is gruff and honest, but there’s affection in his eyes. 

You pretend to think. “What’s hard?” you ask. “You, my question, or both?” 

Joel’s stomach flips. “Real funny, ain’t ya?” 

“Scooch back, and we can find out.” 

You motion for him to move further back on the bed, and he listens, eyes stuck on you. Joel scoots until he’s in the center, biceps flexing with his effort. The mattress dips as you climb to join him, walking on your knees until you can straddle his lap. Joel's head meets the pillows when you place a hand on his chest in a silent encouragement to lie down. The rise and fall of his chest grows more pronounced. So does the tightness in his jeans.

“I like the way it fits,” Joel finally says, voice small and measured. “You got a real nice figure.” Your gaze softens as you look down at him because you can hear his sincerity, the underlying shyness. 

“Drive me crazy all the damn time. Ain’t even gotta try,” he says, hands steadying your waist as he shifts beneath you. “S’getting awful hard to pretend that ain’t the case.”

He gives you a gentle squeeze then. “Swear I don’t mean any disrespect.” 

Joel holds his breath when your fingers move to the first button of his shirt. You pop it undone before moving to the next one, then the next. He makes a small, pleased sound when you lean down to kiss the exposed skin. He’s warm and earthy. 

“The feeling’s mutual,” you murmur as you undo another button and kiss the next portion of revealed skin. “Hope this is okay…” 

“It’s more than okay,” he assures, breath catching in his throat.

-

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

JOEL MASTERLIST

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[shouyuus]

18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

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[tojisun]

sex with simon… oh the worms. they're going crazy

!! (mentioned) breeding kink; squirting; unrealistic (and hinted gratuitous) sex; afab reader

he would keep you in his bed however long he wants. you could have work or any other scheduled outing, but nothing gets accomplished nor is a priority the moment he's got you in his room. it's not like he chains you to his posts—not unless you two planned it—but he teases, rutting his cock along your stomach or punching it deep in your cervix. the croons come soon, always accompanied by open-mouth kisses along your skin.

“y’r so wet, listen—”

you squeal, clawing the sheets at his deep thrust; the slide so wet and sloppy, your cunt drips and squelches. your cheeks tingle with warmth and your chest thrums with the feeling of shame, and you want to curl into yourself but know you are unable to.

not with how simon’s bearing down on you like the weight of his fat cock isn’t enough to smother the little air you don’t gasp out in your dizzying bliss.

he grins, seeing the way your eyes roll to the back of your skull and feeling your toes curl from where they are pressed on the rise of his ass, and doubles the speed. his pelvis meets your own, the head of his cock snug just before your cervix and you hiccup, thrashing, your slack jaw even more useless.

gargled keens is all you can reply to simon’s taunts, your mind and body unable to form any coherent thought.

your pussy aches. oversensitive. you are sure your walls will permanently be stretched, shaped by the size of simon’s cock—he’s ruined you for everyone else.

god. the thought shouldn’t be pleasing but it makes you scream, hips jumping as your orgasm builds, reaching its peak, frantic as it razes your body and—

and—

simon grunts at the wet gush of your squirt, your slick forcing itself past the plugged-in girth of his dick. he hisses to himself at the biting pleasure of your pussy gripping him like a wet, used vice, his mind going numb at the onslaught of ecstatic sensations filling his synapses.

his orgasm hits him hard too, his teeth digging into your skin as it racks him with such ferocity.

you sob, hitting him weakly with your trembling fist because s’too muh– simon s’too mu–!

he whispers his sorry’s. says this’ll be the last round, he swears, his eyes blissfully closed as he fills your womb with his cum.

(let it take, simon sings to himself.

let it take. let it take. let it take.)

but he doesn’t pull out his flaccid cock, not even for a break, and you whimper, your mind humming with need and your clit thrumming with unbridled desire, because you know he’s not done.

not yet. not with how simon looks at you with dark eyes, his kiss-swollen lips tugged up in a grin. it looks more like a snarl, you think.

“‘m gon’ make a mess out o’you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice soft even as it descends into you with a certain finality. “gon’ fill this cunt with my cum until y’r womb’s sloshin’ with all of it.”

you blink your wet eyes up at him and mewl, “please.” because you want nothing less.

[bunsiesblog]

Viktor Relationship HC

Viktor x GN!Reader

Purely self indulgent headcanons for Viktor in a relationship. You want fluff? Here is fluff.

tags: s1!viktor, established relationship, typical domesticity and fluff

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Viktor prefers subtle displays of affection. His intimacy is quiet—a hushed whispered shared between the two of you.

Very public and grand displays of affection tend to leave him embarrassed and flustered. This doesn’t mean he shies away from showing the world he is yours. But he prefers those intimate acts to be shared between the two of you.

That being said—he is a man in love. And he simply can’t help himself when you are near. So he has found a few ways to express his devotion to you:

A gentle bump of the knee under the table as you both sit together.

Interlocked pinkies. A touch so small it might have been missed if not for the faint smile pulling at his lips.

A hidden hand resting on your thigh while he reads or works—absentmindedly tracing circles with his thumb.

A tender touch to the small of your back as he guides you through crowds. Not only to keep you close but to keep him grounded as well.

Quick kiss to your forehead when parting ways. “Take care, lásko.”

Viktor adores holding your hands. Such an innocent and simple act leaves him feeling profoundly connected to you.

He often does it absentmindedly—reaching for your hand when his mind is elsewhere. His thumb traces your knuckles or the faint lines of your palm. He’ll even play with your fingers, as though committing their shape to memory.

Our lovely scientist quite likes the size difference between your two hands. He’ll press his palm flat against yours, marveling at the contrast with a soft smile on his face. “It’s quite unfair that I am so lanky, no?”

When privacy is reliably assured, Viktor rather enjoys spoiling you with affection and being spoiled in return. Here are some favorites of his in no particular order:

Kissing. And not the kind that is full of tongue and saliva (although he can acknowledge certain … situations … where it has its benefit.) He prefers the soft and revert kisses he gives you. The sort of kiss where he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing along your cheeks, and simply embraces you. Like he’d rather be at your lips all day than breathe air.

Viktor also has a pension for kissing you in places that are not just your lips. His kisses are gentle, playful, and unexpectedly intimate. Some of his favorite places to leave them on you are the inside of your wrist, the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your neck, and the tip of your nose.

He particularly enjoys the way you laugh or squirm when he traces light kisses to your neck and jawline. Viktor will hold your hands to keep you from wiggling away. Despite being quiet by nature, Viktor’s smirk betrays how much he enjoys hearing you laugh. “You want me to stop? But you make such sweet sounds for me, Koťátko. Just one more.”

A quiet night in the lab made him realize just how much he enjoys seeking your warmth and filling in the empty spaces between you. When you’re perched at the edge of his work table, Viktor will instinctively step between your legs and rest his hand on your thighs as he looks up at you. It’s any wonder how he gets any sort of work done when you’re around.

