#everything is spread too far apart

[sesshy380]

It's not even noon and this is already a long day. Had to come in to town for 9:30 so kid could do bank stuff then go to work for 10. Car has appointment at 1 to get Uconnect screen replaced. That will take about an hour or more. Then pick kid up at 4:30. I live 20ish min one way from town. Pointless to drive home for an hour just to turn around and come back (plus cost of gas 😖).

So here I am just parked in a random spot until it's time for car appointment. Then do the same after car appointment. I can't even window shop to kill the time because all we have is Walmart, and when I have to go there I try to get out ASAP (habit of being a former employee).

[cute-little-crow]

You’re in a particular mood whilst in the midst of intimate shenanigans and it’s about to get you in a whole heap of trouble. Or when you ask them…

“Is it in yet?”

feat: Rafayel, Sylus, Xavier & Zayne (separately)

tw: female reader, brat behaviour, regretting decisions, smut smut and more smut, edging, overstimulation, temp play, light bondage (held bodily), all the boys bringing out their Dom sides to varying degrees, spanking, oral fixation, creampies, hair pulling, phew sorry if I missed something

“Excuse me?”

“What? It was an innocent question,” you huffed, biting your lip and glancing towards the ceiling light over his shoulder.

You could feel the hard length of Rafayel’s cock twitch within your walls, his hand, splayed wide at your hip, tensed until his fingertips pressed harder into the soft yield of your skin.

The urge to squirm was growing more intense, but then he would know. He would know you were goading him. Hell, he probably already knew given the narrow of his violet hued eyes and the crease forming between his eyebrows.

When he didn’t speak, didn’t move, barely drew breath, you piped up once more—pushing your luck too far.

“All I asked was if it was in yet. What’s the problem, Raf?”

Rafayel hissed.

The unnatural noise made you jump, a pathetic moan tumbling from your lips when the jerking motion nudged the tip of his cock against your swollen pleasure spot.

“Brat…” he seethed, pulling out of you and leaning back to spread your thighs wide apart. “And to think I was being so nice to you. Clearly, you don’t want nice.”

His long fingers splayed out on your sensitive inner thighs, holding you down on the bed with your cunt gaping and flexing from where he had just been buried. Arousal dripped along your slit until it dribbled to the sheets below.

You reached from him, squalling from the sudden empty feeling but he pushed away your hand and gave a stern shake of his head.

“Rafay—”

“Hush. Don’t speak. Let’s see how long you can last, hm?”

Gripping the base of his cock, he spread his knees wider so he was closer to you once more. The fat tip leaked with precum which he smeared around your entrance before pushing into you, but stopping when the tip disappeared.

It felt delicious and your skin warmed all over from the sensation. You keened, attempting to roll your hips upward only to be stopped by a firm grip.

“Oh? You feel it now… shame.”

Frowning, you licked over your suddenly parched lips.

Rafayel was pissed.

It turned you on to see him darken; from the colours swirling in his eyes to the shadow falling over his face to his entire demeanour growing sterner, everything more angular and sharp.

Again he withdrew and let his cockhead slap against your puffy clit, far from gentle. Your nerve endings were on fire, sweat gathering on your hairline.

Over and over Rafayel repeated the process. He gave you only ever an inch and never for long enough. Your stomach was in knots from the treatment, the continued smacking of your swollen pearl which he would reach down and tweak every now and again, stopping when he knew you were getting close.

“Please…” you begged, broken and near tears. “I need to feel all of you. ‘want your cock.”

“What’s that, cutie? I didn’t think you could feel anything… and now you want it all? Brats don’t get treats, they get tricks so hush until I’m ready.”

Rafayel edged you for the next hour; giving you enough stimulation to keep you tense and desperate but never enough to satisfy your needs.

It would be quite some time until you decided to be sassy with the Lemurian again.

Sylus paused.

His mouth pulled back from your neck, steady breaths tickling your skin and emphasising the bruises blooming to life.

“I’m sorry, I think I must have misheard you. What did you say, sweetie?”

You were regretting your moment of madness already, heart pounding so harshly in your chest that it just might beat right out. Funnily enough, your voice disappeared into nothing but a strand of whimpered syllables.

He clicked his tongue in dismay, and cupped your chin firmly to bring your focus to his face. You couldn’t run from the piercing intensity of his vermillion eyes, nor from the hold on your jaw that tightened until you were close to squeaking out.

“Nothing, I’m sorry—”

“No, no. You should repeat what you asked me, kitten. Something about ‘is it in yet?’, no?” His voice was a deadly calm whisper and that was so much worse than an overly emotional reaction.

Sylus thrust harshly into you when your mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water, your stomach clenched and your legs wrapped more tightly around his waist.

“Seems like you can feel me just fine… so why deny it? Does the kitten want to brat me tonight? Tsk tsk. Bad kitty.”

He peeled away your legs from his sides carefully, thumbs digging into the backs of your knees whilst he adjusted your body beneath him. You went from being intimately close to having your knees digging into your chest and your ankles by your ears.

The adjustment allowed him to sink deeper into you, knocking the air from your lungs. Sylus loomed over your folded body with one stretched hand holding your ankles. It was enough to keep you in the position he desired, enough that every forward momentum felt like you might burst all over him.

“I can’t hear you, sweetie.”

You squealed and squirmed. Your eyes rolled over to the back of your head. You wet his cock so thoroughly that slick dripped from his balls, only emphasising the smacking sound when they impacted heavily against your backside.

Over and over he drove you through orgasm after orgasm. Sylus wrung you like an overly used towel and listened to you sing his name along with the best attempts at apologies you could muster. Every sound was desperation incarnate and he let out an amused huff that gave way to a guttural groan signalling his own release.

“Sylus… oh fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Instead of releasing your trembling legs, the cunning man above you ran his fingers around the base of his cock, coating them in the mixed essence of you both which had managed to escape.

The digits came away creamy, shiny and debauched. With a wolfish grin, he pushed them into your mouth to silence your continued pleas for mercy. Your tongue flattened against roughened pads, the tang lighting up your taste buds and saliva rushed to meet them.

“I heard you, but bad kitties need to be reminded of their manners. Now then, suck my fingers cleans so I can fill you with another load. I need to make sure you really feel it after all…”

Sylus made you pay for your sass over and over that night…

“… did I? Did I hear you right?”

“Did I stutter? I said… is it in yet, Xav?” You asked churlishly. His cerulean eyes swam like oceans in front of your face, a fleeting look of hurt passing over his features and that was enough to deflate most of your bravado.

“Wait, baby, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve—”

Xavier cut you off with a move you could only describe as pro wrestling adjacent.

One moment he was cradled by the comfort of your body and the next, he was rolling you over onto your stomach and straddling your thighs. His hand traced the curve of your spine, pressing your chest deep into the plush mattress and ending by winding around your hair.

“No, baby. You don’t deserve to be given half-assed dick. Let me make up for my failings,” he rasped into your ear, leaning over you whilst his slick cock rocked between the cleft of your ass.

He tugged on the makeshift ponytail he’d made, drawing your head up at the same time the rest of you was crushed into the sheets, your hands trapped beneath your stomach—useless.

“Spread your legs—that’s it—I see you’re not completely off the rails tonight.”

Xavier worked himself through the gap of your thighs, the blunt head of him butting up against your clit and drawing little gasping hisses from you. His fingers tightened in your hair, and you squirmed, futile beneath his weight.

When he finally notched at your fluttering hole, you were holding your breath so hard you could hear the blood flowing in your ears. His hips descended, dropping himself flush along your body at the same moment he fucked into you.

“Shit!! Xav! Oh god…”

Xavier chuckled nasally, a hungry mouth clamping over the beating pulse in your neck. He set a harsh pace immediately, fucking you prone bone.

You could do absolutely nothing but take every hit. His cock moulding your pussy to fit him and him alone. The angle had him rutting right up near your cervix, so close to flashes of pain but measured enough to stop before he could inflict any actual damage.

He huffed into the crook of your neck, biting and licking over the hurt with shallow breathing that mimicked your own. Xavier was relentless and you had never seen him quite like this.

“So tight, princess. You feel me now? Tell me. Do you feel me in your belly? Gonna spill any minute,” he admitted with a heavy grunt punctuating the words.

In your belly? You could feel him in your damn throat with how deep he was hitting and all you could do was squeal. The sound heightened into a high pitch shriek only animals would hear when he shifted himself to deliver a hearty smack to your backside.

“C’mon… tell me. Is it in now? Is my cock deep enough? The cream you’re leaking tells me yes but I want to hear it from you.”

“Yes! Xavier, yes!”

Never again would you make that same mistake. Who knew your star boy had it in him?

At first, you weren’t sure if he had heard you. Zayne was frozen above, hands pressed to either side of your head and his eyes fixedly shut.

You were about to repeat your attempt at being a brat just to see how the good doctor would react when he blinked open his eyes and your jaw snapped shut.

The frown deepening his brow seemed genuinely startled and he raised a hand to feel your forehead like he was assessing you for a medical condition.

“You don’t feel feverish… perhaps some neurological condition has manifested,” he muttered almost to himself.

“Zayne—don’t be silly. All I asked was if it was in yet?”

He hummed—thoughtfully. “Yes. I heard you, but I can’t quite correlate the words with the sentiment because I know you can feel me.”

“Oh, you do, huh? Sound pretty full of yourself, Dr Zayne.”

As if for emphasis, he pumped himself into you with a snap of his hips. It resulted exactly as he wanted, with your breathless gasp and your head flying back against the pillows.

“You were saying?” He asked coolly. “Perhaps I should check your reactions to other stimuli, just to be sure…”

“What does that—oh!”

Ice veiled the tips of his fingers, careful blue veins creating intricate patterns. Zayne sat back on his haunches, cock still plugged into your clenching cunt, and traced those frozen digits down the column of your throat and towards your breasts.

“Cold! Cold! Stop that,” you yelped, swatting at his hand which diligently refused to be dissuaded.

Only the very corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, his smart, ever assessing eyes watching intently whilst he circled your puffy nipples and they stiffened further from the cold.

“You seem to react to low temperatures within normal ranges, how about warm temperatures,” he mused absently.

Without further warning, his head dipped and his tongue brushed your pert nipple. Zayne’s lips surrounded the bud and suckled with enthusiasm. The instant heat of his mouth bowed your spine and raised your ass so you were grinding yourself shamelessly against Zayne’s front.

“Zayne… fuck.”

The friction elicited from the coarse thatch of neatly trimmed hair at his pelvis caused you to mewl and whine. Your fingers carded through his dark hair and all rational thought flew from your mind.

Just as you were getting used to the hot sensation of your nipple being sucked and pinched by careful teeth, he switched. Ice enveloped the swollen skin, a burn gnawed at your gut but it was a pleasant one.

Zayne continued to tweak at your nipples in turn, cooling them down and warming them up with his tongue, all whilst he maintained a steady pace within you. His cock throbbed and your walls spasmed.

“My diagnosis,” he said quite suddenly, mouth breaking from your breasts with a shallow pant, “is that of brattitude. Quite a severe case too…”

You groaned aloud, eyes cast heavenward at the near orgasm that was close to cresting over you like a playful wave.

“Treatment begins now. I’ll make sure you continue to feel me all night long.”

The good doctor was true to his word, and come morning, the only thing you couldn’t feel were your legs.

[fushiguho]

For eons, I’ve been thinking about sweet, well-mannered, farmhand!Gojo ☀️ who fucks the literal breath out of you and you guys WILL hear me out, okay?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

As your father’s one and only employee, Satoru is held to incredibly high standards, which essentially boil down to two, very simple rules; never show up to the farm late and never, he means never pursue his daughter romantically. Seems easy enough, right?

Or so Satoru thought.

“Miss,” a thick, meridional voice utters from far behind, “miss, pardon my frankness, but I believe you just might be the prettiest woman I have ever seen.” Satoru admits candidly, briskly jogging to match your fast-paced gait as you trudge up the hill, toward the farmhouse over yonder.

“Oh, don’t be silly now,” you dismiss, waving a banishing hand, suppressing the ever-growing giddiness that threatens to invalidate your dismissal, “my father wouldn’t like that one bit, you know that. He’ll kill you ten times over, Satoru.” Surely he’s kidding, right? Surely he would never disobey your father’s wishes… right?

Now trudging beside you, Satoru nods slowly, adjusting the rusted buckles of his muddy, denim overalls. A dispirited sigh drags from his pretty, pink lips. Of course he knows. Shoulder to shoulder, the two of you plod toward the house, his lingering gaze as subtle as a sledgehammer, but when is it not?

“I’ve been made well aware,” he finally mutters under his breath as if coming to the unfortunate realization all over again, “but you don’t make it particularly easy for me, miss… you must know that.” His voice is a deep, southern drawl—beautifully elongated vowels like silken honey, the perfect melody for battered souls.

“How do you mean?” Your hand is coming up to your face, shielding your eyes from the sun so that you can peer up at the ivory-haired man beside you. “And you don’t have to call me that y’know.”

“What? Miss?” His incredulous tone forces a giggle past your lips. “Just a token of respect is all, blame my momma,” he smiles, cheeks glowing a beautiful crimson from the parching heat, “and it’s fitting… a pretty name for a pretty lady, hm?” He’s nudging you in the shoulder teasingly.

See? Satoru is sweet. So why on this godforsaken planet does he have you painfully spread apart on your family’s dining room table? Why are his large hands pinning your thighs to the stained wood so that he can watch as your desperate, drooling pussy swallows his cock whole? Why is he leaning down to whisper debauched words of praise directly into your ear?

“Look at this wet, little pussy, goddd… you take me sooo fuckin’ well—fuuuuuck, miss,” he’s deliriously tossing his head back to dangle between his shoulder blades, subconsciously yanking you closer to the edge of the rustic table, desperate to feel more of you, “like it was made for me, heh. Was this pretty pussy made for me, miss? Is this my pussy?”

It’s like switch has been flipped, like he’s possessed beyond saving and is now only a shell of his former self. Has he always been this way? Has he always had this filthy of a mouth? You’re not sure, not really. The only thing you’re sure of is the repetitive, obscene strike of his swollen balls against the fat of your ass. It’s the only thing you can hear, feel, think.

“C’monnn now… asked you a question, miss,” he’s leaning closer, mockingly cupping a hand over his ear to observe the way he fucks the breath out of you, “talk to meee, pretty, I wanna hear you. This pussy too loud, huh? Is she too wet for you to hear me?”

“It’s yours! Your p-pussy—mhmm,” you cry, nodding frantically in immense rapture, “fuuuck, you fuck me sooo good… s’good!”

