#cw unwanted touching

[thebrothel]

POV

f!reader x Donald Pierce (Logan 2017 villain)

I8+ Dark fic, captivity, noncon touching

A pit forms in your stomach when the nurse calls your name. It’s the same nurse you’ve observed stuffing rolls of cash into her purse, thinking no one could see her do it. Dirty money for sure, and you have a feeling you’re about to find out how she gets it. Someone is here to pick you up, supposedly to transfer you to another hospital to confirm your non-mutant status. The shady nurse takes you gently by the arm and walks you to a room with folded chairs and photography equipment scattered around. You've been through that whole process already, and being back in the room makes you uneasy. It doesn't help that the handsome man reclining in that chair doesn’t look like hospital transport at all. He’s wearing two big rings, smoking a cigarette, and has a tattoo on the front of his throat.  

“Mr. Pierce,” the nurse admonishes him. “Can you please put that out?”

He pinches out the lit end of the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger, flicks it to the floor, then raises his hands in defense. That's when you see his bionic arm. He uncrosses his legs, and the clap of his massive boot on the floor makes you jump. Now he’s manspreading with his large hands clasped in his lap.

The nurse thanks him and walks toward the exit.

“Pleasure doin’ business,” he mutters under his breath as he shamelessly checks you out. The deep, smooth voice has caught you off guard. A gold tooth sparkles from the front of his mouth. He claps his hands down on his knees and asks, “What do we got here?” as he stands up. He’s massive, towering over you. He’s wearing a black tactical vest under his long, dark leather jacket. He is sturdy, and your body reacts in a way you wish it wouldn't.

You stand in the middle of the room, helpless in a hospital gown. He clasps his hands behind his back and slowly paces in a half circle around you, his eyes eating you up like a piece of meat. “Not every day I pick up a woman,” he murmurs. “Normally, people know before adolescence if they’re a mutant. . .” 

“And I’m not,” you mumble futilely. You’re not even sure how you got on the list.

“Well, we’re gonna prove it,” he tells you. For a moment, you’re unsure if it’s a threat or reassurance, but your gut tells you it’s not a good thing. The air around him radiates violence. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go.” He extends his hand for you. When you not only don’t reach out, but also shake your head no, he loses patience and mutters, “Alright, c’mere. Damn.”

He lunges toward you, bends his knees, and uses his bionic arm to hoist you over his shoulder with much less effort than it would take with flesh and muscle. It gives you butterflies between the legs the way he does things with such ease.

“Ow,” you whimper with the crook of his metal elbow pinching your side as he carries you. 

“You’re alriiight,” he sing-songs, then reaches his non-bionic hand under your gown and stabilizes the weight with a hand on your ass, cool rings pressing into your flesh. He walks slowly toward a huge, armored vehicle. Its double back doors are already open. He nudges his thumb into your panties while he's at it, and you gasp at the feeling of him prodding your wet little hole. “Mmm,” he hums. 

“Don’t,” you whisper. He removes his thumb from your panties and hoists you off his shoulder and into the truck. There’s lab equipment, medical supplies, and a cage. Your eyes fixate on the enclosure, and your heart races. You try to back up out of the truck, but his bionic arm lets him wrangle you back with ease. You struggle as he forces you into the cage. 

Once he has you sitting still, his bionic hand around your jaw makes you look at him, only a few inches away. His gold tooth sparkles menacingly and his stare is ice cold as he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head forward. He lowers his voice. “You need to be good,” he warns.

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tysm for reading! and a big ty to @clawdee for the options. 💕

Most of my fics are on main, @toxicanonymity

[howlsofbloodhounds]

everytime I look at interactions between nightmare and killer that rahafwabas drew I can’t help but wonder where people got the idea that killer would willingly kiss nightmares feet and simp for him.

like that man’s body would start panicking and sweating the moment nightmare even looks at him let alone touches him. I wouldn’t be suprised if he dissociates the moment nightmare touches him just to cope with the panic attack his body wants to send him into and he’s so completely unaware of it because he’s just that disconnected from his body and what it’s trying to tell him

[anxiouslyfred]

To Yell Get Lost

Summary: Virgil doesn't know what to make of his soulmate words, even after they become a thing he regularly says. Thankfully his soulmates manage to figure out he's theirs for certain after an uninvited visitor shows up.

Warnings: Knives and threats made with knives, unwanted hugging

/\/\

Sometimes his soulmate words were funny, a reflection of how Virgil often felt when faced with customers who wouldn't shut up.

Sometimes they were hurtful, a confirmation for all this negative thoughts that even his soulmate wouldn't want to know him.

Sometimes Virgil even wondered if he'd be the one saying them. If in some bizarre occurrence his friends found someone able to take his prickly sharp edges and he'd say them without causing offence.

Once, and only once did he allow himself to consider the possibility, Virgil wondered if they were the pattern his relationship would take. He'd do everything he could to avoid that happening.

…

What Virgil never could have expected was quoting the soulmate words as constantly as he did after meeting Janus and Remus. They were said nearly every time his name was drawn out, although always in different tones by the pair.

Janus had a slow, coaxing tone, as if they expected Virgil to forever be annoyed or upset and thought calming him while suggesting things would get him to agree with them more. They always acted like the words were an adorable greeting until the day Virgil screamed them. That had been the first time Virgil saw them stunned and the first time Janus was actually calming for him, coaxing tone nowhere to be heard.

Remus lilted his words, all of them, and only used Virgil's name if he wanted a companion in his chaos. They both laughed over the words, especially the times Remus decided to recite them with Virgil.

Then Roman decided to invite himself over to meet the two Remus called his prospective soulmates and despite knowing Remus and Janus were sat on his sofa, when Virgil opened the door to a greeting being sung he yelled “Hello goodbye, GET LOST!” before slamming the door in Roman's face.

It was only when the pair watching burst out laughing that Virgil realised it was a complete stranger he'd done that too. Third person ever that he'd said the words on his wrist to and he frankly didn't need a third possible soulmate.

“If it's not my brother out there I'm accusing you of soulmate plagiarism.” Remus declared, bouncing over and wrenching the door open and out of Virgil's grasp.

For a moment Virgil blinked at the hand that had held the door, then looked between Janus and Remus, ignoring Roman getting tugged through it. “What the hell about that changed me from prospective soulmate to actual soulmate?” He groused.

“Well it's the third level of 'get lost' I've been wondering about.” Janus commented, now standing from their seat and calmly walking over, rolling their sleeve up. “Seemingly the level of 'I'll make you get lost if you won't do it yourself.'”

“Mine just says 'Roman get lost SLAM!'” Remus grinned, shoving his sleeve up and his arm under Virgil's nose.

Roman moved before Virgil could shove the arm away, grabbing him in a hug that took Virgil off the ground and into a spin. “My brothers-in-law! I'm so delighted to meet you and congratulations on this confirmation-” His words broke off as four knives were suddenly concerningly close to his face.

Remus didn't say anything, unsettlingly quiet considering his usual noise levels, and moved around Roman so his knives were under Roman's ears, crossed as if they were very large scissors. Virgil was turning red fast enough that Janus doubted he could breathe, let alone speak and would probably drop his knife if not released soon, so they spoke up, “Let's set Virgil down and keep three feet away from us while you're here, hmm?”

The squeak Roman let out then would later have them all laughing at him, but in that moment the trio were all more focused on Virgil being set back on his feet, and pulled gently back by Janus as they ensured he stayed upright until they reached the sofa. They did make sure to take the knife from him also, well aware that once Virgil calmed down again he'd already start fretting over handling a knife when he couldn't be certain how Roman would move him and the dangers that contained.

“Actually, Roman, assuming that is you since Remus isn't having a tantrum or moving his knives, as much as your enthusiasm to interfere in our lives is reportedly never ending, I think this is one adventure you should delay for a while. Perhaps wait for a written invitation.” Janus suggested once curled around Virgil on the sofa, hoping the contact would help calm him.

“But I want to behead him.” Remus whined, stepping with Roman so the attempt to move away from the blades failed.

“And we don't want to clean up blood right now. Besides, Roman has to actually get lost for your soulmate mark to be confirmed.” Janus countered.

Those words did the trick as very abruptly the knives were once more gone and Roman was shoved back out of the door. “So glad you aren't my soulmate. Only Virgil slammed the door on Roro so you're not with me.” Remus stuck his tongue out at Janus as he finished speaking.

“Agreed. Dealing with you needs more motivation than a soulmate bond would give me so it's best to have it this way, with Virgil ever between us.” Janus stated, getting a soft hit from said man at the words.

“I'm not here to mediate you two.” Virgil muttered. “And Remus, teach your brother boundaries, please.”

Remus threw himself over the pair on the sofa. “I'll tell his friend Logan that Roman doesn't know which states are next to each other. He'll be learning state boundaries for months at least.”

He got a small snicker, and half-disgruntled great in response.

[darhknight]

Cody is unhinged.

I Love it. Give me more.

decided to finally compress it so the Cody Girlfriend video could live on tumblr!

[aroseandapen]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Il Dottore/Scaramouche (Genshin Impact) Characters: Il Dottore (Genshin Impact), Scaramouche (Genshin Impact) Additional Tags: Gore, Toxic Relationship, Humiliation, Victim Blaming, Dehumanization, Manhandling, unwanted touching, Whumptober 2024 Series: Part 9 of Whumptober 2024 Summary:

Being Dottore's favorite experimental subject had few perks, and innumerable downsides. Especially in the aftermath of an especially brutal exploratory surgery.

[amaranthinespirit]

kidnapper!simon riley when you warm up to him. cw: kidnapping and stockholm syndrome

simon was a selfish man, a pure debauched and corrupt soul with immoral fantasies. none of which he had acted out, because no one had satisfied that one itch he couldn't scratch, until he caught eye of a sweet thing like you.

met purely in passing, not sparing him a second glance as you ushered by. he wasn't surprised, a pretty thing like you wouldn't dare pay mind to a sickening man such as himself, even if you hadn't known it in the moment.

but he knew he had to have you, oh, you were such an enigma, one he wanted to pry apart himself, crack you rib by rib until your heart laid unprotected to him. such a pretty thing he wanted to have.

oh, and even prettier you are when you cried, thrashing and writhing against him. you fought hard, harder than he expected for a little darling he painted you to be. his dark voice cooed in your ear, asking, almost sweetly, for you to calm down.

how could you, though, as he took you far from the city, a little cabin in the woods with smoke billowing out of the brick chimney. homey, almost, if it weren't for the fact he dragged you through the forest, hauling you roughly over his shoulder the more you struggled.

he kept you in the dark, dingy depths of the cellar, your soft sobs causing his skin to crawl. sure, he felt bad at your broken cries, but he wasn't plagued with guilt, or remorse, it didn't keep him up at night.

he was a poor man, a social reject, and the fact you treated him as such is what kept him up. he was gruff, blunt, unwanted and cryptic. it didn't stop him from fucking his fist, rough palm tightly wound around his aching, meaty cock drooling with pre. head thrown back and pupils blown as he imagined your tear-stained face before he came on his soft stomach, cleaned himself up, and rolled over in bed.

but he took care of you, or at least he tried. you didn't eat the food he beared, in fear of poison, or wear the clothes he provided, because maybe that would be acceptance. it caused a frown to watch you grow thinner.

he watched the way you recoiled from his dirty hands, stained and tainted, even he was hesitant to touch your pure skin, but after a while, he realised you might never come around, and he couldn't let you starve. not after all his effort.

sure, you were squirming under his muscly arms, nails digging into his flesh as he gently spooned food to your lips, holding you against his broad chest. it was a slow process, but the more he managed through to your throat, the more you relaxed.

your body remained tense and poised, but at least you were no longer fighting him and now eating. admittedly, it tasted good, and maybe that's where everything turned around, he thought.

because now the house was free-reign, no longer did he keep you in that musty cellar, but he did proof the house of any escape. with this new space, unbound, it was like you had reverted to your old behavior, until eventually, your old habits began to die.

you didn't know why or how it had developed, but now you had such a deep yearning, an insatiable want, for domesticity that you'd start lingering by his side, like a rough shadow, but you'd still stumble back if he turned too sharply, or took a step too quick.

he didn't mind, though, he just hadn't expected it, not after you'd put up such a fight when he first took you, but he remained cautious. maybe you'd become a fawn, appeasing him until he had given you enough freedom to slip from his grasp.

but you looked to him with doting eyes as you slipped under his arm, face nuzzled into his broad chest, hearing the way his heart thumped. it made you feel warm, and fuzzy. you couldn't help but feel bad for simon, depraved and socially excluded, a truly sick man. maybe it was best to give him what he wanted.

the wooden floors creaked barely under your weight as you carried yourself from the uncomfortable couch in the living room, the flames in the fireplace burning out as night began to settle. simon lay in the haunting dark of his bedroom, blankets lazily thrown over him as he laid in his cold, lonely bed.

his ears perked at the sound of movement, hairs raised on the back of his neck, and he held slight fear that maybe you'd come to stab him in his sleep, but all worries dissipated as the bed dipped, sheets ruffling as you tucked yourself into his chest, leeching his warmth as he held you through the night. pressing a kiss to your temple at your acceptance, that you were now his.