To others, he is a polite but distant man. Constantly consumed by his work and ambition. But with you, he is something else entirely: gentle, tender, and devoted. And it is clear to anyone who knows him just how special you are.

Viktor always gives you his unwavering attention. When you speak, he listens. His whiskey eyes are held steady to your own. Oftentimes, when he thinks you won’t notice, they’ll flick down to your lips. And he’ll rub a thoughtful hand over his jaw, trying his best to hide an amused smile. “Hm? Yes, I’m listening, sweetheart.”

His reserved nature doesn’t lend itself to overt sentimentality. But with you? It shines. There is a tenderness in him that only you can bring out.

Viktor has a weathered notebook he keeps in his coat pocket for when inspiration strikes or he simply can’t put his pen down. However, among the haphazard grocery lists or scribbled equation are notes about you like ‘prefers chamomile tea when anxious’ or ‘smiles when it rains’. Even the margins of his notes are decorated with absentminded doodles of you.

He most definitely is an act of service kind of man. The chain of your necklace is broken? Or your watch won’t tick past 6:33? He’ll silently take it off your hands, fiddle with the repair in the quiet hours of his lab, and leave it for you to be found the next day. Any sort of thanks you try to give him are met with a humble “it was nothing.” Although the blush on his ears tell a different story.

[ubeb0nes]

NSFW Sevika HCs

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A/n: i haven't written any smut in god knows how long so pls go easy yall 😭

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This is a dom

I love indulging in the bottom!sevika content when i come across it, it's beautiful, showstopping

But bby, you only get to do what she lets you do. Even when she's on bottom, you're never really the one in charge, no matter how you might try to convince yourself

She's a terrible tease, and has an absolutely filthy mouth. Loves watching your jaw drop slightly when she whispers things in public, and how you scramble to gather yourself

Her self-control and patience is absolutely insane. She's not one to jump your pants at the first tease you give her.

She'll let you have her fun, all while running the tip of her tongue across a canine and plotting her revenge

Gets a big head/ego if you call her mommy. Nearly loses her mind and reputation for restraint if you call her daddy

A lot of her turn-ons are things that aren't inherently sexual. I like to think she's attracted to both masc and fem-presenting people, and anything leaning deeper into these characteristics will get a rise out of her.

Ex.'s -> watching you put on makeup in the mornings, specifically lipstick/gloss. Conversely, how your thighs look and your face hardens when you manspread while striking a deal. When you look up at her and rest your hands on her chest. When you lean back and rest your arm over the back of her chair

Particularly masculine and particularly feminine things. She eats up both

Absolutely a bit of a sadist/madochist. We know this from the whole cait thing

She's obsessed with your mouth in particular. The marks you leave, the shapes it makes with certain sounds she pulls from you, how your lips wrap around her fingers when she teases your mouth open with them

She rarely ever has you on your back because she wants to watch your tongue loll and your eyes roll

Goes crazy for certain things you say when you start to reach melted brain levels of fucked out; "baby, it's too much…" "Sevi, i can't keep going" "no, baby, no more…" it's like a second wave. And, (always) only with your emphatic consent, she'll proceed to push your body even more

Her favorite position is missionary i'm sorry lmfao. Vanilla in theory, but definitely doesn't feel like it when she's slinging that shimmerstrap LOL

I HC she's generally pretty gentle with you, at least lovesick!sevika is. In the sense that she's not tossing you around or slapping your ass purple.

Rather, she'll wrap her hand around your throat but not really squeeze. And she'll push her fingers down your throat until you're teary-eyed, but she won't fuck your throat until it's raw and sore.

She prefers using her hands and her mouth, but her strap game is insane. That stroke would be hypnotic to watch.

Her eyes read clearly when it comes to intimacy. The way they darken and narrow when she's about to pounce on you, and how they always get so glossy and self-satisfied (if not a bit smug) as she watches you cum.

Her crows feet crease as she smiles down at you, whispering "good job, baby" and "there's my girl, you're okay. I've got you."

Always insists on taking care of you afterwards, but won't fight you on it if you flip it on her and make her lay back so you can clean her up

In fact, please do this. She'll think about it for weeks

Cuddles you afterward like she's trying to burrow in your skin. Can't get enough of the smell of you post-sex, burying her nose in your neck and your hair

Yeah, she's never sharing you. Everything about you is too precious, too hers.

She demands hickeys/lipstick marks on her chest- over her heart- because your claim over her deepens her own.

[tiza0925]

Like Honey | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, alcohol, tipsy!reader, squirting, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk!Sakusa, overstimulation, praise kink, bit of pussy slapping ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Kiyoomi Sakusa hates parties. 

Too many people. 

Too loud. 

Too many germs. 

It’s why he almost always declines to go to one whenever the rest of the MSBY team invites him along. 

Parties in any shape and form make him uncomfortable, to be honest. 

But what Sakusa hates more than parties themselves—is the idea of you going to one on your own without him there. 

Not that he doesn’t trust you. 

But it’s that he knows how volleyball players are at parties—especially when there’s a pretty girl and alcohol is involved. 

Hence, the reason why he finds himself at a house party tonight that Atsumu invited the two of you to—while he stands away from everyone else, mask on, and holding a drink that he’s taken maybe one or two sips from. 

Not because he wants to but—

But because there you are—in the crowd, giggling and drinking with a few other people—and he watches with a level of affection, only ever giving any other guy who even dares to touch you a single look that causes the hairs at the back of their neck to rise. 

He talks to a few friends here and there, laughs, and takes another drink to loosen up as much as he’s willing to allow himself, but his eyes remain on you—

Almost protective. 

He raises a brow when he notices you walking over to him—but all you do is grin, eyes droopy, as your lower lip gets pinched under your top teeth, and—

Oh. 

He lets out a huff of breath filled with amusement when he sees you bat your lashes at him, giving him a certain look that he knows too well whenever you have alcohol in your system. 

A look of want—need—with your eyes so murky with desire that if you looked at any other man like that, they’d probably take you to the nearest surface to bend you over and—

Well, you get the point. 

Sakusa turns to face you—looking down at you with a tease in his voice. “The alcohol already gotten to that pretty little brain of yours?” 

Your eyes grow alight with want, and your cheeks flush as you get closer to him to wrap your arms around his waist—and a pout adorns your red lips. “I’m only a little tipsy.” 

That’s a lie. 

He can see that right away with how foggy your eyes are and how red your cheeks are. 

You’re more than just a little tipsy. 

Not that he minds, though. 

In fact, he’s letting out a breath of relief as he holds you back with one arm, the other still holding his drink, and he lowers his head so only you can hear him—his voice coming out a low rumble, “Let’s go then, love.” 

Because whenever you’re like this—it gives him an excuse to leave. 

To go home and take care of you in a way that he knows what you need right now. 