“Yeah, sweet girl? You like how I fuck you?” The dark, breathy chuckle that drags from the depths of his chest sends yours mind blank as you nod dumbly. “You like how I give you everything? All of my cock?” A big, greedy hand is slipping beneath the small of your back, pulling you upright and impossibly closer. “Yeaaaah, you like my cock, look at you…” his hungry gaze is scanning over your stupid expression, “eyes rollin’ to the back of your head like that. Can’t even hear me anymore, can you?”

A pool of light washed denim surrounds Satoru’s feet, the hem of his white t-shirt tucked between his teeth, baring the sweat-ridden skin of his chest and abdomen. The bruising buck of his hips as he fucks himself deeper is only scooting the large table further and further across the hardwood floor. Even his deep, guttural moans are like kindle to an ever growing flame.

It’s always the ones you least expect.

[delirious-donna]

tw: kento x female reader, breeding, kitchen sex (because when is that not hot?), kento speaking his mind (yeah it’s filthy 🫦)

Kento found you in the kitchen, guided to you by the sweet lilt of the tune you were absently humming. He loosened the knot of his tie and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, exposing the corded muscles in his forearms.

Everything was right with the world once he had returned to your warm presence. Nothing could sour his mood now that he was home, and he watched from the doorway as you prepared cookies for baking, leaning against the frame with arms crossed and his cock twitching to life.

It was amazing how the tiredness, that only moments ago had pressed against his eyes, lifted as he admired your figure. The summer dress that showed off the plush of your thighs and thin straps that would be far too easy to push down to reveal your beautiful breasts.

You really were perfect for him. Nanami knew you would be a wonderful mother, but that thought startled him as he had not thought himself ready for such responsibility—not yet.

… but maybe?

How could he deny the pleasure thrumming through his body when he thought of you round with his child? His cock strained painfully against his expensive tailored trousers and a sudden tightness forced his balls to draw up, ready and aching.

It only took three strides and he was behind you. You startled with a high-pitched yelp at his unexpectedly sudden presence, jumping in the heat of his body as he crowded you against the counter without uttering a single word. His strong capable hands made hasty work of pressing beneath your dress to find the waist of your underwear, tugging them down until they pooled around your bare feet on the floor.

“Kento!” you giggled, slapping playfully at his hands, but he was not to be dissuaded and you weren’t really putting up any resistance. There was an urgency that surrounded him—thick and consuming. The air seemed to ripple with tiny vibrations that had not been there moments earlier and you eased into the sensations like sinking into a perfectly hot bath.

His strong forearms flexed as he pawed and massaged your breasts through the thin material of your dress, pinching at your budding nipples until you were fervently grinding against his prominent erection.

You barely had time to draw breath as the sound of his belt being unbuckled was followed by the drag of metal teeth being eased apart. Kento’s cologne enveloped your senses, the familiar warm notes tickling your nose and had you reaching back a hand to thread your fingers through his perfectly parted hair. Your toes curl against the tiled floor, expectation bubbling low and hot in your belly.

“I’m a lucky man,” he murmured into the soft curve of your neck. His lips left wet spots in a pattern only known to him, sucking marks that he would later finger and examine with that faint little smile that never failed to make your heart stutter in your chest.

“Then I’m a lucky woman,” you countered, ending on a gasp when the straps of your dress eased off your shoulders and fell to your elbows.

Kento hummed. His brain couldn’t stop conjuring the image of you growing with his seed, of the glow that would accompany such a venture and the flutter of kicks he would feel when laying his palms over your stomach. You stilled; the gears in your head whirring when he touched your belly and his hips rutted forward to saw the thick impression of his cock through the cleft of your backside.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart. That’s it… good girl.”

The skirt of your dress lifted to reveal your bare behind, forcing you to brace a hand atop the counter and you twisted your head to watch as he pulled the weight of his cock free from his underwear, purple and leaking fat pearls of precum. Your mouth watered, jaw falling slack when his fingers trailed the length of your slit, thumb rubbing gentle circles atop your throbbing clit. Kento pumped his impressive length, once twice, but he was more than ready to be accepted by your body.

The height difference made it a little awkward but Kento was a man on a mission, widening his stance and bending his knees until he notched at the flexing entrance of your cunt and pushed in on a grunt of exaltation. A shudder rippled down his spine, his teeth set whilst he fought the primal urge to let go immediately. He was wound nearly to breaking point with the need to pump his load into you and keep it there, but the fraying strands of his manners persisted.

Your toes barely touched the floor as he forced you to bend against the counter, your face right next to the sheet of cookies you had been ready to bake. The stretch of his girth made you hiss and writhe like a snake but he held you firm until he could bottom out and soothe the burning need you both felt.

Kento was still, his chest heaved as he fought down the urge to pound you stupid until your cunt was drooling on the floor and saliva pooled from your mouth.

“I think it’s about time I bred this sweet little pussy. Don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Kento!”

He threw back his head; the rhythmic clench of your velvet walls betraying the shock of your voice. He smiled into your hair, kneading the fat of your breasts with rough hands and pistoned his hips harder and faster.

“Mm, I thought so. Let’s see how many loads you can take tonight. Then we can start all over again in the morning…”

[chxrryhansen]

okay but rafe shamelessly peeking up your skirt is something so personal to me

omg omg wait s1 golf frat boy rafe x cutesy kinda bimbo reader??? COUNT ME IN. p.s- i have no idea how to play golf so i wrote my best interpretation😭

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

you sat in rafes private golf caddy watching as he lined up his next shot, his backwards cap keeping his hair out of his eyes and his muscular legs spread wide as he takes the shot.

rafe had asked (told) you to come watch him play, he thought it would be a cute date idea for you both to get out of the house since it was way too hot to stay cooped up inside all day… when in reality he just wanted to show off his skills and impress his girl.

“rafeeeeey.” you whined in a high pitch tone.

he turns to look back at you with a sour expression, wiping the sweat from his brows with one arm, using the other to lean against his golf club. “quit distracting me. what dya’ want?” he pants in the summer heat.

“i’m boreddddd” you moan again, standing from your seat in the cabby and bouncing over to him.

his free hand reaches out to grip your face, smushing your cheeks together tight “what’ve i told you about the whining? daddy’s tryna’ play a game here, sweetcheeks.”

you look up at him with big puppy dog eyes “can you teach me? please rafey…i’m so bored just sittin’ here, daddy please.”

he lets out an irritated groan, knowing you were too ditzy to understand how golf works and way too uncoordinated to actually putt a ball. he looks back at you giving you a once over, a smirk appearing on his face.

“you know what? sure pretty girl, c’mere.”

you yelp with excitement, moving to stand infront of him, your short pink skirt barely reaching your thighs as you bounce over and your tits jiggling, practically spilling out of your tight shirt.

rafe stands behind you as he passes you the golf club, quickly showing you the correct way to hold it before he moves onto your position. kicking your feet apart and pressing down on your back with his thick fingers, forcing you to arch your back as he bites his lip, his cock already growing hard.

“that’s it baby, stay just like that. now, lift your arm up like this, and strike.” you beam at him while he instructs you before focusing on the ball.

you raise your arm holding the club tight before you strike it. not even noticing rafe bending down slightly, his legs still spread wide around your figure and his fingers lifting your short skirt, peeking at your cute, pink panties underneath, he lets out a low “fuckkk.” at the sight, not loud enough for you to notice seeming as you were concentrating.

“rafey! look! i hit it. look how far it went!” you gasp, raising one arm to block the sun as you search for the ball with your eyes.

“yeah babe, daddy’s super proud of you.” he mutters, not paying attention to a word you said, instead focusing on the slightly damp patch on your panties.

he brings his thumb to your pussy, rubbing over the soaked material. your panties beginning to stick to your cunt as he thumbs your sensitive slit.

you whimper in surprise, your head spinning to look at him in shock. “daddy! wh-what are you doing?!” you hush, eyes wide, looking around quickly to see if anybody had noticed what he was doing, which they hadn’t… yet.

rafe hushes you before pulling your skirt back down and giving your ass a harsh smack. lifting up from his bent knees and looking down at you with a large smirk.

“nice panties, baby. where’d you get em?” he asks rhetorically, a sly smile appearing on his face.

knowing for a fine fact he bought them, as he does everything else, your clothes, food, shoes. you name it, he bought it. because that’s what wealthy daddy’s like him do. and rafe is without question, wholeheartedly, your daddy.

[reshinless]

kiss him to shut him up ☆

summary. literally the title.

director's note. greetings disciples, i feel as though I have been FLOPPING!! so have something I'm frfr proud of, happy 1.5k disciples!

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, neuvillette, dainsleif, diluc, xiao, kinich

warnings. kissing n all that sap (yuck), fluff/suggestive

albedo is busy talking to you about his latest experiments, wrapping his jacket around you to ensure you don't get cold while resting at his lab. maybe he didn't notice the sneaky glances you set from his ocean eyes to his lips.

"and so... it basically recreated a somewhat circle of-" peck! ... "huh?"

he doesn't which feeling is more dominant; flushed or confused. yet he won't complain too much, displaying a simple smile as he slowly blinks with confusion, lovingly at least.

alhaitham happened to be ranting about a drunkard he spotted at the bar he and his friends (cyno, tighnari, & kaveh) went to while playing TCG, cyno's treat.

but when it truly sinks in that you had just kissed him, he wished you had kept it for a little longer. honestly was very close to leaning back in and letting it lead to something else, but he wouldn't let his pride down. deciding on giving a smirk, and poking one of your cheeks.

"what was that for, hmm?"

capitano is secretly someone who talks a ton when you get to know him despite his cold exterior, he's very fond of getting to tell you about his day, not being able to necessarily tell anyone (other than pierro)

before you could pull away from the simple peck on his crusted lips- it's almost immediate that he pulls you back in, giving you barely any time to breathe. simply leaning in more to the kiss, a hand behind your head grasping your hair to prevent you from getting away. it's alright, he loves a chase.

"trying to tease me, my love?" a deep, dark chuckle emits from his raspy throat as he runs a hand down your spine, from your scalp to your back, his eyes pierced you with love.

childe is sooo obviously cheeky about this, his teasing is inevitable when you're the one initiating this. yet he finds himself so stunned from the whole thing, he could feel the blush creep up from his neck already.

he was busy telling you about his previous adventures, trying to impress you and show off his strength, yet the only thing he was able to see from how you looked at him, you were set on your lips on his.

"a- ahh... ahem. feeling uhh... bold i see."

wriothesley is in the category of chasing your lips, trying to immediately reel you back into the peck you caused. pulling you in by your waist so you can't escape his touch. he can't say he wasn't used to your teasing, but this time he wanted you to taste your own medicine.

holding you close, until the very line of saliva that connected both of your lips finally broke apart, it was your turn to be flushed with embarrassment.

"oh, look who's all blushy now."

neuvillette is the one who's stunned this time, yet his hands trail back to yours before you can step away a little too far, his eyes telling you everything that you need to know.

"don't run away now, c'mon..."

his smile was soft and genuine, he felt himself trying to lean in further into your touch, so he could stay asleep forever in your arms. he lands another kiss on your lips. he loves to express how much he loves you, yet he doesn't know how to apply and put it out there.

dainsleif found himself leaning back in almost immediately, he didn't wanna run away from you giving him affection out of everything. his cold fingertips trailing up your nape, a soft grasp on your hair (a bold move indeed!)

"...is that the berry flavored chapstick i bought you last week?"

he loves to notice the little things on you, he knows you appreciate it as well, a loving smile, his eyes equally just as loving, staring at you, and only you.

diluc won't admit the deep-seated embarrassment that envelops him. at first, the warm flush spread from his neck to his cheeks, yet he could notice the very same for you. trying to play it cool, his arm that encircles your waist, drawing you in with a tender grip.

"i suppose this isn’t how I imagined our evening would go,"

his voice was strained, maybe his paperwork could wait till later.

kinich is one of those who pulls you in by the waist, yet finds himself almost too flushed to go through with it. not that he doesn't want to, he's scared that you wouldn't want the same, yet he finds himself leaning in the same way you were, just to taste you again.

"leaving me so soon, you're mean."

ajaw calls you both corny as he comes back from a little walk (with certified dog walker mualani). you could hear a "human! take me back to where we whence came!" (the springs nearby) as you let out a chuckle. a sigh from kinich, he'll have to train him to be a little nicer.

xiao can barely comprehend what you just did. his cheeks flushed with teal. and to give context, it's canon that xiao's blood/insides are all teal- so when he blushes, it's teal, I did a bit of research on this :P but think of it how you will!

he argued that you shouldn't go out tonight, he can handle himself! yet... maybe your little kiss was a little.. maybe very convincing.

"y- you think this will change my mind about all of this, huh?"

[cloudwisp]

Sylus has always been honest and expressive when it comes to you. Even now, when you inform him about your upcoming travels over the weekend for an important assignment dispatched by the Hunters Association. His encircled arm around your waist tightens and he moves his body on top of yours to burrow his face into the curve of your neck and grunts to show his dismay. Of course, you anticipated this reaction when his most cherished part of the day is being together and spending time with you.

Your attempt to bite back a smile fails when he clings to you and breathes in your scent. Dread looms over him as he considers how much he’ll miss you and crave your presence for those two days—he’s already aching at the thought. It’s endearing to know that your preconceived absence is getting to him and he’s making quite the fuss about it while he still can. But you know you’ll miss him just as dearly when you’re miles apart from him, counting down the hours until you’re leaping back into his arms again.

“It’s just two days—you’re acting like I’ll be gone for two weeks or two months. You’ll be completely fine without me.” Your fingers smooth through his silver locks expecting to appease him, but he gently nips at your sensitive skin when you mention an even more undesirable window of time. “Hey, that tickles!”

“Two days is too long being away from my wife.” His warm breath spreads across your collarbone as he pulls back slowly to meet your gaze, and there’s a hint of petulance in his voice. Your hands reach up to hold his face for a moment before bringing him down for a sweet and lingering kiss to dispel the faint pout on his lips. He hums and welcomes the tenderness, melting into the fleeting yet blissful exchange.

“I promise I’ll call you and text you often. I’m certain being Onychinus boss will keep you busy in the meantime, and you won’t even notice I’m gone before the two days are up.” Just when you think you’re making light of the situation, the furrow in Sylus' brow deepens a mere fraction when you paint him out to have so little regard for you.

“Now, that’s not true, kitten.” He shakes his head with a soft sigh and his reluctance to let you go increases tenfold. “I will notice every second that you’re not with me. How can I not when I think the world of you.”