[reidrum]

glory of the snow

note: the return of insecure!reader my beloved <3 i had a bunch of requests to bring her back so i hope we like it! this is really just a gentle reminder from spencer that we should be kinder to ourselves. also i wanted to have them actually fuck but it didn't seem right to fit that in here so ,,, part 2 question mark who is to say. anyways my inbox is always open for any thoughts, comments, questions, musings all of it! love y'all mwah

summary: you freak out when spencer walks in on you accidentally, and he just loves you too much to let it go

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fingering, masturbation (r, just mentions), heavy petting/kissing, comfort, talks of intimacy issues, self-deprecating reader

wc: 3k

“Oh, sweet girl.”

Three words, maybe two and one syllable, that in any other instance would have had you melting into a puddle at the softness it reared. Words that have so easily turned you into a preening cat but are now aimed at you, albeit no judgement from his end, with no room for escape.

Spencer had come home after a long day of paperwork when he first heard it. He would have brushed it off if it didn’t happen again moments later, and louder. Concerned, he walks toward the bedroom, a flush rushing to his face as he comes to recognize what it is. A small crack of the door allowed him the glorious sight of you in the center of the bed, hand between your legs, eyes shut in ecstasy. You’re mesmerizing to him and he really can’t bring himself to look away, and he doesn’t notice himself subconsciously leaning on the door causing a faint creak that alarmed you to his presence. In that moment, however, he’s less worried about scaring you, and more about the overwashing look of shame on your face.

The soft creak of the door pulled you out of your daze, screaming when you saw the figure behind the door. Your eyes are bulging out of their sockets nearly, heartbeat still racing with adrenaline from when you haphazardly threw the blanket over yourself. You were conflicted, but getting caught doing something that is a common and completely normal instance in relationships really shouldn’t make you feel this guilty. Although you do know the guilt was created by a previous version of you where you had told Spencer that you wanted to take the pace of your relationship slowly, and had little to no desire to engage in such activities for the time being. Or so you said.

He cautiously steps closer, careful not to startle you further, “I’m not upset, or anything.”

You’re not upset either, you’re mortified. “I lied to you.”

“You did…but I don’t think you meant to, right?”

There had been a time where you were tangled all up in him, and poor Spencer, his hands were in the wrong place at the wrong time to no fault of his own and entirely yours, and your shutdown was unavoidable. The blood in your veins seized up like crystallizing water turning into ice, paralyzing both the physical and mental before you could realize.

Intimacy for you was a complicated concept. While it wasn’t novel or unwanted, physical intimacy was something you struggled to accept with open arms. Call it a consequence of your self perception, but it was hard to accept the soft touch of love when you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Spencer never minded, although his heart ached to make you see yourself the way he saw you, he was always more than willing to meet you where you were.

It almost pains you with how understanding Spencer was of the whole situation because you knew any other person would be deeply upset. Every other person was upset.

Spencer never was just any other person, you suppose.

“I don’t know how to explain this.” Another lie, you could easily explain the reason.

It’s not that you weren’t ready, it’s that you didn’t feel like you looked ready. The thought of subjecting Spencer to the one dark cornerstone of your being in the early days of being together seemed illogical and burdensome, and so it was more simple to play it off as wanting to take a slow pace.

But, as biology would see it you have needs and your boyfriend just happens to be so detrimentally attractive that the simplest act has been sending you into a hot fit as of late. The culprit this time was an innocent mirror picture of him at the store trying on new trousers. You had no chance.

You had found that your intimacy issues lie within extending it to others, and less with yourself. The solution of you finding release on your own quickly became a habit when you realized there was no fear on your own. There’s no one to let down if you’re alone.

Spencer perches at the foot of the bed, flat hand outstretched on the blanket towards you but keeping a comfortable distance, “You don’t have to explain anything, honey.”

“No I know, but—fuck—I should.” you bury your face, choosing to only speak to him from behind your hands for now, maybe forever.

He takes a moment to take inventory of your physical being—you don’t look in pain. Clearly you didn’t sound in pain. Your face is flushed, and though he’s sitting a little far from you, the heat radiating from your body hits him like a space heater.

“Sweetheart…I’m not upset.” he repeats, in hopes a reminder might provide reassurance.

It doesn’t. “You’re never upset at me, it’s concerning.” you mumble.

“You make it kind of hard to be upset at you, ever really.” Spencer braves and lays a hand on your leg.

You take a deep breath, the cold of his hand grounding you more and more. Spencer senses the calm it’s bringing you and rubs circles into your calf.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” he asks gently.

What are you even feeling? You ponder for a moment—anxious, nervous, bad.

“Embarrassed.”

“Honey, there’s nothing embarrassing about masturbating. In fact, it’s more than healthy to do it to keep cortisol levels low,” he explains, “I just don’t know why you didn’t…want to tell me.”

The guilt swirls in your gut, hearing the twinge of hurt buried beneath the comfort he’s laid out for you. He just wants to help you, but you won’t let him in and that hurts him more.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“It’s just…I…Look it’s…You’re just so hot—“ you slip out, clamping your hand over your mouth before leaking any more intrusive thoughts.

A faint smirk ghosts his face, “I’m…hot?”

“No—Well, yes. I just…ugh.”

“Okay, okay calm down,” he scoots closer and gently brings the hands covering your eyes to rest in your lap, “You don’t need to be all secretive, you know I’d never judge you.”

“I know,”

“I just thought you wanted to wait.”

“I do.”

“But, not with me? It’s okay if it's not with me.”

“Spence, I do. It’s not that.”

“Am I missing something?”

You gulp, “I just…it’s a personal problem. With me. Not you.”

His brows furrow, “Like what, baby? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Yeah, if a doctor can fix my shoddy self esteem and make me like myself again.” you chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh. 

The pause he takes seems to be ages long before he speaks again, “Angel, how long have you been feeling like that?”

You’ve been caught red-handed, water filling up the tank faster than you can tread, “It’s nothing, I was just joking.”

“Hey,” he says with a rare firmness, “How. Long?”

You deflate under his hard gaze, “A…while…long enough… for it to feel like a…like a default setting, I guess.” you trail off.

Spencer couldn’t hide the hurt on his face if he tried. Not hurt from your lack of admission, hurt that you had felt like this for so long, dealt with this for so long on your own, and he didn’t even know.

All he ever hoped and wanted was for you to be happy, and if he could be the source of that he would ask for nothing more in life. So to hear about you struggling with this, that you felt like you had to keep it to yourself, was heartbreaking.

Spencer remains in his head a little too long as he’s broken out of it by your small voice, “Are you sure you’re not mad?”

He sighs and moves to sit next to you, making sure he stays above the blanket for your comfort. His back is against the headboard of the bed, and he raises his arm a little, gesturing for you to fill the you shaped crevice. You hesitantly move into the space, hating how you feel every move you’re making is calculated, but all of that goes away the second your head meets his chest and his hand comes up to comb through your hair, the other smoothing your arm down, and all you’re left with is him.

“I promise I’m not mad,” he whispers softly, “Just wish you told me. I would have helped you.” He’s intentional in his wording—would, and not could. Could implies he has a choice, a want to do or not do something. I could have helped you, or I could have not helped you. Would is finite, he is doing it because it is programmed in him that caring for you is a need. I would have helped you because it is the only thing I know to be certifiably true, that you deserve to be cared for.

“It sounds stupid out loud but I was afraid you wouldn’t like me the same if you saw me like…that. It seemed logical for me to remove that option altogether.”

His heart aches painfully, and he wishes he could take everyone who’s made you feel that way to target practice. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I would spend every day of my life proving that to you.” he utters with unequivocal resolve.

You sigh out shakily, “You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m always kind to you. You deserve kindness. You deserve a lot of things actually…” he trails off.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Well, did you um—” he trails. You look at him quizzically, he continues, “Like before I came in did you…finish?”

Oh. “Oh. I…I don’t think I did, actually. It’s okay though, no big deal.”

He stares at you intently, “Do you want to?”

Your eyes widen, “Spence oh, no it’s okay really you don’t have to do that.  

“You’re encouraged to say no if you feel even an ounce of doubt, but I’m offering because I love you and I want to show you that you can feel safe with me, even when you feel otherwise.”

The familiar sting returns to your eyes as the tears pool up. You’re not used to anyone putting this much effort and concern for your comfort, it’s a novel feeling but if Spencer is willing to handle you with as much care as he is, you’re ready to welcome that sentiment in with open arms.

“Yeah, yes.” you waver.

He grins and leans down, gingerly pressing his lips to yours. His hand ghosts from your calf to your knee, testing the water before moving more intent. An unwelcome yet familiar onset slowly rises, trying to break through to you, “Wait—“

He retracts his hand immediately, “You okay? We can stop if you need to.”

You shake your head. “No, no I’m fine. I just need a second.” you breath out, trying to self regulate. 

He pulls back his hand but you stop him, “No keep it there, it helps. I just…” You don’t know how to phrase it. You think it’s because you’re not in control. When you’re alone it’s only you at the helm calling the shots. But when it really comes down to it, the lack of control is nothing compared to the lack of predictability that comes with the former. Explaining that out loud was daunting to even think about.

Yet Spencer understands what you need, because he always knows what you need. His hand returns to your knee, giving it a soft squeeze, “You tell me to stop whenever you need to.”

He continues kissing you while smoothing his hand up your leg, making wide and sweeping motions across the plush of your thigh so you can feel where he is and where his hand is going. The gesture is comforting and makes you feel grounded, but your head is in a dreamy haze at how good Spencer’s hands feel on you.

The haze leaves through your lips as Spencer feels you sigh against him, feeling you relax more and more as the seconds go by. His hand reaches your upper thigh, fingers ghosting on the inside. “Is this okay?”

You nod, feeling your nerves idling like a distant wave in the ocean. But Spencer’s presence is a lighthouse shining through the fog and guiding you to his shores while the calm washes over you.

His fingers lightly trace the fabric of your panties, ones that you had slid back up your hips upon his entrance into the room. The motion causes you to jump and he pulls back to gauge your reaction. When he sees no fear in your eyes, more so stunned by your wide eyed gaze, his fingers move with more precision, adding more pressure to your clothed core.

A gentle gasp leaves you as he strokes up and down your slit. You’ve given up on continuing to kiss him, the feeling of his hands being too overwhelming to have both sensations at the same time. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, your body involuntarily curving towards him as he draws symbols on you with his index. Your breathing gets heavier and faster the longer he goes, and soon small moans begin to escape you.

He drags his finger to the top of your panties and toys with the band, faintly asking, “You still with me, sweet girl?” You preen into the crevice of his neck as he keeps talking, “Want me to keep going?” 

He feels you nodding into him as you breathlessly whisper, “Please.”

His finger dips below the fabric and travels down to your entrance, gathering the slickness and spreading it all over you. “Fuck,” he curses softly, “Look how wet you are, baby.”

