#ffg kinktober

[madaqueue]

LIKE WE WERE MADE TO

of course your doting boyfriend satoru cares about you - he walks you to work every morning, packs your lunches, makes you tea every night before bed. he'd do anything for you, so of course he'll help you with your heat.

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!f!reader

themes/content: dark content (omegaverse). smut. heats, fingering, knotting, light dumbification, satoru being a little lovesick. (wk: 1.3k)

a/n: YAYYY happy quintober everyone >:) here's my contribution for the @ficsforgaza kinktober event, so excited to be a part of this and check out the link below for more works under this project! view my full kinktober masterlist and the google form for signup to be tagged in other works too! hope you all enjoy :3

quintober masterlist | sign up form | ffg kinktober

Satoru had no idea what to expect as he ran home through the crowded streets; since reading your brief text of ‘Come home. Need you.’ the alarm bells sounding in his head had failed to quiet. He prepared for the worst, scenarios racing through his mind. Were you hurt?

As he barrels through your front door, he certainly doesn’t expect what lays behind it: you, sprawled out naked on the couch, flushed cheeks and sweating, two fingers buried deep inside your cunt.

“What’s going on-”

The sentence dies in his throat as his entire body tenses. Something new hangs in the air, something sending his every sense into overdrive. Almost sickeningly sweet, with an unmistakable, carnal need.

Your heat.

“‘Toru,” you breathe out - even his name on your tongue sounds different, an unfamiliar desperation dripping from it, “need you, now.”

In an instant he’s by your side, your scent growing exponentially stronger with each step he takes until it begins to cloud his own thoughts, overcome with his body’s innate desire to care for you, to care for his omega.

He’s never seen you like this - in your time dating, your suppressants had done their job; maybe that’s why you barely noticed when they ran out last week. Just a few hours ago he was walking hand-in-hand with you to work, your eyes glimmering as you told him about your plans for the day. Something about a big meeting with supervisors? He was honestly a bit distracted by the way your thumb drew circles along his skin, the new perfume he thought you were wearing, how pretty you looked all bundled up in your coat and scarf, like a little present waiting to be unwrapped - before you lightly smacked the back of his head.

“Are you even listening to me, ‘Toru?”

“No,” he beamed.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stifle the smile spreading across your lips. Pressing a peck to his cheek, you turned on your heel with a small wave, your fingers dancing against the backdrop of the fall sky.

You always knew how to handle him - that was something he admired about you. He knew his personality easily veered into chaos, and yet you never seemed bothered by it, holding him in your palms and keeping him a stable shape. It took strength to do that, to not let his soul blend the edges of your own.

And yet, now, his strong, independent girlfriend has become nothing more than a sweet, desperate mess. The thought makes his teeth ache.

“Please,” the broken mewl pulls him back to the sweetness surrounding you as you continue pumping your fingers in and out.

Before he can choke out a response, your hands begin hastily removing his clothes, tugging off anything you can grab, palms sweaty against his torso as you unzip his uniform. With a harsh tear, his shirt falls to shreds on the floor, muscles rippling beneath. He was never known for his patience, after all - could you blame him?

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, climbing on top of you so his thighs straddle your body, sinking into the cushions. “I’m here, m’gonna take good care of you.”

Two lanky fingers collect the slick pooling at your entrance as his free hand wraps around your wrist, gently pulling your palm from between your legs. He holds it above your head, leaning forward and blanketing you in his warmth. A wave of pleasure crashes over you as he slides inside, curling his fingertips towards that spot only he seems able to reach.

But it’s not enough.

“More, ‘Toru, please, need more,” you whine, your hips bucking up involuntarily. The words continue spilling into the air, desperate pleas for what you really need, what only he can give you.

“Okay, just - fuck - gimme a second.” And he’s panting already, the biological drive within him threatening to take over, to pin you down and fuck you until you’re nothing more than a limp little mess beneath him. But he’s better than that.

Right?

It takes every ounce of control to align his tip with your core and stay there for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the stretch as he knows you would want him to, but it’s made all the more difficult with your hands weakly grasping at his hips in an attempt to pull him forward.

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” you babble, “pleaaaseee-aaaahhh.”

When his cock finally enters you, all your nerves alight in flames. Your vision goes white, eyes rolling back as he fills you up. Exactly what you needed. For a moment, everything stills, returning to your senses as his own musky scent begins mingling in the air with yours.

The brief clarity lets you pick up on the prettiest little whines falling from his lips at the way you envelop him so perfectly, two souls made for one another.

In only a few thrusts he’s sweating, his body sticking to yours with each push and pull of his pelvis. It’s hot, impossibly hot, both of your cheeks flushed and gasping for air. When his lips meet yours, it’s imprecise and messy, breathing into each other’s mouths as your tongues meld. He tastes like sugar and desire and love and cinnamon, like some dessert you were denied as a child for fear it would give you a tummy ache. But now, it’s the only thing satiating you, the only thing you can stomach.

“M’gonna make you feel better,” he’s mumbling into you, “gonna fuck you so good.”

“Only you, ‘Toru,” you babble, and you’re just as gone as he is, “has to be you.”

There’s truth to it, of course - only he could quell the growing ache inside you. Only your alpha. Your bodies were made for this, you realize: with each increasingly rough thrust, he hits every spot inside you so perfectly, and as your walls begin to flutter around him, you squeeze him in just the way that has him losing the last remaining shreds of his sanity.

Each beat of his heart echoes through his ears, overshadowing the wet squelches of your cunt around him and the lewd slapping of his balls against your ass. All he knows is you - his sweetheart, his other half, his omega.

As he ruts into you, something hot and thick begins coiling in his stomach, something unfamiliar, but the words are engraved into his soul as he slurs, “gonna take my knot f’me, yeah? ‘S’gonna help, okay?”

Teary eyes blink up at him, glossed over in pleasure as you nod. “Need it, please,” you whimper. Your mouth forms the word on pure instinct, “Alpha.”

And that’s all it takes to make him snap.

With a broken cry of your name, he releases into you.

The sensation of his cock twitching sends you over the edge, the heat in your chest burning brighter and brighter and brighter until it’s all you can feel.

As you come down from your high, there’s a new pressure in your core - you feel so, so fucking full.

His cum swells inside you as he cautiously adjusts his body weight. Pink cheeks and blue eyes find your gaze and he gives you a weak chuckle, met with your own equally fucked-out grin as you brush sweat-slicked hair from his forehead.

It takes effort to slow his breathing enough to speak, enough to think. “Your first heat with me,” he muses to himself. His heart warms at the thought: now he can take care of you in the way he was made to. “Love you s’much, baby,” he hums, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips before nuzzling into your neck, softly breathing in the warm scent.

“Love you, too.” Your fingertips slowly scratch his undercut, the haze now clearing enough that you swear you hear him purr. Your cunt involuntarily clenches around him - around his knot - as you gently run your nails down his back. His body melds perfectly around yours. “Alpha.”

[ficsforgaza]

Hello, all! This coming October, we will be hosting a Kinktober event featuring 62 animanga/video game Character x Reader fics. This will serve as the master post for the event; we will be linking all relevant information here, including our Google Forms and Excel Sheets! Please follow the links below and read the subsequent information thoroughly to discover how you can participate!

˗ˏˋ ALL SLOTS HAVE BEEN TAKEN ˎˊ˗

↳ Kinktober Masterlist

Schedule for the Kinktober collab.

↳ Kinktober FAQs

Answers to the questions we frequently receive.

↳ #FFG Kinktober

Our catchall tag for the event.

↳ Kinktober Graphics

Some kinktober themed banners and dividers for your use!

↳ Other Creators Doing Kinktober Fics for Gaza

@persicipen Genshin Impact & Honkai Star Rail

@goxjo JJK, Windbreaker, MHA, Haikyuu, Genshin Impact

[froggibus]

Scenting - Beelzebub

Pairing: Beelzebub x reader (no pronouns are used, but reader has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: when you come to school smelling like another man, Beel strives to change that

CW: scent kink, scenting, marking, possessive Beel, size difference, Beel carries you, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, some dirty talk

omg! this was supposed to be posted on the 30th but schoolwork got the best of me. this fic was in collaboration with @ficsforgaza's kinktober event! thank you for being so patient ^^

The scent of pumpkin and vanilla nearly knocks Beel out of his chair when you sit down next to him. He scrunches the nose, sniffing the air around you. The aroma is unmistakably yours—but there’s something else beneath it, too. Something warmer, something sweeter.

He frowns, sucking in a breath and leaning back in his chair.

“Good morning,” you hum.

“Morning.”

Beel can’t help but glance around the room, squinting at anyone that so much as looks your way. Surely he’s not the only one that smells it, surely he’s not the only one that’s turned on by it.

His frown only deepens when he sees the way you’re being looked at—when he sees the glazed over eyes of the demons around him. He shifts closer to you, clamping a protective hand over the back of your chair.

Not his human. Not today.

—

Beel barely manages to make it through the class. His pants have gotten uncomfortably tight and his nostrils burn with your delectable scent. He’s more than grateful when you wave goodbye to him and gather your books, shuffling out the door to your next class.

Even after you’ve retreated down the halls, the smell lingers. It’s like a taunt, beckoning him closer and closer to something he can’t have.

Beel lets himself take a few breaths, digging his calloused fingers into the meat of his thighs. He can do this. Only a few more classes—all of which you’re not even in. 

But you still linger in the corner of his mind through all of his classes. The way you looked, the way you smelled, the way the others were looking at you. It’s all too much.

Beel’s leg shakes, a sour taste in his mouth as he watches the clock above the door. Just a few more minutes and he can go home. Just a few more minutes and he can see you again and reassure himself.

And then the bell rings and he’s springing to his feet, practically barrelling down the halls to where your locker is. He leans against it as casually as he can, broad shoulders resting against cold metal, and waits for you.

He smells you before he sees you, the dizzying aroma almost sending him to his knees. He watches as you skip towards him, a wide smile on your face and a hand raised in greeting.

You beam at him, “hey!” 

Beel nods as nonchalantly as he can, sliding away from your locker to give you access. You’re so close to him that he can feel your warmth, savoring your scent and—he frowns.

He looks you up and down, examining every inch of your skin and RAD uniform. He sniffs again, brows furrowing. There, buried beneath your vanilla pumpkin heaven, is something new. Something unfamiliar. Something wrong. 