You can feel the weight of his words behind his pensive stare that holds timeless affection and boundless devotion than he knows how to convey. He’s well aware that traveling comes with being a Hunter and the dangers of dealing with and eliminating wanderers. Even though you’re more than capable and can hold your own ground, he still can’t stomach the unsettling feeling that anything could happen to you and you’d be so far away that he couldn’t protect you. “Just promise me you’ll be careful out there. Reach out to me if you ever find yourself in trouble.”

You gleam with a smile and pepper quick kisses on the corners of his mouth followed by a loving and sincere one full and center on his lips as though you’re sealing the promise with your sweet little ritual. “I do have a husband I love coming home to. I wouldn’t do anything that involves risk, and I’ll update you regularly so you’ll know I’m being perfectly safe.”

Sylus finally relents and a glimmer of mirth appears in his deep red hues. He turns over onto his back, pulling you along with him so you’re half-splayed across his broad chest. You feel a chaste kiss brush against your forehead as he holds you close, wanting to savor every moment he can before he’s deprived of your comforting warmth and the privileges of skinship. “If you go quiet for too long, I’ll drop everything and come to you myself.”

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Sugar

best friend!san x fem reader

Trigger warnings: none that i can think of

Content warnings: names (sweetheart, baby, sugar), oral (m&f receiving), choking (briefly), breeding, dacryphilia (kinda?), san’s got a big dick (what else is new) and is down horrendous for mc.

Summary: your best friend just can’t keep his hands to himself

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: hey babes! i finally finished it!!! its unpolished as fuck but it’s done!!! it’s only taken me forty-seven years 🥴 not saying this is a full comeback as i’m still dealing with some personal shit but i hope i’ll have something else for you relatively soon. anyways, pls reblog if you enjoy the story!! 🥰🫶🏻

Tags: @bahng-chrizz @foxinnie8

Smut below the cut

Most likely to remain high school sweethearts. That’s the yearbook superlative you and your best friend had been awarded your senior year of high school. The kicker? You had never dated him. The thought had just never crossed your mind. You were content being the hot best friends that everyone either wanted to get with or wanted to be. He wasn’t, but you didn’t know that.

Choi San had harbored the biggest crush on you since the two of you were fifteen. He’d gone through a hard breakup back then, his ex spreading rumors and lies all through school, and despite claiming he was fine because he was a player, he was heartbroken. He had been in love with the girl and she’d broken his heart and tried to ruin his reputation. So when you comforted him and confronted his ex, which ended in a cat fight in the hallway that got both of you suspended, he began to fixate on you. He dated around to keep his mind busy and off you, but he was infatuated with his best friend. With the girl who would throw down with anyone who wronged him.

He’d been heartbroken when he found out you were going away for college instead of staying local, even more so when he realized the school you’d chosen didn’t have the major he wanted. He was distraught at first, thinking you’d be too far apart to visit often. Every school he looked at seemed so far away from yours until he found the school where he was currently enrolled. This one was only an hour drive away from you and he was relieved to find that your schedule at your part time job still allowed for you two to take turns visiting each other every weekend.

You were oblivious to his feelings. You often noticed how he had trouble sleeping at your apartment but whenever you asked, he claimed he’d developed insomnia. He hadn’t, he just couldn’t sleep because of the thoughts that filled his mind from knowing you were in the next room. He felt guilty to be honest. He was constantly having dirty thoughts that normal people didn’t have about their best friend. Your mere presence reduced him to little more than a giddy, horny teenager.

You also noticed that he became more clingy after the two of you left for college but you never addressed that. He was always an affectionate person and adjusting to college life was definitely hard, so you figured it was probably that. That was part of it. But really, he just missed you. It was that simple. He missed his best friend and his heart leapt every time you opened your door or he opened his. Seeing your face made everything so much better.

Today was no different. He lit up like a neon sign when your door swung open to reveal you in a cropped white hoodie and a pair of black yoga pants, a bright smile on your face. “Sannie!” You held your arms open and he immediately stepped inside, wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. Everything that had been bothering him up until that moment melted away as you hugged him, your grip tightening right before you stepped back. Oh how he loved your hugs.

You led him inside and motioned for him to sit on the sofa as you grabbed the bag of goodies you’d bought the night before. “I got your favorites.” You grinned as you rejoined him, opening the bag to show him the snacks, sodas, and alcohol you’d purchased. “Oh, also, my roommate is staying with her boyfriend this weekend so you can yell at the tv all you want, we don’t have to be quiet.”

He managed to conceal the excitement he felt at your words, knowing you didn’t mean what he was thinking. “Noted.” He hummed as he settled in. “Are we picking back up where we left off on that anime?”

“We can. I think we can finish the next season if we stay glued to the couch all weekend.” You hummed as you began to stage the snacks on the coffee table, only then realizing you’d forgotten glasses for the alcohol. “We can watch something else if you don’t want to watch that though. I’ve got some other streaming services if you wanna watch a drama.” You shrugged as you got up, heading to the kitchenette.

When you came back, he was sprawled out on your couch. His arms were resting on the back and he had the full man spread going on. He kind of resembled a starfish like that and you rolled your eyes as a smile tugged at your lips. You froze when he let out a low groan as he stretched, throwing his head back. Suddenly, images of you getting him off flashed in your mind. “Let’s watch that. We can watch a drama next weekend.”

You cleared your throat a bit and nodded as you recovered. “Okie dokie.” You singsonged as you joined him, sitting close enough that you could feel his body heat but still leaving enough space that you didn’t have those thoughts again. Where the fuck had that come from? You grabbed one of the bags of chips and settled in, his arm sliding down from the back of the couch to rest on your shoulders as you pulled up the show.

The episode started and you opened the bag, offering it up to San, who shook his head. “I’m good right now, sugar.” You shrugged and leaned into him, pulling your legs up underneath you. He tensed when he realized he’d called you something he’d only imagined calling you but you didn’t seem to mind so he forced himself to relax.

What you didn’t address was the surge of arousal that flooded your body. You were a bitch for pet names and he knew that. You weren’t sure why you were turned on by his words, though. It was San. Sure he was beautiful but he had never affected you like this before. Clearly it had been too long since the last time you’d slept with someone.

Your eyes locked on the screen and you focused solely on that for four episodes before you became aware of the ache in your joints. You’d managed to sit perfectly still for two hours straight and now your body was screaming at you to move. You gently shrugged San’s arm off your shoulders and stood as the fifth episode began, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as you stretched your muscles and cracked every joint you could.

The sound of your voice caught San’s attention and his eyes locked on the exposed portion of your back, wondering what it would feel like to press kisses there. Should I try and find out? Absolutely not. Why the fuck would you even think about that? Fucking dumbass. He shook his head and let out a sigh just as you turned to ask him if he needed anything from the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” You asked softly, noticing how irritated and distressed he looked.

“Huh?” His head snapped up and his jaw dropped slightly before he recovered. “Nothing, I’m fine.” He gave you a warm smile and you responded with a confused but playful wrinkle of your nose before heading off to grab a water. That was fucking close.

You opened the bottle and took a big gulp as you reentered the room, finding him sitting up properly now. He patted the spot next to him and you plopped down beside him, leaning back into his side, this time with your back to him. You brought your feet back up on the couch and took his hand, guiding his arm around your neck in a hug and tipping your head back to rest on his shoulder.

As you once again became enthralled with the show, his fingers absentmindedly traced shapes on the side of your neck. You shuddered at his touch every few minutes but didn’t register any of it as you focused on the tv. You whined a little when he moved his arm back to the back of the sofa but didn’t protest further, too invested in the show to care too much. You shifted to rest your head on San’s lap, grabbing one of the throw pillows to lay on.

With you stretched out like this, San was struggling to focus on the show. He was fixated on your exposed belly and began to discreetly drop his arm off the back of the couch towards your waist. He bit his lip as his hand made contact with your warm flesh, trying to appear focused on the show like you. You glanced up at him and took a moment to admire the view of his jawline before poking his chin. He looked startled and almost guilty when his gaze met yours. “What’s up with you today?” You asked in a teasing tone. “You seem extra cuddly and touchy-feely.”

“What, I can’t be touchy-feely with my best friend?” He grinned down at you and something in you shifted. “I just missed you. We used to see each other every day and for the last two years we’ve only been able to see each other on weekends.”

“Simpler times.” You sighed and turned your attention back to the screen, not bothering to move his hand. It felt nice.

He was surprised that you hadn’t swatted him away but he certainly wasn’t about to complain when you were delicately tracing shapes on the back of his hand. His heart was pounding and he was thankful you hadn’t continued with that line of questioning because he wasn’t sure if he could form a coherent sentence at this point. He should’ve known better than to start to get comfortable though. The second his hand wandered a bit higher, you grabbed his wrist and he froze. Fuck.

“That’s more than touchy-feely, San, that was almost my titty.” You didn’t appear to move your attention from the tv but all you could think about was just how close his hand was to your chest. What had gotten into him? And why were you so affected by his touch? You were just friends…right?

“Oh…sorry.” He mumbled, trying to appear nonchalant despite his internal panic. You didn’t buy it though and looked up at him again, taking note of his flaming cheeks. Cute.

“Seriously, San, what’s actually going on with you?” You hated how harsh your voice came out. You hated the way he flinched at your words. You weren’t trying to scold him, you wanted to put out feelers.

“Nothing.” He shook his head and refused to look at you. You thought for a moment before biting your lip. You clearly didn’t buy it and wanted to ask if he was thinking what you were so suddenly thinking. You were about to speak up when he continued. “I’m just tired. Come cuddle.” He opened his arms.

“Tired already?” He nodded. “Must suck to be any woman you fuck.” You snorted.

“I’ll have you know I have excellent stamina, thank you.” He fired back instantly and you laughed. There he was.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, gramps.”

“Is that an invitation, sweetheart?” You were almost taken aback at his tone, as you’d only heard him use it when he was actively trying to bed someone.

“San-” He just laughed and shook his head as if to assure you he was only teasing. Somehow that bothered you more. Desire had already begun to pool between your legs. You gave a little huff and released his wrist, which you’d been holding this whole time, abruptly sitting up as you swatted his hand away. You turned to look at him as the pillow you’d been resting on toppled from his lap, exposing the semi he was rocking. So he actually did want you. “Yeah, actually, it is.” He sat in stunned silence and you bit the inside of your lip to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, only speaking once you had successfully concealed your grin. “What? Did you think I’d get flustered and back off?” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head to the side, your tone almost mocking.

“Yeah, kin-”

“Cute.” You cut him off and placed a hand on his thigh as you leaned towards him, your gaze flicking towards his lips for a brief moment before lifting back to his eyes, which still refused to actually look at you. “Tell me, Sannie, how long did it take you to work up the courage to try and feel me up?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Oh come on.” You rolled your eyes, your hand trailing a bit higher on his thigh as your voice dipped a bit. “You’re already half hard, clearly you were trying to get something out of me.” He squirmed at both your words and your touch, suddenly trying to squeeze his thighs together as he avoided eye contact in favor of staring at your hand, which he felt was far too close to his crotch for him to properly think.

He didn’t get a chance to respond before you spoke up again. “It’s never crossed my mind before, but now that I’m thinking about it, there’s so many things I could do to you, Sannie.” You whispered as you moved your hand away from the swell in his gray sweats and moved to straddle his lap. “What do you think? Should I?” You rolled your hips, grinding against his hard on, and he nodded far too quickly for his liking.

“Please do…” He whispered back, finally meeting your eyes. “Anything you want. ‘M all yours.” You got the feeling he wasn’t just referring to the current moment but you weren’t in any state to be asking for clarification.

You weren’t sure if you were prepared for the ramifications of fucking your best friend but you would have to deal with that later. The ache between your legs required immediate attention. You carded your fingers through his hair before turning your hand into a fist and tugging his head back. Your other hand rested on his neck as you caught his lips in a demanding kiss. The whimper that slipped past his lips went straight to your pussy and you shivered, leaning into his touch when his hands moved to your ass.

He was short circuiting. He was finally getting the chance to touch you and you weren’t pushing him away. In fact, you were the one initiating it. He licked over your bottom lip but you refused him entry, taking the chance to nibble on his lip instead. He gasped against your lips and you smirked, subconsciously tightening your grip on his hair.

“I never pegged you as the submissive type, Sannie.” You teased and he frowned against your lips, clearly pouting. Despite being a switch, he was more dominant than submissive. He was just following your lead because he’d dreamt about this for ages and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice to you. I’ve been told I’m almost too gentle.”

He whined at your ribbing and you chuckled softly as you pulled back, moving to sit on the floor between his legs. His eyes followed your every movement. You sat on your knees and pushed his oversized tee up a bit to admire his toned stomach before hooking your fingers in the waistband of his sweats. You tugged them down, his now-fully-hard cock springing free and slapping against his belly. “No underwear? Must’ve been real confident things would play out like this, huh?”

“No, actually. I just rarely wear them.” He rolled his eyes and you made a face. He seemed to be getting bolder and you weren’t sure how you felt about that. You were having fun with him. If he decided to take over…well, you doubted that would happen but you might have a brat on your hands.

You didn’t respond, just finished pulling his pants to his ankles, took his dick in your hand, and licked the head. His head tipped back as he let out a surprisingly deep groan and your previous visions came rushing back to you. He looked and sounded just as pretty as you imagined when you took him in your mouth.

“Holy fucking shit, y/n…” He groaned, one hand moving to rest on his belly, holding his shirt up while the other curled into a fist on the sofa. You hummed at his reaction and continued, taking him as far as you could manage. You gagged a little around him and he hissed, his hips jerking a fraction of an inch before he could stop himself. “S-sorry. ‘M sorry, y/n. Didn’t mean to.”

You giggled softly at his apology and he bit his lip, looking down at you. You bobbed your head as your gaze met his and he damn near lost his mind. You looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth. He wanted the image burned in his memory for the rest of his life. Who knew when or if he’d get the chance to do this again?

Given how you responded to his accidentally fucking your face, he decided to experimentally roll his hips. He almost met God when the tip slipped down your throat and you gagged around him, swallowing harshly as you tried but failed to relax your throat. You’d never deepthroated before and it showed as you tried to recover, tears filling your eyes and quickly overflowing to your cheeks. He gently pulled you off and wiped your cheeks, cooing at you as you coughed. “Breathe for me, sugar.” You nodded and took a deep breath, letting him dry your face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what possessed me to do that. Are you okay?”

You nodded again and offered a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna go full send and hurt you or-”

“I’m fine, Sannie. I promise.” He finally nodded after a few beats of silence and you tilted your head, eyes narrowing as you studied him for a moment. “Now, what’s with the name? You said it earlier too.”