You whimper at his words and Spencer ascends to the heavens if there even is one, and if there is it’s the one where you sound like that for him. He circles back up to your clit, paying special attention to the bundle of nerves before sliding back your slit and repeating the whole sequence a few more times.

Your moans are coming out at a steady pace, and he’s been prodding around your entrance for some time now, teasing and edging you closer. “Gonna put a finger in now, okay? Doing so good for me, baby.” he murmurs.

The feeling of his finger entering you is satiating. But it’s not enough, and you need more. “Spence,” you manage to get out, “Can take another one, please.” His eyes shut tight as he revels in your desperation for him, and how cynical he must be to love having you at his mercy this much. He would confess the darkest of sins if you asked him in that tone, and he has no choice but to oblige. He stifles a groan at how easily the second finger slid in, his other hand moving up to play with your hair and cradle your head close to his chest as he works his ministrations.

The familar coil builds in your gut, but at an intensity you’ve never felt before. His fingers move in and out of you urgently, his thumb returning to your clit. He’s a man determined to get you there, and your moans and cries of his name only spur him on further. After a few minutes your moans and cries turn into whines and babbles, and he knows you’re close.

His head leans down to croon in your ear, “Shh, it’s okay. I got you, sweet girl. You can come, ‘m right here.”

It’s enough to push you over the edge and you come harder than you ever have on your own, the waves of your climax overtaking you completely. Spencer continues to pump his fingers through your orgasm, talking you the whole way down. Mutters of praises and kisses flow through your subconscious as the euphoria high takes its peak and you come back down to this realm.

His hand smoothes your hair back as you continue to pant against his chest, words unable to find you.

“You okay?”

You finally catch your breath, “That was—fuck—the most insane orgasm I have ever had.”

Spencer beams at this. For one, his obvious and impressive skills that have stunned you into oblivion. And two, because you look so relaxed. The stark difference of your anxiety filled face from when he first came into the room to the blissed out daze you have right now makes his heart swell five sizes up.

He hugs you closer and whispers, “I’m so proud of you, angel. Thank you for trusting me.”

Sleep is fighting you hard as you laugh airily and tuck yourself under his arm again, “I don’t know why I thought that would be scarier.”

He sighs, his smile faltering but still fond, “Past experiences and self perception complicate the anxiety around sex and intimacy. It’s a natural response based on your lived experiences.”

“Oh.” you mutter, slight deject in your tone.

“But we can work on it, if you want.” he adds, “It’s all up to you with what you’re comfortable with and how you want to do it. If you’ll allow me, I’d love to help you in any way I can, angel.”

You really don’t know how you got so lucky. Someone so kind, and patient, and willing to be with you as you navigate these things you normally would have kept to yourself. You feel grateful to be able to bare a piece of yourself to him, and know that he would receive it with open arms, wrapping it up and handling it with as much care as he can bear.

You cuddle closer, and mumble before your eyes succumb to sleep, “Love you. So much.”

Spencer looks down maybe two seconds later and you’re already out like a light. He chuckles softly to himself and whispers, “I love you more than you’ll ever know, sweet girl. Good night.”

[compact-katrina]

So, I just read this one, and I love it, love it, love it, which is not surprising, as I've loved everything else if yours I've read. Are you thinking you'll add more to this ever? Btw I especially love the "oh wait that's exactly what happened" sounds like something I'd say.

Millie and Ethan: Study Date (G/t)

Note: I changed the beginning of this, so I hate it less now. Enjoy.

*~*~*~*

Millicent has been best friends with Ethan since middle school, and she’s never told him her secret. Well, to be fair, she’s never told anyone about it. She’s a size shifter. There’s just never been a great time to tell him, how do you even bring that up? She’s shifted around him before, but she’s always managed to hide. Then when she grows back, she would just talk her way out of any suspicion. Sure, she trusts him. She’s known him for a long time, and she’s certain that he wouldn’t hurt her or blackmail her or anything like that. But still, she just hasn’t been ready to rip that band-aid off quite yet.

Today was supposed to be just like any other day! They met at their favorite spot in the library. It’s all the way in the back, past the computers. Anyone that finds their way that far back into the library are usually either horribly lost, or they know exactly what they’re looking for. They were going to study for their psychology midterm. Ethan was late, as always, but he brought them both smoothies, so she let it slide. Everything was normal, until she got that familiar tingling sensation deep in her bones. Sometimes shifting is triggered by strong emotions that makes sense to her. But other times, for seemingly no reason at all, it just happens. This must be one of those times where her body just decides that she suddenly needs to be four inches tall. Millie huffs, inconvenienced by this timing. Usually, she can control it, it just takes a little bit of focus. It’s just hard to focus on staying her normal height while reviewing psychology vocab.

“You good?” Ethan asks, lowering his flashcards.

“Yeah. Just a headache.” She mumbles, bringing a hand to her head.

“We can take a quick break if you want.” He shrugs.

“Yeah. I’ll be right back” It’s becoming increasingly apparent to her that she isn’t going to be able to fight this shift off. The safest thing to do is to just hide out in the bathroom or in some corner in the library until she can grow back. It’ll be fine. She’s had to do stuff like this before. Unfortunately for her she doesn’t get that far. She takes maybe five steps away from the table, and then in a blink she’s on the floor, four inches tall. Shifting can be so disorienting, especially when it happens so fast like that. It leaves her head swimming as she takes in her surroundings from her new perspective.

“Uh. Millie?” He calls out to her, tentatively. Shit. She can’t see a good way of getting out of this one. She turns to see him rising from the table, his wide eyes locked on her miniscule form. They stare at one another wordlessly for a moment.

“What…happened?” He takes a step towards her, and her instincts take over. She bolts, running in the opposite direction. If she can make it to the end of this bookshelf there’s a little reading nook. Maybe she could hide under the chair or behind something. Traveling down this aisle would have taken no time at her full height, but she feels like she might as well be trying to clear the distance of an airport runway at this size.

“Hey, wait!” He calls out. She doesn’t need to throw a glance over her shoulder to know he’s following her. She feels his footsteps thunder behind her, sending vibrations in her direction. They get stronger as he draws nearer, until it becomes challenging to keep her balance. She’s not even close to making it to the reading nook, when a massive hand comes down in front of her, blocking her path. She runs right into the palm and unceremoniously falls backwards. She looks up to see Ethan. Even though he’s on his knees he still towering over her. He’s frozen, just blinking down at her in disbelief as she picks herself off of the floor.

“Millie?” He stares at her, his eyes wide, his mouth agape, completely entranced. She fights the urge to fidget under the weight of his gaze, so instead she just crosses her arms, still trying to catch her breath from her mini marathon.

His size is staggering. He’s absolutely massive. Even though she’s been shifting her whole life, she never gets over the sheer scale of things when she’s small like this. She’s seen Ethan from this angle before a couple times, but she’s always been hiding, and he’s never seen her. Now, his gaze is absolute as he stares down at her looking completely awestruck.

She tells herself that this is going to be fine. They’ll both get over the initial shock and things will be okay. She tries to think rationally about this. She’s known Ethan for so long, she knows for a fact that he won’t hurt her. He has trouble hurting spiders. The logical part of her brain trusts him. Her instincts, however, are screaming at her. Seeing him at this size, having to look straight up to see his face as he looms over her, he probably doesn’t even realize that he’s looming, the whole ordeal is a little unnerving to say the least.

“Quit looking at me like that.” She tries to sound assertive and confident, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear her. In fact, he leans forward more.

“Is this really happening right now?” Before she can respond, his hand is reaching out towards her. “What happened to you?” He extends a finger and pokes her middle. It’s a simple gesture from him, but to her it might as well have been a shove. She stumbles back, as he almost pushes her off of her feet.

“Hey! Watch it!” She glares up at him, putting on a brave face to distract from how her heart is hammering in her chest.

“Don’t be scared.” He says quietly. His hand hovers nearby for a moment before curling around her and pulling her off of the floor. The world moves quickly around her as she’s brought to dizzying heights. He stands and brings her back over to their table. It takes a second for her stomach to catch up to her. She’s never been picked up like this before. In fact, the last time she interacted with anyone while she was this size was several years ago, and it was with her parents. Ethan sits at the table but doesn’t set her down. Instead, he holds her up so that his face is all she can see; his breathing moves the air around her. He just holds her there, his eyes slowly taking in every tiny detail.

“Wow. You’re so tiny.” Thankfully he whispers, so even though his voice rumbles all around her, at least it isn’t hurting her ears.

“Yeah, I know. Are you done? You-you can put me down now.” Her confidence is beginning to slip as he just, doesn’t seem to be listening to her. His other hand crowds in. She leans back, but quickly finds she has no where to go to escape him. One massive digit brushes lightly against her arm, tracing down to pull her hand onto his fingertip. His breath catches as he examines her miniscule fingers in comparison to his own.

“You are SO tiny.” He repeats as he continues to fidget with her limbs. She can tell he is trying to be gentle, but he’s still manhandling her, like she’s some kind of toy. As if on cue to confirm her thoughts he says, “You’re like, a tiny goth Barbie.” His chuckle vibrates around her, sending a chill down her spine. She’s too freaked out to even scowl at him.

“O-okay. Alright. Knock it off.” She tries to push away at the fingers that are crowding her, but it does nothing to help her situation. He is in absolute control here, and there is nothing she can do to stop it. She is absolutely going to kick his ass when she grows back to normal. “Ethan! Stop! Please!” She finally yells up at him, punching at the nearest digit as hard as she can. She hates how the panic caused her voice to be high and strained, but it gets his attention. His hands freeze for a second, before he slowly sets her down on the table.

“I’m sorry.” His hands hover for just a moment longer before he pulls them away. She crosses her arms, and glowers up at her very big, very dumb friend, while she tries to pretend that she isn’t shaking like a leaf. “I guess I got carried away there.” He says apologetically, looking embarrassed.

“Uh, yeah! What the hell was that?” She glares up at him.

“I don’t know. I just, I mean it’s not everyday that your friend shrinks. I don’t know. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” She looks up at him, trying to decide if she forgives him or not.

“I’m fine.” She sighs.

“So, like,” He fidgets in front of her, “what’s going on? Are you going to be stuck like this forever now?”

“What? No. This just happens sometimes. Give it a few minutes and I’ll be back to normal.” He blinks down at her, dumbfounded.

“What do you mean this ‘just happens’?”

“I’m a size shifter. I’ve been able to do this since like… forever. That’s why I was homeschooled for so long.”

“Wait. You’ve been able to do this the whole time I’ve known you, and you’ve never told me?”

“I’m telling you now.” Millie states with a shrug. Then, upon noticing his hurt expression she continues, “Look. There was just never a good time. I don’t know. I couldn’t figure out how to tell you. I mean who knows you could have freaked out, or you could have just picked me up and ignored when I told you to back off and- oh wait. That’s exactly what happened, huh.” She raises her eyebrows, annoyed, and he looks down guiltily.

“Alright. That’s fair. Millie, seriously I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” She looks away.

“… Do you forgive me?” She doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s giving her big puppy dog eyes.

“Buy me lunch and I’ll consider it.”

“Deal.”

“Listen. Just be more careful next time, please. And also, actually listen to me, maybe?”

“Alright. You got it.”

In the next few minutes, she grows back to her regular size. He has a million and one questions about all of this, but they have to make sure they can pass this midterm first. So, those questions will just have to wait.

[tojisun]

cw: simon riley x f!reader; smut; d/s - collaring

the day that you realized that you liked it was sort of unintentional, that you know at least — simon’s hand climbing up the expanse of your body, brushing past your sternum, copping a feel of your tits, before hooking it around your throat.

that was new; unchartered territory of some sorts. simon’s never been that type of a lover, so used to bearing all his weight onto yours when he is taking you, and making you feel every pudge and every muscle; always skin on skin, meat on flesh, but a hand on your neck as you mount him, riding him with such finesse that he’d been reduced to breathless and trembling moans? yeah, that was new.

not unwanted, though. no.

not with the way your cunt convulsed, walls spasming around his girth, before your squirt was punched out of you. god, it felt so euphoric — stuffing yourself with his cock, gobbling it all up down to his pelvis, while the weight of his touch grounded you, constricting on the press of your throat because like that, just like that, simon was overwhelming.

like sure, you were the one on top, conquering him with a single-minded focus, but the ease in which simon had taken back his power — not that it was about that to him; hell, you know that simon would rather kneel by your feet if it really came down to it, but- but it was for you — so seeing simon work it; seeing simon take it from you with just a heavy hold– it unmade you. it ruined you.

it made your hunger more vicious; armed it with teeth.

it made you want to be—

collared.