He freezes when you rest a hand on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” You ask.

He clears his throat, subconsciously puffing out his chest. “Yeah. Fine, yeah. How were your classes?”

You close your locker, slinging your bag over your shoulder and starting the walk back to the House of Lamentation. You excitedly tell him about your day, going into detail about all of the things that happened while Beel nods along.

Guilt grasps him. Usually he loves listening to you talk about your day, chiming in with random little questions to keep you talking. But he can’t focus today—not when you look so pretty and you smell so good and some other demon’s scent is all over you.

Anger bubbles in his chest everytime he catches a hint of it. It’s him that you should smell like right now. His scent should be the one surrounding you, scaring away those scummy lesser demons. The thoughts burrow into his skull, spinning around until he’s trapped in a nauseating cycle.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when you brush a hand down his arm. He flinches away from your touch, violet eyes baring down on you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re standing in front of the door to the House of Lamentation looking at him with vulnerable eyes. You can tell something’s up—you’ve been able to tell since you sat down next to him this morning. You’re not stupid, after all. 

He looks over his shoulder as if he expects someone to be listening in. “Whose scent is that?”

Your mouth falls open. “What?”

“That smell,” his tone gets stronger as he goes on, “whose is it? It’s all over you.”

You raise an arm, sniffing yourself. You cock your head at him in confusion. “Do you mean my deodorant? Or my body spray?”

He swallows hard and shakes his head. He finds himself wishing he hadn’t said anything, that he’d ignored it and gone to his room and jerked off until the thought of you melted away. Because now you’re looking at him expectantly as if this is something he can just explain. 

“No, just—” He shakes his head, “nevermind.”

Beel moves past you, muttering something to himself and throwing open the door. You follow after him, brows still knit together in confusion. You’ve never seen him like this—all frustrated and high strung.

You grab him before you can even think about it. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, clutching and tugging him back towards you. His head whips around, eyes wide and confused as they focus on you.

“What are you doing?”

“You seem upset,” you murmur.

Beel’s eyes stay locked on yours and he doesn’t bother to move your hand off of his. The rise and fall of his chest grows faster with each passing second, each breath a torturous inhale of that unfamiliar scent. 

Your voice shakes when you speak again, confusion and embarrassment coiling in your stomach. “I want to help you. Let me help you.”

You’re not sure who initiates it but suddenly you’re pressed tight against him, lips pressed against his. His arms are tight on your body, holding you to him like he’s afraid you’ll leave at any minute.

You reach around his shoulders, hands clawing at the fabric of his jacket while your lips move against his. Each shallow, gasping breath only leads to more kissing, more intensity. 

He inhales you with every passing second, only driving his desperation further. He crouches down, hands sliding down your body as he does, and then he’s tossing you over his shoulder.

You squeal at your world turning upside down, your legs hanging limply down his chest. He hoists you up with one arm, his warm hand on the small of your back as he carries you up the stairs to his room. 

Anticipation sets your nerves on fire, an unbearable heat coursing through your body. Nerves bubble up like soda pop in your tummy when his door comes into view.

His grip on you only tightens as he kicks his door open and slams it behind you, dropping you on the bed in front of him. You land in his pile of blankets and pillows with a squeak, scurrying back towards his headboard. 

He crawls up the bed towards you, crouching between your legs. “Still wanna help?” He rasps.

You bite your lip and nod, your knees lazily falling to either side to give him more access. 

He rubs a hand up and down your thigh, getting closer and closer to the waistband of your pants with every stroke. You let your eyes flutter close, focused only on the feeling of his touch.

His fingers lock into the hem of your pants and then he’s tugging them down, your underwear coming down with them. As soon as your pussy hits the cold air, you gasp, trying to close your legs.

Beel catches your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders so he can stuff his face between them. He inhales, eyes flicking up to meet yours, “damn, you smell so fucking good.”

You look away shyly, your legs shaking in anticipation. Soft breaths roll over your sensitive core, each one sending shivers down your spine.

Beel stays poised between your legs, breathing in that hot, sweet scent of your dripping cunt laid out in front of him. You smell so sweet, so pure—so his. And yet, that other bitter demonic smell still lingers in the air. He’ll have to change that.

A moan escapes you when he spits on your pussy, rubbing it in with his index finger. He traces circles up and down your slit, collecting the slick that pools onto his sheets and bringing it up to his mouth to taste. 

And then he’s diving into your pussy headfirst, lips locking around your clit. His hair tickles the sides of your thighs, orange strands bobbing with each moment. You reach out and tangle your fingers in his hair, using it to tug him further into you.

The pressure only drives him to keep going. His tongue circles around your entrance, a finger sliding inside of you with ease. The sudden fullness has your eyes rolling back, thighs clenching around his face. He continues to pump in and out of you, teeth gently grazing against your swollen clit.

You cry out for him, pulling on his hair so hard that it leaves his scalp tingling. He doesn’t care, though. All he cares about are your thighs shaking around his shoulders and the way your pussy is drooling on his tongue.

“So fucking good,” he moans. “So fucking mine.”

Tears build up in your lashes, a white hot knot forming in your stomach. Through your wet eyes, you can barely make out the sight of Beel’s face shoved between your legs, his hips grinding into the mattress in desperation. He lets out a soft whine into your pussy, and that’s all it takes to send you over the edge. 

You cum so hard your vision goes blurry. Your thighs shake, clenching and unclenching around his face as you ride out your high. He keeps his tongue lined up at your entrance, greedily drinking up your juices.

You’re panting when you come to, your head spinning from the pleasure. Beel pulls his face away from your pussy, blinking at your disheveled form on his mattress.

He smirks at you, mouth glistening with your juices. “Think you can keep going, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah,” you say weakly.

He smiles at you, quickly discarding his jeans on the floor. His boxers are stained dark from precum, his cock bulging through the fabric. You reach out, fingers gently brushing the outline of it.

He tugs down his boxers, letting his cock swing free. It’s almost painfully hard and drenched in pre, his whole length glistening in desperation.

You pull your knees up to your chest, letting him situate himself between your legs. His tip grazes your entrance, just barely brushing against you. 

“Please.” You whine, “put it in.”

You hardly have any time to react before he’s pushing his cock inside of you, his thick tip stretching you in a way that has your eyes rolling back. You gather a fistful of his sheets, fingers curling around them to ground yourself. Each inch of his cock is a stretch, driving him deeper and deeper until you can feel him everywhere.

Beel’s teeth graze the side of your neck, his hips stilling inside of you to give you a minute to adjust. He leaves marks in his wake, making his way from your neck, to your jaw, and finally, your lips.

His kisses are wet and sloppy and desperate, leaving both of you panting and dizzy. And then he starts thrusting and you come undone beneath him. Whimpers and whines and the sounds of skin on skin fill the room, Beel’s hips snapping violently against yours with each thrust.

With each kiss, with each thrust, his scent washes over you—covering the scent that had marked you before. The sudden change only spurs him further, his motions getting more and more desperate.

“Smell so nice,” he groans, “gonna make you smell like me. Gonna make sure all these demons know who you belong to.”

You babble in acknowledgement, your head spinning from the delicious way his cock fills you up. Each thrust drives you closer and closer to the edge, his filthy words only adding onto the pleasure. 

“Gonna fill this pussy up so everyone can smell my cum inside you.”

Your muscles spasm, your pussy clenches and suddenly you’re coming undone once more. You reach for his shoulders, tugging him down on top of you while you unravel. 

Beel keeps going, getting closer and closer to his own high. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pants, “if everyone knew how good you are for me. If everyone knew I claimed you like this.”

You manage a soft little ‘yes’ and that’s all it takes to have him cumming inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling you up. He drives his hips as deep as possible, bottoming out so he doesn’t waste a single drop.

He stays inside of you even after he finishes, his sweaty body caging yours beneath him. 

“Are you gonna move?” You say.

He considers it for a moment, inhaling the scent of your skin. He frowns—you don’t smell enough like him. At least, not yet. But a few more rounds should change that.

(if you like content like this, likes, comments & rbs are greatly appreciated! ^^)

[lovemikage]

𝘽𝙀𝘿 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙈 : 𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ( 𝙛𝙩. 𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙞 )

summary: you confess to your boyfriend bachira you think his best friend isagi is cute. he decides to do some meddling of his own. wc: 1.4k warnings: fem!reader, dub-conish (reader isn't aware isagi is there oops), humiliation, praise, gratuitous dialogue a/n: hello hello beautiful people ! this is my submission for @ficsforgaza 's kinktober event, with the prompt bachira & humiliation ! please check out the other writers + fics if they tickle your fancy. i have not written smut like this in ... a year, i think, so please be gentle with me. hope you love it, please comment & rb if you do ! credit to @/cafekitsune for the beautiful mdni divider !

" he feels the same, you know. i don’t know why you were so secretive. "

your eyes, previously squeezed shut, fly open, and every muscle that had been turned into jelly from your recent orgasm tenses up immediately. you shift with the intention to move away from your boyfriend, but it’s in vain – bachira’s large palm and long fingers splay against your pelvis, pushing you down into the bed. it doesn’t hurt, nothing with bachira ever does, but it’s insistent in the same way his fingers circling your clit are. 

" what do you – ah! – m-meguru, what do you m-mean? " you know what he means, you’re unsure why you’re asking. bachira doesn’t mind, though, he always loves to tell a story. 

“ well – " his tone is sing-song, sickly sweet, and it’s clear he’s having way more fun than he should be ( than you think he should be, anyway ). a lithe finger pushes its way through your folds to slip inside of you, and your hips buck at the same time you whine – too much, not yet, still sensitive. he won’t listen, “ remember that one time you told me ‘sagi was cute? then played it off like you were joking? you were right, by the way, so don’t think i’m mad, promise i’m not. but it got me thinking – "

one finger turns to two and the burn makes you squeeze your eyes shut again. it’s nothing compared to the stretch of his cock, but enough to make you just that little bit uncomfortable. it doesn’t help that you’re so on edge, “ bachira – "

“ shhhhh. anyway, it got me thinking, you know? he’d never admit it ‘cause he’s my best friend, but i know he thinks you’re cute. " the look you give him has his head shaking, “ don’t talk! i’m not done – i remembered, when we first met you he called dibs. you liked me more – obviously – so that didn’t matter, just a funny joke after the fact. regardless, i had the idea to … well, i was eavesdropping on you the other day – "

an indignant sound leaves you and you squirm more; bachira sighs, lets his golden eyes flick down to your ankle, pretty pink panties dangling from them. quickly he pauses, uses the hand on your hips to pick it up. you whimper, both from the loss of movement inside of you and because you know what he’s about to do, you’ve had enough sex throughout the course of your relationship ( more than normal, according to your friends ). you’re proved right when he taps the side of your cheek, prompting you to open up – you do, ever-obedient, despite the red-hot humiliation burning in your cheeks. cotton presses between your lips and fills your mouth, your whine becomes muffled. bachira beams, “ there we go. always so good for me, hm? “ another pat to your cheek. your eyes start to water – you feel like a prized showdog or something. 