He looked panicked at first before a grin crept onto his face. “Well, I would call you honey since you’re so sweet, but I feel like that’s a bit overdone, don’t you agree?” You shrugged in agreement and he leaned down, taking your jaw in his hand and jerking you closer. He was a breath away and you were going haywire. “I wonder if your personality is all that’s sweet.”

“What are you saying?” You asked quietly, surprising both of you at just how quickly you’d folded with a single rough touch. So much for him not taking over.

“I wanna taste you, y/n.” He moved to whisper in your ear and your breath hitched. “Every. Single. Inch.” He punctuated his words by kissing and licking up the side of your neck, then biting down softly on your earlobe and drawing out a tiny whimper.

You squeezed your thighs together and closed your eyes for a moment. You grounded yourself with a deep breath before opting to respond by simply tugging at his cock, teasing the head with your thumb. The groan he let out scratched an itch in your brain you never knew existed and his grip on your jaw grew tighter as he inhaled your scent.

“Get up.” You blindly followed his command, standing when he backed away. He didn’t speak as he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and stood with you, hauling you over his shoulder before starting for your room. You squeaked in surprise but didn’t fight, a smile creeping across your face.

You couldn’t stifle the giggle that slipped out when he kissed your side. It shouldn’t have tickled as much as it did.

San had an idea of the things you liked, you’d both talked about your escapades enough, so it came as no surprise to you when he gently placed you on your feet only to grab you by the throat and push you back onto the bed. Still, a thrill ran through your body as you wrapped your hands around his wrist. You sucked in a gasp just before he began to apply pressure to the sides of your throat, your eyes rolling back.

You felt his breath on your face as he leaned down to crash his lips against yours. Your hands left his arm and moved to his shirt, pulling him as close as possible. As he slipped his tongue into your mouth, he slowly relieved the pressure on your throat, allowing blood flow to return to normal and give you a head rush. You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist in a desperate attempt to keep him close when he started to pull away.

“I’ve always wanted to do that…” His voice was a low rumble that made your panties uncomfortably wet. “Always wanted to try everything you mentioned being into. The choking, the biting, the breeding…everything.”

If you weren’t aware of your panties sticking to your folds before, you were after that. “Please do.” You exhaled, trying to pull him back in even as he righted himself between your legs. “All of it. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He raised an eyebrow as his hands moved to rest on your hips and you nodded. “Anything?”

“Anything.” You nodded again and bit down on your bottom lip when he rocked his hips, the blunt head of his cock smearing precum across your yoga pants as he rubbed against you. “Please…”

He didn’t speak as his hands slid up your sides, fingers inching under the hem of your hoodie and ghosting over your cool skin. He reached higher still until his hands cupped your breasts. “No bra? Must've been real confident things would play out like this, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh as the conversation from only a few minutes prior repeated itself. “No, actually. I just rarely wear one.”

“Take it off.” He groaned in response, pushing your hoodie up so your chest was entirely exposed. You sat up, which took a bit of effort given your legs were draped over his thick thighs, and pulled the surprisingly-thin material over your head. He immediately knocked you back and caught your lips in a feverish kiss, propping on one arm while his free hand wandered along your belly.

Your arms wrapped around him, one hand moving to his back while the other tangled in his faded pink locks. He’d dyed his hair magenta a few weeks back and it had since lost its vibrancy - though not before staining a few towels and his pillowcase. You gave his hair a gentle tug and he groaned into your mouth, sending a wave of electricity down your spine.

He began to trail kisses along your jaw and neck as his hand cupped your breast, his thumb swiping back and forth over your nipple. You pushed your chest into his touch, head tipping back as your back arched. Your breath hitched when he brought his kisses to your chest, lips encasing your nipple as his tongue flicked back and forth. “Sannie-” You gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. His hand gave your other breast equal attention, lightly pinching and rolling your nipple before swapping sides.

You couldn’t say you’d ever been curious about what it would be like to sleep with San but you were certain his skills would exceed his reputation if he already had you drenched with minimal effort. You wondered if he could feel the wet patch between your legs, starting to soak through your yoga pants.

He could. He found himself eager to bury his head between your legs despite being determined to take his time with you. He worried he’d disappoint you if he moved too quickly but he still began his descent, peppering sloppy kisses down your belly as his fingers hooked in your waistband. He took your pants and panties both in one go as he moved off the bed. You didn’t miss his sharp inhale.

“Y/N…” Your face flushed red as he knelt between your legs, gaze locked on your glistening cunt. You wanted to tell him not to stare, to urge him along, but you couldn’t seem to break your silence. Finally, you lifted your head and he met your eyes, his own eyes widening in something akin to adoration, though more intense. “Is this all for me, sugar?” There was that name again. You nodded eagerly but he shook his head. “Words.”

You frowned a bit, annoyed that he was making you speak up when he could just take one look at you and know. Of course, you knew he wouldn’t give in so you gave a soft whine before speaking. “Yes, Sannie, it’s all yours.”

You didn’t know why you were so against speaking up. The sound he made the second you did respond made you clench around nothing. He noticed, of course, and let out a low groan as he hooked your legs over his shoulders and kissed your thigh. “May I touch?”

“Please do.” You whispered and caught your lip between your teeth.

He continued to litter your thighs with messy kisses and soft bites as his fingertips teased their way up to your pussy, never once breaking eye contact. Your head fell back to the sheets as soon as you felt him run a finger through your folds, gathering up some of your arousal. He moved torturously slowly, rubbing feather-light circles on your clit before easing one digit into you.

“You’re drenched, baby…” His voice, though painfully sexy, was full of wonder and amusement.

“Your fault…” You mumbled and he chuckled softly.

One finger wasn’t enough. You needed more. He could tell and you felt him smirk against your skin as he curled his finger. You let out a soft sigh at the action but he wasn’t satisfied and so he added another finger, and another when you still didn’t give him the response he wanted.

“Fuck this cunt’s gonna feel so good-” He sighed.

Now three fingers deep, he began his search for your g-spot. It didn’t take him very long if your embarrassingly loud moan was anything to go by. “So fucking pretty, baby.” He groaned, suppressing another sound when you clenched around his fingers. “You like it when I call you pretty? Or was it ‘baby’?” He teased.

“Both.” It was all you could muster as he leaned in and flicked his tongue over your clit. You immediately brought a hand up to your mouth to stifle your sounds but he pulled back and nipped at your thigh.

“Let me hear.” At that point, you had no fight left in you. You just wanted him to touch you and you’d do anything to get your way. You gave a nod, a small ‘okay’ slipping from your lips, and he slowly leaned back in, lips closing around your clit. He sucked and you let out a soft curse, bringing your hands to your chest to knead at the soft flesh of your breasts. He groaned in appreciation and set a slow pace, working you up with his fingers while his tongue traced different shapes over your clit.

You suddenly felt ridiculous for never having wondered if he truly lived up to his reputation. He was proving to you just how good he was and you were cursing yourself for never having thought about having his head between your legs. “Sannie- oh-” You keened, one hand flying to tangle in his hair once more as he pressed against your g-spot at the same time as he sucked on your clit. You wouldn’t last long like this. He was too good.

Your toes curled as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, his tongue dipping into you occasionally in place of his fingers. Your muscles ached with the tension that was building but you knew you wouldn’t be relaxed until he made you cum. Hoping to encourage him to get you off faster so he’d fuck you, you began babbling praises, only inflating his ego.

He made sure you felt his appreciative groan before pulling back for a quick breath then diving back in, tongue flicking with vigor. His cock throbbed as he inhaled your scent and his eyes rolled back briefly. He wanted more of you. All of you. So when you announced you were close, he backed away entirely and smirked. “Not yet, baby.”

“Sannie, what the fuck?” You whined indignantly, lifting your head when he sat up between your legs.

“Decided I want you to cum on my cock instead.” He shrugged, moving up the bed to catch your lips in a kiss. You were surprised by how sweet the kiss was considering how feral he’d just been acting over your pussy but you welcomed it, tugging him closer with a soft groan as you tasted yourself.

“So fuck me then.” You whispered between kisses, lapping your juices off his lips a moment later. The whole scenario was filthy and intoxicating.

“You mean like this?” He grunted as he slid into you with ease. Your jaw dropped and you gasped at the stretch. He fit perfectly, like you were made for each other - a thought that both terrified and intrigued you. He wasted no time in setting a slow, deep pace, each thrust driving you up the bed with the force.

“Just like that, Sannie.” You nodded furiously, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders while your other hand twisted the sheets by your head.

San was on another planet. He finally had you. You, the girl of his dreams ever since he was fifteen. He was finally fully sheathed inside your warmth and he never wanted to leave. He’d give anything to stay with you.

He hadn’t intended to babble that out loud and realized his error when you responded.

“Yeah? Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Then fuck me harder and treat me like the most precious thing you’ve ever held.”

It was an easy ask. He had no problem cherishing you. Even as his hips began to snap harder and faster, the sound of skin slapping filling the room, he showered you with kisses and words of adoration. “So fucking good, baby. Do you have any clue how long I’ve wanted to feel this perfect little pussy? To make you fall apart on my cock?”

“Tell me, Sannie. Tell me how long you’ve wanted me.”

“God- ever since we were in school. It was so hot the way you fucked her up for hurting me and I’ve wanted you ever since.” His admission sent a thrill rushing through you and you clenched involuntarily, earning a low groan from him.

“And you held it together for that long? Fuck, Sannie, you- oh-” The tip of his cock just barely kissed your cervix but it was enough to make your thighs squeeze his hips.

“Shit, baby, you keep that up and I’ll cum…”

“Then keep fucking me just like that.” You demanded, back arching as he dipped his head down to lick and suck on your chest. He caught your nipple in his mouth and allowed his teeth to graze the stiff peak, grunting against your skin when your walls fluttered in response. “Want you to cum inside as many times as you can until you make me cum.” It wasn’t a demand or a plea, it was just a simple fact but he was eager to comply with your wishes.

“Christ, y/n, you’re killing me…” San groaned, resting his forehead on your chest as his hips pistoned relentlessly. He pulled back just enough to look up at you and you could tell by his expression just how close he was. “You really want that? Want me to breed you like a good little cocksleeve and keep filling you up over and over until you fall apart for me?”

Your nod and whimper were the only convincing he needed. He let go instantly, stars dancing behind his eyes as he pumped you full of cum. This was all he’d wanted for the better part of a decade and he was on cloud nine over finally getting you.

He briefly pulled out and flipped you over, taking a moment to watch a bead of cum drip down your folds before he slammed back into you. He might regret this later given how sensitive he was but he needed to give you anything you asked for.

Your back arched as he hit your sweet spot and you let out a soft cry. “There! Just like that!”

It didn’t take long before he felt another orgasm building. He warned you and you demanded he continue, begging him to give it to you. His cock twitched and he let go at your behest, filling you all over again.

Before he was finished, he reached around to roll your clit between his thumb and forefinger. He delighted in the squeal you let out and did it again, tears welling in his eyes from all the sensation.

“Oh god, Sannie, I’m so close!” You cried, your thighs trembling as your orgasm threatened to wash over you.

“Cum for me, sugar.” His voice was a low rumble in your ear, hoarse with unshed tears, and you couldn’t hold back. You let out another squeal as he toyed with your clit, tipping you over the edge. Your high hit you like a bus and you let out a sob of ecstasy as your pussy clamped down on San’s leaking cock.

You felt a tear fall on your back and gently pushed him back, forcing yourself to roll over. “You okay?” You asked softly as you pulled him to you, still buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“‘M fucking perfect.” He offered a lazy smile as he leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

“Mm then what’s this?” You teased as you pulled back, wiping a tear from his cheek.

“Proof that I’ve met my match.” He chuckled softly and wiped his face dry. “Seriously, that was…fucking amazing.”

“It was. Can someone explain to me why we didn’t do this sooner?”

“Who knows.” He shrugged and flopped down beside you, then pulled you to lay on top of him. “But I say we do this every weekend, sugar.” He laughed deeply when you swatted his chest in response but deep down you knew this was more than a one time occurrence.

[yanderenightmare]

tomura with hero reader whose quirk he's stolen, rendering them defenseless

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: slight nsfw, implied prev noncon, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome, implied mental break, mental deterioration, disassociation, manipulation, angsty, but also weirdly fluffy? reader is super fragile

gn reader

The chub of your inner thighs is still wet with the act. You rub them together for no other reason than that it feels pleasant. You trace the awful scars on his arm, using his warm chest as a pillow—the sound beating of his heart thumping rhythmically at your ear, a soothing presence.

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

He doesn’t seem very interested in reading it—only regarding it with jaded eyes, a meager scoff then and there before turning the page. But still, even though the book didn’t excite him, it bothered you that his attention was elsewhere. It sowed the seeds of doubt and gave root to way too many intrusive thoughts, sprouting out and spreading like weeds throughout your mind, making your chest curl at the possibilities.

“Do you think I'm ugly?” you have to ask. You have to know, why isn’t he looking at you.

He pans away from the page, beady garnet eyes softening from scrutiny to nonplus.

Your question stunted him—nearly made him believe he’d heard you wrong. Why someone like you would ever ask someone like him something like that seemed beyond all reason. It would be the same if a flower asked gravel.

But then again, you’d become a little ditzy as of late. Or maybe you’d been so for a little while already. It’s hard to say—you don’t talk as much as you used to. You no longer scream either, though that had ceased even longer ago.

You continue to delicately run your finger over the tear where his tough skin meets the even tougher purple tissue as though mapping the damage. There’s a frown on your face. No, not a frown—a pout. 

He thought for a moment to use it against you like he’d done everything else so far. Lie and say yes, tell you you’re about as ugly as he is—gravel—make you fall even further apart than what you were already. But something compelled him to choose differently.

“I think you're the prettiest thing in the world.”

Your pout is sucked between your teeth as you pick yourself up to peer down at him—eyes round and misty and something more, something strange—dare he say joyed?

You're scaring him.

“Really?” you choke out as if you’d been holding back a lump.

He hasn’t known how to treat you lately. You’ve become too soft to handle poorly—too frail to harass and too willing for him to feel the need to. Earlier, you'd even begged him to fuck harder and deeper—even cum inside. Actually, you hadn't veered away from his touch in a while. More like you've been embracing it.

He'd brushed it off as mere compliance at first, a state of meekness, weakened by being touch-starved, something that perhaps developed into a minor case of Stockholm syndrome.

But the way you're acting now—seems more concerning.

“Yeah,” is all he warrants as an answer. Though, he was curious as to yours as he begs the same question, “What about me?”

A smile graces your face then—there’s a comfort to it, a mild and affectionate one, unexaggerated, honest, as you smoothly swing your leg over his lap.