.

simon’s thorough, of course he is.

he’s walked you through codes and signs — “green for go, yellow for pause, and red is full stop. if words are too much, three taps means out, okay, baby? no, i need to hear you say it– thank you, sweetheart.” — then told you the collar is a surprise when you asked him if you could pick one out right now.

your nose curls when he said that.

“i want it now, though,” you say, totally not whining. you’re wearing his shirt, legs and pussy still bare and sensitive after he’s fucked you on the couch. the ache is a pleasant thrum, and you feel like jelly with how sated you are down to your bones, but still, you refused even the softest of pyjama pants that simon’s pulled out for you.

he sighs, all patient, and scoops you to his lap.

“a collar’s a gift,” he says. “or, at least, let me gift it to you.”

he softly bites your cheek when your only reply is a pout. “don’t worry, i’ll choose a pretty one. you know that i will.”

you hum, nodding because of course simon will. he always has. the ring on your finger, the necklace you’ve got on, the lines of lingeries stuffed in your drawers, the jewelled plugs — simon knows that you want the pretty things. he knows that you love pretty things.

but the collar is—

you want it to mean something else. you want it to feel vitriolic. to feel dirty. like simon’s fully possessed you and that collar is proof of his claim. like he’s fully got you in the palm of his hand, sitting pretty for him.

that what was lovely was not the collar, but you.

“okay,” you say, still deep in thought.

(you don’t notice simon’s knowing stare or the way his eyes darkened, desire crashing into him with such ferocity. he knows you so well that it still surprises him when you think that he doesn’t. he knows what it is you want.

he knows what this means to you, or what you want it to mean.

what you want him to make it mean.

and simon’s so soft for you; would spoil you rotten if he could, and he will because you’ve promised yourself to him, so let him prove himself to you. let him show you how he will take care of you.)

.

the box is made of this green velvety material and it makes you pause midway through as you remove your coat. it’s on the dining table, stark above the rest of mundane things that belong in the room and on that oak, and it’s placed directly on your spot so it’s for you, you know, but simon’s been quiet since he followed you into the room, wordless as he watched you.

you turn to him, eyes wide and lips twitching with the thousands of things you want to say, but all you could croak out is, “is that—”

simon gives you a curt nod, the ends of his lips twitching slightly.

“go on,” he finally prods when you still remain frozen on your spot, arms still tensed, your jacket still half-slung on. “or would you want me to put it on for you?”

it’s like a switch was flicked on in your mind, like now that simon’s offered it, there’s nothing else that would suffice. so you give him a nod, quiet as you finally shuck off your coat before playing with the hems of its sleeves. he hums, just a soft curl of his deep voice, and ushers you forward, closer to the box. to the—

simon picks it up for you while you move to drape your jacket on the chair but even without baggage, you refuse to take it from him, lying in a limbo, waiting for him to decide for you. because that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? this whole thing — the collar, simon’s hand around your throat, something you always fall back to obsessively, stuffing yourself full with your fingers — is because of control.

his control over you. his possession of you.

simon hums, like he knows where your mind has gone, and moves to open it for you. there’s no bloating of tension, simon opens it the way one would rip a bandaid off — quick, unthinkingly, and half-hungry for the sting.

you breathe in sharply at seeing it.

you expected softness, maybe even something pink or purple or anything that was light hues, with lacing and silk that would not chafe. not this — dark leather with thick and heavy buckles, and lined with three metal rings that you know is for nothing else  but a leash.

“fuck—”

simon’s hand falls on the small of your back, his thumb digging into the dimples and rubbing softly. “d’y’like it?”

“yes,” you reply, breathless, not knowing how else to verbalize your desire or that swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach, feeling your heart thudding within your ribs, so deafening amidst the noise of your blood rushing to your ears. “simon, i– yes.”

simon huffs this pleased laugh, and you feel so shaken at feeling him tug you closer, urging you to look up at him.

“want t’wear it now, baby?”

you don’t even realize that you’re already lurching, gasping out your reply, so needy as you whimper out, “yes, please.”

simon doesn’t really murmur a comforting shh but he does act with that cadence — a gentle sort of coaxing as he pulls his free hand away from your back to pluck the collar off the box’s velvety lining. it looks even more beautiful in his hand like that, with the width of the collar almost more than half the size of simon’s palm and you remember the way he’s held your neck, the weight of it pressing on your throat, and god, you need.

you need.

he curls it around your neck, the leather sliding on your skin, and you try your best not to twitch in his hold as he fastens the end to the buckle, sliding until it’s a tight ring. but—

“tighter,” you rasp out, breathing from your mouth.

simon groans, and it’s a pained little thing, and you wonder how you look right now, begging him to tighten it more; asking him to dig it even deeper into your skin, until the collar etches trenches for you to trace in front of the mirror; until the sting forms new bruises for you to obsess over.

the collar is now a heavy press on your neck, consistent as it pinches the skin. you try to swallow only to feel a resistance that was never there before and this—

you have never felt so much freer. so much more desired.

“thank you,” you choke out, almost in tears, and simon looks just as overwhelmed.

he cups your jaw, thumb tracing the edges of your lips, before sliding his hand down to brush his fingers along the collar.

your collar.

“so beautiful,” he whispers, so soft like it was meant for himself.

.

the first time that simon fucked you with your collar was almost too much. it was too good. almost unbelievable with the way it scratches that itch burrowed in the pit of your stomach, unyielding and aching. and now, indulged fully by simon. 

your collar is tight around your throat, a consistent weight that has you panting, mind slipping underneath the fog. your saliva pools in your jowls, and the pleasure burns, leaving you to splinter at the drag of it until you are suspended into that cataclysmic point.

you have never felt so small until that moment; tucked away into the softest of corners, shielded from anything and everything that isn’t simon and his greatness. you are reminded of the ease in which you've surrendered your control and the way he was hungry for it, wielding it as he tugs at the rings, forcing the collar to dig even further into the welts it’s created. 

you are made, then unmade; forced to lick at the backs of your teeths to ground yourself — but why are you trying to?

the pleasure is filling. you do not remember how you used to be taken; how you were fucked without the weight — of simon as he drills his cock into you, the girth splitting your walls apart until they pulse around him as mini-orgasms burst in your core; of the collar, making every ragged gasp of air deliciously painful.

“where did you go?” simon grunts in your ears, his breath huffing out hotly. “come back t’me, love. t’me.”

you whine, split between sobbing out and moaning, and simon tugs and tugs, coaxing you above the fog, telling you when it is right to breach for a gasp. 

“s’right, baby. jus’ like that.” simon is so patient, his words grounded, like his hips are not crazily pistoning, fucking his leaking cockhead further in, in, in, until it is kissing the pucker of your cervix. 

it’s so—

it’s—

“go on,” simon rumbles. “cum f’r me.”

your orgasm is akin to a breaking, to a ripping of reality, like the fabrics that make you are split and turned, leaving you to find ecstasy bursting across your synapses. it feels too good. too much. too unreal. it feels like a fluke, a one-off—

but simon’s hand falls to your belly, pinning you close to him, and you are reminded that you are not done. 

he hasn’t cum yet.

it’s not over yet. 

this pleasure that you can’t really fathom, the one that you can’t even fully name, it hasn’t found its summit. you’re just there, at the throes. 

good. too good—

[omega-e123]

!! NSFW !!

cw: mild somnophilia(?), Cunnilingus, Vaginal sex. Fingering. Breeding kink.

In A Rut…

Prologue || Restraint || Part 3 (HERE) || Adoration

Indulgence

Depressed. Lonely. Unwanted. Those are the words that you’d describe how you’re feeling. You knew Shadow liked his personal space, but isn’t this a bit much? After being the only one initiating for a month straight, it’s finally taken its toll on you.

Rationally, you’re aware if Shadow didn’t at least tolerate your company, he wouldn’t give you the time of day. Let alone reciprocate affection when given. It still hurt, putting in all the effort suddenly.

It’s been a while since the last time you spent the night at his place. Not from the lack of asking. Shadow shot down every time it was brought up. The way he answered differed. Sometimes it was a flat, “No.” Other times he would go silent, deep into thought before politely declining. There was no tell whether or not Shadow was hesitating to say yes or to say no.

Tonight was the night. You practically begged him. Your hands clasps his, bringing it to your chest. Puppy eyes refuse to break contact even as he slightly turned his head away. “Pretty please Shadow? Pleaaaase? I really miss you. Just one night,” you implored.

Shadow grits his teeth. The glaring annoyance in his features conceal Shadow’s inner turmoil. Curse these damn thoughts. If only you were begging for something else. I’d give it all in a heartbeat.

Damn it— “Tch! Fine. For one night.”

It’s a good thing he already replaced those torn covers…

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The plan was simple. You take his bed, Shadow takes the couch. With this arrangement, he can keep himself in check while you’re still able to get a peaceful night’s sleep.

What a fool he was hoping that you’d agree.

Even though Shadow insisted he take the couch so you can have his bed all to yourself, you countered with, “Well, if you’re going to sleep on the couch so will I! I didn’t ask to stay for the night for us to end up not sleeping together, idiot.”

At first, you tried to sleep with your head laid on his chest. Leg propped over Shadow’s torso. Normally, you both wouldn’t have a problem falling into a deep slumber like this. A subtle steady heartbeat coercing your body to drift away. Protective arms wrapped around your being. Tonight? You weren’t sure if who you’re nuzzling against was a hedgehog or a wooden log.

Try as he might, Shadow couldn’t relax his muscles. In and out. Focus on breathing. Nothing else.

Don’t pay any mind on how much his body has been aching for your touch. Ignore the hot breath that tickles his chest. Your sickly sweet scent filling up his nose. The way your crotch is pressed up against his hip.

You resign, noticing the rigid, mechanical breathing. Wordlessly peeling yourself off of Shadow to lay on your side, back towards him. Better not make him any more uncomfortable even though you really wanted to cuddle him. Give him space and let him chase.

Almost immediately, some of the tension Shadow was holding dissipates. Finally allowing himself to sink further into the mattress. The air feels like a thousand needles pricking him now that your warmth is gone. A heavy breath leaves him, not noticing he’s been holding it in this whole time.

It would be so much easier if he simply told you what is going on. Why he has been ‘distant’ for the past few weeks. Bringing up the topic feels too awkward, too… humiliating. Your partner is so stubborn when it came to asking for help. Shadow didn’t need to suffer alone at all if only he spoke up. You were more than happy to assist him whenever needed… this Shadow knew well.

Weight of the mattress shifts behind you. Springs crunching and squeaking underneath. You paid no mind as your consciousness stood at the border of dreamland.

As the last strand of thought was about to be plucked away, a paid of arms found purchase around your waist. Like a squeaky toy being squeezed, your eyes shot open and bulged out as you quietly squealed from the sudden movement.

Shadow’s body and yours press up against each other. Legs tangle with one another. A tender kiss is pressed to the back of your neck sending goosebumps down your spine.

Sleep finally drags you into the void.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Moonlight peeks through the cracks of the black out curtains. Watching your every move. Shadows intertwine and dance upon the cool sheets of the bed. Ecstasy clings onto every inch of your skin. Combined sweat glistening due to the spotlight provided by the moon.

“Ngh.. haah.. Shadow—“

Your heart leaps out of your chest. The utterance of your partners name startles you awake. Wetness pools in between your legs from the dream. Underwear sticks uncomfortably to your cunt.

Heavy breathing combined with something hard pressed against your ass signals that you’re not the only one having a wonderful dream or maybe he was the cause? Pressure varies from light to firm in a nice rhythmic pattern.