“ much better. " you fight the urge to roll your eyes; it doesn’t last long because bachira’s back to hovering next to you, his shadow imposing. you feel vulnerable, exposed and open for whatever he wants to do. right now, it seems like all he wants to do is make you cum in the most embarrassing way possible. he scissors his fingers and grins when you cry out, big and goofy and too lighthearted for what he’s talking about, “ back to what i was saying – i was eavesdropping on you and your friends the other night. sue me, i’m curious. heard you talking about him – agreeing when one of them said he’s hot, you know, stuff like that. kept it in the back of my mind for later. but then – yesterday, when i came home, i got here earlier than you thought i did. found you. ” 

your mind races in an attempt to figure out where your boyfriend is going with all of this. yesterday, yesterday – oh. oh my god. 

“ you’re so cute when you moan, you know? i know i always tell you, but i can’t help it. so pretty, just like – " bachira curls his fingers, lets them brush against that sweet, spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars, eliciting a low, muffled moan, “ – that. you were doing that, saying my name, like always. i was just about ready to go in when i heard his, too. s’when i realized it was time. "

the tears previously welling up fall, now. big, fat droplets running down your face, taking your mascara with them and smearing the pretty makeup you’d done for your date tonight. you feel pathetic, like you’d been caught. it makes sense, now; you thought you had heard him come in before he announced himself, but it didn’t make sense, so you brushed it off. now you realize he had just gone back out and made a point of announcing his entrance the second time. you want to look away in embarrassment but bachira won’t let you, his fingers picking up their pace at the same time he grips your chin in his hand. combined with the panties stuffing your mouth, you can’t say what you want to – i’m sorry, i’m sorry, it doesn’t mean anything, i’m sorry. 

what’s worse is it all feels so good, bachira’s fingers pumping inside of you at an almost dizzying pace, thumb carefully circling your clit with just enough pressure to make all thoughts leave your head. you can feel your orgasm fast approaching, a knot in your tummy threatening to unravel. it always amazes you, how bachira knows just how to make you fall apart within seconds. he knows you inside and out, could take you apart and put you back together again. sometimes you think he’d probably like to. 

in your panicked state, though, you hadn’t realized what he said – it’s time. time for what?

wide, wet eyes, embarrassed and earnest all at once, meet bachira’s own – tender, loving, with that bit of mischief behind them. the eyes you love so much. 

as always, he seems to read your mind, and his soft, fond smile turns to another shit-eating grin. his fingers don’t stop their pace when he speaks again, “ thought i’d ask him to join us. you’d like that, wouldn’t you baby? oh – " his words break off into a moan, his collected exterior cracking if only for a moment. the way you clench around him tells him everything he needs to know. 

not like he’d just take that as an answer, though. 

“ she likes that, huh? pretty pussy needs two cocks to be satisfied. i know, i know, s’okay – we just need to make sure that you want it. i need to make sure you want it. don’t needa use your words, you know that. be good for me, baby, like you always are. ”

you break, then – you gush around the fingers digging deep inside of you, your eyes blown wide, glazed over from his sweet talk. all embarrassment melts away, your brain mush. while your legs shake and your hips buck you nod, almost wildly, whining and crying around the intrusion in your mouth while bachira fucks you through it all. you do want isagi here, you want them both, you want – everything, really. your hand grips his arm so hard you’re sure you’re leaving nail marks, pulling him close in what you can only describe as an attempt to make him a part of you. your bachira. 

“ fuck this. you’re an asshole, bachira. can’t believe you made me fucking watch. i’ll be there in ten. ”

you freeze, snapped out of subspace in an instant. you register a lot of things, then – how hard bachira is against your leg, cock thick and heavy and leaking; how that voice definitely belonged to isagi, irritated and gruff; and how bachira’s no longer grinning at you but at the laptop set up on his desk. the one you’d thought was off. 

“ don’t be mad. ” again, bachira knows you, which is why he says it the second the call drops. you’re too embarrassed to speak, just looking at him dumbfounded and still fucked out from your previous orgasms, “ and don’t try to clean up. he’ll be sad if it’s not messy. ”

you shut your eyes to try and push away the humiliation. there’s a pause from your boyfriend, and while you can’t see him, you can feel him slinking down the bed, making himself comfortable between your thighs. you crack an eye open to see him looking up at you, almost pleading, “ think you can give me one more? pleaseeeee. he’s gonna hog you when he gets here! ”

you can’t do much else but nod, accepting your fate. it was what you wanted, after all.

[seaspringangel]

the taste of you — choso kamo

your loving husband choso would do anything to make your pregnancy easier - and yes, that does include drinking your breast milk.

pairing: choso x fem!reader

warnings: lactation kink ✦ pregnant reader ✦ intimacy during pregnancy ✦ reader is referred to as “beautiful” ✦ wc: 1.3k

a/n: hello, and happy halloween! this is my prompt for @ficsforgaza kinktober event! i am very happy to have been chosen to participate! here is the ffg kinktober masterlist, where there is so many wonderful stories i recommend y’all to read :) i hope you enjoy!!!!!

A moan, high and wanton, tore through the darkness of the house.

Even in the throes of sleep, Choso still heard you and felt his heart skip a beat at the golden bell sound of your pleasure spilling like a river from your lips, a pretty song. It was instinct for him, to wake up and automatically reach out for you, wanting to feel your warmth and find solace in the gentle swell of your growing baby bump under his fingers.

What Choso saw was not only surprising but also concerning; you were writhing, your body enwrapped in the silver of the moonlight. As you abruptly sat up, jolting awake, he placed one hand on the baby bump and slid the other underneath your shirt, clinging to you with sweat.

Choso grumbles in concern. “Hm? Love, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” His voice was dark and gravelly, still crackling with sleep - creating an effect that, unbeknownst to him at the moment, made you flush and rub your legs together, a tender fire kindling in your belly. 

And made your breasts feel…strangely heavy.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. Joining his hand rubbing your bump, you smile to reassure him. “I guess this little one is making me extra sensitive these days”

Choso returned your smile before leaning down to pepper some feather-light kisses on your belly. “You gotta give mommy some rest now, little guy.” His voice against your stomach made you feel warm all over, the pleasant grit of it wrapping snug around you like a blanket.

Choso pulled you close to him, resting a chin on your shoulder, and brushed strands of hair out of your face still shining with sweat. He traced comforting, circular patterns on your lower back, but it felt as if the pads of his fingertips left behind a trail of sparks on your skin, and another moan tumbled from your lips. 

Choso paused for a moment before a sheepish smile curled on his lips. “Are…are you sure? You don’t look fine. And you feel hot.’’

He nuzzled into you, sweet and tender, much like a cat seeking affectation, and God, you felt your nipples harden with pleasure, his sleep-laden voice and soft caresses sinking hot and heavy like a star to the core of you and you pressed your legs tighter and tighter and tighter together. 

“My breasts,” you mumbled, “they feel kinda sensitive.” Your nipples brushing against the fabric of your t-shirt sent shudders down your spine, and in the carnal part of your brain festering with hormones, you wanted your husband’s large hands to be the one covering them instead.

Choso’s brows furrowed in concern, eyes sharpening with focus and roving over your body, looking for what he could mend. “You’re hurting?” 

You shook your head, trying to ground yourself. It was difficult to put into words how your strange body feels now, carrying a baby, feeling as if the slightest brush of Choso’s flesh on yours could have stars shooting across your vision and your cunt throbbing with arousal. “No, no, they just feel…heavy? And sore.” 

Your husband’s hand on your back moved upwards before settling warm and secure on the underside of your breast, aching with need. In the dark, Choso smiled, the light of his smile brightening the room around you both. “...Can I massage them?”

You smile at the shyness in his voice. “I would love that.” 

Flicking the bedside lamp on, Choso helps you slip off your sweat-drenched shirt, and for a couple of minutes, you let yourself unwind under your husband’s touch, melting at his measured fingers finding their place at the base of your breast, caresses light as a petal fluttering across your skin but still loving and purposeful. You felt content.

And…wet. 

Very, very wet. Not just between your thighs but at your nipples, something hot and sticky and sliding down your body like rain drops and you glance down -

“Oh, Choso!” you gasp, watching as little cloudy white droplets weep from your nipples. Choso startled, eyes wide with worry…until he looked down too, and his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, almost subconsciously.

Even though you expected to lactate eventually, you didn't expect it to be like this - with white rivers cutting a path down your body, collecting at the crest of your thighs. You went through phases of surprise and embarrassment and irritation at the mess you made, unintentional or not.

“I’m sorry,” you sputter out, feeling like the heat of the wild breast milk wetting your body, “I-l’ll get a towel - “

“It’s beautiful,” Choso breathed, and you paused. Choso watched the milk lather your chest like soft snow gathering on the swell of a lovely hill. You saw the light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he pulled you closer.

There was a heat in his dark eyes that made them glow like black gems as he stared at you. “You’re beautiful.”

His fingers massaging your breasts were still gentle yet firm, but they sought out a new target: one of your sensitive nipples, taking one between forefinger and thumb and rolling it.

You whimper, watching as more of your milk leaks out, dusting his fingers in white. Choso chuckled. “Look at you,” he cooed, “so sweet and sensitive, all for me.”

You didn’t understand it, but just seeing droplets of your breast milk was sending Choso into a spiral; how he wanted to lick a reverent path from your weeping valley of breasts to your navel to your cunt, to have the taste of you rich and sweet on his taste buds, a precious reminder of the beauty your body is creating for the child growing in your stomach.