A look like that has no place on your face, especially when regarding him, and yet he finds himself hoping for more. He lays his book aside as you lean forward and doesn't stop you when you cup his face in both your palms.

“As far as I'm concerned, you’re not just the prettiest boy in the world—you're the only boy in the world.” You say it with a kiss, lips just as soft as the words leaving them. It shocks him, though he accepts and gives it back.

You close your eyes, laying your chest against his—he keeps his open to look at you. Observing and assessing.

You’ve truly become a whole other person altogether. A far cry from the tough hero you once were—the one who’d beat him within an inch of his life and leave him to choke on the blood.

“Will you stay with me today?” you ask against his lips—playing with his hair, looping the curly tresses around your fingers.

There’s a neediness to your voice, a certain desperation, a sadness—something lonely and something that reminds him all too much of himself. He feels both a strong urge to reject and soothe it all at the same time.

“No, I gotta go,” he says despite it. He had business.

You hide your face in his neck and continue with your tracing, now on the scrapes striping his throat where he’s raked his nails time and time again. “When will you come back?” Your tone comes out even sweeter, only a murmur mushed against his skin.

It nearly makes his heart twist. “It’s better I don’t answer that.”

It’s funny. Though the thought had struck him, he didn’t gauge any ill intentions. You could be asking, acting, plotting some escape based on the hours of his absence—yet somehow, with the way you nuzzle into him like that, as though you’re pouring your all-too-candid grief into him, he can't sense any other ulterior motive.

“Last time you left at this hour, you came back all beaten and bruised,” you mutter, now with a hint of bitterness—as if you’re cursing whoever hurt him under your breath.

It’s ironic. He sneers lazily, almost fondly, at the old memory. “You’re the one who used to beat and bruise me, remember?”

He’s truly curious if you do. Or if something’s spirited your past life away and left you like this—no longer an aspiring young hero, but something whose only value is warming his bed at night.

You arise, an appalled look of affront upon your face.

“No, that can’t be right,” you very nearly cry, as if the very thought was killing you. “I would never hurt you—I love you too much.”

Apparently, you don’t remember who you were at all.

“Love me?” he all but croaks. It’s a laughable prospect, and yet he doesn’t even smile. There’s something awful in his gut that prevents him. “Don't be stupid. You can't love me.”

Your face doesn’t drop its grimace, only further tears with forlorn outrage. “Of course, I love you!" you insist. "You’re my whole reason for living...”

You look so despaired—wrecked from his dismissal. The tears well quickly then slip down your face just as fast—and yet it isn’t the same crying as you used to. This time, it’s quiet—in wait or in dread as you beg the question, 

“Don't you love me?”

It’s an unexpected one, and it quickly proves to be an existential one—even more so than your unnerving confession. Despite not wanting to, it leaves him to dig through the muck in his head he’d long ignored, down in the dark where he’d tried burying the truth he'd felt oncoming. He'd wanted to deny it, reject it, amend it, simply because it confused him too much to acknowledge—complicated things—changed things he didn’t want or need changing.

He wonders if it’s somehow proof of fate—even though he despises such a concept. That, no matter how much you practice free will, no matter how many knots you make upon the red string, the world will pull and straighten it out, and you’re left to realize you’d brought it all on yourself.

First, he took your quirk, then he took your body—your mind shortly followed—and now it seems he’s managed to take your heart, too. 

There’s nothing left of you that isn’t his. 

There was a time he’d frolic at the thought of having reduced you to such a pathetic ghost in a shell—back then, he’d do anything to destroy you—he’d surely shatter you into a million little scattered pieces if presented with the chance, make sure you were broken for good. 

But that was the old him. Or rather, that was his dream for the old you—the hero he loathed down to his rotten core.

But the pretty misty-eyed thing looking down at him now, aching for his answer, wasn’t that person anymore.

And the truth is, the person you are now scares him more than that hero ever did. 

You were… well, you were the person who warms his bed at night, the person who traces his scars and plays with his hair—the person who wraps themselves around him and keeps him from falling apart when he stumbles through the door into the tiny little room he keeps you a prisoner in. You're his.

This time, his heart does twist. He’s never before spoken the words that dance on his tongue, or if he has, they’ve been long forgotten and come out as dust balls as he affirms them now, 

“Yes. I love you.”

There’s a flash of hope in your eyes, though it just as quickly diminishes—as if you don’t believe him.

Your lip warbles as you confirm it, “No, you don’t.”

More tears run silently down the tracks on your cheeks, gathering at the tip of your chin before dripping upon his chest—each one like a gunshot through something hollow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave me here in this room, all alone.” Your nails curl into your palms where they rest atop him. You bow your head as though you can’t bear to look at him, as if it hurts. The next words come out beneath your breath, “How am I supposed to compete with the whole world?”

You’re making him feel like dying. The continuous twists of his heart feel as if you’re about to tear it right out of his chest.

He sits up and lifts your face. It’s strange, even with his two-finger gloves on. He doesn’t think he’s ever held you like this. Though, suppose it’s been a night of many firsts already. And here comes another,

“As far as I’m concerned, you are my world.”

There you are, the one thing he doesn’t wish to destroy.

Your sore eyes become round, then swell with different tears. There’s a hitch in your breath as you sigh through a shuddering sob, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him tightly—your body jostling while you rub your wet face into his neck, holding him close for comfort as if you're scared to ever let go.

He returns the gesture, though somewhat hesitantly, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head to rest against your shoulder.

And then, as he holds you—for the first time ever, fear of actually losing the fight ahead strikes him.

He hadn’t much cared about the outcome before. Either he’d destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t as simple. As said earlier, this complicated things.

But then again, it was even more of a reason to go.

“But I still have to leave.” 

You part from him—the betrayal in your tone demanding his justification, “Why?”

Suppose, in some ways, this actually made things simpler—as that was a question he had no problem answering.

“‘Cause there are monsters outside…” He rests his forehead upon yours, gazing back into those terribly glassy eyes looking back at him as he speaks to you about your dear old colleagues. “Monsters who want nothing but to take you away from me.”

If only they could see you now, they’d know… you no longer want to leave him.

“So I have to go out there and make sure they have no chance,” he explains, almost like a vow, “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who says otherwise to keep you that way.”

The way your eyes melt makes him feel all fuzzy. It’s a special type of glee, a victory before the battle even begins—to see you root for him—so deep in love with him that you’ve forgotten you’re celebrating the onset of death to all of your former friends.

They probably wouldn’t be able to take you away from him even if they somehow managed to invade this very room. You’d sooner die than betray him.

And that makes him feel all the more ready for the war ahead.

“So kiss me good luck, and I’ll come right back to you soon.”

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[tetzoro]

SLOW MORNINGS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. kuroo tetsuro !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after two years, you finally agreed to move in with kuroo and after your first night together, kuroo reflects on his perspective of love — and how much you’ve influenced it.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : fluff, fluff, fluff ! — WC : 1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this was lost in the abyss on kuroosdarling but i rescued this cheesy lil piece. enjoy !! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

love was something kuroo always found in fiction.

whether it would be from the stories his grandmother used to read to him as she tucked him into bed, her sweet voice filling his mind with a longing desire to one day have even a fraction of that love.

or in the books his father swore he didn’t own but yet somehow found themselves nestled in between the self help and business books that collected dust on his bookshelf. the tattered covers showing signs of wear and tear that could only come from a devoted reader.

but he never thought he’d make it here and experience a moment like this for himself. he never thought that this was something he’d ever even want at all. relationships had always been pushed back into the far corner of his heart, the fear from his parents ultimate brutal destruction overshadowed his desire for it.

so he never chased after love.

but then you chased after him. and he couldn’t help but welcome you in his arms. you were everything he never thought he needed. you brought peace and serenity into his life. kept him grounded, balanced but still somehow always knew how to push his buttons and keep him on his toes at the same time.

you were the perfect partner for him.

the day he met you, he had no idea how much you were going to infiltrate his life. you went behind enemy lines, storming towards his heart all without making a noise. the perfect stealth attack that left him questioning if he ever had any defenses to begin with.

but he supposed that all boiled down to a simple fact. he could act blind all he wanted, but his soul knew better, for it was the very thing that led you right into his heart, letting you steal it and make it yours.

he was just happy that it was finally in safe hands.

it all brought him crashing down to this moment — seeing your toothbrush innocently sitting next to his in the little ceramic glass by the bathroom sink. the little reminder that showed he shared his space with someone, actually letting them into every crevice of his heart. the thought had him getting a little emotional at 6 in the morning.

because he could easily look over to his right, through the opened bathroom door and see you still peacefully asleep in his bed — your shared bed. and it warmed his heart to no end.

as if you could sense his thoughts, you shift awake, watching him as he stared back at you.

“morning tetsu.” you whisper into the otherwise silent apartment. it took him a second to process the words as they spilled from your lips, watching as you slowly get up and stretch in a way that reminded him of a cat when they first rise from their slumber.

“morning sweetheart.” he smiles, his toothbrush haphazardly hanging out of the side of his mouth. you giggled at the sight, causing his grin to spread wider — wide enough for it to slip out of his mouth and into his hand. his reflexes from volleyball always came in handy when he needed it most. but he supposed he still looked like a fool in front of you — you just had that effect on him.

“you still asleep in there or something?” you ask, teasing him as you wander into the bathroom, wiping some toothpaste off his cheek before wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

“tell me, is it possible to get too much beauty sleep? because you’ve never looked more gorgeous.” he murmurs back, his large hand covering yours as he held your gaze in the mirror. he relished in the flustered expression you tried to hide as your face burrowed between his shoulder blades.

“so cheesy this early? my oh my, we’re off to a good start.” you giggle, your lips pressing against his bare back as the sound escapes you, sending chills all throughout him.

“you better believe it.” he smirks, happily leaning back into your touch. “how’d you sleep?”

“i slept great.” you poke your head out from behind him, smiling as you met his gaze in the mirror once again. it was hard for him not to immediately match your smile, the light in your eyes already brightening the dawn of the day. so he didn’t bother to fight it as his lips lifted upward. “our first night together in the apartment.”

“our apartment.” he quickly corrected, his palm patting your hand soothingly.

“our apartment.” you repeat. you pivot so you’re next to him, lightly bumping his hip with yours so he’d step to the side, giving you some room in the cramped space. you reach over and grab your toothbrush, the very one he was so caught up in only moments ago.

the quiet space now filled with life as you start your morning routine. he resumes brushing his teeth, watching each step you take.

how could something so mundane fill him with such joy?

your pretty eyes meet his in the mirror once again as you start brushing, slightly widening them in surprise under his watchful gaze.

and you were just so cute, sleep still clinging onto your sweet features as if you were internally fighting to stay awake. the two of you had plenty of sleepovers prior to you moving in, but this felt different.

this was the start of your lives together.

and it made him happy. so happy that he couldn’t help but chuckle, watching your face scrunch up at the strong minty toothpaste he used.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter either, lovingly looking at him through the mirror as your shared giggles fill the room.

if this was the first day to the rest of your lives together, he knew it would be filled with nothing but love. the kind of love he thought only existed in cliche movies and sappy poems. the kind in the bedtime stories his grandmother would read to him. the kind he found between the annotated pages of his father’s books.

but he found all of that within you, the love of his life.

thank you so much for reading :3

[buckyalpine]

Sensitive, leaky Bucky

Certified perv speaking. Bucky who is so sensitive, his cock is so leaky and he has 0 control over how much of a mess he makes each time he cums. The serum dials everything to 100. The first time he saw you, he could feel spurts of precum dampening his boxers and he knew he was done for.

The first time he makes out with you, he runs off without a word after, making you wonder if you crossed a boundary but no. He can’t look you in a face and tell you he came in his pants like a teenager when you hadn’t even touched him. It took everything in him not to whine and whimper while feeling your soft lips on his, squeezing your waist a little tighter than usual when his cock started to throb painfully agains this jeans. As soon as your tongue is laced with his, he has to resist the urge to moan, his balls tightening, with cum pumping through his cock and wetting the front of his pants. His chest was heaving, body feeling hot, he couldn’t even dignify himself with a short orgasm. He presses his hand to his throbbing cock in the elevator, biting back a moan, hitting his head back against the wall when it throbs again. It takes everything for him to not unzip his pants right then and there so he can pull his cock out and stroke every drop out.

Bucky whose cock is sooo wet and leaky, he’s embarrassed the first time you have him naked, legs spread apart, a clear, sticky mess decorating the head of his cock, dripping down into his tummy. He wished he had some semblance of control instead of constantly nearly ejaculating but he has no idea how much you love on him like this.

You love the way his cock jumps and twitches each time take off a piece of clothing. The second you place your hands on his bare skin, he moans, his cock swelling more, balls growing heavier.

“What is it baby boy” you coo, kissing his inner thigh, his delicious natural scent and musk soaking your cunt.

“Sen-sensitive” he looks at you with pleading eyes, his cock throbbing, torn between needing you to touch him and staying far away because he has no control around you. He’s not a virgin but he’s never gotten head before either and he’s sure he’ll fill your mouth within seconds.

“Do you want me to suck your cock Jamie?” A pearly white drop drips from the tip and you smirk at how gone he is.

“I-I’ll cum” he whispers with pink cheeks, gasping when you take his heavy balls in your mouth, suckling and nursing. “Doll-please-I can’t”

He needs to be inside you, man handling you till you find yourself on top of him, your chest pressing against his. He doesn’t give you a second to think, pushing his cock in and planting his feet, thrusting up into you.

“B-bucky!!“ you squeal at the feeling of his balls hitting your ass, his fat cock stretching you open wide. He clings onto you tight, panting and moaning, the feeling of your tight cunt too much within a few strokes.

“Fuck, M’gonna cum!!” his back arches off the bed, head thrown back against the pillow, “OH FUCK YES” He can’t stop thrusting, holding into your overstimulated form while he empties himself, his orgasm unending.

“Jamiee” you whine, your greedy cunt pulling him back in, his cum spilling everywhere because he’s still throbbing. “You’re making a mess baby”

His eyes roll back at the thought of the warm white cream that’s covering your folds, all of his cum decorating your pussy and it just makes his cock throb more.

“I know-I know doll-Hngg-mph-fuck I can’t stop” his he whines, hiding his face into your neck, his arms nearly limp but his hips don’t stop moving, still rutting up, obscene squelching sounds growing louder. “It’s-its the serum-fucked my cock up, so sensitive, so much cum”

“You’re cumming so much baby”

“Yeah, s’too much, c‘ mom please doll, feels so good, you make me so hard it hurts” he babbles, rolling over so he’s on top, keeping his cock warm, his load soaking the sheets. He rolls his hips slowly, grinding his greedy length in as far as it would go, cuddling his face into your neck again, “m’sorry”

“It’s okay baby, it’s your pussy” you coo and realize what a grave mistake that was because he groans, his cock swelling again, slamming back into you fucjing you with a new purpose.