Shadow’s arms are wrapped around you tight, unaware that you’re awake. His hot breaths that moan your name tickle your ear. One hand begins to wander. The inhibitor ring gets caught by the fabric, here and there, contributing to his clunky movements. Eventually it finds its way to the edge of your shirt. Shadow’s bare hand slides up your abdomen, between the valley of your breasts, before settling on a mound. Gently but firmly gripping it. Even though you call out his name, no response is given. Shadow continues to hump your ass, riling you up more. Hips begin to move in tandem with his, craving more friction. A whimper escapes past your lips, calling out his name once more.

What woke Shadow up was your hand squeezing the top of his. Blinking the sleep away, he became more aware of his actions.

Guilt swallows him up whole. Shadow mutters a rushed apology, “I didn’t— Forgive me.” His ears flick back momentarily in agitation as he begins to free his limbs from you. Although untangled your hand refuses to let go. When he sits up, so do you. Oh no, you’ve let this gone on long enough.

“Forgive you for what?”, you interject, worry laced in your words. Due to the low light in the room, you could only partially see Shadow’s expression. An oh so familiar mask of stone adorns his face.

He doesn’t move an inch. A good sign. It means he’s not immediately avoiding or distancing himself from you. A chance to reel Shadow back... To keep him grounded.

Silence follows your question. Again, you speak up, “What’s on your mind, my love? You’ve been acting odd these days. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

The void of the room stares straight back at Shadow. Thoughts collecting to form a coherent sentence. Finally he speaks, though not of his own volition. Words spill out before he could stop them, “That’s the problem. You can and you would. Taking advantage of you is not something I intend to do… but I might with my current state.”

Brows furrow and a deep frown sets on your muzzle. “What the fuck are you talking about.” May the gods praise you for your patience with this man—. Sucking in a sharp inhale you speak again,“Shadow.. It is not taking advantage for accepting my help. Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered in the first place. It’s not as if I’m physically unable to say no later down the line anyways,” your free hand reaches up to Shadow’s cheek, turning his face towards you, “So if you could please tell me instead of having me guess, I would appreciate it.”

Your hand is so incredibly soft. Shadow couldn’t help but lean into your touch. “It’s— rutting season,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?”

Although he’s facing you, his eyes refuse to meet yours. Shadow’s shyness announces its presence in the form of crimson staining his cheeks, “It’s.. supposedly the time of the year for hedgehogs having the urge to breed.” His tail thumps excessively at the thought of knocking you up. Reaching back, Shadow grabs his tail to hold it still.

The cogs in your brain begin to turn, putting the pieces together. This whole time he was acting touch adverse due to being overstimulated by your presence. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Shadow didn’t tell you sooner.

Taking too long to answer, Shadow takes your silence as judgement. “Hmph, I’m sleeping on the couch,” he announces, shuffling away from you.

“The hell you are! You’re finishing what you started tonight, mister.” Your partner is forcefully yanked back and pinned onto the mattress. Straddling him, you can see his features much easier. Eyes looking up at you widen in shock before narrowing. Shadow’s fangs flash in a mischievous smirk.

“You are aware of what you’re asking, right?”

“Uh, yes?”

Easy as flipping a pancake, you two switch positions. Your hands are in tight grips above your head. Shadow leans close to your ear, chests nearly touching. In a low sultry voice he says, “You sound unsure. Allow me to clarify: I won’t be done with you until you’re passed out or I’m empty, understood?”

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. Now that the laundry has been hung up to air, Shadow can finally indulge what he’s been craving for: you.

Scarlet eyes scan your features for any hint of fear, hesitation. Of course Shadow wants you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself while he lets out his urges.

Immediately your heart leaps into your throat. Excitement shooting through your system like electricity. The edges of your mouth twist upwards into a lopsided smile. “Loud and clear, Shad. You have a lot of lost time to make up,” you answer back cheekily. Finding your answer satisfactory, Shadow encapsulates your lips in a kiss. Starting slow, pacing yourselves, enjoying the moment.

Minuscule moans fill the silence here and there as the pace picks up. Wanting more contact, your hands struggle against Shadow’s grip. One hand lets go to snake under your shirt and massage your breast. The other adjusts to keep both of your wrists down.

So much stimulation but none quite what your body aching for. Legs squirm, complaining about the lack of attention on your bottom half. Your hips arch up, drawing out a guttural moan from Shadow. As you two part, a single string of saliva bridges the gap. He hushes you, “Behave and sit pretty. You can do that, right?”

Entranced, you simply nod your head.

“Good. I promise I’ll take care of you,” Shadow whispers, pecking your cheek. A kiss is pressed to your neck, your throat, collarbone. One after the other, he leaves a trail of kisses leading all the way down to your abdomen.

The smell of your cunt already abuses Shadow’s nose. Hunger grows within him. Patience is a virtue; however, nothing will stop this unholy night. A finger hooks to the hem of your underwear. Delicately Shadow pulls them down, stopping inches from revealing your clit. His lips encapsulates the bud, giving it a gentle suck and a flick of his tongue. A quiet gasp is pulled from you. From there he rips off the thin fabric, tossing it off the bed carelessly.

“Hey! That was my favorite pair!” You complained in a huff.

Teeth graze your inner thighs, causing them to quiver with anticipation. Your concern about the small fabric disintegrated by a simple act. A low feint chuckle can be heard if you listened closely. The underside of your knees are propped up over Shadow’s shoulder after he pulls you down closer by the hip bones. A nip near your pussy elicits a squeal of pain mixed with pleasure. Just as you were about to playfully scold Shadow, a drawn out moan fills the bedroom. His tongue dances over your clit. With each suck, your back arches, chasing his lips. Claws dig into your flesh, drawing little beads of blood. A silent command telling you to hold still.

“Shaaaadow~!” You cry out. So many sensations tingling your skin.

He backs off for a moment, blowing onto the folds of your pussy. Instinctively your knees buckle together.

A quiet, “Hnph,” signals Shadow’s satisfaction in teasing you.

It couldn’t be helped. He’s so aggressive, intending to devour you. Tension builds up in your torso but not quite close to snapping. The folds of your pussy spread as Shadow’s tongue slides up the slit and enters. Drinking up every drop of nectar.

Meanwhile, his bottom half has been busy, rubbing itself against the mattress in a steady rhythm. Every time Shadow got close, he would cease his movements for a second before continuing. All of his cum was going to go inside you.

Time is at a standstill, staring at the bedroom wall. You concentrate on the assault his mouth is currently conducting. Hands cling onto the sheets for dear life as you try to obey Shadow.

“Ah— ah.. please..” you manage out, nearly breathless. He pauses. Darkened eyes look up, waiting for you to continue with your train of thought. The loss of contact allows cold air to hit your cunt.

“Please, what?” Shadow asks politely as if he wasn’t just nose deep in you, “What is it that you need?”

“I need more.. more friction”

Now towering over you, your legs are nearly pressed to your chest. His hands propped on either side of your head, supporting his weight. Shadow’s cock effortlessly sliding between your labia “Mmnh. You’re going to have to elaborate more than that.”

This fucker. Teasing your entrance. One fell swoop and it’ll go right in. Your pussy clenches nothing at the thought, bringing attention of just how empty you are. “Need more.. more friction, please. I need you inside. Please, Shadow.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.”

You should have known better to think he was going to start fucking you. No surprise that Shadow travels back down, sliding a single digit in. You can feel his smug grin against your sex when you hissed out of disappointment. Another finger is added in, curling against your walls. Shadow’s free hand splays atop your belly.

Oh, how your pussy glistened with your arousal. Sweet nectar drip onto the mattress, creating a lovely pool. It might stain after tonight. Your needy cunt clenches around his fingers. That familiar tension rises back up as Shadow sucks and French kisses your clit. So red, puffy, and sore. He’s absolutely proud of his work.

Before you knew it, praises began to tumble out. Your hand reaches down to grab Shadow’s hand, holding it tight. Legs quiver as his hand picks up the pace. A third finger slides in easily. Stars enter the edge of your vision. The familiar bedroom ceiling now turning into a night sky.

“Love, you’re going to crush my hand,” he laughs. His ministrations continue while he rises up to lay next to you. Both of his legs capturing one of your thighs. “Keep them open for me.”

Arms reach underneath, pulling Shadow into a hug. You beg and plead him, “I’m close— I’m so close. Shadow I’m going to cum. Fuck, let me cum please.” When your nails dig into his back, a pleasureful growl bubbles up from his throat. In efforts to silence it, Shadow’s lips crash into yours. The taste of your slick swirling around.

Your hips erratically buck into his fingers, chasing that high. Like a mirror shattering into a million pieces, you had come undone. Screams of ecstasy reaches the heavens even with your teeth buried into Shadow’s neck. Wet slapping follows suit as he guides you through your climax. “Music to my ears. Ah, you’ve done such a good job,” Shadow whispers into your ear, slowing down his movements but not quite stopping. Tears nearly form from the overstimulation. To let him know, you whimper, “Too much”, into his chest, nuzzling in.

When Shadow pulls out, a pathetic mewl escapes past your lips. Already, you miss the warm feeling in your pussy. He brings up his sodden fingers and licks it clean before lifting your chin up to give you another taste. During this little break Shadow’s giving you, a warm palm caresses your cheek, lightly stroking it.

“You better not be tired, yet. I’m not done with you”

Caged below his body, his cock, seeping with precum rests on the low part of your belly. Even though your body is still recovering, it can’t help but shake in anticipation.

A sticky trail leads down to your entrance. The tip just barely prodding the entrance. Your hips instinctively want squirm, allowing it in. Looks like Shadow noticed as well, because he backed away just out of reach. He wants you bad; however, watching your cute little face twist out of frustration was simply too entertaining.

Here you thought that Shadow would be the impatient one, waiting so long to fuck your brains out. How the hell has he been able to keep it together now that finally got what he needed? Well, Shadow’s mind has been teetering on the edge. Holding it together long enough so you’re also enjoying it too. Not only mindless fucking to reach his objective. You’re not merely a means to an end.

“There’s only two things you need to remember, okay? My name, and that you’re mine.” To emphasize the last two words, Shadow slams his cock in one fell swoop.

Once again his claws sink into the sheets and mattress below, unable to contain his fervor. Because your cunt didn’t have enough time to adjust and accommodate Shadow’s length, it squeezes him tight. The sensation was not unwelcome. Pain and pleasure dancing in a delicate tango.

A long breathy moan is accompanied by his own animalistic growl. He does his best in earnest to stay still, savoring the way your pussy stretched and clenched around his cock. “Fuck you’re so good to me,” he moans, “You don’t know how much I wanted you— needed you.”

Shadow’s hips slowly pull back just to thrust deep into you again. The sudden motion causes you to grip tightly onto forearms. Your head tosses back with a gasp.

It felt like you were made for him. Made for each other. He starts to pump into you. Ass bouncing from the force. Shadow’s gaze never leaves your face. Every little expression you make, he commits to memory. The way you have to keep prying your eyes off of his to keep from being hypnotized, entranced. When you bite the inside of your lip or open your mouth for a silent cry of pleasure. Your eyes squeezing shut and brows knitting together, as you violently turn your head from hitting that right spot.

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough!

Your ear is captured between his lips, nibbling and sucking on it. The sensation tickles. You giggle, finally letting out that breath you’ve been unconsciously holding. Shadow whispers into your ear, “Good.. make sure you’re breathing. I’m going to pull you in closer, okay?”

Your hands are removed from him as he sits up for a moment to adjust. In order to gain better access, you are folded up into a proper mating press. Legs hooked onto the crook of Shadow’s arms. Knees on either side of your head.

The new angle allows him to hit you deeper and with the way your hips are positioned will perfectly hold his cum in. Mercilessly, Shadow pounds into your little hole. Despite his best efforts to redirect his fangs, they continue to land on multiple spots along your collarbone and neck. Bruises and bite marks for everyone to see who you belong to.

With each thrust, his dick kisses your cervix.

It’s a good thing you didn’t live in an apartment, but you were sure the neighbors across the street could hear your screams of euphoria.