You nod, eager, excitement shooting up your nerves as he guides you through crowds of people—him saying bye to those he gives a shit about, and—

And that’s how, about an hour later, you end up back at his apartment—his bedroom door locked—as your body sinks into his plush mattress, one of your hands carding through his silk-softened hair that’s nestled between your thighs. 

“Fuck—”

You suck in a shaky breath as a flat tongue runs from your entrance to your clit, and you whine as Sakusa hooks his arms under your thighs to bring your pussy flush against his mouth—his mask thrown off somewhere in the midst of you two kissing so deeply on your way here—and he spits on your clit, making your cunt pulse. 

“You’re always so wet when you drink,” Sakusa groans against you, his mouth covering your entire pussy as his jaw goes to work, sucking and eating you out like he's starved. 

Just the way you like it when you’re this tipsy—the alcohol making you pleasantly warm, mixed with how his tongue and mouth feel on you.

It’s like you’re drowning in a pool of liquid heat as he makes out with your cunt, his tongue dipping in and running through your pillowy folds, and all you can do is lay there and take it with your toes curling and your fingers digging in his hair. 

It’s funny when you really think about it.

One would think that he—of all people—would be against this. 

Grossed out by it, even. 

But he’s the complete opposite with you in bed and behind closed doors.

He’s fucking dirty—uncaring of how messy he gets as your fluids gush onto his face as he fucks you with his tongue, eating your pussy and licking your clit like it’s honey. 

He even likes it more when you’re fucking yourself back—riding his face—making his eyes roll back, eyebrows furrowed, and a groan being muffled against your soft pussy. 

He doesn’t care about the way his chin gets drenched from your juices—not when it means he can hear you moan so pretty for him, and feel your plush thighs squeeze around his head. 

He’s so intoxicated by having his hot tongue in your cunt that he finds himself growing light-headed—his bulge growing and pre-cum leaking against his sweatpants as he licks and licks until you’re cumming on his tongue, moaning his name as you buck your hips into his face. 

“Oh god—Omi, ‘ts too much now—”

He hears you. 

Loud and clear. 

But he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop giving your poor, puffy little clit kitten licks as your cry from overstimulation. 

He doesn’t stop holding onto your thighs right where they are—keeping your pussy close to his mouth so he can lap you up, not wanting to waste a single drop of your fluids drooling everywhere. 

“You’re okay,” His voice is rough, and his eyes move up to look at your body—taking in the way your chest is rising and falling with quick breaths, your nipples are hard and waiting to also be sucked on—and he gives your sopping cunt one long, wide glide of his wet tongue from bottom to top. “Just give me one more, baby. Just one.” 

Instead, it’s never only one more. 

Once he’s in this position with his stomach flat on the bed and comfortably lying in between your legs—

Sakusa doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon. 

You taste too fucking good.

You feel too warm. 

And you sound so damn needy and pretty for him.

You whine, a sob escaping you, and you shake your head. “Omi—please—”

But then your words die with a gasp when you feel him nip the curve of the skin of where your cunt and inner thigh meet—and you let out a ragged exhale, his voice thick and smooth as he kisses your thigh. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” You feel so dizzy from the heat that you throw an arm over your forehead, panting as you feel two of his fingers strum your dripping folds before spreading them apart, glistening and throbbing. “You know I can’t help it.” 

He doesn’t let you say anything else, though. 

Not when he immediately dives back in to prod his tongue into your tight walls, flexing and curling it to bring you back to that hot, buzzing ache in your belly. 

And he keeps your folds open for him to get drunk on—sucking and licking and nipping while his nose bumps against your clit, feeling his hairs tickle your thighs as he gets you to orgasm again. 

And again. 

And again—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Omi!” 

He gets his tongue all worked up, mouth open and thumb rubbing your swollen clit until you’re cumming for the fourth time like this—fluids squirting on his face as your abused and soaked cunt spasms, his name on your tongue as you cry, and he drinks it all up like he’s needy for your taste. 

“Such a good pussy, baby,” Sakusa sucks on your clit with obscene suction noises, making tears stream down your cheeks as a few more spurts of liquid squirt out of you—you’re so fucking overstimulated—and his face is a mess at this point, too. 

When he eventually does pull away—his lips are swollen and shiny—you don’t even have it in you to force your limbs to move anymore. 

You’re so fucked out and he hasn’t even put his cock inside you yet.

“You took it all so well for me.” 

Sakusa looks down at your body—so sweet and perfect—and he can’t help but smile at the little mess he’s made between your legs. 

He then unties the strings to his sweatpants as he sits back on his knees, his dick throbbing to feel your pussy swallow him, and once his thick cock bounces free—

He gives your pussy a slap—his palm against it with a harsh sting—making you whimper, then cups his hand over you as some way to soothe your tired cunt. 

“I just need you to lie there and be pretty for me now, okay baby?” 

end.

Masterpost

[xichilie]

YOUR MYDEI TRYING TO COURT US FIC WAS SOSOSO CUTE IT HAD ME GIGGLING LIKE A MANIAC.

Would our amazing author pretty please consider making a part 2 when they have time 🙏 mayb they get together and mydei asks y/n out on an actual date but still is getting use to flirting in their way. No pressure though, love every morsel of mydei content from u 😭😭😭

I got multiple requests for a second part, so it's time to feed you guys♡

Mydei x (fem)reader

Mydei courting reader Part2

Part 1

The kitchen was warm, filled with the rich, comforting scent of butter and spice. Y/N sat on the edge of the counter, legs swinging idly as she watched Mydei work. His movements were precise, methodical—hands dusted with flour as he kneaded the dough with ease, rolling it out before folding it again. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain focus in the way he handled the ingredients.

“You’re really good at this,” Y/N noted, resting her chin on her hand.

Mydei didn’t look up, but the corner of his lips almost twitched. “I’ve had practice.”

“I didn’t know you baked.”

“Hm.” He paused, carefully pressing the dough into shape. “It’s just… preparing food. Like anything else. Following the right steps, controlling the heat.”

Y/N hummed. “You make it sound so simple, but I’m pretty sure I’d mess it up in three seconds.”

Mydei glanced at her, golden eyes briefly flicking over her face before he returned to his task. “You’d just need to learn.”

She pouted. “Are you offering to teach me?”

Another pause. Then: “Maybe.”

Before she could tease him about it, another voice chimed in.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Y/N turned just in time to see Phainon leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching them with unmistakable amusement. His blue eyes flickered to the baking ingredients, then to Mydei, and his grin widened.

“Mydei,” he said slowly, stepping into the kitchen, “are you baking?”

Mydei’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. “…Yes.”

Phainon looked delighted. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve had the ability to make delicious pastries, and I’m only now finding out?”

Y/N snickered. “I know, right? He’s been holding out on us.”

Mydei ignored them both.

Unbothered, Phainon walked over and leaned on the counter beside Y/N. “So, what are we making?”

“We aren’t making anything,” Mydei corrected.

Phainon placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” He glanced at the dough, inspecting it with mild curiosity. “Looks fancy. What is it?”