“S’mine? Fuck, all mine baby?” His eyes are feral now and you feel every ripple and divot is muscle tensed as he fucks harder, “gonna make a mess in my pussy doll, gonna keep busting in my pussy till you have to change the sheets. Gonna empty my cock in my pussy all fuckin’ night”

And he does just that. It takes him minutes for him to finish each time, panting and grunting, feral over how good his orgasms feel and how long they last when he’s thrusting into you till your crying. His mouth gets filthier each time and there’s no stopping it.

“Is your belly all full of cum baby? Did you drink UO every drop your Sargent gave you?”

“Such a pretty milky pussy baby, lookit you, covered in so much cream, get ready for more doll, m’not done”

“Better keep your night free doll, m’fuckin hard and I wanna empty my cock so bad”

His favourite and most unhinged things to do when he’s jealous and possessive is to have you naked on your knees while he jerks himself off, leaning agains t the wall, painting your face and body with ropes of his spend. His eyes squeeze shut as he fucks his fist, thrusting his hips forward when another wave of pleasure consumes him, nearly trembling and buckling over. He cums and cums till your face drips with cum, dribbling down your neck and nipples, and of course he’s going to get you to lie down so he can jerk himself onto your pussy, marking his territory and all you can do is take it while he soaks your-

Idk what’s wrong with me

[delirious-donna]

Just Call My Name, I'm Yours To Tame [Nanami Kento]

an: running late is Kento’s idea of hell, but even more so when you’re waiting for him. If he’s not careful, someone else might swoop in and try to steal you away, but you’d never go… right?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warning: unwanted attention from a male stranger, uninvited touching, pissed off Kento, implied violence (not involving reader), hasty sex, semi-public fucking, Kento wants to rub himself all over you

Masterlist

Kento hated running late, it wasn't a simple mild annoyance but a deep abhorrence at the lack of punctuality. It was his belief that if you had the manners to arrange to meet at a specific time, you should do everything to keep your word. He was an old soul, as you often teased him, and good manners cost nothing in his eyes.

Cursing the inept Gojo Satoru, a man meant to be his elder and ‘superior’, for being unable to write up his reports without assistance at every turn, he scowled and glanced at his watch once more. In his mind, he was concocting retribution befitting of his ego and idiocy, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips as he hurried along.

Thirty minutes late…

Oh, he wanted to claw at his skin. The discomfort of his lateness darkened his mood on an evening which was meant to be fun. He was meant to meet you at the small bar you had discovered a few weeks back, conveniently not far from his apartment which meant on that first fateful night it made tumbling home easy whilst you loosened his shirt and tie, and he left his mark on the skin of your collarbone.

Those tantalising memories had the grace to relieve the worst of the anger bubbling inside him like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment, thoughts of Gojo’s smirking face and the traffic that seemed intent on keeping him from you melted into the periphery. All he needed was to set his sights on your pretty face and all would be right again.

What he wasn’t expecting when he finally rounded the door to the bar, eyes scanning through the Friday night crowds, and what he absolutely did not need given his current temperament was to discover you being harassed.

His hand tightened into a fist, which he slowly released as he blew out a controlled breath. You were seated at your favourite section of the bar—close enough to the bartenders that drinks would never run dry but removed enough that quiet conversation was easy. Kento's glance cut to your outfit, much to his immediate shame, taking in the skirt that you knew was his very favourite and the sentiment was clearly shared by the man leaning in much too close.

Whilst he could see why this stranger admired your shapely legs, the soft spread of your thighs and the curve leading to generous hips, you were not enjoying the attention and he was far from being subtle in his interest. Any sane person could see that you were slowly inching away from him, but drunk on his poison of choice and probably a hefty dose of adrenaline given how often and fidgety his hand ran through his greasy hair, the man was ignoring your rebuff. Instead, he shuffled even closer with drool practically hanging from his open mouth.

His rising temper was curtailed by an unexpected hint of humour, his imposing frame blocked the entrance and left other patrons to squeeze around him rather than ask him to move whilst he observed your short, curt nods in response to the man's questions. Your entire stance, mannerisms, and the way you turned in your seat to give him your back all screamed 'fuck off' in the politest way possible. You were too good for him, far more restrained than he would be at the unwanted attention. It made him want to laugh, and that was far more welcome than the fury beating deeper in his heart.

You were no damsel in distress, but when the man reached out to touch the side of your knee, he knew it was time to announce his presence and put a stop to this pathetic display. Kento’s neck cracked from side to side, and he moved off with purpose from where he had been standing.

Discreetly you tapped your phone to life and glanced at the time, frowning at the continued absence of the man you were meant to be meeting. A low sigh eased past your lips as you continued to ignore your annoyingly persistent admirer. Kento was late and it just wasn't like him.

Worry was beginning to gnaw in the pit of your belly, only incited by the flashes of irritation at the man that you could only describe as a pervert. Not only had he seated himself despite you assuring him that it was taken, but he also openly leered at your chest and legs.

You wondered if you should call him, biting your lip in indecision and tapping anxiously at the green call symbol next to his name, but it was all for naught.

A figure caught your attention from the corner of your eye; blond perfectly parted hair, broad shoulders and an unreadable expression—Kento had arrived and was heading straight for you, his eyes burning holes into you.

You weren’t quite ready to throw yourself into his arms, although you were tempted if it finally gave this pest the hint he needed to beat it, but your thoughts were cut short by a clammy hand on your knee. Disgust rose in your throat at being touched without your consent.

The hand didn’t remain there long.

There was a muffled scream as your view of the unwanted admirer became obscured behind a broad back. His navy shirt looked close to breaking point as the threads at the seams strained to contain the strength of your beau, his biceps flexing whilst you were left to wonder exactly what he had done—although you could guess.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, sweetheart. I was held up by an idiot," he soothed, finally turning to cup your chin in his large palm. His thumb stroked along your jawline as the other hand landed on the seated flare of your hip. His hold was firm, deft fingers sinking into your plush flesh and kneading you just how you liked.

You barely took note of the man leaving the bar with his hand cradled to his chest, the fingers looking bent into an unnatural position and very red. It was hard to care when you were caught fast in the snare of being able to breathe in the scent of your man. The only man that mattered, was the one looking at you with an expression you weren’t entirely familiar with.

"Where are we going?" you asked breathlessly. With one fluid movement, you allowed him to pull up from the seat and into the warmth of his body, his chest shielding you from those around who were turning to look your way.

"Home, sweetheart."

Except it wasn’t the complete truth. You found that out when your spine arched off the wall, shoulders digging into the brickwork as Kento held your weight around his waist as if it were nothing. With his zipper undone enough to allow his cock to slip free, and your underwear shoved roughly into the crease of your thigh, he took you like he never had before. He dropped you down onto him again with fervour, swallowing your whine and feeding you his own rumbling groan.

He was possessed with the need to reclaim you, to rub his scent across every bare inch of your skin and the desire couldn’t be contained. You were thankful for the shadow-polluted back alley running behind the bar. Eternally grateful that it wasn’t yet dark enough for the streetlights to illuminate the lewd scene in which you were playing a starring role. The shadows wrapped around the hunched form of Kento, his frame hiding you from sight except for your legs around his hips.

Rough, calloused hands smoothed your bare thighs, hiking your skirt even higher as he groped at you in desperation. It was so unlike him, to see him so raw and in need of you. Your cunt clenched around his hard length, rolling yourself to meet his frantic thrusts halfway, the haze of an impending orgasm dulling your senses down to the only one that mattered—the feel of him fucking up against your g-spot.

With your fingers entwined with his, dizzy and all too giddy from the quick hit of dopamine, you skipped along towards his apartment. The lazy, self-assured smile he wore had you clenching all over again, dancing closer to him and leaning up to press a kiss to the bobbing swell of his Adam’s apple.

You should have known that he wasn’t done, in fact, he wouldn’t be satisfied for some time to come. Kento let out a low roar like some feral beast the second the door slammed shut behind his back. Taking off like a drunk gazelle, you ran and he chased you down the hall to the shrieks of your laughter until he had you caged against yet another wall.

"Kento... you’re acting beastly!"

His answer was to open his jaw, teeth snapping around the slender column of your throat and his tongue working into the hollow. He nipped and bit his way around your throat, holding you in the cage of his arms without sign of release.

“I am a beast, darling. When it comes to you… I’ll never stop reminding you that I am the one you chose, and never stop proving exactly why you love falling into my bed.”

[13atoms]

Handsome and a Genius (Spencer Reid x F!Bau!Reader)

Inspired by that one scene in x files where mulder stands like a himbo looking handsome and being the future of beauty. you know the one I mean

Summary: Spencer’s overactive brain draws more attention than it ought to on a case, and you see him in a new light. 3k words.

Contains: hostile witnesses, spencer being clueless (but an absolute babe), friends to lovers. (No offence to Florida im sure it’s very nice, reader is having a bad day, and I am far too British for that kind of heat)

The sticky Florida air had long since plastered your clothes to your skin, leaving you short of breath and with the unpleasant feeling of damp hair against your scalp. The whole team had groaned at the revelation their next case would be in the outskirts of Miami, and as soon as the plane door opened you understood why.

You were hot, and grumpy. The salty, swampy air made you feel disgusting as you approached witness after witness. There was a serial killer operating in and around mobile home parks in the area, with the two most recent murders taking place in Royal Biscayne Trailer Park, both over a week ago. While the rest the team spread out across the other crime scenes, you and your partner had been dispatched to this one.

It was a world away from Quantico: sun-bleached, dense, full of plastic and palms instead of concrete and maples. Nonetheless, the principles remained the same no matter where you were. Take everything in, speak to everyone, suspect everyone. Stepping in and out of trailers gave you very little relief from the heat, although respite from the sun pounding down on you was a welcome break.

Dr Spencer Reid stood a short distance away, shielding his eyes with his hand as he contemplated the sea of trailers around him. He’d stared around as you drove into the park, something faraway in his eyes as he memorised every detail from the safety of the SUV.

Now he stood close to you, heads inches apart as he whispered so that only you could hear. He faced one way, you the other, and you could focus on his words knowing that Spencer was watching your back.

“These things all come equipped with the same locks, at least each model does. If you recognise the trailer home, you know how to pick it. It’s fairly trivial, for someone with some basic industry knowledge.”

You hummed through pursed lips, surveying the small crowd who had gathered to gawk at a pair of FBI officers on their turf.

“And that would be true of all of the trailer parks… we know he’s got a common MO.”

“Exactly.”

“You reckon someone in the industry, then? A salesman? Maintenance guy?”

Spencer rolled his neck, stared up at the sky for a moment. His curls were long at the moment, damp at the name of his neck, a little frizzy in the humidity.

“Not necessarily.”

“It’s quite specific,” you agreed, “anyone operating as a common thief around here would have the knowledge too. We could be talking about a classic escalation – burglar to home invader to murderer?”

His eyes snapped from you to his phone.

“I’ve asked Garcia to check out any patterns in robberies, home invasions… the locks are hardly scratched. We know he wears gloves, cleans his tools. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

You nodded, surveying the street again. The sun was glinting off of white plastic, making you squint. You worried for Spencer, the heat and the light wouldn’t be doing his headaches any good.

“You want me to take that?” Spencer was saying, and you snapped your attention in the direction he was gestured.

There was middle-aged man a little way forward of the crowd, shoulders hunched, hands entwined. Nervous. He had the tan of someone who lived here year-round, not a big believer in suncream, with tanlines when he removed his hat and glasses to speak to you.

“I’ve got it,” you murmured, and Spencer nodded.

It was an unspoken part of your partnership, that Spencer liked when you started conversations with witnesses. You liked that he trusted you, trusted your skills, never questioned whether you’d done the right thing when you spoke to people.

Instead he remained a short distance away, climbing up the front steps of someone’s home for a higher vantage point to survey the place.

“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. You said you’re with the FBI?”

The man had a tip, and it was an interesting one. A rumour spread throughout the HOA about someone trying the locks at night, the sound of metal against the doorways, silhouettes against frosted glass. A few people even had security camera footage, though nothing identifiable. It was great. You gave him your card, told him to get the footage to you asap.

It must be terrifying, you realised, to hear that kind of noise in the night. To be so close to danger, after a neighbour had been killed. The local sheriff’s department seemed frustrated by the interest the case was garnering – frankly you were amazed the story wasn’t bigger. There was no small amount of comforting involved in the conversation you had with the witness, and soon enough a few more people stepped forwards from the crowd. All seemed middle-aged, likely transplants to the sunshine state, and equally shaken.

When everyone’s stories had finished, they stood in silence for a moment. You frowned, noticing their gazes slightly misaligned.

Spencer.

He was stood at your shoulder, sharp gaze flickering across each face of the gathered residents.

“This is my colleague, Dr Reid. A few of you have already met, I believe.”

“You know,” he began, “the socio-economic factors influencing the way we think about crime in mobile home communities are fascinating. Often trailer parks are stereotyped negatively in the media, and because they are generally cheaper to live in than traditional housing estates, and that can foster a sense of shame or isolation for residents. Transient populations can also make community policing and security difficult, and anomalies in the patterns of everyday life become more difficult for people to subconsciously spot.”

You held your breath, and tried not to look worried at the reaction of the small crowd. Instead, you focused on Spencer. He was speaking with his hands a lot today.

“But I think the assumptions we tend to make about trailer parks completely overlook the very nature of living so close to your neighbours. There is a sense of community in living so closely, as evidenced by the conversations we’ve been having today. I’m not sure whether the killer understands that, or is exploiting the former theory that places like this allow for more deviations from the way we implement traditional security in communities. An unsub might hold some sort of resentment towards trailer parks, or some specific resident in his past, or perhaps he’s simply exploiting how incredibly easy it is to simply walk up to a mobile home and slip the lock open with a humble mass-produced lock pick.”

He was greeted with a sea of blank faces, littered with the occasional frown. Finally he looked to you. You caught the furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders hunched into himself, the clutching of his elbows to his body.

Oh, Spencer.

“That’s really interesting!” you tried to say, but Spencer was already backing away.

“Anyway, I’ll, um, leave you to it.”

“Thank you, Dr Reid,” you called after him, as he fled, disappearing into the shade of a nearby trailer.

 Your heart ached for him a bit, but you pushed that aside. Instead, you had a sea of potentially offended retirees to keep on side.