You looked so lovely. Heavenly, even. Shadow wonders how he was able to snag an angel like you. Those three little words, Shadow doesn’t say them often enough as he thinks he should. You understand. His actions speak volumes much louder.

At the pace Shadow is going at, he’s not going to last very long. Judging by the way your face is scrunched up and the tension in your nether regions, you’re in the same boat.

“Relax. Cum for me, my love.”

That’s all it took for you to unravel once again. Shadow is pulled in for a tight embrace as you call out his name, telling him how much you love him. Your sweet words melt his heart.

Trembling, quaking, your orgasm rips through your body while Shadow continues to snap his hips, his own climax following close behind. If you weren’t so cock drunk, you’d have heard “I love you” tumble from your partner. Words that come out of your mouth are no longer coherent but rather a giant babbling mess. Your cunt milks every single drop his cock has to offer. His movements slow down.

Shadow’s body isn’t satisfied. Even if he wanted to, his hips won’t stop. Not until he drowns your cervix in hot sticky cum. Filled to the brim until it starts leaking out even with his dick plunged deep in.

“You’re mine. All mine.”

Round one of many.

[eelnoise]

beset fixation (nsfw!)

trafalgar law x gn!strawhat!reader cw: smut, possessive law, law struggles w/ feelings, soft law, piv sex, implied situationship, emotional law an: so in my head this takes place in wano, and is kind of a heat of the moment emotional type thing. in my head law's stupid slutty kimono is draped around his shoulders btw hehe tagging: @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @themushroomofdeath @risenwrites

Law is obsessed with you.

It eats at him, gnaws into his flesh like sharpened teeth. He feels childish, as if being played for a fool - but the fact of the matter is that you’ve clawed your way into his head. Law finds himself aching with an inexplicable pain that he cannot seem to mend on his own, one that snaps any strands of rationality in two and has him second, third, and fourth guessing his own words.

You’re a Strawhat. After this business is done and accounted for and the alliance ends, you’ll be enemies once again.

Yet Law can’t escape the deep-seated, profound, and frankly infuriating way you linger around in his mind. His inner thoughts speak in your voice, perfectly mimicking every single subtle nuance and tonal shift of the words you’ve spoken to him prior. He longs for your presence, even if he cannot reason with why. The only thing that Law has gleaned is that you are the root problem of it all - and he needs to let you go for his own sake.

Then why now does he have you upon hands and knees, back arched perfectly and covered in sweat while he buries himself as deep inside of you as he can?

Lithe fingers cup at your hips to keep you in place, tips digging into the pliant flesh with enough force to bruise twice over. Law’s pace is ruthless, pouring every single one of his feelings into you with every harsh thrust of his hips - and you still just don’t get it. Are you truly this oblivious to his behavior? How he craves the taste of your skin or the touch of your hands? He all but froths at the mouth when you’re with one of your crewmates, jaw clenching and fists balling at the thought of you leaving with them - leaving him behind.

Law grits his teeth in frustration, and takes it out with a rough smack to your ass. Your cry of ecstasy doesn’t go unnoticed, and his hold on you tightens further when your walls flutter against his cock. He can feel himself start to crumble, and with each salaciously delicious sound you spew he borders further and further off the edge of reality. 

What’s stopping him from keeping you, really?

He could have you whenever he wanted – your touch and body available at the drop of a coin. Nevermore would he need to feel the crushing burden of your absence, to mend the seams of woe that have frayed into his nerves. Try as he might to fight it, this burning desire is kindled when you're with him. 

And now, with you at his mercy beneath him, all thoughts feel like lies. Law feels his will breaking, and for a moment he casts logic aside. The smiles, the laughter, the vivid conversations you've shared – he wants them all to himself. It's selfish,and yet it can't be helped. 

Law's thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your voice. Pleas of finality reach his ears – soft, shaky cries of delirium emanating from your tongue. He knows what you want, and he isn’t about to give you what you want. Not yet.

He slips out of you then, giving you a much needed but very much unwanted moment of reprieve that's cut short before you can even turn your head up toward him in question. Law shifts his hold on your hips and flips you onto your back, hands curling against the undersides of your knees and pressing them toward your chest. Just as he’s realigning himself with you he pauses, unable to stop himself from raising his gaze to yours.

Law inhales sharply and can feel his gaze soften as he looks into your eyes. And in another bout of weakness does his heart leap, a warmth spreading within him that feels so unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He leans forward over your body to quickly capture your lips to his, simultaneously sheathing himself back within you. He swallows both the gasp from your throat as well as his own guilt, indulging himself in the wistful tangle of emotions and limbs that is this moment.

Your tongue eagerly twists into his, your arms coming to cross around his shoulders as if desperate to get as close to him as you can. Law obliges you, wrapping his own arms around your lower back and squeezing you to his chest – though he longs to melt into you entirely. He’s slower now, the rock of his hips beginning to move with more purpose and with an undeniable sense of not-so-hidden sentiment. 

It feels like his sense of self has vanished, and in its place stands someone he doesn’t know. As if the sums of his of attempts at reason had subtracted tenfold. His kiss doesn’t end - save for seconds of breath - slotting your lips together in a long sermon of implicit confessions that are long overdue.

The feeling overtakes him, and soon enough he’s muttering nonsense into your ear about how he needs you and how you make him feel. Telling you all the ways he craves your entire being, how much you’ve changed the way he thinks. It's more than he’s said to anyone at once before, and he doesn’t know – doesn’t care – where it’s coming from.

You reciprocate. It shocks him – the words falling from your tongue should sound foreign, but they don’t. They’re real and they’re raw and they bring Law a comfort he shouldn’t crave.

But he does, he craves it like no other. And hearing your revelation solidifies it.

Law isn’t leaving this country without you by his side.

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Four)

CW: Titty sucking (MY FAVE), horny asf Simon and reader, some pussy touching, Simon gets domestic for you xoxoxo

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

The sun was a bold ray of amber, slicing through every shard of glass with unbroken certainty, speckles of rainbows planting themselves among the eggshell walls, the only bit of colour throughout the bland room. Simon had awoken early, his brain working as a natural alarm clock as he took in the snuggled site of your slumbered frame, your hair falling against the bone of your cheek, lips parted and lashes dipping.

You were a pretty sight, even asleep and the Lieutenant had to find himself walking away, rubbing brown eyes with desperation as he hunched towards the kitchen, his frame skulking as he contemplated whether to cook for the both of you or just leave it.

He gripped his teacup, his coffee a sickening black, not even a subtle hint of sugar to drench away the bitter taste. He didn’t mind it though. Calloused fingers gripped the kitchen bench, his fingernails rugged and in desperate need of some care that, unfortunately, they would never receive.

Simon’s mind was littered with the flickering of gruesome images, depicting past scenes that have cast upon him. The silent images of bombs, the static in his ear ringing out the screams that seem to catch up to him every now and then. He watches as the residue of the coffee splashes down the drain, brown disappearing into the crevice of his pipe as he sauntered off to his bedroom, taking in the sight of an empty bed.

Your hands graced the doorknob, bones burying into your skin as you jumped at the intimidating frame of your neighbour standing outside, inches away from the door.

“Jesus,” you squeaked, voice timid, “you scared me half to death, Simon.”

Your hand rested upon your chest, soft skin flush with a morning hue, breasts strained against the skimpy fabric as you cleared your throat, the obvious undertone of sleep running through every note.

“’M sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Y’ want some breakfast?”

You raised an eyebrow, slightly shocked at him still wanting you over. Though he never made you feel unwanted (from the minimal times you had been in his presence), he was a quiet man, almost nurturing the environment of being alone.

“Don’t want me out of your hair?” You were half joking, a cheeky smile on your face as you stepped closer to him. His face never spoke, the most you had gotten from him being a subtle raise of a curled lip, his eyes gently jutting over you. For the most part, the only sign of communication you could read were the words that left his mouth, wet tongue occasionally darting out to coat his lips with the slop of his saliva, teeth teasing the dried skin.

“’M a gentleman. Could never let a lady sleep in my bed and not make ‘er breakfast.”

His voice was course like it was coated in leather and tobacco, his words strung with a sultry arrogance that only added to the arousal of the butch man. Heat settled in your cheeks; the apples were decorated with a light hue that was catered for by the words he let slip.

You nodded, slightly anxious, yet more horny at the way he stood so bold and tall above you, massive frame filling out the shirt that you were sure wouldn’t be as tight on anyone else. It was almost porn itself, watching the way he had to duck slightly to fit himself under door frames, the way his shoulders would nearly collide with the wallpaper as she shifted between rooms. His skin was littered with tattoos and scars, and his nose was slightly crooked (which you assumed was from it being broken).

Veins bulged through his hands and forearms, skin slightly peeling near his nail beds as he worked a knife through a tomato, sultry juices seeping onto the wooden chopping board. His eyes would occasionally dart to you, following your line of sight as he felt a proud hum purr gently through his chest, almost satisfied that you were taking in the sight of him. The air was filled with silence, the thickness of the words unsaid, instead spoken by stolen glances.

“Do you enjoy your work?” Your voice was quiet, almost like it was trying to find lost confidence.

Simon was quick to answer, turning around to look at you as he cracked an egg into a frying pan, oil splashing out amongst the quickly cooking liquid. “Don’t think enjoy is the right word, but ‘m good at it, I suppose.”

“So... you’re a soldier?”

His laugh was dry. “’M a lieutenant.”

You nodded, not fully understanding the hierarchy of chain in the military but you assumed it was a hard-working position, the sheer size of him and the residue that stained his body adding to the unneeded certainty that Simon was good at his job.

“Do you want me to help with anything?”

“You can set the table,” Simon nodded, motioning towards a draw. You grabbed at two knives and forks as you plodded over to the dining table, your feet skidding against the wooden floorboards. The hem of your nightgown raised as you bent slightly, placing cups down next to the cutlery. Simon sucked in a harsh breath, cock straining against the hem of his trousers as he looked away, focusing on the splutter of eggs and bacon in the pan. He stacked up your plate before handing it to you, a soft ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you sat down.

You were surprised that he was a good cook, even if it was as simple as eggs, bacon and grilled tomatoes. The only memory you have of a man working in a task force, being your Uncle in the Navy who couldn’t cook for shit. You let out a satisfied half-moan, almost muffled by the food in your mouth.

Simon heard it. The painful gripping of his fork barely justifies his reaction to the completely innocent sound you made.

“You’re a good cook,” you say, reading his face that was focused on his plate, his knuckles white and straining against the metal his fingers were snaked around.

“Thank you,” he replied, offering you a small smirk of gratitude.

You spoke a bit more, growing to understand your mysterious neighbour and who he was as a person. You looked down at your empty plates, offering to wash up to which he quickly refused and hushed you down to him just being a friendly Samaritan. Your knees wobbled as you stood up, the spaghetti strap of your nightgown sliding down your shoulder as it hung lowly on your bicep, cleavage pooling at the v-line of your dress.

Carob orbs lapped in the sight, pupil widening at the further display of skin, which you didn’t rush to fix. You were almost testing the waters, breaking the surface as you, both simmered in the atmosphere clouded with both desperation and demand. Thickened digits brushed against your other shoulder, resting there for a moment as you locked gazes, your lashes dipping slightly as you licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry at the heat that radiated against your skin. The heat he was causing.

You felt the other strap fall from your shoulder, as you watched his gaze drop to your chest, his chest practically heaving as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts, nipples breaching through the fabric that had pooled at your waist.

His reaction was immediate, a rough hand groping at your right breast as he pushed you onto the table, your ass flush against the wooden surface as you gasped at his other hand coiling around your neck, chapped lips wrapping around your hardened bud as your fingers found a tight grip in his dusty hair, tugging at the roots.

Teeth grazed as your sensitive nipples, feverishly sucking as his fingers tweaked at the other, working against your chest with a burning fervour. A low moan left your lips as he switched over, a string of spit following his eager mouth as the pressure around your throat tightened.

The hem of your nightgown raised against your bucking movements, hips eager to please both you and him as the plush flesh of your thighs caught his attention.

The hand that wrapped around your throat quickly gathered at your legs, gripping them with demand as he almost growled against your breast.