He couldn’t help himself; his tongue lolled out of his mouth, licking up all the milk that has already formed. You moaned softly, watching Choso kiss your tender breast before latching onto one nipple and sucking it deep into his mouth.

Shivers raced up your spine and you arched your back, pushing more of your breast into Choso’s mouth. Your husband sucking your nipples was something you were used to, but having him suck them with the intent for milk to coat his tongue was an entirely new, exciting experience that had you unraveling, undone by the powerful passion of your love’s mouth.

You could feel the pressure mounting up again, as Choso sucked harder, groaning as he greedily drank whatever milk he could get. He brings his other hand up to play with your other nipple, pinching and rolling it to get more milk flowing. All you could do was cry out and moan, tangling your own hands into his hair.

To Choso, you were the sweetest thing to ever exist - the sweetest thing that could ever grace his tongue. 

He could drink from you forever if you were gracious enough to bless him with the privilege. When Choso drank your milk from the altar of your breasts, it was the closest thing to heaven for him, the bliss of your pleasure coating his mouth and sliding a glowing path down his throat to his stomach. Nothing else mattered at that moment, save for the warmth of your nipple throbbing against his lips with love, your eager fingers twisting among the strands of his hair as you showered him praises, ever so needy and whiny and desperate for him him him, only him.

Cloudy droplets dripped down Choso’s chin once he let your nipple go with a resounding, wet pop, trails of saliva and breast milk connecting his cherry red swollen lips to your tender nipple like wispy white ribbons.

“You always taste so sweet,” Choso murmured, “so sweet and perfect.” As if to prove his point, he surged upwards to kiss your panting lips.

The taste of your milk was saccharine and cloying, and as you moaned into the kiss, one of Choso’s hands caressed over your baby bump and your thighs, until he reached your soaked panties.

“But I know that you taste just as sweet down here too.”

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum

[persicipen]

₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝓦𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔. ARGENTI ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

ৎ୭ — · · 0.5k ノ afab gn reader — written for @ficsforgaza kinktober ノ praise. compliments. endearments. riding argenti’s spear. assisted masturbation. letting him hold you and guide you <3

You doubt you would let anyone else guide you through what you’re currently attempting to do. Not any mere amount of trust could sit you down on the marble-smooth handle of the spear; no armour to hide your body, not even a tunic or any clothes at all to shield you from the steel intrusion between your legs.

Only your skin. And desire.

“Such courage.” Argenti murmurs into your ear as he strokes the soft curve of your bottom with his hands, almost petting you. Crimson locks running in waves down his shoulders caress you like flowers in the wind. “Now, please, show me the spectacle — how beautiful you look whilst the pleasure engulfs you from the core.”

How you wished to melt into Argenti’s silver chest plate now, beyond what is rational and possible. Painfully aware of the polearm beneath you. When he tells you to lower yourself onto it and press between your legs, you are throbbing with excitement at the contact with the cold metal.

Say, this must feel so enthralling to find pleasure where others find defeat versus the shining knight. He did defeat you once before, after all.

What he took was your heart.

Your body shakes as you ease your hips down to glide gently back and forth, stimulating your folds. It is not as frightening as you thought it would be — steel on bare skin, a real weapon teasing your clit. The touch is far from soft, but you can get used to it. Sink into the warm ripples, guided by his praise, velvet compliments trickling down your silhouette until they reach your sweet spot.

A reward of a crystalline teardrop of arousal lazily getting smeared as you chase the higher satisfaction.

“You are doing so well,” Argenti whispers again.

Perfect, divine, beautiful…

“It is as if you were meant to be riding this spear.” His luscious lips wander to your neck, kissing there every curve and shiver as you take in a ragged breath. “You will be mine, dear one, and I am yours forever.”

Staying on his spear is so tempting that you cannot help but shift your weight forward, finding courage to move faster.

To please the knight, whose irises sparkle emerald green, devouring the image before him; if not for his fist gripping the weapon tighter, you would wonder if there’s really any effect setting his soul ablaze in this very moment.

Yet the thought does not linger, for there are other places on your body that need attention — to be soothed and stroked, fondled until they cry in happiness. Your hands find their way to Argenti’s — a place they know too well, a home for themselves and for you as well.

And so, your eyes shut in awe at the blissful sensation running through your nerves like rosy syrup as you slide against the metal, its shape too similar to what you would love to feel, but made of flesh and pulsating with arousal. No matter, you feel so high, delirious, you could believe the spear is his cock instead.

Euphoria shatters through you like an arrowhead tearing through armour. What used to be icy between your legs now stings like flames, the fever blooming from your core.

You wonder, is this the devotion to which he calls for? Beauty, yes? He finds you gorgeous, then. He grants you what he considers pure and divine.

A release.

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ AS YOU WISH ꒱ DILUC RAGNVINDR X READER

warnings ⟢ minors do not interact—i will block you! bondage. slight dubcon (but not really...trust). cunnilingus. reader has a vagina, wears panties, is shorter than diluc, and is referred to as “dearest” once.

word count ⟢ 952

notes ⟢ this fic is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was diluc + bondage. i want to give a HUGE thank you to my beloved zebra (@tartagliove) for the beautiful redraw of darknight hero diluc in the banner. ze—i’m in awe of your talent, and i feel honored to have your artwork at the top of my fic!

The sounds of gore cease suddenly.

You hold your breath and listen, straining to hear signs of who won the battle. Tendrils of smoke drift into the air and the ripe stench of death coats your tongue; gooseflesh skitters across your limbs. When the blindfold is ripped from your head, you let out a shriek, chest heaving as you regain composure. A mere pace from you is a masked figure who is renowned in Mondstadt, more legend than man: the Darknight Hero.

His entire body is obscured by an inky cloak, a birdlike mask covering all but the lower half of his face. A shock of crimson hair is gathered high into a ponytail at his crown, his tresses a cascade of flames that lick down his neck and back. His irises are the same color: the glowing embers of a dying fire, sparking hot then fizzling out.

Before you can so much as thank him, he gestures to your arms. They are bound with rope that looks like it was dipped in the cosmos—indigo charmeuse pinpricked with wandering stars—intricately woven with Abyssal magic to suspend your wrists above your head.

“It’s going to be a while until that magic wears off.”

His voice is rich and flinty; it reminds you of charcoal. When his gaze flickers to your flimsy nightwear, you squirm against your restraints, acutely aware of your vulnerability.

“What would an Abyss Herald want to do with you, I wonder?” The hero slowly circles you, appraising, an umbertail falcon stalking his prey. “You have no vision. And you certainly aren’t prepared to fight.” A gloved fingertip, sooty with ash and ichor, grazes the hem of your shorts—much too close to your inner thigh.

“Is this an interrogation?” you snap. “Because I’d also love to know why I’m here.”

An amused smile tugs at the man’s lips. He’s so near that you can see the puckered flesh of a scar that cuts across his cheek; he grasps your chin with surprising gentleness. While his words are terse, they drip with honey. “You’re a mouthy one, hm? So tell me, then,” he pulls your shorts down and they fall to your ankles, a digit moving to stroke the waistband of your panties, “were you touched here?”

“S-stop,” you stutter, swallowing thickly. “This hardly seems appropriate for the hero of Mondstadt.”

One strong hand steadies your waist while the other pets the pubic hair that curls out from beneath your lacy briefs. He chuckles and leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a whisper, “Are you claiming you don’t want this?”

From the moment you first spied the tall, broad figure of your savior, a simmering warmth ignited in your belly, kindling into a roaring fire. Lust seeps through the thin garment that barely preserves your modesty, clinging to your labia. Even in the dim, flickering light of the room, your need is apparent in your smoldering stare and spit-slick pout.

Swiftly, he withdraws. “I will not stoop so low as to force myself on—”

“Don’t play the proper gentleman all of a sudden. Touch me.”

Without another word, the Darknight Hero drops to his knees. His eyes are a dusky glass of dandelion wine, drinking you in as he mouths at your clit through sopping fabric, his tongue pressed flat, savoring your arousal. But he doesn’t tease you for long; he tears off your final layer and discards it like an afterthought, humming at the sight of your exposed cunt. The stubble on his cheek scrapes the plush of your thighs as he spreads your legs. You wobble with the movement, the rope burning your wrists as your arms stretch uncomfortably.

A sweet peck to your clit is your only warning before he slips between your folds. He starts with tender licks and caresses, occasionally dipping down to lave at your hole, then returning to where you need him most, sloppily sucking until your head grows fuzzy with pleasure. You try to focus on and decipher the patterns that his slippery muscle weaves. His mouth melds perfectly with your heat, and his deep, rumbling groans heighten your bliss.

But your shoulders ache, and you’re worried that your ankles are going to give out on you.

“Diluc,” you whimper.

In an instant, your husband stands up—chin dewy with your desire. He rips off a glove and singes the rope; your body floods with relief as your arms fall slack. He removes his mask to reveal his drawn expression: brow furrowed and jaw firmly set. “I pushed you too far,” he states, examining the bands of raw flesh that encircle your wrists.

You shake your head vehemently. “No—not at all. I agreed to this, you know.”

His visage softens with your reassurance, though his eyes still shine with concern. He presses a featherlight kiss to each of your injuries. “Shall we return home? I’d like to get some salve on your wounds as soon as possible. In fact, I may visit Sucrose for a fresh jar. Of course I won’t detail what happened or why we need the salve...”

Diluc’s anxious rambling trails off, and he soaks in your palpable irritation as you frown.

“What is it, dearest?”

“Well, I was hoping the Darknight Hero would finish what he started,” you huff, ignoring the heat that blooms in your face at the admission.

“Oh,” he smirks, stepping closer, “is that right?”

“Don’t make fun of me—I’ll make you regret it.”

“I would never dream of such a thing.”

“So…” You press your palms to his chest, rising to your toes. “You’ll take me up to Mr. Ragnvindr’s study, hero?”

His lips ghost yours, sticky, heady with you. “As you wish.”

[another-lost-mc]

Mammon reaps the rewards of a certain arrangement he has with Lucifer.

THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS | Mammon x gn!Reader x Lucifer

Content Warnings: NSFW. Established Lucifer x Reader. Prompt: Lucifer gets cucked by Mammon (by invitation/with consent). Mammon-centric POV (unreliable narrator). Mentions of gambling. Some jealousy/possessiveness and self-deprecation/angst. Oral sex (Mammon and Reader receiving); nipple play, fingering/prep and penetrative sex (Reader receiving); implied masturbation; biting and marking; lowkey scent kink. 3.3k words no we're not going to talk about it

A/N: This is my contribution to the @ficsforgaza Kinktober event! Please check out the other fics and show the authors some love for their amazing work this month.

Sometimes it starts with a glance. A brief look across the dining room table or across the student council chambers at RAD. The weight of Lucifer’s gaze is its own unspoken question, an invitation and a challenge issued wordlessly in one fell swoop. Mammon can sense the anticipation that radiates off you as a promise of what’s to come once night falls, the decadent sins that ripple through your soul and overwhelm his senses like waves against the shore. Where denying Lucifer something is like a bad habit, denying you something you want goes against everything he believes in as your first. His brother’s arrogance and condescension makes his teeth ache with the urge to draw blood; the love and lust in your eyes when you look at him makes his heart race and his cock throb instead.

This little arrangement they have has no schedule. It's uncharacteristically impulsive, at least where Lucifer is concerned, and there's probably a complex set of circumstances when Lucifer offers Mammon an invitation to join. To partake. And to date, Mammon has never refused.

Tonight's offer catches the second-born completely by surprise. Mammon is at the casino when he feels the familiar bzzzt of his D.D.D. vibrating in his back pocket. The mountain of chips in front of him is a glorious sight; he’s been on a ruthless winning streak since he walked into the casino nearly three hours ago and he’s ecstatic with the fortune he’s earned so far.

Among the Devildom elite, it's a well-established fact that the only thing more entertaining than watching Mammon in the throes of a losing streak, making reckless bets and getting more riled up by each loss, is his unrivaled excitement and infectious luck when he wins. He's in his element in a place like this, and the Avatar of Greed lives up to his name when there's plenty of coin in his pocket. Gathered around the table where he has made himself comfortable this evening, there’s a large crowd surrounding the table, eager to witness the sight for themselves. demons hoping to challenge the Great Mammon with bets of their own for the smallest chance to take him down a peg or two. Some demons get close to him in hopes that his good luck will rub off on them too. Others are simply curious to see what else this promising night will bring if they stick around to find out.

There’s not much that would drag Mammon away from the promise of an exorbitant amount of Grimm that awaits him by the time the casino closes for the night. The money he’s won so far is already spoken for: the new seasonal launch at Majolish he wants to buy for himself (and for you), new detailing and mechanical upgrades for his precious car. Hell, he might even pay off some of his debts with what's left over just to get Lucifer off his ass about it for a change.

He doesn't think twice as he pulls out his D.D.D. and swipes his thumb across the screen, breath catching as he reads the brief message that awaits him. Mammon can’t tell whether Lucifer's words are meant to be a friendly invitation or an arrogant summons. Both possibilities irk him in ways he can’t explain, but Mammon blames it on poor timing as Lucifer's tempting yet sudden proposal threatens to derail what would otherwise be a very profitable evening.

Since the very beginning, you and Lucifer both assured him that he could participate at his leisure. He had no obligations to indulge their whims, no repercussions or hurt feelings if he refused.

(He has no doubt Lucifer might find a way to punish him for his refusal later, but that threat pales to your own disappointment that Mammon knows you have difficulty hiding from him at the best of times, and isn't something he ever wants to do - not if he can avoid it.)

Mammon shuffles the dice in his hand and glances at the waiting challengers seated at the table nearby and mulls over his options quickly. He can ignore the message - try to pretend he didn’t see it - and see where his rare lucky streak takes him. Or, he can return home earlier than planned and indulge in a little bit of sin of a different variety.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly his mind's made up because he’s already getting up from his seat, waving over an attendant to cash out his winnings while placating the disappointed crowd with bland, half-hearted apologies. What he realizes later, once he stops sulking about his wasted good luck by the time he drives home, is that you are, undeniably and without a doubt, the best prize he could've hoped for tonight.

Mammon has a vague idea of what to expect when he raps his knuckles roughly on the dark wood grain of Lucifer’s bedroom door. When he got home, he spared a few minutes to shower so the stench of the casino and countless faceless demons didn't cling to his skin like sweat. His white hair darkens in damp curls at the back of his neck, and a pair of loose sleep pants hang low on his hips. He didn’t bother putting on a shirt or underwear - he won’t be dressed long enough for it to matter. After the discomfort of pulling his tight denim jeans over his erection earlier, hard and cramped inside the thick and unyielding material as he swore and fumbled with his zipper, he’s glad for the loose fabric that brushes teasingly against his bare skin now. 

There's a soft patter of footsteps before the door swings open. Inside the room is dark except for a few flickering candles and the light from the hallway that spills across your face, illuminating your dark, lust-blown eyes and mischievous smile when you see him.

His vision is still spotty as he adjusts to the drastic shift from light to dark when you pull him inside the room and push him against the door, effectively slamming it shut, and his sputtered greeting trails off into a sharp curse when you waste no time tugging his pants down his thighs as you fall gracefully to your knees. Your delighted hum as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock leaves him gasping; his fingers curl around the back of your head encouragingly as you flick over the slit and lap up the beads of pre-come before you bob your head, shallowly at first and then faster as your mouth stretches around him, while his hands guide your rhythm without pushing too forcefully. 

His cock grazes the back of your throat, muffling your moans when you pull back teasingly to lave over the slit and lick the underside of his shaft just to swallow him down again. Your fingers curl around the base of his erection where your mouth can’t reach, pumping him with the same rhythm as your mouth sliding up and down his length, and it sends him spiraling towards his release. It’s fast and desperate and perfect. His own desire echoes in the wet, worshipful look in your eyes when you glance at him from beneath your lashes, the way your free hand strokes his hip and caresses his thigh and cups the warm, heavy weight of his balls as you urge him closer to the edge.

He can smell your own arousal permeating the air and knows it's probably staining the flimsy fabric of your underwear. He fantasizes about pushing aside the sticky fabric with his fingers - or perhaps ripping through it with his fangs - and then he finally comes with a hoarse shout, with the phantom taste of your cum on the tip of his tongue as he pants your name between deep, shuddering breaths. When he blinks the haze of his orgasm from his eyes, the sight of you kneeling at his feet and palming yourself through your clothes, lips dark and shiny with spit and eyes begging him for more, is nearly enough to completely unravel his self-control.

He lifts you into his arms and carries you effortlessly across the room before dropping you onto Lucifer’s oversized bed with a heated grin. You crawl up the mattress and lay back against the soft, dark sheets as he kneels on the edge of the bed and crawls over you, kicking off his pants and baring his fangs in a smirk. He's already half-hard eager for more; his cock hangs heavily between his legs, bobbing between his belly and your thighs as he positions himself over you, and smearing the first drops of his renewed arousal across your skin. 

Subtle movement across the room catches Mammon’s eye, and he wonders how he nearly forgot Lucifer’s presence. It’s not unusual for Lucifer to observe quietly while Mammon takes you apart for his viewing pleasure. Mammon’s actually grateful for his brother’s silence most of the time because he can pretend it’s just the two of you, the way he would prefer, but this is the next best thing.

(He tells himself it’s not pathetic to crave these moments with you that he’s allowed to have, when the only other alternative is not having you at all.)

Mammon ignores the tall shadow in the periphery of his vision, with its sharp smirk and blood-red eyes, as he peels off your clothes, tugging off your shirt first followed by your sleep pants and underwear.

(Wet, just like he knew they would be).

He leans down and one slow, soft kiss turns into many, filthy and deep and all-consuming. The room is quiet except for the slick sounds of lips and tongues grazing each other, punctuated lightly by thready moans and contented sighs. He can taste a hint of blood when he sucks on your bottom lip with too much enthusiasm and kicks you with one of his fangs. He licks across the cut in apology before slowly sliding down your body, eager to make it up to you in other ways.

He drags his mouth along your jaw, nipping down the column of your throat and littering your neck and collarbone with red marks shaped like his mouth, indents of his teeth that are likely to bruise by tomorrow, and presses you into the sheets as he slowly eases down your body.

(He hopes the fresh spritz of citrusy cologne he applied before coming here overpowers the barely-there traces of spice and smoke from the cologne that Lucifer wears instead.)

Gooseflesh follows the trail of his greedy hands and mouth as he continues his ministrations. He flicks his tongue across your nipples and rubs your chest with his palms, smoothing his hands over the curve of your belly before easing them gently between your legs and prying them open so he can settle comfortably between them. One lube-slicked finger works you open, dipping inside with shallow thrusts, scissoring gently to stretch you wide enough to take his cock, and he exhales hotly between lazy kisses along the tops of your thighs. His eyes glance upward and drink in the delightful arch of your back as your legs gently lock him in place as he alternates pumping three thick fingers inside you with the devilish curl of his tongue so he can taste you too.

He could stay buried between your legs all night, knuckle-deep and mouthing at your arousal, but each moan and broken gasp of his name shoots through him from the tinted tips of his hair all the way to his toes, and it’s all he can do to control his own lust and resist the urge to rut against the bed. He might only come once more tonight, and he’ll be damned if he spills himself over Lucifer's thousand-count-sheets instead of inside you (where he belongs).

Usually when Mammon fucks you, he likes to see your face. The way your desire for him shines in your eyes, how your skin warms with sweat and flushes from his attention. He hoards all those reactions to think about later when he misses you and jerks off to the memory of your body pressed against his, opening up and falling apart like he’s the only one in the world that gets to see you like this.

As he holds himself above you, balancing his weight on his hands while he kneels between your legs, he glimpses your arm thrown across the mattress, fingers stretched out towards the corner of the room where Lucifer watches from the darkness. You haven't said his brother's name, but the silent plea is just as visceral, and Mammon tugs your hands above your head and pins both your wrists down firmly, but not enough to hurt. He growls deep in his chest, eyes narrowing slightly in warning, but you squirm beneath him helplessly, urging him to keep going. It turns you on when he gets a little jealous and no matter what he says or does, you know that he won’t hurt you. 