“God, what I’d give for a brain like that,” your witness laughed, his linen shirt straining under the movement.

You couldn’t help smiling, a little relieved the tension had broken.

“It’s not often someone has a face like that and a good head on their shoulders,” one of the older ladies piped up.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder at Spencer, his profile sharp as he looked down the road, deep in thought.

“He’s certainly a rare breed,” you agreed fondly.

A number of the crowd were following your gaze, and someone in you wanted to snap them out of it. Stop them from staring.

“He actually has an eidetic memory. Once he’s seen or heard something, he remembers it perfectly, forever. It’s incredible.”

“Oh, my goodness! I can hardly remember my own email password!”

“I wouldn’t mind if he hung around me and talked like that all day, even if I didn’t understand a word of it. Though perhaps he could use a haircut…”

There was a chorus of agreement and various coo-ing which seemed to occupy the entire scale from grandmotherly to entirely inappropriate. You couldn’t help staring at Spencer a moment longer, wondering if he was truly oblivious, or simply pretending to be.

A rare breed.

You were certain you’d never met anyone else like him. Certain you felt like a better version of yourself in his company. That you’d trust him with your life, that you searched every room you entered until you saw him. Watched the elevator doors each time they opened, all morning, until Spencer walked in.

You were certain you’d felt giddy the first time Spencer insisted the two of you would work together, alone.

 “Imagine knowing that he’d remember everything, forever…” one of the women was saying, her eyebrows raised in a way you didn’t particularly enjoy.

You cleared your throat, and hooked one hand over the badge at your waist.

“Unless anyone has any further leads, we’d better be on our way…”

The group silenced, and watched you dutifully. You passed out a few more cards, reiterated how dedicated the team was to stopping this killer, and gave out a few promises that there would be a police presence after dark throughout the trailer park.

When the request for any further questions was met with more glances towards Spencer, you thanked your witness, and made a beeline for the car. After only a few seconds Spencer was beside you, jogging to catch up.

“All done?” he asked, and you smiled at the question.

“I think so.”

You started the engine and both waited with the doors open for the car to cool down. The department’s penchant for black SUVs was not helpful when the sun was so vicious. Feeling the heat themselves, the group of residents had dispersed into a few groups, wandering into one another’s homes to continue gossiping.

“God, I’m disgusting,” you lamented, “sorry for the sweat-smell. I might actually take a cold shower when we get to the hotel.”

Spencer was already waving you off, leaning into the car to mess with the AC. Through the open door you saw him groan at the heat, swiping a curl from his face.

“I’m afraid to raise my arms. It’s so humid, I’m not sure why anyone would retire here. High humidity aggravates a number of chronic conditions, especially respiratory ones, which are common in older people. Not to mention the skin cancer…”

“And it ruins your hair,” you teased.

Spencer faked a gasp, and reached for a damp, limp section of his hair.

“I mean, look at it!”

You laughed, and rolled your eyes at him, nothing but fondness settling warm and tight in your chest.

Surveying the road in front of you for one final time you saw a few curtain-twitchers, but no new faces. You climbed into the car, wincing at the heat. The seatbelt buckle was burning hot, and you swore as it burned your fingers.

“I always forget about that,” you grumbled, slamming the car door closed.

“You know, if you fasten your seatbelt after you get out, it stops the metal getting hot and burning you,” Reid offered, and you rolled your eyes at him again.

“Gosh, doesn’t it get exhausting being right about everything?”

Spencer went quiet, and all you heard was the click of his own belt. After a few moments the car was cool and bearable, and your lungs felt like they could finally move again. The sat-nav happily talked away, and you started stealing worried looks at your partner once you’d returned to properly-maintained roads.

“What you said out there was really good, do you mind if we go over it again once we get to the station? I think it’s worth exploring.”

“I shouldn’t have said it in front of them.”

He was right, but you didn’t have to heart to say anything. That was the thing which made your heart twinge about Spencer – he was so insecure, and yet so self-aware, it was the worst of both worlds. Being an expert in body language was a double-edged sword.

“I don’t think they minded. Did you hear those old ladies talking about your big brain?”

Spencer didn’t laugh. He turned himself towards the window, curled up with his hand beneath his jaw.

“They were very impressed. So was I, for what it’s worth. I think we’ll make some really good progress on this profile tonight.”

He hummed agreement. Watched a vista of blurred blue and green and white going past the window. The radio was turned down to a low hum, you could hardly hear it. Silence pierced its way through and sound of mumbled songs and road noise.

“Are you okay?” you asked finally.

“I’m okay.”

You sighed. Tapped the steering wheel. Sped a little to get through an intersection on amber.

 “Spencer…”

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin that for you I just… sometimes I think of things and it’s like I have to tell you.

“Spencer I’m not mad at you! Not at all! I think we’re both just tired, and too warm…”

He didn’t say anything.

“Honestly, I was worried you’d heard what those ladies were saying about you and gotten upset. It was inappropriate of them…”

“I didn’t hear anything. What did they say?”

Your gaze was focused on the road, but you met Spencer’s eye in the rear-view mirror as he watched your face.

“Just that you were a handsome young man. And that they wanted you to get a haircut, which I firmly disagree with…” you teased.

Spencer touched his hair self-consciously. He was still quite curled up, leaning away from you despite his interest in the conversation.

“That’s nice of them, I suppose.”

“‘Nice’ is an interesting way of putting it, but I’m glad you’re not upset about it.”

“When I was a kid, I read a book at the library about how to tell if you’re attractive. It was for women, all about makeup and stuff, but there was a section about what made guys hot. I could never figure it out, I just always thought I looked like an alien.”

The sudden change made you sit up straight, heart in your mouth as you rolled to a stop behind a queue of traffic.

“I think everyone feels like that sometimes. Being a teenager is really hard.”

 “I… yeah. I suppose so.”

“I always felt so jealous of the people who walked around looking perfect every day, confident that they were not. It just never came naturally to me.”

“Really? I assumed you were one of those girls in school who I’d be too afraid to talk to.”

You scoffed, and for a moment were struck by how little you really knew about one another. The way Spencer looked at you, looked it everyone, it felt as though he had an x-ray into every tiny detail of your life. How could he know, though?

“Of course not,” you laughed nervously.

You weren’t sure if you’d prefer Spencer knew the truth, or kept believing whatever he’d made up ini his head. You weren’t sure what any of this conversation meant. Traffic was moving. The precinct was two turns away.

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

He was teasing you. Finally he leant back in his seat, shoulders square to it, legs stretched out in the passenger footwell.

“Either way, I’m glad you can talk to me now. I’d miss it if you didn’t.”

“You might be the only person on this planet with that opinion.”

You took a moment to glance across the car at him, and caught a flash of a smile. He was joking. You released tension from your shoulders you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re a handsome genius, just like Barbara said.”

“Her name was Barbara?” Reid laughed.

You shrugged, and took the final turn into the precinct parking lot.

“I’ve got no idea.”

Even with the SUV in park, the aircon no longer blasting away, neither of you moved. Not for a moment, at least. A moment of peace before the chaos all began again. Just the two of you. Wherever you were, with Spencer was your favourite place to be.

“You’re the same, you know. A genius. And handsome…”

You frowned.

“Pretty! Beautiful. You know what I mean.”

“Handsome?”

In truth, you didn’t care about the words. Not at all. Not when your heart was pounding at the realisation Spencer had his gaze fixed on your lips, his eyes soft and pupils blown wide.

“Beautiful,” Spencer repeated, “You know, in a lot of languages, handsome can be translated for men and women. The word itself doesn’t have a gender. Guapa, for example, in Spanish…”

You let him talk, on and on. You decided you wouldn’t kiss him yet, while your hair was matted in sweat and Spencer’s face was brushed with sunburn and embarrassment.

“Bella is more popular in South America, though, or bonita. My favourite is Japanese, though. Kirei. To be beautiful both inside and out…”

Only a few more moments passed before Morgan arrived and banged on the glass with a wide grin and a sweat-beaded brow, announcing a break in the case. You were sorry for the interruption.

[jophiel-shakes]

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summary :: Alastor during a rut

warning :: nsfw

note :: requests are still open

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alastor isn’t a sexual person by any means.

Don’t get me wrong, he fooled around once or twice in life but in hell there was never a looming pressure to get married or have children.

Despite his aloof attitude towards sex and general romance there is a certain time when his more animalistic side controls him.

These periods happen to be ruts.

Every sinner has to deal with unsavoury things because of their hellish form, Alastor’s is just a unbridled need to have sex.

Of course Alastor tries to survive the ruts in confinement (usually in his radio tower or bedroom), making it clear to everyone that they’d best stay away if they value their lives.

Though there comes a point where dealing with the issue himself doesn’t do the trick.

So he decides to leave his tower in search of a mate.

And you happen to be the perfect find.

On sweeter terms you would’ve been honoured and perhaps even flustered but Alastor’s inky tentacles ripping you from your own room and dragging you into his own was rather alarming to say the least.

His room was hot and dense, Alastor himself loomed like a predator, his horns large and winding whilst his teeth glistened with drool.

It was a sight to behold and you were unsure if you should’ve been horny or terrified.

He’s quick to get in your personal space, scenting you immediately.

He asks to strike up a deal;

“How about a deal?” Alastor croons, sliding his hands down your back as he mumbles in your ear.

You clear your throat and try to mentally solve his mixed signals. “What for?”

“I’ll do you a favour, anything you want at any given moment. In return, you offer me your… company.”

You take it of course, to have a favour from Alastor was a great deal and you’d be helping him through his rut. Everyone wins.

Despite Alastor’s strong belief in acting as a gentleman most of his manners are thrown away once you shake hands.

He’s immediately buried himself into your body, inhaling your smell and pressing himself into you.

First, he takes you against the wall, being far too eager to move to his bed.

His talons graze your skin, pulling you into him with a desperate tightness.

One would’ve imagined sex with Alastor as sweeter and gentle, but whilst in a rut he’s got unbelievable stamina that he uses to split you.

Biting biting biting. Alastor can’t help but taste you. It’s a cannibalistic tendency, but he never takes a chunk out of you. Do expect him to draw blood though.

When in a rut he prefers to take you from behind. Mostly he likes to trap you between him and something else like a wall.

During the end of his rut when things have cooled, he’ll take it smoother and actually make love to you.

Though, when he’s in the heat of it it’s nothing but quickies and rough sex.

Alastor goes for multiple rounds, usually three before you tap out or someone interrupts. Generally he could go longer.

Alastor will not cum anywhere but inside you. He’s mentioned in passing that the feeling of cumming inside helps settle him more.

No one in the hotel knows of your affair, well, apart from Angel who could practically smell the daily quickies on you, see it in your flushed face and frizzed hair. Husk was a close second who’s seen Alastor in a isolated rut before. Angel then spread it to everyone else.

Nifty knew too, being the little creep she is, she mentioned to you her habit of listening in.

Despite most having heard you yelp his name at night, Alastor just pretends nothing ever happened and nobody dares mention it to him.

Although you do cop a lot of teasing from Angel.

Once things settle down and Alastor gets the frustrations out of his system, everything goes back to normal. Your bite marks heal and everyone settles.

That is, until his next rut.

[parfaitblogs]

baby it's halloween ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a mutual friendship leads to a run-in with your ex, and it's halloween, which means you can be anything. even normal with him right?

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: garcia party in rossi HOUSE 💜. alcohol consumption. reader's dressed as a swan (stunning gorgeous amazing). pre established friends with benefits (don't fuck your exes). s10 bau team is there in spirit i think. crazy spare bedroom hookup. brief nipple play. oral (f receiving). fingering. p in v. he dresses you afterwards. porn with plot. oral fixation. soft dom!spencer.  word count: 3.8k a/n: ex spencer reid makes a comeback. this is separate from bad idea right? but same pairing same sitch kind of same everything. LOL. thanks for giving me costume ideas guys. parfaitblogs revival!!! happy birthday spencer reid!!! happy halloween criminal minds tumblr!!!

"Penelope, what the fuck are you wearing?"

It was a very loud exclamation, over the sound of party music that certainly didn't match the overall theme of Halloween. It was only nine o'clock but the fox eared blonde in front of you had lip liner painting her chin, a pink flush on her cheeks barely hidden beneath a layer of makeup, and two cans of some multicoloured premixed vodka drink you weren't sure about trying (despite her holding one out to you). 

"Fox costume. I'm Agnes! From Fantastic Mr. Fox!" Penelope says, cheerfully, urging you to take the drink she had in her hand, not relenting until you did.

"We agreed on swans," you huff, feeling awfully stupid now, in your all white costume, a pair of fluffy wings settled on your back. 

Penelope looked genuinely apologetic for changing her costume idea on you with no warning, and so as she rambled about how she got excited after seeing fox makeup on her phone, you decided it wasn't actually that big of a deal. She finished her spiel with a comment about still technically matching because you're both animals, and it was enough for you to accept. 

She led you further into the house. House, because she had convinced one of her coworkers to let her host a Halloween party at his, claiming her apartment was far too small for such a thing. Apparently he was very easy to convince. 

It was a quick tour of where all the most basic of amenities on the first floor were, before she was shoving a shot glass of vodka into your hand, and encouraging you to take it. 

So you did. 

Perhaps it was a loosening up technique she was using in an attempt to keep you from ripping her head off when she began another conversation with you with the words,

"So, I need to preface before you get too drunk—" a sentence you really had never hoped to hear in your life "—that Spencer's here."

You're not too sure why your world begins to crumble around you at that fact. You figured he would be. In fact, when you were choosing the articles of clothing for your costume a week ago, you had the idea of Spencer Reid seeing you in mind. You had mentally prepared for seeing him. And yet; panic. 

However, instead of making a scene about how anxious that thought made you, you force a small smile onto your face and murmur out, "That's fine."

"Are you sure?" Penelope presses. "You can hover around me the entire night to avoid him, if you want. I'll stay away from him. I'm really sorry for inviting him."

You didn't like that. "No. Pen, it's okay. He's your friend."

"So are you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest at her words, a warm feeling spreading throughout it. But, ultimately, you were not the person who wants perfectly good friendships ruined because you're too scared to hold a relationship together. 

"I'll get drunk enough and start talking to him anyways. It's fine," you reassure her. 

And get drunk enough you did. 

You had bumped into him a few times already, making awkward eye contact when you passed him on your way to the kitchen for another drink, or to the bathroom to fix your corset that felt like it was getting tighter every breath you took. 

Yet here you were, stuck between the fridge and him, a collection of things you wanted to both beg him for, and cuss him out because of, sitting delicately on the tip of your tongue, waiting for the right trigger word from him.