“Lay back,” he demanded. You followed in suit, the clatter of cutlery behind you as you adjusted yourself against the table. Sticky thighs held themselves together as you looked up at him from your laid position.

“Such a good girl, hm? Spread your thighs for me baby.”

This almost didn’t feel real. Your neighbour who you had barely interacted with for years was standing above you, praising you. You sucked in a deep breath, achy thighs working themselves open as Simon lapped up the sight of your panties, darkened with your arousal as a thumb pressed against the fabric, admiring the way you bucked your hips.

You raised them as he slid your drenched underwear off before he bent down, sucking in a breath at the sight of your exposed cunt, wetness smeared against your pussy lips as two fingers reached out to pull them apart, webs of slick pooling against your heat.

“Gonna let me eat your pretty cunt, love?”

You’ve never said yes so fast.

[moonstruckme]

HI MAE so i didnt send the shy remus x reader ask but i saw that u wanted ideas and i had one. what about reader who's very cocky and like confident and stuff and remus is intimidated by her usually but then theyre at a party or smth and shes all drunk and shes all over him telling him stuff like how shes got the biggest crush on him or like how hes genuinely one of the most attractive people shes ever met and shy remus is js like 😳 while also taking care of her bc shes so drunk and simultaneously trying not to combust

Hi my love, thank you so much for your request!

cw: alcohol

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Really, it should be Sirius’ responsibility to look after you. It is his party, after all. But Sirius has a love for delegating unwanted tasks and also a love for meddling (which Remus theorizes he got at least partly from James). So, naturally, you’re in Remus’ lap. 

“You guys are so nice,” you croon, words strung together like cursive and fingers toying with a loose thread of Remus’ sweater. He’s resigned himself to letting you unravel the whole thing without complaint. “All of you, all your friends are the nicest…the warmest people I ever knew. How’d you do that?” 

Remus smiles down at you. “I think James has always been good at bringing out the best in people.” 

He’s not entirely sure how you came to be lying on your back on the couch, your head on Remus’ thigh and your hands reaching for the dangling thread above you like a cat enjoying some lazy play. If he asked you, Remus doesn’t think you’d know, either. It makes a lovely view for him, your eyes uptilted in his direction and features relaxed and unguarded as a result of the series of tequila shots Sirius had cajoled you into not realizing you’d already had a few drinks. Remus very much enjoys having you this close and being able to look at you so casually, even if your brassy, larger-than-life demeanor often terrifies as much as impresses him. Even if your head on his thigh makes his face feel like a fire hazard. 

“Don’t think he had to work very hard with you. You’re such a sweetheart already.” You say it so simply, an obvious truth, and Remus finds himself staying perfectly still like a rabbit in the woods that thinks it might yet escape your notice. His heartbeat pitters in everywhere from his cheeks to his fingertips. He worries he’s going to have to make a response, but your eyes widen suddenly. “Oh! Sit still.” 

No problems there. Remus moves only his eyes as you sit up from his lap, tucking your feet underneath you and reaching for him with your lip trapped between your teeth in concentration. You touch a fingertip to his cheek and smile victoriously. 

“Got it.” You turn your finger, showing him. “You had an eyelash.” You blow it off your fingertip and onto Sirius’ rug. Remus marvels at the unthinking loveliness of you. “Have I talked to you about your eyes before?” you ask conversationally. 

Remus blinks, ceasing his tracking of the eyelash to look at you. “I don’t think so,” he ventures, though he knows you haven’t. He remembers most exchanges you’ve had, and he definitely would have remembered that. 

“Oh.” Your brows purse softly. “Must’ve been with someone else,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “Anyway, it’s important to me that you know, they’re really beautiful.” 

Remus startles, partly at the compliment but mostly at the touch you lay on his cheek, your fingers cool and gentle, like you’re steadying his face for your perusal. You look into his eyes attentively. 

“They’re brown,” Remus says in a soft voice. 

Your lips tilt like he’s said something funny. “Nobody’s eyes are just brown, Remus. There are so many different kinds.” Your index finger draws a short line across his cheekbone. Remus can’t tell you mean for it to or not. “Yours are sort of like a…like a gradient. They get lighter farther down.” 

Remus decides to study your eyes as you study his, and he sees what you mean. The shadow of your lashes makes your irises look darker at the tops. It’s difficult to tell, though, with your pupils eclipsing so much of them. 

“They’re, like, a warmish brown,” you’re saying, gaze unwavering. “Like the color you want your tea to be. You know, there’s some fact or study or something that says brown eyes make people feel safe. Did you know that?” 

“I didn’t,” Remus says. The weight of your attention is taking its toll on him, his body aching to sink into the couch cushions. He wants to ask if brown eyes have that effect on you, but he doesn’t have the nerve. “Is that so?” he asks instead.

You shrug. “I dunno. Works on me.” 

The breath stalls in Remus’ lungs. You’re looking at him like you haven’t said anything out of the ordinary, expression wide open and somewhat unfocused. 

You yawn, removing your hand from his face to half cover your mouth. It’s an awfully endearing show, and over too fast. “I guess that’s probably why—” You cut yourself off with a hiccup. Your eyes flare like you weren’t expecting it, hand jumping back up in front of your mouth. Remus grins before he can stop himself. 

“Oh.” Your smile is an afterthought, a response to his. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Remus isn’t even certain what you’re apologizing for. 

Your eyes have that sweet, attentive look again. “I really like when you smile.” 

Remus feels heat spread up to the tips of his ears. It’s official. He’s got more in common with a live flame than a human anymore. “What were you saying?” he prompts. 

You bite your lip as though you’ve forgotten. “Oh!” Your eyes light. “Just, I guess that’s probably why I have such a giant crush on you.” 

Remus’ heart thuds. He breathes, “What?” 

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes, grinning at yourself. “It’s relentless.” Hiccup. “Super embarrassing. But—but you’ve got those eyes, and your freckles, and that sweetheart face…” You shrug again, helpless. Ride out another hiccup. “What am I supposed to do?” 

Remus stares at you. It seems impossible. You have a crush on him? It’s out of the natural order. The world’s gone to chaos. It’s supposed to be the other way around! Remus pines silently after you, you eventually find some big, cocksure bloke who can match you, and Remus continues to pine whilst you go on with your brilliant, dazzling life. That’s the way it’s meant to be. 

“I would…” Remus finds his mouth forming around words he doesn’t recognize until they come out. “I’d know a thing or two about a crush like that.” 

Your lips part, but you don’t look offended. “Well, yeah. I’d hope you knew I fancied you, I’ve only been seeking you out ever since we met.” 

Not what he meant. Remus did not, in fact, know that. 

“I didn’t notice you were,” he admits. 

Your head tilts. “Really?” There’s an obvious follow up question—then what did you mean just now?—but for one reason or another, you don’t ask it. You only lean onto his shoulder, your head slipping a few inches down his arm.

Remus channels all his bravery into an arm around your waist to keep you from slumping further. He vows to himself to tell you tomorrow.

[zombii-hoe]

𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔

Solivan Brugmansia x Fem! Reader

The Kid at the Back is an 18+ game and this post will contain 18+ content MINORS DNI

cw: somnophilia, non-con, unwanted touching, established relationship // not proofread

a little bit out of my zone, so if i forget/incorrectly tag something please let me know!!

This... should be fine, right? You said it yourself, that he could use your thighs to get himself off while you did your homework. But you never said anything about being awake.

Sol tightens his grip on your sleeping form. Earlier, you drank his infamous orange juice and barely managed to make it to your bed before passing out.

Burying his nose into your hair, Sol takes a deep sniff, nearly moaning at your scent invading his nostrils. Fuck, you always did smell so good. Maybe he should buy the same products you use, and he could smell like you 24/7.

As much as Sol wants to stay the night, he knows he should be wrapping things up. Eying the clock with his orange eyes, Sol makes quick work of tugging your pajama pants to your mid-thighs and pulling his hard cock from its prison, all with one hand.

Luckily, you were laying on your side in front of him, so Sol didn't have to move you too much.

Positioning his cock to insert itself between your warm thighs, Sol nearly whimpers, before slipping inside. Oh shit... He groans at the warmth enveloping his hard, weeping cock. He's barely clinging to any self-restraint he has left.

Pulling his hips back, Sol watches the head of his cock leak pearly white beads and stain your panties

Oh, yeah, he's done for.

Like the filthy dog he was, Sol humps his cock in and out, in and out, in and out of your thighs. His long slender fingers were underneath your shirt, groping and squeezing at your breasts.

Sol tries to hide his moans by kissing and sucking at the back of your neck, but the little 'ah! ah! ah!'s always manage to escape his lips. Your bed creaks at every thrust, the springs groaning at the motion and weight.

With a few more thrusts and a cry of your name, Sol comes hard, hips stuttering as his cock paints your thighs and sheets white.

Well shit, he pants, eyeing the mess, that was intense.

Sol separates himself from your sleeping figure, although a bit reluctant, and cleans himself up before putting his cock back into his prison. After fixing your appearance and covering you with a blanket, Sol kisses your forehead and heads toward the window.

Slipping a foot out, Sol turns back to your sleeping form with a lovesick grin, "Goodnight, pumpkin," He whispered, "sweet dreams."

And disappears into the night.

-‘๑’-

When your alarm went off, you were embarrassed upon noticing your sticky, wet panties. "What a dream that was," You murmured before getting up to get ready for school.

Want more of this? Buy me a ko-fi! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[jinxvex]

Oh my gosh your writing is great! Can we please get a headcanons of caitlyn x crybaby girlfriend? Like where her girlfriend is more sensitive and emotional than she is? Sfw and nsfw please, and perhaps a bit of size difference sprinkled (Cause that woman is TALL OH MY WORD) if it's possible? Take your time please! And thank you <3

♱ gf!caitlyn x emotional/sensitive gf!reader headcanons!! ♱

i'm sorry for the wait y'all!! LOL i've been a bit lazy (oop)

cw: sfw & nsfw, reader that cries and is emotional, cute and wholesome (sfw portion), pet names, dirty talk, she uses a strap (spoiler! it's royal blue!!!), praise, degradation, dumbification, humiliation, slight size kink, slight crying kink, you eat each other out, fingering, etc!!

SFW:

♱ caitlyn finds your sensitivity adorable and admirable. she’s almost jealous of how you’re so in tune with your emotions. your submissive, emotional personality goes hand in hand with her casual dominance and urges to protect the people she loves.

♱ caitlyn’s heart palpitates every time your eyes sparkle with emotions you can’t even explain at times— when your fingers clench the bottom of her shirt and you look up at her with raw vulnerability.

- “what’s the matter, darling? talk to me.”

♱ it doesn’t matter if you make a mistake, drop something valuable, or spill a drink, she’s always there to comfort you and tell you it’s alright, “c-cait ’m sorry i didn’t mean t-” + “don’t cry, love. you’ve made a mistake, that’s all.”

♱ cait’s a chronic forehead kisser (lol).

♱ she loves to treat you with the utmost care and consideration! if you’re more emotional and prone to stress-induced crying, she makes sure that there is nothing around you that could cause any unwanted feelings because she feels she isn’t doing her job as your girlfriend (or wife 😛) if you’re unhappy, “i hope everything’s to your liking, love? if you need anything, trust that i’ll give it to you.”

♱ caitlyn always seems to have her hand at the small of your back, rubbing it to show you she’s there if you need her. her protective touch instills a sense of calm in you, keeping you happy, appreciated, and seen.

♱ she slaps your ass playfully whenever you pout. OOPS

♱ she wraps her hands around you in a protective embrace whenever you do cry. she lets you sob into her chest as she hugs your smaller frame, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to comfort you, “shhh, it’s okay. it’s okay. ‘m here, baby, caitlyn’s here.”

♱ caitlyn dresses you in brand-new clothing the morning after you’ve had a bad day/night! (once again) patting your ass when she’s done pulling on your clothes and placing her hand on your hips to guide you to the full-length mirror across from the bed, “gorgeous.” + “look at you, sweetheart. you’re so beautiful.” + “do you like it? the clothes?”