For the first time tonight, Lucifer makes a noticeable sound at that little display - an amused huff of laughter that adds a hint of embarrassment and shame to the desire coiling deep inside of Mammon. He knows Lucifer can probably feel the indignant flicker of pride along with the waves of greed and lust that overwhelm him. It’s natural that their sins feed off each other - that’s part of what makes this so damn good for both of them. But when Mammon risks glancing at his brother for a moment and expects Lucifer is watching his display of jealous insecurity with an arrogant sneer, something like approval flickers in his crimson gaze instead.

The moment of pettiness and mutual understanding passes, and Mammon shakes his head and refocuses on the task at hand. He shushes you even as you wriggle your hips and rub yourself against him, trying to coax his cock, slick with lube and dribbles of pre-come, into your stretched and eager and very empty hole. The angle’s not quite right but the faintest bit of pressure of his tip catching the rim before slipping past, over and over as you whine and tremble in frustration, is enough to disperse all his self-deprecating thoughts so all he sees and hears and wants is you.

Your voice cracks pathetically when you beg him to please, please, please fuck you already, and he’s nearly undone by the sudden heat that envelops him when he digs his fingers into your hips and finally pushes inside, firm and deep in one smooth thrust. He holds himself steady even though every spark of white-hot pleasure ricocheting through his body is practically screaming for more, to take what you offer him so willingly and consume you until there's nothing left.

He waits patiently for you to adjust. His meticulous prep beforehand still doesn’t compare to the way he stretches you open with his cock. It’s a sight that leaves him breathless every time and he can't help but stare greedily, transfixed as he moves deeper inside you, inch by tantalizing inch, until he's fully seated and has claimed you for himself. Only when your trembling legs tighten around his waist and your nails dig deep into his shoulders and scratch down his back, giving him a dreamy smile and a nod, does he finally start to move. 

He starts with a few tentative pumps of his hips but he has no patience for slow, drawn-out lovemaking tonight. It feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a knife with a lit fuse deep in his gut that’s already close to bursting. Usually he teases you with slow, languid strokes, alternating deep and shallow thrusts, drawing back and holding himself still before burying himself to the hilt over and over again.

Tonight there’s no no finesse, no tenderness, no teasing games to see which of you breaks first. His body moves with purpose, fueled by raw power and the lust that clouds his mind. He fucks you hard and deep, and he can’t hear the creaking springs of the mattress over the sharp thud of the headboard that bangs against the wall from the force of his movements. He leans forward and braces himself on his forearm so he can sneak the other hand between your bodies and stroke you clumsily with his fingers to help you finish when he does. He knows he’s not going to last long, not with the quick, rough snap of his hips as he fucks you.

(Lucifer's presence, still cloaked in shadow in the corner of the room, makes him feel more sensitive and exposed - but he senses his brother's own desperation as Lucifer's greed swells too, reverberating in the sin he knows so well, and part of him is grateful that they're both hurtling towards the edge of lust-fueled madness, together.)

When you come, it's with a shaky moan beneath him. The pulsing heat tightening around his cock sends Mammon hurtling towards his own release. He rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm with lazy, stuttered thrusts.

(A deep groan and a soft curse resonates briefly in Mammon's awareness, the only indication that Lucifer must've brought himself to orgasm watching you both fall apart in his bed.)

After fucking his cum back inside you, as deep as he can until he’s too sensitive and has to pull out, Mammon enjoys a brief sense of primal satisfaction that he’s left a trace of himself behind, one that’ll hopefully linger long after he’s gone for the night.

He kisses you again, gentle and sweet, and helps you settle on your side before getting up on wobbly legs to find something nearby he can wipe you clean with. He’s not completely surprised that Lucifer’s already approaching the bed with a warm cloth for each of you. Mammon who wipes his hands and the wet patch of hair around the base of his cock gingerly before using the other clean towel to wash carefully between your legs. Afterwards, he tosses both of them towards the laundry hamper nearby. It's a good effort, but a miss - the messily rolled-up cloths land on the carpeted floor with a wet little plop.

(He's worn out and his hands are still trembling slightly from the exertion, but he's not about to tell his brother that.)

Next, Mammon busies himself looking for his sleep pants among the rumpled pile of discarded clothes on the floor and wonders how Lucifer can still look so prim and proper in comparison. As he tugs his pants up over his legs, he looks closer at his older brother and feels vindicated that he's not nearly as unaffected as he pretends to be. There's a faint sheen of sweat beading along his brother’s hairline and greying temples, and a healthy pink flush colours his cheeks. The only hint that Lucifer lost control of himself at some point during the proceedings are his slacks that sit low on his slim waist, unbuttoned and unzipped, with a glimpse of silky black boxer briefs peeking out through the opening.

They don't exchange useless pleasantries at the door except for a murmured good night and Mammon's lazy wave over his shoulder as he spins around and waltzes back to his bedroom. He flops down in his own bed and breathes deeply, enjoying the tingly afterglow and scent of your arousal still wafting off his skin. He looks thoroughly fucked with sweat-slicked and messy hair from your fingers running through it. The bite mark in his left shoulder, your effort to muffle your cry when you came, and the scratches in his back sting and ache deliciously when he rolls around in his sheets and drifts off to sleep, weary and so utterly content.

(If he wears a sleeveless shirt tomorrow that shows off the crescent ring of teeth bruising his shoulder, it's no one's business but his own.)

Read More: Obey Me Masterlist

[hor3nee]

• 𝐇𝐮𝐜𝐨𝐰 •

A lot changed in the bedroom since you got pregnant; Including Leon's suggestions. Cow lingerie being the latest.

CW/TW: Fem!reader, Smut/Nsfw, Hucow Kink, Lactation kink, Pregnant!Reader, Married sex, Bickering & banter, P in v, Creampie, Lingerie, Kinky idiots in love, Leon Smitten Kennedy, (18+)

Characters: Leon Kennedy x Reader

AN: Reader is described as having big tits but aside from that & being pregnant no physical descriptors.

• Kinktober: Day 2 • AO3 Link • For @ficsforgaza Event •

“Is- Is this cow print?” You gawk, twisting the skimpy fabric in your hand, “are those, ears?” They matched the set, black and white spotted print coating them. A cow’s unmistakably.

“Yeah. Like them?” Leon smiled, as sheepish as the man acted in front of you now, filth was brimming behind his faux innocent eyes. Leon was far from a pure-minded man, but he bared the decency to act orderly and courteous in the bedroom, especially during the later stages of the pregnancy.

When Leon's home, he’s rickety. Shit faced grin and pouncing into the bedroom in the speed of light, giddy. Nothing of the upmost shock. The pregnancy though stressing him initially to the point of near insanity all things considered, had made his heart constantly swell. Same as his dick.

Not to your complaint; Leon was a horn-dog but he wore it well. Attentive and graceful. Rearranging the entirety of the bed before you'd fully been undressed, threading swift fingers into any crevice and shifting you around into whatever easiest position was needed.

There were moments the past coupling months you were tested to devious lengths, though. Always had he a preference for your boobs but it was almost comical recently, meddling with your cleavage in even the most crowded spaces, smothering his face into them and pawing at them in any position. You’d be left satiated but only feeling some sympathy for his wrists and neck the way he'd twist to find place upon you.

The shifts in the bedroom and changes in his behaviour ended there though. Mild inconveniences or more frequent shared intimacy. This? This was out there. Kinky as Leon was, this thinned the edge of your hormonal short-temper.

“And you want me to wear them?” You asked, hissing. Eye twitching.

“Yeah.” He repeated, curling swiftly behind you, kissing your temple and rubbing your stomach. Goading the good graces of you to hopefully humour him. “You’d look really cute. Real sexy.”

Turning your gawk turned to a glare, facing him over your shoulder. “As a cow? You calling me a cow? That I look like one?” This shouldn’t agitate you. Cow lingerie was truly not that out there— it was circumstances that made you offended.

“No, ‘course not.” Leon pouted, twisting into a soft smile. Leon was soft sickly sweet each week passing to months.

Massaging your feet when they ached. Cooing and praising you when your garments began to stretch, no longer fitting your growing body. Singing to your baby nestled inside each night peppering kisses on each mark stretching your tummy out.

He takes your hand holding the skimpy depraved set, murmurs all deep and gentle behind your ear. “But you’re all pretty like this, gotten all soft y’know?” Cups your chest with the other, gives it a squeeze. “For me? Swear you’ll looking fuckin’ beautiful in it.” He purrs.

Maybe that’s what clicks the correlation, it leaves you slightly more offended. But the way he fondles your chest soothes it’s stiffness. They’d been clogging, filled with milk. It wasn’t as apparent as it should’ve been but that’s definitely where the increasing obsession with your chest begun. Leon was still a man. A very filthy man. And you were starting to lactate, with swollen tits.

“This is weird.” You gritted, the top was cut in the middles, enlarged nipples out bare, stiffening in the cold of the room.

He smiled, settled in front of you sat back on his haunches. Complaint falling on deaf ears. Leon was thrumming, face bright red, he looked like he was gonna implode. Whatever sweet calm demeanour he had earlier goading you into the lingerie set had been crushed and gone. Pawing his groin and heaving. Yet to even touch you and the man had been sent to heavens back on the view alone.

The changes in your form always obviously did something to him more than usual sex did. Could be reasoned as natural biological thing, bearing his baby for one, the growing curves in your hips and chest. The ‘pregnancy glow’ and quote others commented on. The breeding kink.

“Weird? You look— Gorgeous.” He laughed in a strained shudder. It was clear now it was everything about you and more— he was entranced by you wholly. Pushed you against the array of pillows cushioning the headboard with the utmost devotion.

“Looking so, so fucking good, sweetheart.” He drawled, instantly all over you— A fly stuck to a sugar trap. Straddling you and rocking his hips, kissing up and down your taut stomach and any skin nearest. He was horridly hard, managed to slip out his boxers before you could catch it. Cant his hips against yours, sliding his already precum sticky twitching cock against you.

You couldn’t reply, the offence at everything slowly dissipating with the movements. You’d fucking Moo for him if he asked, hormones switching sanity in your brain off. Going wet and slippery instantly as he glided against your folds.

“So wet, all for me? Fucking hell, look at you. Such a pretty girl, pretty cow.” That should have been mortifying but you just grew slicker.

“M-mhm.” You nodded, wordless aside from a small moan.