Y/N answered before Mydei could. “He said it’s a spiced honey pastry. Apparently, it’s something Kremnoans eat after big feasts.”

Phainon raised a brow. “Huh. Never imagined you as the type to make sweets.”

“I don’t make them often.”

“So, what, is this a special occasion?”

Mydei didn’t answer.

Phainon smirked. “Interesting.”

Y/N, completely missing the implication, just nodded along. “Yeah, I was wondering the same thing! He said he felt like making something, but he won’t say why.”

Phainon shot Mydei a look that screamed, You’re so obvious, it hurts.

Mydei, sensing it, leveled him with a sharp glare.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, just tilted her head. “So, what’s next?”

“…Shaping the dough,” Mydei muttered, shifting his focus back to the counter.

Phainon grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

And with that, the three of them continued—Y/N genuinely interested in learning, Phainon occasionally throwing in unhelpful commentary, and Mydei just barely tolerating them. (Barely tolerating phainon)

If nothing else, at least the pastries would turn out well.

The sweet, warm scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air as Mydei pulled the tray from the oven. Golden and crisp on the outside, soft and honeyed within—perfect.

Y/N leaned forward, eyes bright with admiration. “Wow, Mydei, these look amazing.”

He huffed softly, carefully plating a few. “Taste it.”

She didn’t hesitate, breaking one open and taking a bite. The moment the flavors melted on her tongue, her eyes widened, and she let out a delighted hum. “Oh my, Mydei—this is so good.”

Mydei allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk.

Meanwhile, Phainon, who had been eyeing the pastries the entire time, reached for one. “Alright, my turn—”

Without even looking, Mydei smoothly pulled the plate just out of his reach.

Phainon blinked. “Wait. Did you just—”

Silence.

Mydei focused solely on Y/N as she savored the pastry, blissfully unaware of Phainon’s suffering.

“Are you seriously not giving me one?” Phainon asked, incredulous.

No response.

Y/N, completely oblivious, just kept talking between bites. “This is honestly unfair. You can fight, you can cook, you can bake—” She ticked off each point on her fingers. “You’re great with kids, strong, good-looking—”

There was a pause.

Mydei stilled.

Phainon, who had been mid-complaint, went silent.

Y/N, not noticing, casually continued.

“You really are husband material.”

The room went dead quiet.

Mydei, who had just taken a bite of his own pastry, suddenly choked. He coughed violently, setting his plate down as he tried—and failed—to recover. His golden eyes widened slightly, his usual composure cracking for the first time.

Phainon, meanwhile, looked like he was about to explode.

His entire body trembled as he bit down on his knuckles, his blue eyes darting between Y/N—who was still completely unaware—and Mydei, who was struggling between coughing and processing what just happened.

“H-Husband—” Mydei stammered, voice unusually strained. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain control. “What?”

Y/N glanced up, chewing. “Hmm?”

“You just—” Mydei exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at her like she had just knocked the wind out of him. “Did you just call me—”

Phainon made a choked noise.

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Yeah.” She shrugged, finishing the last of her pastry. “I mean, you kinda are. You’ve got all the qualities.”

Phainon slapped the table so hard the dishes rattled, wheezing.

Mydei shot him a sharp glare, but it did nothing to stop him from completely losing it.

Y/N, still unaware of the absolute chaos she had just caused, tilted her head. “What’s so funny?”

Phainon, gasping for air, barely managed to choke out, “N-nothing—nothing at all—please, keep talking—”

Meanwhile, Mydei looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His face, usually unreadable, was visibly strained—his golden eyes flickering between frustration and something else. His ears burned just slightly, but he refused to acknowledge it.

“Anyway,” Y/N continued, utterly unfazed, “this was amazing. You should bake more often, Mydei.”

Mydei, still recovering, only managed a short nod, unable to look at her.

Phainon wiped a tear from his eye, still trembling from silent laughter.

Y/N stretched. “I think I’ll go for a walk. Thanks for the food!”

As soon as the door shut behind her, Phainon collapsed.

His laughter erupted into the open, uncontrollable, as he leaned back against the chair. “Oh—oh, Mydei—” He gasped between wheezes. “Did you see your face?!”

Mydei scowled, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Shut up.”

But the pink dusting his ears did not go unnoticed.

Phainon was still laughing.

It had been a full minute since Y/N left, and he was not letting it go.

“Husband material,” he wheezed, barely holding himself upright. “You really are husband material, Mydei!” He clutched his stomach, shaking his head. “Oh, this is too good—”

Mydei, sitting rigidly across from him, looked like he was this close to throwing him out the window.

“Are you done?” Mydei said, voice tight.

Phainon wiped at his eyes, trying to calm himself, but every time he looked at Mydei—his arms crossed, his jaw clenched, his golden eyes glaring anywhere except where Y/N had been sitting—he started up again.

“I mean—” Phainon exhaled, catching his breath. “I just—wow. Of all the things she could’ve said.” He grinned. “And you choked.”

Mydei did not dignify that with a response.

Instead, he grabbed another pastry off the plate, taking an aggressive bite, as if the food could somehow make him forget all of it.

But it didn’t.

Because Phainon was still watching him.

And worse—Mydei was still thinking about it.

Husband material.

The words repeated in his mind, unbidden, making something coil uncomfortably in his chest. Not because he disliked the idea, but because of the way she had said it—so casually, so unaware of the effect it had on him.

She really didn’t get it, did she?

Didn’t realize what it meant for someone like him to hear something like that?

He scowled, setting his plate down with a little too much force.

Phainon, of course, caught onto everything.

He smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “Still thinking about it?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up.”

Phainon chuckled, tilting his head. “So. What’s your next move, husband?”

Mydei shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel.

Phainon just grinned wider.

The streets of Okhema were alive with movement—merchants calling out their wares, travelers bargaining for supplies, the distant clang of a blacksmith hammering steel. But Mydei barely noticed any of it.

He walked with his hands tucked behind his back, his golden eyes narrowed in thought.

The previous day’s events played in his head on repeat.

Y/N had called him husband material—out loud, in front of Phainon, without a second thought. Did she mean it? Would he really be a good Husband? But when he’d tried to gauge her reaction, to see if she had finally understood what he’d been trying to do, she just kept eating her pastries, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.

The memory alone was enough to make him grit his teeth.

He had tried everything. Gifts. Training. Spending time with her. He had been obvious—at least, by Kremnoan standards. Back home, anyone would have understood his intentions immediately.

But Y/N?

She was clueless.

He exhaled sharply, adjusting the gauntlets on his wrists.

Phainon had said he needed to be more direct. That was easier said than done. It wasn’t in his nature to be… soft. Kremnos didn’t have words for love. They had words for strength, for battle, for survival. Their affections were shown through actions, not flowery phrases or pointless compliments.

And yet, despite everything, he was losing this battle.

His next attempt had to be unmistakable.

But how—

A familiar sound stopped him in his tracks.