♱ whenever she can’t be with you, busy protecting piltover from its enemies, she asks the maids to give you gifts and notes sent from her to remind you that she loves you—that you should look forward to her arriving home. the last thing she wants is for you to get emotional because you think she’s forgotten you!

♱ while i do agree that she prefers to keep her relationships private and she hates PDA. she wouldn’t hesitate to hold your hand or give you a reassuring hug or kiss whenever you need it!

♱ even when you are in a good mood, laughing and enjoying yourself. you could be in public, private, it doesn’t matter, she’s whispering to you how much she loves you, “your smile is just beautiful, my love.” + “i’m so lucky to have you. so radiant.”

♱ her love languages are words of affirmation, gift-giving, and acts of service!!

NSFW (🤭):

♱ we ALL know deep down she gives dom (specifically dom leaning switch) vibes!! she can get subby too!

♱ dare i say i agree that caitlyn has a MEAN size kink… there’s something about the way you look so much shorter, smaller than her when she’s pounding you into the mattress that makes her dripping wet, “wow, darling. you look so cute like this. so submissive.”

♱ since you can get in your head and get quite emotional, she does praise more than degrade (she still sprinkles it in here or there, especially if you’ve been bad). she likes dumbification and humiliation if that makes sense… WALK WITH ME HERE!!

♱ some of the things she’d say include: “you’re doing so good for me. so obedient. so willing.” + “my cute little whore. you get wet so easily, it’s adorable.” + “you can’t even think, can you? you don’t have to. just do as i say. thaaat’s it, good girl.”

♱ she enjoys making you cry out of embarrassment rather than sadness. imagine you’ve been giving her attitude and rudeness all day and she’s punishing you for it. she would force you to spread your legs and touch yourself while you apologize to her and tell her how much you love her in detail, “i hope you don’t think you’re cumming tonight, love.” + “you’re such a slut. giving me bullshit all day simply because you want to get stuffed full of my cock.” + “don’t you fucking cum. you don’t deserve it today.”

♱ because caitlyn has such a soft spot for you, she’d lowkey give in to your begging and let you cum anyway LMDAOSO.

♱ she spends hours praising you and telling you how good you feel and look during sex! the curve of your waist and hips, your ass and thighs cause her to believe you’re a gift from heaven!

♱ the strap is royal blue!! 6.8 inches… and when she gives you every inch, tears can’t help but prick your eyes and threaten to fall. it’s just too much!! i fear she enjoys it though, her smile toothy as she watches you cry and struggle to take her cock in a mating press, “it hurts, doesn’t it? you take it so well, it’ll feel better soon and you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”

♱ she eats you out after a meltdown!! wanting you to feel better—to feel the love she has for you! she kisses it before she eats it… AGGHHHHHFHHH. she’s always so gentle when she has her tongue on you, licking and kissing softly and spreading your cunt with her fingers, “oh, sweetheart. you’re dripping! can’t wait to eat you up.”

♱ now when you’re eating caitlyn out, she’s caressing your head/holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail. she pushes your head into her cunt, muffling the noises coming from your throat, “yes, yes! mhm right there. don’t stop, darling.”

♱ when you’re fingering her, you always seem to hold back slightly, afraid to hurt her. she urges you to, “go harder, love. you won’t hurt me. i need this, can’t you see?” + you’re the only one who can produce such high-pitched and needy moans from her!

♱ she loves seeing you in lingerie… there’s something that makes her feral seeing someone so sweet in such naughty attire. you have dozens of sets of lingerie and corsets (that she’s gifted you) so when you’re alone, she can see you in them 24/7.

♱ she’s a tribbing enthusiast! but she loves to save it for more emotional, passionate nights with you. it’s very dear to her.

thanks 4 the request!! writing this took long but it was fun! 💋

[bunny-jpeg]

can i order belgian waffles and soda served by max verstappen? thanks bunny <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order?? then hit up the menu! there are tons of items available! i'd love to hear from you! as for this lovely anon, thank you for such a nice order! it's rather short, but i love, love, love it! jealous!max my beloved! thank you!!

belgian waffles ("i cum in that every night.") + soda (jealousy) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, jealous!max, jealousy, dirty talk, missionary sex, motor home sex

"you're a jealous man, max verstappen." you said one night in the garage. your arms crossed and you gaze heavy on him.

he mimic your stance and replied, "i don't want the likes of piastri trying to take my mechanic."

you snorted through your nose, "right." you shifted from one foot the other, "because that weekend in lisbon and that christmas present last year really were because i was employee of the month.... that and somehow my supposed contract with alpine fell through."

max wasn't jealous. he was just concerned.

there should be an age restriction on mechanics. they should be old guys who can still work like they were in their twenties. because if max caught sight of you in your coveralls, looking like a total mess.

you weren't just some cute thing in the garage, you moved with the rest of your team. you were strong for all your time lifting and moving things. but yet carried such soft features that yanked on max's heart like a chain. you seemed so dedicated to getting max his fourth championship.

which was why he was curious why you were in the mercedes garage. he stayed a fair distance with his hat low to keep from any unwanted attention. he wanted to see where this was going.

"this is crazy, george! you really shouldn't be showing me this! oh my god." you said. then you starte to ramble about the aspects of the car. you were practically on your knees to get closer to it.

george tried not to think about you on your knees to hard. he didn't have ill intentions with you. and afterwards, you thanked george before you left, telling him you 'owed him one'. you were impressed by the car, if one red bull had the same specs. the team was pushing you to your limit at times, it didn't help that you had the golden boy of the team stalking in your shadows.

"have a good nice." george said before he watched you walk off.

max caught up with george after you both left the garage, a jealousy coiled in his chest. "george!"

the other man looked over, you far ahead now. he waved to max, "hey, mate."

"what are you doing out near the garage? race's over, man." that press smile hung on max's lips. he could see that you were gaining distance. but if max doesn't set a boundary now. george might get the wrong idea.

"ah, ya know. keepin' busy." max was soon in his personal space, "what are you doing around here?"

"aw, well. looking for my mechanic." he smiled as he placed a hand on george's back, giving it a firm smack. he leaned in to the other man and said, "i hope you know, george, i cum in that every night. it's not right to touch what belongs to another man. we're friends, right?" george nodded and max nodded in response, "so just back off, okay? she doesn't need to be poking around in your garage. and tell toto that she isn't interested in that contract either." then flashed the other man one of his winning smiles before he pulled away from him and went to go find you.

max wasn't a jealous man, he just knew your skills were suited better for the build of red bull.

in the room of his motorhome the night before you had to pack up for the next weekend. there was a fair bit of privacy in the place. it was probably more spacious than your apartment. even though max keeps suggesting you move in with him (the cats would love you). it felt nice to be out of your mechanics clothes, it could be sweltering sometimes. but it was needed when handling such dangerous machinery.

you didn't stray from red bull for long. you were in a shirt that had the logo across your chest, your breasts warping the image in the process and a fresh pair of cotton panties.

max loved the sight of you, how sweet you looked in his space. he remembered the first time you were in his home and your mouth went slack from the sight of it. your first comment was the view, which max let you get a closer look when he fucked you up against the window.

but, he'd have to reign it in a little tonight.

you were curled up with him in bed, your head against his chest while he played with your hair. you lifted your head a little to look at him and he kissed you.

"i saw you were with george today."

"oh! that wasn't anything. he just wanted to show me the car. i was interested in the specs that we could use in red bull... if anyone listened to me."

he smiled, "well." he kissed your forehead, "i always listen to you." he got you onto your back and in between your legs. he was able to move you so easily, for a woman who spent her days lugging around heavy materials, max could easily move you.

you were soft under his touch. in the low lighting of the bedroom. his hands on your hips as he admired you. you blushed a little bit, "i promise there was no funny business. plus george has a girlfriend!"

he got your legs around his waist and chuckled softly, "you think so little of me. i know you wouldn't break my heart that way. only being a team switcher. plus, if george tried to put his hands on you... we'd have a problem." he pressed his clothed cock against you, "but you're my good mechanic, right?"

you swallowed, "you're insatiable."

he pulled at the shirt on you, "only for you. i don't want you getting involved with teams that are less than. you only deserve the best."

"and what's the best?" you asked as the shirt was pulled over your head.

"me."

the two of you got out of your clothes, and max grabbed a condom out of the nightstand drawer. you had already gone through half of the pack that weekend. his hands on your thighs as he gazed at your nude body.

the only thing better than red bull or max's logo across your tits was them being bare for his eyes only. he licked his lips as he brushed his bare cock up against your slit.

"hey!" you yelped.

he chuckled, "quiet. i don't want a noise complaint from the other team. i know you want to scream my name, but tonight we have to keep quiet." he put on the condom and laid you out on the bed. he kissed your jaw as he shifted you hips up against him for a good angle.

he got into you, and shuddered at the feeling. being intimate with you was like a breath of fresh air. even on the days where the smell of car lingered on you and sweat was caked to his skin.

he loved your curves, your smile. how you lit up the garage and were a hard working. your knowledge of cars and how excited you spoke about them. he remembered a time where you could point out cars that passed by when you were having lunch together.

"you feel so good." he said softly, "you just feel like a dream. thank you for taking good care of my car and taking better care of me." he peppered your face with kisses, pushed your hair out the way to access more skin.

you glowed at the touch, it was so simple but yet it left your soul on fire. even when max was a jealous man, you still yearned for his closeness. his kisses and touches, his soft words and how he looked at you. he could have a day from hell, but when he saw you it was like the skies opened for him.

you held his face and brought his lips to yours. his lips were soft, a little raw from his biting while driving earlier in the day. his body felt good against yours. when you pulled away, you smiled at him.

it was like being kissed by sunshine.

he moved against you, your legs around his waist. your nails up near the back of his head. the kisses were passionately. the bed shifted a little with max's movements, but it made your heart leap in your chest.

you then cupped his face and ran your thumb across his bottom lip and smiled. heat in your cheeks as he thrusted. "of course max, a champion only becomes one when he has a championship worthy mechanic."

a shudder went through him, "i like when you talk like that." he said with such affection, "seeing that ego of yours inflate."

you giggled and pressed your forehead to his, "it's warranted. just keep getting those podiums." then kissed him once more.

the rhythm max had was steady and made pleasure circulate through your body. your soft moans were highlighted by the creaking of the bed. the heat inside of you bleed into your hands and feet as he rutted against you.

your nails dragged lazily across his broad shoulders. you panted heavily as max shifted your hips to get a better angle.

"so good for me."

"and you're good for me." he replied. he could feel the wash of warmth in his face, probably staining his cheeks pink. like when he finished a race. but having sex with you was not a race.

"max."

he knew you were getting close. he could feel the shudder through his body. it was like a inferno that he fed into.

you covered your mouth as to not get loud. but max pulled them away from you and pinned you to the soft covers. he silenced with you a kiss as he jackhammered into you. your back arched more, stopped by max's wider chest.

you held onto his hands as he pinned them down and kissed him deeply as you climaxed. your legs tightened around his waist and he continued to move against you. he was close behind you, giving you another searing kiss as he finished in the condom.

his pace slowed to a stop and he felt the heat on his back. he pulled out of you and went to go get rid of the condom. you curled up on the bed and pulled the pillow under your head as you eyed him throwing it out with the others from the weekend.

he got his briefs back on and got you back into his arms. you melted into his touch. in all fairness, you had very little intention of running off to another team. even if red bull drove you crazy, to feel close to max as often as you did felt nice.

if you put your soul into that engine, then he gave his soul over to you.

-

max wasn't a jealous man, but the only thing that could sate the throb of emotion were two things. a multi-year contract with red bull with your name on it and the thin gold chain with a small 'm' pendant. something you could tuck into your uniform while you worked.

he smiled at you, and you wiped grease off your cheek with your gloves, "going to make me win tonight?"

you nodded, "of course." you smiled at him before you pushed hair out of your eyes, "win like always, verstappen. and don't." you pointed at him, "damage my car."

he pulled you by the waist for a soft kiss, "of course." he wasn't a jealous man, but he'd be a fool if he let you go. <3