Unsuccessfully, for he was rocking back on his heels, clasping his hands around the glass of water he was nurturing, keeping the peace between you two and staying silent. 

And you couldn't have that. 

"Hi. How are you?" you chirp after closing the fridge, a can you were getting for Penelope and not yourself now settled between your hands.

"Hi. I'm good," he says, sending you an all too familiar tight lipped smile. One he always did when he was feeling awkward. "How are you?"

"This is really formal," you say, tilting your head to the side. "I'm good."

He nods his head in agreement, and you find every curse word you had ready to yell at him dissipate in an instant. "I like your costume. Swan?"

"Yes," you nod your own head, forcing the flutter of your heart to stop.

You weren't sure what he was when you had first arrived to the party, but a few short exchanged words between the two of you revealed the fake teeth he had settled in his mouth, confirming Penelope's earlier guess that he was a vampire. 

Fitting, you had almost said then. 

"I like yours too," you say after a few beats of awkward silence and you realising you hadn't said much after his compliment. 

"Thank you."

It was an awkward song and dance around the elephant in the room (your relationship, or lack thereof). An even more awkward interaction of him reaching behind you into the fridge to get out a drink for Morgan, and then a breathless apology when he had gotten a bit too close and you hadn't had a conscious enough mind to step back.

"I don't like this," you blurt out.

"What?"

"This. Us," you clarify. "Being awkward. Not talking. We talk fine when we hook up."

Because yes, there's that secret you were keeping hidden away from Penelope. 

"We're preoccupied during that."

"I'd argue seeing each other naked once a week is much more awkward than bumping into each other drunk, at a party."

"I'm not drunk."

Right. You knew that. Spencer Reid didn't drink. It was why the cup in his hand was only water, and the alcoholic beverage in his other wasn't for him. 

If you were any less buzzed you probably wouldn't say the unfortunately very embarrassing sentence you let leave your lips, that sounded a little foreign even to you. 

"Then do we need to see each other naked tonight to make this not awkward?"

His lips parted and he froze, rightfully so. You weren't sure how you'd react to somebody asking you that either. It seemed awfully blunt for even you, and if you were any sane person, you'd probably be backtracking to take it back. Instead, you were just as frozen as him, fearful for how he would respond. 

"No," he says, but there was a strain in his voice that told you otherwise. Thankfully, you had enough self restraint to not call him out on that. 

"No?" you tilt your head to the side.

"No, we don't need to. Do you want to?"

Does it make you a horrible person to say yes? To take advantage of one of the many rooms littering the Rossi house, and use a situational run-in to have sex with your ex-boyfriend?

Probably.

"Yes. Do you?"

"I like how you look tonight."

Your heart rate speeds up. "That isn't an answer."

"Yes," he says. "I do."

The kitchen was left empty with a glass of water and two unopened cans on the countertop, that Derek Morgan was no doubt bound to discover when Spencer never returns. Followed closely by — probably — Penelope discovering the same about you. Which would probably lead to the discovery of the friends (were you friends?) with benefits situation the two of you had. 

You've barely stepped into the spare room he had located before he's kissing you. Feverishly, devouring you whole, as your back is pressed up against the door. Your wings dug into your shoulder blades, the feathers tickling your arms, and yet you couldn't find it in you to care. 

"Spencer."

His response to your plea of his name is to kiss you harder, fingers entangling in your hair, and you think if he pushes against you any more, you'll meld to the atoms of the door. 

"You taste like alcohol," he mutters against your lips. 

"Funny that."

"Are you drunk?"

"I'll remember this all in five minutes, if that's what you mean."

"Sort of."

His mouth detaches from yours, and there's a desperation in the way he kisses down your neck you don't think you'll ever get used to, no matter how many times he does it. 

It was a heartbreaking reality of the difference between how he would have sex with you then, and now. 

It's his grumbling that forces you to focus on him again, and not the comparative thoughts you have whirring in your brain. His fingers are fumbling with the lacing on your back, as he says, irritation you find almost hilarious in his tone, "I hate corsets."

"You said you liked it earlier."

"I liked it when I wasn't trying to take it off of you."

You smile. "I'll wear something more convenient for you next time."

"Yes. Thank you," he nods, successfully loosening the lacing enough so he could take the corset off of your body. "T-shirts are good."

"Duly noted." 

"Or nothing. Nothing's better," he adds, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands dropping to your chest — completely bare, considering you couldn't justify the wearing of a bra beneath the corset. 

"I'll ask the board."

You feel him smile against your lips, his hands cupping your chest, thumbs delicately running over your nipples to elicit a breathless whine from you. Ever so careful, he uses his thumbs to circle them, amused with just how easy it was to fluster you.

His lips trail down from your lips again, his hands dropping to your waist, using his hips to nudge you towards the bed.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you wince, although any pain dissipates as he murmurs a gentle apology and lowers the two of you to the bed. 

It's quite amusing; the articles of clothing you're removing from your bodies. You didn't think feathered wings and a Dracula-esque cape piling together on the floor would be a sight you ever saw in this context, and yet. 

"What do you want, honey?" he asks you, though your brain is a little preoccupied with his pulling of your skirt down your legs, fingers brushing against your skin. He forces your focus back onto him again with the calling of your name, and a kiss to your inner thigh. 

"What're you willing to give me?" 

"You know I'd do anything."

Your heart soars. Yes, you do know that. He loves to prove that feat to you. 

"I don't know," you shake your head. "Whatever you want. You choose. My gift to you this Halloween."

It was a tradition you had started with him three years ago, on your first Halloween together. You knew how important the holiday was to him, and so you had bought him a plethora of decor for his apartment (on top of what he already had). You had helped him set it up, and later that week he had gifted you a charm bracelet with a pumpkin clasp. Every Halloween since, you bought him more decor, and he bought you a Halloween inspired charm for the bracelet. 

This was your first Halloween where you weren't together. 

"I didn't get you a charm."

"That's okay," you reply, earnestly. 

"You're so wet," is voice is breathless, changing the topic of conversation awfully quickly. For his eyes had dropped to the only item of clothing you still had on, and his fingers had trailed far enough up your thighs to brush over it. 

"Do something about it then," you retort, bluntly, and he smiles amusedly. 

He probably murmurs something about you being a brat, but his hands were pulling your underwear down your legs, and you should not be expected to focus on two maddening things at once. 

Thankfully, he does do something about it. And quite quickly, too. Wasting no time teasing like he usually does, instead attaching his lips to your core, tugging a moan from your lips. 

His tongue licks a stripe up the centre of your folds, circling your clit, expertly so. 

"Oh God," you whine out, breathlessly, head falling backwards and digging into the mattress beneath. Sinful as it was, Spencer's tongue on you did feel like the closest thing you'd ever have to a religious experience, a thought that had crossed your mind the many times he's done this before. 

Once he's sure his tongue flicking over your clit had worked you up enough, you're forced into shock as you feel one of his fingers at your entrance. Lack of hand-eye coordination aside, he's well versed in the art of using two different body parts at once to make you come, and yet you're still writhing beneath him like it's the first time.

Sometimes it felt like it was. 

"Spencer," you nearly cry out, if not for your hand flying to your mouth to muffle how loud you had anticipated you'd be. 

He pulls his lips away at that, instead lifting his head to hover over yours, as he pushes a single finger inside you. Even when your eyes flutter closed and your head tilts back further, you can still feel his gaze on you, as if in awe of the way you looked. 

"That was so easy," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "You really did want me to do this tonight, hm?"

Too wrapped up in the feeling of being touched by him again, all you can do is nod your head, and you feel him smile against your cheek. 

"Yeah, I know, sweet girl."

He captures your lips again, swallowing a string of moans that leave your lips when he begins to move his finger in and out. Finger that becomes fingers, for he's pushing another one in, and you're arching your back up as you attempt to accomodate to the stretch. 

"I know, I know," he repeats when your head jerks back as your lips part in another, this time silent, moan. "I shouldn't have missed last week, hey? I'm sorry I was out of state."

You want to tell him it's okay. That you didn't really mind being celibate for an extra seven days on top of the six the two of you leave between your nights together. Unfortunately, growing accustomed to a once a week cycle meant the interruption of it left you overwhelmingly easy to shatter with the simplest of touches. You did mind, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. 

"Please," you ask him, almost pathetically, when he curls his fingers and your entire brain goes fuzzy.

"Please what, honey?"

You're not sure what. More of his fingers? His tongue back on you? You want it all. Yet, time was unfortunately of the essence, and you were acutely aware of the ticking alarm clock in view on the bedside table. You did not have the minutes to receive absolutely everything you wanted from him.

"Want you to fuck me," you murmur. 

He breathes out a laugh. "I know. I'm going to, I promise. I just need to get you ready first, okay? How're you feeling?"

"Ready." Your voice is an impatient grumble, one that amuses him greatly, which frustrates you even more. 

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, pushing his fingers back inside of you to elicit a sharp whine from your lips. "I want to do this a little longer, anyways."

"Spencer."

Your protest and attempt to bribe him with a kiss is hopeless, for he is continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you, using your arguably selfish kiss to quiet every single sound you make. 

It isn't until you're quite literally writhing beneath him and begging him with an incessant repeat of his name, does he pull his fingers out of you. Tapping your lower lip with them, you take his fingers into your mouth, despite your panting and attempts at catching your breath. 

You want to close your eyes, but the way he's looking at you as you suck on his fingers is borderline ridiculous, and you should probably be locked up for just how attracted to it you are. 

He trails his fingers out of your mouth after a few moments, but any desire to protest that is lost on you when your eyes catch his removal of his boxers. 

He disappears from above you for only a minute, though he knows you too well and says, "I'm getting a condom," before you have a chance to start complaining about it. By the time he's returned, he's kissing you again, and you've forgotten all about your irritation.

The head of his cock pushes at your entrance, and you're already a mess. He's slow as he eases into you, and you're eternally grateful for it, because your entire body tenses up, and he's forced to pause, and ease your muscles with his hands kneading your thighs. 

"I'm sorry," he says, genuinely, when your eyes squeeze shut, and you're back to remembering why you're not happy about the dreadful thirteen day celibacy he forced upon you. But he's so nice, and so apologetic, that as he bottoms out, your hands are wrapping around his neck to provide him with silent forgiveness. 

He stays still for a few more moments, his lips tickling your jawline. His breath fans your skin, warm, and just as desperate as your own, which is comforting. 

"Tell me when you're okay," he says, quietly, breathing out a moan when your walls flutter around him. 

After a beat, you murmur, "I'm okay," and he pulls his hips back, before rolling them back into you, slowly. 

You're a puddle of content and pleasure and love as he repeats the gentle motions of fucking you, moaning and squirming beneath him, despite his hands on your hips in an attempt to keep you still. 

"Doing so well for me, honey," he tells you after a few minutes, and heat warms your cheeks at the compliment. He laughs at your bashful smile. "You feel so good."

He moves his hips a little faster, and you're moaning again, hands dropping from his neck to the mattress. At that, he picks up his ministrations once again. All up until all the tender, slow motions are gone, and he's listening to your throat produce broken whines and pleas, his own presenting breathless groans.

"Spencer," you gasp out at one particular thrust, and he's instantly repeating that same deep movement. "Oh fuck."

"Like that?" he asks you, tenderly, and you're frantically nodding your head. "God, look at you. You're so pretty when I do this to you, you know?"

Vulgarity — in any form — coming from Spencer Reid's mouth should sound foreign, and yet it doesn't. Though, perhaps you're too lost in the pleasure of just how good he feels to believe he's anything but perfect.

"I want to come," you tell him, a disguised plea.

"Okay. I can make that happen."

You know he can. He's proven it a thousand times, you're sure. 

One of his hands drops to your cunt, fingers finding your clit and timing the circles onto it with his thrusts, until you're pretty sure there is no longer a coherent thought in your brain that isn't simply him.

If his aim was to turn you into a mess with very little time, he was excelling above average. Your hands had grabbed fistfuls of the duvet cover atop of the bed, your mouth producing nothing but a constant repeat of, "Please," and "Spencer," one after the other. 

He wasn't surviving very well, either, you found. His breathing heavy and his thrusts growing sloppier by the second, until he was feeling your own walls clench around him with your stomach tying itself into a knot. 

He forced his hips to keep moving, albeit much more messy now, as he moaned against your skin, his own orgasm wracking through his body, while still attempting to chase your own. 

It didn't take much more than that, to be honest, and your entire body went boneless and shattered beneath him as you came too.

Jelly seemed like an apt description for what you felt as you relaxed in the bed and your nerves began to calm down, Spencer breathing heavily above you. Up until he was sliding out of you, and standing up on legs you could see shaking, perhaps just as much as your own. 

He's disposing of his condom as you lay there, attempting to regain your breath, eyes fixated on the ceiling above you. He's shuffling around more than you'd expect for a simple trash trip, but then you feel hands on your ankles, and your head snaps down to find him kneeling at the foot of the bed, gently tugging your underwear back up your legs. 

"I know it's not ideal," he says, when your face scrunches up as the piece of fabric lands back on your hips. "But I also know your skirt is too short to not wear these."

"I'll get over it," you reply, letting him redress you with delicate fingers that leave your entire body hot, with goosebumps rising on the skin.

"Yeah," he agrees, though half-heartedly, expert fingers clasping your bra back onto your body. 

Once your skirt is back on, he helps you up into a seated position, helping to reapply the feathered head piece you had on. 

It's oddly intimate, way he's kneeling in front of you, breath warm against your face as he clips the feathers into your hair. Your breathing hitches as his hands drop back to your thighs upon finishing, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

"Everybody's gonna know what we did," you say, quietly, for it was true. You two had been gone for too long of a time for people to not draw correct conclusions. 

"They already know we do." Hook up.

"What? How?"

"You need to stop telling Garcia things."

Your face falls, and he smiles, sympathetically, thumbs drawing gentle circles on the skin of your thighs. 

"At least you don't work with them."

"I guess there's that," you confirm with a small nod.

He's silent for a few more moments, simply staring at you and studying your face, before he sighs, and goes to pick up your corset. 

"You need to go to the bathroom after this," he instructs you, though gently, motioning for you to stand up and turn around so he could do up the dreaded lacing. 

"I know. Don't worry."

"Good," he replies, your skin tingling with every extra bit of pressure he put on your back as he laced up your corset. "You feel okay?"

"Yes," you nod your head. "Do you?"

"I do," he confirms for you, tying off the lacing and tapping your hip so you could turn back around. 

You do, and your eyes flicker up to his face. "Do you also promise not to make me wait two weeks again?"

"I'll talk to the board."

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