Laughter.

And not just anyone’s laughter—hers.

Mydei’s head snapped up, his sharp gaze scanning the marketplace.

And then he saw her.

Y/N stood in an open space near a merchant stall, surrounded by children. She was crouched down, talking animatedly, hands moving as she spoke. The kids around her giggled, some clapping their hands, others tugging at her sleeves excitedly.

Then, without warning, she bolted.

The children shrieked in delight and ran after her, their laughter ringing through the street as they chased her through the crowd.

Mydei stared.

What in the world was she doing?

His feet moved on instinct, his curiosity outweighing his frustration as he stepped closer, watching the scene unfold.

She was playing with them.

She twisted around a cart, narrowly dodging one of the kids who lunged for her. “Too slow!” she teased, sticking out her tongue before dashing away again.

The children shouted in protest, determination burning in their eyes as they picked up speed.

Mydei couldn’t help but huff a quiet breath of amusement.

She was ridiculous.

But then—

“MYDEI!”

Her voice cut through the noise, bright and full of excitement.

His muscles tensed.

Slowly, cautiously, he met her gaze.

A grin spread across her face, her eyes practically glowing.

One of the kids tugged at her sleeve. “Oh! It’s the warrior prince!”

Another turned toward him, eyes wide. “He’s really big…”

A third tilted their head. “Do you think he knows how to play?”

Mydei’s brow twitched.

Y/N clapped her hands together. “Perfect timing! We’re playing tag, but the teams are uneven.”

She pointed at him.

“You should join us!”

The kids immediately erupted in cheers.

“YES!”

“Play with us!”

“You’ll be really fast, right? You’re a warrior!”

A beat of silence passed.

Mydei stared at Y/N, then at the eager faces of the children.

Play? Him?

He was a Kremnoan warrior. He had never played tag in his life.

This was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

But then Y/N tilted her head, her smile softening just slightly, and—

…Damn it.

His fate was sealed.

One second, Mydei was standing tall, arms crossed as he observed the game unfold—the next, a child had launched themselves at him.

The impact barely made him stumble, but the little hands clinging to him and the triumphant laughter left no room for doubt.

He was it.

Mydei blinked, processing what had just happened as the other children burst into cheers.

“YOU’RE IT NOW!”

“CATCH SOMEONE!”

He let out a slow exhale, golden eyes scanning the gathered group. The kids stared at him in wide-eyed excitement, giggling behind their hands. Some were already shifting nervously, ready to sprint for their lives if his attention landed on them.

But Mydei wasn’t looking at them.

His gaze snapped to Y/N.

She was just standing there—until their eyes met.

A slow grin spread across his face, sharp as a predator about to pounce.

Y/N’s own smile faltered.

“Oh, shit.”

Then she bolted.

Laughter bubbled up in her chest as she sprinted through the streets of Okhema, dodging past merchants and startled pedestrians.

Behind her, the children cheered and whooped.

“GET HER, MYDEI!”

“RUN, Y/N, RUN!”

“I’M BETTING FIVE COINS ON MYDEI!”

“You don’t have five coins!”

“I’M STILL BETTING THEM!”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder—

And immediately regretted it.

Mydei was already closing the distance, long strides eating up the ground far faster than they should have. He was fast—too fast.

Her heart pounded.

If she wanted to win this, she had to think fast.

She darted toward the marketplace, weaving between food stalls and carts, leaping over crates with practiced ease.

But he didn’t slow down.

She could hear the heavy thud of his boots behind her, smooth and relentless.

She turned a corner sharply, hoping to throw him off. But then—

A strong arm shot out, just barely missing her.

A laugh rumbled from him.

“Oh, you’re dead now,” he called.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

She needed height.

Spotting a stack of barrels, she vaulted onto them, then used the momentum to grab onto a wooden beam, swinging herself up onto a rooftop.

The kids gasped.

"WHOA! SHE'S LIKE A NINJA!"

"MYDEI, CAN YOU DO THAT?!"

Y/N grinned smugly, peeking over the edge. No way he's following me now.

Then she heard a heavy thud.

Her grin vanished.

Not even a second later—

Mydei had scaled the wall with brute force, gripping the ledge and pulling himself up in one swift motion.

The kids screamed in excitement.

"HE DID IT!"

“HE’S LIKE A HERO FROM A STORY!”

Y/N groaned. Of course he did.

She turned and ran again.

Now, they were tearing across the rooftops of Okhema.

Y/N moved like the wind, ducking under laundry lines, leaping between buildings, twisting midair to grab onto beams and pull herself up with effortless grace.

But Mydei—

He was a force of nature.

Where she dodged, he barreled through. Where she leaped, he jumped higher.

She landed on a narrow ledge, catching her breath for half a second

Then she felt a presence behind her.

She turned her head—

And nearly screamed.

Mydei was right there.

His golden eyes gleamed, his smirk wider than ever.

“Caught you.”

Before she could react, he lunged.

Y/N barely had a second to react before Mydei lunged.

With one smooth motion, he caught her wrist and pulled—sending them tumbling together onto the rooftop. She let out a startled gasp as she landed on her back, Mydei’s weight hovering just above her, pinning her down with ease.

She blinked, trying to catch her breath.

His golden eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.

There was no cocky remark this time. Just silence.

His grip on her wrist was firm but not tight, his other hand braced beside her head. His body was warm, muscles taut from the chase, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

Y/N’s heart pounded.

Not just from running.

Her lips parted slightly, trying to find words, but her mind had gone completely blank.

Why… why was he looking at her like that?

Like she was something to be hunted.

Something claimed.

She swallowed hard, face growing warm under his gaze.

And Mydei noticed.

The corner of his lips curled up slightly, and—

“WHOOOAAAAA!!!”

Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin at the explosion of cheering from below.

The kids had caught up.

And they were going wild.

“HE CAUGHT HER!”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!!”

“MYDEI IS A WARRIOR KING! DID YOU SEE THAT LEAP?!”

“Y/N, YOU LOST!”

The spell was shattered.

Y/N immediately turned her head, face burning. Mydei, however, just huffed a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the situation way too much.

Still holding her wrist, he leaned down a fraction—just close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Looks like you’re mine now.”

Her brain short-circuited.

But before she could even process a response, Mydei finally released her and pushed himself up with a smirk.

She stared at him, flustered beyond belief.

What… what just happened?!

Still trying to steady her racing heart, Y/N sat up as Mydei extended a hand to her. She hesitated for a second before grasping it, letting him pull her to her feet with ease.

His smirk hadn’t faded.

Before she could say anything, the children’s excited chattering reminded her that they weren’t alone.

"THAT WAS SO AWESOME!"

"You guys were so fast!"

"Did you see when Mydei jumped from the cart to the roof?! That was just like a hero in the old war stories!"

"Y/N almost got away! But then BOOM! Caught in one swoop!"