If he wasn’t gonna savour you soon he’d cum before even getting it in. You were sprawled beneath him, wide and soft in all the right spots, the cow printed headband’s ears flopped with your head as you tossed it back. And your tits, nipples poking out the similarly cow print bra were leaking.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed, whole body shivering and brain well about to combust, “can I suck those pretty tits of yours? Milk ‘em.” Tip poking at your entrance at the same time.

Thoroughly melted at the humping, you nod, tugging at his hair— not intentionally but just how he liked it regardless, pulling him down against your chest. You’ve fallen so far down this rabbit hole, might as well indulge the fantasy. “Y-yes Leon, milk me.”

You’re gonna kill him one of these days.

Without needing any further answers Leon latches, suckling. And lord all mighty, nobody told you how fucking good it’d feel to have this sort of relief as well as pleasure from the weight being suckled out. Nipple simulation’s always good but this was breathtaking.

“Mm, tastes s’good.” He mumbled, moaning whorishly against your teet. Teeth graze it, swallowing up the sweet drink. Nails digging into his locks, beckoning him to keep suckling, your stomach protruding and poking his as he leans over to drink— He needs to be inside of you now.

Popping off with a wet trail of milk and saliva, he instantly latches to the other, only pausing to lather his tongue over it whilst it streams milk, you whimper, so does he.

“G-gotta fuck y’now sweetheart.” He announces, before sheathing himself and full body spasming with your nipple in his mouth.

It was gonna be a long night.

[nanamis-bigtie]

privilege

↬ ficsforgaza collaboration kinktober | gojo satoru x afab reader ↬ jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (no gendered pronouns and detailed body descriptions), implied alcohol consumption, free use, piv sex, almost caught, cum on body and creampie talk, consent given within the limits of kink, bottom reader, sub reader, pet names (pretty thing, little thing), size difference, gojo has a big dick word count: 1k a/n: it's pleasure and, nomen omen, privilege to be one of writers chosen for the @ficsforgaza 's kinktober collab ❤ big thanks to the donor, both for supporting the initiative and giving me such an inspiring prompt and character combo to work with! i hope you'll enjoy it! (i was previously known as @bas-writes and i'm still registered under this name in the masterlist, sorry for the confusion!)

Satoru never passes the opportunity to hang around with your friends, if only to appropriately stress that you're his. Weirdly enough, this time he ignored the invitation, teaching reports and other papers be damned, and he really kept the promise, gone both from the bar you chose for tonight and your apartment where the party has eventually moved. 

But shortly before midnight, when the first of your guests starts to fidget around with leaving excuses, and Shoko curls in her favorite napping spot on your couch, the door clicks open and Gojo Satoru himself peeks into the living room. He presses index finger to his lips, as if he hasn’t just become the center of everyone’s attention, and beckons you over.

“Hey,” he stretches the vowels as he speaks. Hands resting at the top of the door frame, he towers over you and grins, his huge body blocking all routes of a possible retreat.

As if you wanted to run away, even if you’ve already got a grasp of what’s about to happen.

Satoru grabs your wrist and pulls you into the kitchen, the only room at your place that has no door. If any of your guests decided to leave now, they would have a perfect view of all spicy details.

“Now?” You grit your teeth, not mad, just surprised he’s decided to go for his privilege when you’re not alone.

“I missed you.” He pecks your lips, sharing the taste of his peach-flavored chapstick. He's all over you while barely touching you; his presence, hunched shoulders as he leans down to reach you, is enough. Muscular arms flush against your sides leave you no place to move, having breath hitching at your throat with anticipation. You're trapped, you're a reward for the long day of hard work, you're his.

“Bend over.” He barks an order, voice strained with lust, not bothering to control its volume whatsoever. The chatter from the living room sips into the kitchen, so it's safe, it should be safe—as if Satoru ever cared whether others catch him using you or not.

You’ve barely taken your position, elbows against the nearest flat surface, hips pushed back for him, when he yanks your bottoms down to your knees. Arms wrapped around your middle, he slams himself against your back, closely, suffocating, forcing the hard edge of the counter into your abdomen. Still dressed, the harsh fabric of his pants grazing your bare ass, he breathes heavy against the back of your neck, whines into your ear as he steals the first dry thrust. He's so needy he's almost shaking but he keeps holding you tight, controlling every, even the slightest, move of yours.

You try to spread your legs wider for him regardless, but Satoru pinches your sides and clicks his tongue, displeased.

“Keep it tight.” A sharp hiss of his zipper later, he paws at your ass, spreads your cheeks for his already hard cock to hump against you better, and lowers himself to line up with the top of your thighs.

As always, he’s fast to leak from his fat tip, letting him slide smoothly between your legs, the overside of his cock brushing against your slit. The friction and weight of his body pressing against you—and possibility of getting caught—have your moisture building up a little, too little for his size, each throb of it between your folds reminding you of it.

“I’m gonna put it in, pretty thing.” Satoru’s voice teeters between a growl and a whimper. One arm hooked around you, he pulls you so close it's hard to breathe. You feel it even in your ribs; no doubt he could break them if only he wanted to. “It may hurt a little, but you must take it, okay? Please, be good for me, I really need it.”

His cock presses against your unprepared entrance. You hiss through clenched teeth and arch your hips to angle yourself better—for him and to spare yourself at least some discomfort.

You still jerk up when he starts pushing in. He’s thick and difficult to take even under normal circumstances.

“Shhh, just a moment, little thing.” Satoru rasps into your ear as he slowly eases himself inside, the tip of his cock almost reaching the depth where it becomes unbearable. “That’s right, relax, don’t squirm or else they’re gonna catch us.”

You shiver and leak at the terrifying thought of a familiar face peeking into the kitchen, but he barely notices the difference, too focused on rutting into you and whimpering dirty nonsense into your ear.

“Can I cum inside, pretty thing?” His voice is breaking in immense pleasure. “Please?”

“No!” You hiss, a little too loud, and his big hand immediately lands on your lips, keeping your voice in check.

“You don’t want to obey?” You can hear him pouting. “You’re free to use for me, remember?”

You’ve asked yourself!

You brace yourself for being ignored but soon, right as your own pleasure starts to build up, he leaves you empty, his throbbing cock now flush against your ass, and spills himself there with a loud, desperate grunt.

His hot, thick seed flows down your rim and slit, and Satoru breathes heavy and moist against the back of your neck. He kisses you right under the line of your hair and is about to say something—but a sudden rustle in the hallway stands in his way. Faster than a thought, he pulls your bottoms up, hiding your dirty secret from curious eyes, and embraces you from behind. 

Nothing suspicious, just a couple sharing sweet cuddles in the kitchen.

Ijichi bows at you awkwardly, rather scared of Satoru’s presence than predicting anything, and passes by barely peeking at your heaving chests and messy clothes. 

You try to sneak out of your partner’s arms to help him with the door, but you’re immediately pulled back.

“We’re not finished.” Satoru nibbles on your ear as soon as Ijichi disappears into the night. “And this time you’re going to be a good little thing and milk me of all I’ve got for you.”

[head-shoulders-knees-pain]

Day 17: Aventurine x Gn!Reader - Glove Kink

fandom: Honkai Star Rail word count: 500+ cw: 18+, kink without sex, glove kink, dom reader, sub character, teasing, light degradation (to character), spoilers of his character (job and real name) tag: @ficsforgaza note: I was an idiot and posted it a week early, still hope you enjoy <3

“Is there a purpose behind your gloves or more of a stylistic choice?”

The man in question lets the coin he was flipping land in his hand, before looking up towards me. 

“Oh, these old things? Nothing special, my hands are just too valuable so having them prevents me from touching anything unworthy.” He replies haughtily, though his winking blue and pink eye shows me it’s only a joke.

‘Fine, two can play that game.’ I lean over, taking his right hand. 

“For such a charming man, I have to agree. Can’t have just anyone hold your precious hands, can we?” I emphasize my point by placing a single kiss on one of his rings.

A pause followed by the sound of a gulp has me looking back up, and what a sight I’m greeted with.

His eyes on open display with his shades having fallen down the brim of his nose, wide and alert. His usually unflappable mouth opens and closes but my favorite part is the pink tracing his normally pale cheeks.

In what feels like an eon but is more like a few seconds, he brings his other hand up while clearing his throat. 

“And people call me a smooth talker, guess I really am more a gambler than a charmer haha.”

I arch one of my eyebrows at his display; leaning closer I push more. “My dear Aventurine, don’t tell me you’re soft on me after a simple gesture of goodwill?”

He scoffs and uses his left hand to push me away slightly, speaking quicker with each exchange, “A simple gesture? I’m more used to handshakes or-”

Instead of listening, I evade his push and cup his left hand with mine. “Then perhaps I should get you more acquainted?”

My fingers trace the edge of his glove where it clings to his skin, smiling as I hear a gasp slip past his lips. 

“Really! T-there’s no need for that-” he cuts himself off with a hitch as my fingers dip below the leather and trace his palm.

“While there may be no need, that doesn’t mean you can’t want it. Is that what you want? Want to feel me touch you? I promise I won’t sully you’re precious exterior…unless, of course, you want me to~”

My fingers circle the edge of his glove, waiting for his permission.

His eyes dart between me and the glove, his biting his lip in thought, before whispering a simple, “...please?”

I hum warmly and look up at him again, “Yes? Please what?”

“Take it off, kiss me, anything just do it already-” The quick movement of my hand sliding between his glove and his hand as I remove the glove cuts him off.

His soft pale hand feels almost like a Victorian woman showing her ankles, and who am I but a simple human wanting to oblige their lover’s request?

I cup his bare hand, tracing each digit carefully. I lower my mouth to his hand as I softly place a kiss from his knuckles to his pulse point, up his arm to his jaw until I reach the corner of his mouth.

His little gasps and hums of pleasure are a beautiful melody, but as the conductor of this orchestra, I cut it off with a searing kiss. 

Warm lips pressed together, I feel his hands grab hold of my shoulders to steady himself. It’s a good thing because as soon as I brush my tongue against his lower lip, I can feel a shiver rack through him.

However, I pull away when an idea pops into my head. 

I start to put his glove on my hand as he stares at me dazedly, “W…what are you doing?”

I only hum before I pull it tight and bring my now-gloved hand to caress his cheek, “Thought it might be fun to see what all the fuss was about your gloves.”