Y/N cleared her throat, desperately trying to compose herself. “Alright, alright, settle down,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “So what now? We’re all sweaty and covered in dust.”

One of the kids, a boy with wild curls, suddenly gasped as if he had the greatest idea in history.

"WAIT!" He turned to the others, his face glowing with mischief. “Since Mydei won, he needs a reward!”

A chorus of agreement followed.

Y/N felt a sense of dread creeping in.

"Yeah! He totally deserves something!"

"Like a feast fit for a warrior!"

"Or a cool new weapon!"

Then, before she could stop it—

"A kiss from the loser!"

…Silence.

Y/N felt all the air leave her lungs.

Her brain shut down.

Her soul left her body.

Did—Did that little gremlin just say—?!

The group of kids immediately exploded into laughter and cheers, clapping and nodding as if it was the most brilliant idea ever conceived.

“Yeah! A KISS!”

“A real warrior’s reward!”

“That’s what happens in the old stories! The victorious warrior gets a kiss from the fair maiden!”

Y/N’s face was on fire.

The cheering hadn’t stopped.

The kids were still bouncing around, giggling, and chanting for Y/N to give Mydei his “victory reward.”

Meanwhile, she was still frozen.

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, her face burning as she kept her gaze trained anywhere but on Mydei.

But then—

She dared a glance at him.

And what she saw stopped her brain completely.

He wasn’t looking at her.

Or at the kids.

Or anywhere really.

Instead, Mydei was staring off into the distance, arms crossed, posture stiff—trying so hard to look unaffected.

But.

His ears.

They were red.

Y/N blinked.

Then blinked again.

He was flustered.

The realization hit her like a boulder.

Mydei, the warrior who faced armies without blinking, who never seemed bothered by anything, who was always composed—

Was actually flustered.

Something about that made her heart flip.

And before she could stop herself—

She acted.

She reached out, tapped his shoulder.

He turned, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wha—”

Y/N grabbed the collar and pulled him down slightly—

And pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

The world went silent.

For a long second, Mydei did not move.

His golden eyes went wide, his entire body going rigid.

And then—

His face turned completely red.

It started at his ears, then spread down his neck, creeping across his cheeks.

His lips parted slightly, as if trying to form a sentence.

But no words came out.

Instead, what left his mouth was—

“…I— You— Wha—”

He couldn’t even speak.

And that—

Was absolutely amazing.

Before he could even recover, the kids exploded into cheers.

“WHOOOOAAAAA!!”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!!”

“I KNEW SHE’D DO IT!”

“Mydei lost his brain—look at him!!”

“I think he DIED!”

Y/N, cheeks still burning, looked up at Mydei—who still hadn’t moved.

His mouth was slightly open, his hand twitching like he wanted to touch his cheek but refused to do it in front of everyone.

Finally—

He turned away sharply, crossing his arms.

“…Tch.”

Y/N grinned.

But unbeknownst to both of them—

A little distance away, hiding behind a pillar, Phainon was grinning ear to ear.

And in his hands?

A perfectly timed picture of the exact moment Y/N kissed Mydei’s cheek.

The blue-eyed warrior chuckled to himself, tucking his phone away.

“Oh, this is going to be useful.”

[vacate-et-scire]

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹Baby Whats My Name◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

There are moments Jason never thought he’d get. The quiet ones, the soft ones. The ones that don’t come with gunpowder in the air or sirens wailing in the distance.

But right now, it’s just the two of you, tangled together on the couch, your head resting against his chest, his fingers idly tracing shapes against your back. The TV hums in the background, some late-night show neither of you are really watching, but neither of you bothers turning it off.

And then, out of nowhere, you say, “So… what do you think of the name ‘Samuel’?”

Jason blinks. His fingers still against your back. “For what?”

“For a kid.”

His whole body tenses for half a second before he forces himself to relax. Not because the thought of kids scares him (okay, maybe a little), but because he wasn’t expecting this conversation at 11:42 PM on a Tuesday.

You shift, propping your chin on his chest so you can look at him properly. “I mean, we’ve talked about having kids before. Might as well get a head start on names, right?”

Jason squints at you. “Are you—?”

“No, I’m not pregnant.” You roll your eyes, amused. “I’d tell you if I was.”

He exhales, a little more relieved than he wants to admit. Not because he doesn’t want kids. But because if that day ever comes, he wants to be prepared. He wants to be ready.

Still, he hums, considering. “Samuel’s not bad. Sam. Sammy.” He shrugs. “Yeah, I could get behind that.”

You smile, clearly pleased with yourself. “Okay, your turn.”

Jason exhales, tilting his head back against the couch. “What about… Elliot?”

You raise a brow. “Elliot Todd?”

He nods. “Sounds solid. Smart. Plus, if the kid hates it, they can go by Eli or Lio or something.”

You tilt your head, considering. “I like it.” Then, after a pause, you add, “I was expecting something way more dramatic from you, though.”

Jason smirks. “Like what?”

You wave a hand. “I don’t know. Something ridiculous. Like Maximus.”

Jason’s grin widens. “Now that would be a badass name.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “Our child is not going to be named after a gladiator.”

Jason snickers. “Fine, fine. No Maximus.” Then, after a beat, he says, “...What about a girl’s name?”

You perk up. “Okay. What about ‘Ivy’?”

Jason hums. “Pretty. Simple. Also, I know a certain someone in Gotham who might be very smug if we pick that.”

You snort. “True. She would take credit for it.”

Jason taps his fingers against your back, thinking. “What about ‘Rosa’?”

You blink. “Like… rose?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It’s got an old-school feel to it. Plus, ‘Rosa Todd’ sounds cool.”

You test it out under your breath. “Rosa Todd.” Then, you nod. “I actually really like that.”

Jason grins. “See? I do have taste.”

You roll your eyes but kiss his jaw in silent agreement.

Another moment of silence passes, warm and easy, before you nudge him again. “Okay. What if we just went full Gotham legacy and named our kid something over-the-top?”

Jason smirks. “Like?”

You grin mischievously. “Richard..?”

Jason groans so loudly you can’t help but laugh. “Absolutely the hell not, hat's a horrible idea” he says.

“Is it, though?”

“Yes,” Jason insists. “He would gloat for eternity.”

You shake your head, still laughing. “Alright, fine. No Richard.”

Jason sighs dramatically. “Thank god.”

The two of you settle back into a comfortable quiet, your fingers tracing idle circles against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. It’s a silly conversation, maybe even premature, but the fact that you’re having it at all—that Jason’s letting himself have it—means something.

Maybe it won’t be tomorrow, or next year, but one day, this won’t just be a conversation. It’ll be real.

And somehow, that thought doesn’t terrify him. Not like it used to.

He glances down at you, lips brushing against your forehead. “Y’know,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure it out. When the time comes.”

You smile against his skin. “Yeah. We will.”

And for now, that’s enough.

[cupidlovesastro]

𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓳𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾

venus in 1st- the way you look , your aura, your energy, your presence, the impressions you give on others, the attitude you have about things, how put together you come off, your beauty, your charismatic spirit, your aesthetic, your clothes, your make up, your forehead, your hair or hairstyles, your masculine features/energy

venus in 2nd- your financial situation, your ranking in your work place, if you come off/dress rich, the things you own, house decorations, your room’s aesthetic, your work ethic, your career, if you own expensive things, your neck area, collar bone, your voice, your lips, jaw, your beauty

venus in 3rd- your way with words, how flirting/ talking is easy for you, the way you speak, the way your brain works, your social group, your siblings, your creative writing, your journal/ notes, the elementary school you went to, your neighborhood, your thought process, your shoulders, collarbone, hands, how youthful you look/act

venus in 4th- how you regulate or cope with your emotions, your family or the family you’ve created, your household, your furniture, your decorations, your family roots, your background, the way you mother people or your children, your motherly energy, your femininity, the way you express your femininity, your self care routine, your self care products, how you grew up, how your family treats you, your chest, your boobs, your rib cage, your round face shape, the softness in your features

venus in 5th- your relationship, your lover, your youth, your inner child or the fact you can express it, your children, your features that your children have/will inherit, your aesthetic, the way you express yourself, your art style, the art you make, your spirit, how easy it is for you to get along with people,how easy it is for you to attract people, how many kids you have, the people you’ve hooked up with, the way you express your happiness, your stomach, bellybutton, your confidence, thick hair

venus in 6th- your work out routine, your work out equipment, work out clothes, your health, your pets, work ethic, your organization or organized nature, your resourcefulness, the way that people need you, the service(s) you offer, the way you analyze things, your waist, hips, your youthful appearance,

venus in 7th- your relationship(s), your marriage, how fair you are or act, the way you go about justice, how giving you are, the contracts you have with businesses, your skin, your lower back, your symmetrical features, hair, your feminine features/ energy, your beauty, your aesthetic, the effort you put into your look, your music taste

venus in 8th- your sensual side, your sex appeal, your financial situation, the money or things you’ve inherited from your family, things that you own, your properties/house(s), your mysterious energy or aesthetic, the way your partner spoils you or the way you spoil your partner, sexual organs, your groin, the way people seem to lust over you

venus in 9th - your community, your religion, your culture, your traditions, the places you’ve traveled to, how often you traveled, your intelligence, the degrees you’ve earned, the college you attend to or used to attend, the philosophies you have, the beliefs you share or follow, the way you learn, how learning is fast or easy, your thighs, your waist, your height

venus in 10th- your career, the goals you’ve achieved, your popularity, your influence, your fame, your reputation, your status, your father or father figures in your life, the way you father your children, your masculinity, your masculine features/vibes, your bone structure, teeth

venus in 11th- your social group/ friends, the way you care about the world or a certain community, the amount of social awareness you have, the technology you own like iphone/ ipad/ laptops, etc, the way you dream big, your individuality, your uniqueness the people you surround yourself with, your calves, your ankles, your unique features

venus in 12th- your healing journey, the way you heal from things, your spiritual journey, your spiritual knowledge, spiritual experiences, you connection with spirituality, your connection with your after life, your connection with your subconscious mind, your manifestations, your feet, toes, feminine features, your empathy, your compassion, your emotional intelligence, your intuition

[p0orbaby]

From you last repost. ‘Kissing your lover lazily in the morning’ with Leah ❤️

-

Mornings with Leah start slow.

They always do—warm and drowsy, tangled together beneath the sheets, her breath soft against your skin, her fingers tracing thoughtless shapes along your ribs.

You’re not sure who kisses who first, but it doesn’t matter. Her lips are warm, lazy, like she has all the time in the world to map out your mouth. She tastes like sleep, like comfort, like home.

You sigh into it, shifting so your thigh slots between hers, so your fingers can slip under the hem of her t-shirt—yours, really, but she’s long since claimed it—and press against the bare skin of her back.

She hums against your mouth, pressing closer.

“Morning,” she mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you murmur back, kissing her again, slower this time, deeper.

Leah sighs, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, her hands smoothing down your back, over your waist, nails scraping lightly against your skin in a way that makes you shiver.

You can feel the shift in the air, the slow warmth turning into something else—something heavier, more demanding.

The kisses grow hungrier, lazier in a different way now, like she’s content to take her time ruining you.

Leah moves, rolling you onto your back, slotting herself between your legs, her mouth never leaving yours. She kisses you like she’s trying to make up for lost time, like she’s memorising the way you taste, the way you sigh when she presses her hips against yours, the way your fingers tighten in her hair when she kisses the underside of your jaw.

“Leah,” you breathe, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her boxers, nails scraping over the sharp jut of her hip.

She groans against your skin, her teeth scraping lightly over your pulse point before she moves lower, lips tracing the line of your collarbone, hands slipping beneath your shirt—hers, stretched soft with time—to skim the bare skin of your stomach.

And then—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Leah freezes.

Your alarm.

Followed immediately by hers—the most obnoxious, soul-destroying siren of a sound you have ever heard.

She lets out a strangled noise against your skin, a mix of frustration and sheer despair.

“Turn it off,” you groan, reaching blindly toward your nightstand, fingers scrambling for your phone.

“You turn yours off,” Leah grumbles against your neck, her grip tightening on your waist as she buries her face in your shoulder.

You fumble with your phone, managing to silence the blaring beeps just as Leah finally shuts hers off too, the room falling into blessed silence.

For a moment, neither of you move. Leah still pressed against you, your fingers still curled in her hair, the heat between you still thrumming, waiting.

Then, Leah groans, dropping onto her back beside you, throwing an arm over her face.

“I hate everything,” she declares.

You laugh, though it’s strained, because same. “I know, babe.”

She huffs dramatically, rolling onto her side, eyes still dark, lips still swollen.

“We’re finishing this tonight,” she says simply.

You exhale a shaky breath, running a hand over your face as you sit up. “Yeah,” you murmur, reaching for your phone. “Tonight.”

And from the way Leah looks at you—hungry, patient, utterly certain—you know you won’t be getting much sleep.

[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.

[mariasont]

So I've been thinking of pre-show prosecutor!Hotch and I was wondering if you had any thoughts?

i do have thoughts. so many, in fact, that i had to exorcise them through a poorly proofed, probably terribly written blurb. i blame hotch for this. and also myself. mostly hotch. anyway, enjoy! pretend it's intentional if there's a typo

“Miss, could you repeat where you said you were standing?”

“Um.” Great start. Really strong. Definitely doesn’t sound like someone about to lie. You cough, try again, and this time manage a passable sentence. “On the — the corner of Sixth and Elm?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Oh! Telling you,” you blurt, practically elbowing your hair out of your face in a rush to clarify. You fumble with the mic, an awkward little shuffle-and-scrape as you drag it closer, before contributing a more certain, “Definitely telling you.”

You try for a smile. You think it lands.

The prosecutor, Aaron Hotchner, if memory serves you correctly, gives you a look. Not a mean one, not even really skeptical, just the level thing that knocks you clean off your axis.

His face is just… offensively handsome. Sharp, classic, serious. And he’s a lawyer, which means he’s smart. Not just good-at-crosswords smart. Real smart. The kind that studies latin and knows what the word precedent means in actual context.

You bet he went to Columbia. Or maybe Stanford. Someplace that required essays and character references and three different recommendation letters.

“Did you notice anyone else there with you at that moment?”

You like his voice, too. It sounds like it should be narrating audiobooks you fall asleep to, or whispering Supreme Court cases in your ear or —

Focus.

“There might’ve been — um, I mean — maybe?” you offer.

“Miss,” he says, closer now, “I need you to be sure.”

“Yes.” The word leaps ahead of you. You clamp your lips shut for half a beat, then add, “Sorry. You’re just — um, sorry. I’m sure.”

He raises an eyebrow then, tilts his head, just a little. That lawyerly squint, halfway between confusion and curiosity.

“You’re just very… persuasive,” you say, scrambling. “I mean — clear. I meant clear.”

You laugh nervously. He doesn’t. The mic picks up everything.

“Thank you,” he murmurs dryly, though there’s a glint in his eye now, the smallest twitch of his upper lip before it evens out again. “Did you observe the defendant exiting the building at approximately 9:15 that night?”

He turns back toward his table — his bench, you think it’s called — and you catch a full view of him from behind. The lines of his back flex beneath his suit, tapering down into a waist that is frankly slutty. Your gaze dips, entirely involuntarily, to where the fabric hugs his nicely-shaped ass. You know it’s wildly inappropriate to be noticing any of this in a courtroom, but, I mean, you’re only human. 

You think about what it would be like to feel that strength over you, not legal, but physical. Hands braced on either side of your head. Jaw clenched. Voice low.

The judge coughs. Loudly. Your eyes shoot forward. You’re ninety percent sure she knows. You’re ninety-nine percent sure everyone knows.

“Yes,” you say quickly, “Yes, I saw him leave at 9:15.”

You manage to survive the rest of questioning without further incriminating yourself, verbally or otherwise. You nod when you’re supposed to, speak when asked, and somehow resist the urge to faint.

And when he finally thanks you and releases you from the stand, you rise with all the grace of a newborn deer on a frozen lake. You practically stumble down the steps, heart pounding like you’re the one awaiting sentencing. 

You don’t meet the judge’s eyes. Or the bailiff’s. Or God’s, for that matter.

But then right before you find your seat, because you are weak and hopeless, you glance back.

The prosecutor is already looking. And for one completely insane, possibly legally compromising moment… he smiles.

[gtgbabie0]

{Tipsy lipstick kisses with your girlfriend Vi}

Rahhh gimmie her now!

“Ya got such a cute nose baby.” You’re drunk, well not completely wasted but enough to make the world spin slightly and your mind feel all fuzzy— enough for you not to care that you were currently straddling Vi's lap littering her beautiful face with cherry-red kiss marks.

Vi didn’t have the heart to stop you, not that she wanted to. No, she absolutely relished in the attention you were showering her with. Besides, you looked so good, perched up on her strong thighs, admiring her through glassy, half-lidded eyes with your kiss—smudged lipstick—stained lips—her pretty girl.

“You’re gonna be fucked tomorrow angel,” Vi smirks, her rough hands rubbing against your thighs. It makes your skin tingle in a certain way that only she can make you feel and you can’t help but melt into her effortlessly.

“I don’t get hangovers.” You mutter oh so confidently, lying straight through your teeth, lips grazing along her jaw leaving a red smudge in their wake— the sight makes you go all giddy, which is only doubled by the alcohol in your system. It made you want to leave more… and so…

Your painted lips leave a series of fluttery kisses along her neck, your hands cupping her cheeks— squishing them together to force her lips out in a pout before you steal another kiss then another and three more and she can’t help but let out a small groan, chuckling in amusement at your drunken display of affection. The rouge colour of your lipstick smeared over her heart-shaped lips and a little across her chin… it’s all over her face really, but your eyes are only focused on her mouth. It’s a beautiful sight, marking her up. You’re proud of yourself.

“Mhm, I think you’re gonna be singing a different tune tomorrow morning pretty.” She says, hands smoothing along your back and your foggy mind zeros in on her biceps, the way the muscles move with her gentle movements— god you just wanted to…

“I’m gonna bite you...” You mutter suddenly, staring down at her arms as she lets out a low chuckle. “Yeah? Keep your chompers to yourself, please.” She replies, shifting her hips beneath you to sit more comfortably, watching with a smug grin at the way you bite your bottom lip… she couldn’t help herself.

“Viiiiolet. Don’t be mean.” The sound should be sin, the whine that sweetens up your already honeyed tone. “Mean?— how am I being mean, I’m just sittin’ here… you’re the one talking about biting me, baby.” She coos back, almost condescendingly and if you were any more sober you would’ve picked up on it.

Her intense gaze doesn’t break away from you as she watches you lean forwards, Your delicate fingers curling around her jaw, manicured nails lightly pressing into her cheek— causing her breath to hitch, payback. “You know exactly what you’re doing— I’ll bite you.” You playfully threaten, words coming out all slurred together as you press another sloppy kiss against her jaw leaving a shiny red print of the shape of your lips against her skin as your hands feel up her biceps, which she purposefully flexes beneath your palms.

“Sink those teeth into my arm and I’ll make you sleep on the couch.” She chuckles, squeezing your waist a little as your lips grace the corner of her mouth, with a comically dramatic pout— she’d be lying if she said the idea wasn’t piquing her interest slightly, she’d have a field day with you tomorrow.

You let out a small groan, mumbling on about how ‘unfair’ she was being by ‘hogging her juicy arms to herself’ with your face pressed into her shoulder. “Oh it’s definitely your bedtime, you’re completely wasted and m’covered in your lipstick.” She replies with a smirk, you can hear it in her tone. She was loving this.

“Good… keep it there, you’re allll mine.” You drawl, nuzzling impossibly closer into her neck with a small grumble— something incoherent she couldn’t even begin to decipher so instead she just settles for a soft, whispered— “Yeah, all yours baby.” In agreement.

You go silent for a moment, basking in the way her strong arms loop around you protectively— so warm and safe— and she thinks you might’ve fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the way your lips trail along the tattoo on the side of her neck. You were obsessed with it, along with her back, her arms, her thighs… honestly everything but she didn’t want to start you off by teasing you about it— god no, she wouldn’t never get you to go to sleep.

“You gonna let me get you ready for bed now angel?” Her gentle voice breaks through the silence, her fingers massaging the nape of your neck slowly as you nod against her shoulder with a small “m’kay.” Letting her carry you off into your shared bedroom where she'll gently wipe your makeup off and get you into something more comfortable before kissing your face until those pretty eyes of yours flutter close.