My grin only grows as he leans into my touch, “I think there might even be more to your gloves than even you realized.”

I move my gloved thumb to touch his lips, which he quickly opens.

“So obedient, I don’t even have to ask.” 

Slowly, I push my gloved thumb into his warm mouth and am rewarded with a muffled moan.

I use my other hand to discard his shades so his dilated pupils are on full display and card my hand through his hair gently.

“Who would’ve thought, one of the IPC’s Ten Stonehearts was an open pervert who displayed his kinks by wearing them all the time. Is this what you wanted? To have your own glove exploring your wet mouth?”

He whines and closes his eyes, but doesn’t pull away and instead sucks slightly on my digit. 

“No need to answer, I already know.” I press down on his tongue, before removing my thumb.

“Wait! I’m not done-!!” He goes to protest but I shut him up with two of my gloved fingers shoved back in his mouth.

“Don’t worry, this is only the beginning my sweet Kakavasha.”

[faededaway]

ᴏᴄʜᴀᴋᴏ ᴜʀᴀʀᴀᴋᴀ x ᴘɪʟʟᴏᴡ ʜᴜᴍᴘɪɴɢ (kinktober fic)

[This fic is part of the kinktober ficsforgaza event organized by @ficsforgaza]

“It healed already! :)

I will be reporting for duty tomorrow, so sleep well tonight! All your mail will be sorted before you get to office! (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)”

[image attachment]

Times like this, Uraraka is grateful for her quirk. Her phone would've hit the ground otherwise.

If it wasn't for the text message, Uraraka would've thought you meant to send the image to someone else.

That's not to say she doesn't like it. She loves it. You're sitting on top of your dresser with your left leg held up to your chest. You're smiling from ear to ear while pointing at your inner thigh where your 20 stitches had been. Apart from the loose t-shirt, which barely hides your chest from that angle, you're bare in the picture.

You sent her an almost nude.

She grabs her floating phone and lays on the bed to calm herself. You only meant to show her your healed gash. The bare thighs were a necessity! It'd be weird if you sent her a picture of your inner thighs from a closer angle. She wouldn't see your adorable smile or your chest otherwise. But, a closer shot would've showed her your...

Gah! She slams her face in her pillow at the thought that crossed her mind.

No! I will not think of my secretary like that!

She looks at your picture again, eyes glazing over when she notices that the color of your shirt matches her pillowcase...

Before she can think better of it, her body moves on its own. Her clothes come off in hasty movements, then she brings the pillow down between her legs.

So pretty, so cute. Wish i could touch the scar on your thigh.

Thoughts of you drown out any voice or reason. Her thighs squeeze around the soft lump thinking of your thigh instead. She can almost feel your softness, can almost hear what you'd say to her when you'd feel the mess she'd make on your skin.

Her hips rock in a steady pace, making her soft folds rub onto the edges of the pillow. She looks at your face now, the face she's thought about riding a million times over. She thinks about your tongue on her lips.

Oh, yes! So warm and pretty, pretty, pretty-

Another message from you interrupts her thoughts for a moment.

(⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

Uraraka-san, am I about to receive another long paragh with you scolding me?

[Video attachment]

For better or for worse, Uraraka plays the video.

It begins with you placing the camera down somewhere and walking away from it until your whole body is visible.

“Uraraka-san! I'm fine! See?” you're wearing the same flimsy t-shirt. It's long enough for her to wonder if you've anything on under it.

“No stitches here,” you sit down on your bed, “or here,” and spread your legs to show her your inner thigh.

You go on for a while but Uraraka had lost herself the moment you sat down and showed her what she'd been thinking about. Her legs tighten around the cheap imitation of your body under her body while her hips grind into it faster than before. The very second she hears you call her name again, she comes with a squeal.

Your video plays in the background as she comes off of her high still recalling what she saw. She lays on her back and types in a reply.

Show me in person tomorrow

She plays your video again and her hands reach out to her pillow again. She doubts she's going to sleep at all tonight after seeing you wear Uravity merch underwear.

[ficsforgaza]

Here is the official calendar and masterlist for our Kinktober event! We were able to raise a total of $403 USD for Gaza through this initiative, so thank you to everyone who has donated their time and money to make this all come to life! Below you will find our schedule for the month and all the wonderful fics we have lined up. ❤️ the Mods

Links below the cut!

@nanamis-bigtie: Privilege (Satoru Gojo, Free Use)

@arvandus: The Suffocation of Fear (Atsuya Kusakabe, Choking)

@hor3nee: Hucow (Leon Kennedy, Hucow)

@prettyboykatsuki: Untitled (Isagi Yoichi, Voyeurism)

@euthymiya: Rumors (Kamisato Ayato, Creampie)

@stunie: Untitled (Suo Hayato, Cuckolding)

@threadbaresweater: Primal (Togame Jo, Deepthroating)

@hwaithie: Brutal Pleasures (Blade, CNC)

@minnaci: At Your Service (Sampo Koski, Cross-Dressing)

@cruel-hiraeth: As You Wish (Diluc Ragnvindr, Bondage)

@madaqueue: Like We Were Made To (Satoru Gojo, Omegaverse)

@hauntedhokage: Untitled (Kento Nanami, Sex Toys)

@goxjo: Favor or Fervor (Childe, Dubcon)

@mangostarjam: Home Cooking (Haruka Sakura, Scent Kink)

@strawberrystepmom: Untitled (Rengoku Kyojuro, Praise)

@dreamerdeity: Slow Down Babe (Dottore, Somnophilia)

@auraxins: Untitled (Fu Xuan, Body Worship)

@/hauntedhokage: Untitled (Boothill, Roleplay)

@aelilith: Bound by Lust (Suo Hayato, Shibari)

@fyodior: Untitled (Nobara Kugisaki, Scissoring)

@lovemikage: Bed Chem (Bachira Meguru, Humiliation)

@persicipen: Untitled (Argenti, Weapons)

@soft-zawa-png: Babygirl (Takami Keigo, Spanking)

@faededaway: Untitled (Ochako, Pillow Humping)

@/threadbaresweater: Just This Once (Suguru Geto, Breeding)

@dilucs-princess: Untitled (Nagi Seishiro, Face Sitting)

@blueparadis: Hottest Summer on Record (Higuruma Hiromi, Nanami Kento, Double Penetration)

@spikesbunny: Sweet Tea (Ruan Mei, Aphrodisiacs)

@nagumoan: Bite Your Tongue (Jiaoqiu, Exhibitionism)

@attractedtopeoples: Sweetheart (Roronoa Zoro, Subspace)

@tacticalhimbo: Untitled (Leon Kennedy, Pegging)

@vennilavee: Diet Pepsi (Nagi Seishiro, Squirting)

@yuutito: Untitled (Yuuta Okkotsu Yuuta, Femdom)

@head-shoulders-knees-pain: Untitled (Aventurine, Glove Kink)

@hanmaitani: A Siren’s Call (Bachira Meguru, Monsterfucking)

@mintmatcha: Untitled (Tasuku Tsubakino, Lingerie)

@/prettyboykatsuki: untitled (Sakura Hakura, Cam Sex)

@/head-shoulders-knees-pain: Untitled (Angel Devil, Phone Sex)

@/euthymiya: Lumidouse Season (Wriothesley, Sex Pollen)

@boundinparchment / Secret Euphoria (Childe, Belly Bulge)

@kentophilia: Untitled (Suguru Geto, Gloryhole)

@yandereshingeki: The Antithesis of Decay (Shigaraki Tomura, Stuckage)

@cottoncalicoes: Used to Have a Sweet Tooth but You Rotted Me (Endo Yamato, Masturbation)

@tetzoro: Peeping Tendou (Satori Tendou, Noncon)

@/yuutito: Untitled (Hirofumi Yoshida, Tentacles)

@/minnaci: Egg Me On (Ushijima Wakatoshi, Oviposition)

@/nagumoan: Not Too Late for Firsts (Welt Yang, virginity loss)

@/goxjo: What’s Mine Is Mine (Sukuna, Hate Sex)

@pinkkittysaw: Caged In (Leon Kennedy, Chastity)

@leychin: Be Sure to Leave a Review! (Kamisato Ayato, Orgasm Denial)

@/cruel-hiraeth: Flesh of My Flesh; Blood of My Blood (Kamo Choso, Incest)

@another-lost-mc: The House Always Wins (Mammon and Lucifer, Cucking)

@fandomfloozy: A Lesson in Patience (Kiyoomi Sakusa, Cockwarming)

@screamingcrows: It Looks Easy Enough on the Picture (Xiao, Overstimulation)

@yinyuedijun: Corruptive (Aventurine and Dr. Ratio, double penetration)

@/fyodior: untitled (Rin Itoshi, thigh riding)

@aurorasgate: Made for Me (Nanami Kento, Anal)

@/cruel-hiraeth: Duty-Bound (Akagami no Shanks, Period Sex)

@froggibus: Scenting (Beelzebub, scent kink)

@kechiwrites:

@seaspringangel: The Taste of You (Kamo Choso, Lactation)

@a-ikuoliver: Thou Shalt Not Covet (Maki Zenin, stepcest)

[spikesbunny]

♥︎ SWEET TEA ♥︎

+ warnings: use of aphrodisiac, food play (tea is drugged), dom ruan mei, fingering, use of pet names (sweetheart, darling)

+ ft: ruan mei x gn reader

+ wc: 0.7k

+ @ficsforgaza kinktober: day 14 - aphrodisiacs/food play + ruan mei (m.list)

nsfw under cut, minors dni!!!

ruan mei was always tinkering with something. she loved testing out how plants caused reactions in people, especially those that could be considered aphrodisiacs.

but she never let you try them. she insisted that it was safer, just incase any severe side affects occurred. she would never hurt you.

but you wanted so desperately to try it, to see how it heightened the feeling. were your orgasms harder? were you easily aroused? more sensitive? did it affect your behaviorism?

and so, she finally decided to test it out. after all, it would be better to observe how one reacted, rather than just test on herself. she made sure you were comfortable being randomly dosed, as she didn't want you to be fully aware when taking it (after all, she must take precautions to now potentially skew her results!).

you could smell tea brewing, thinking nothing of the overly sweet smell. she probably made some sort of sweet tea with an artificial sweetener she designed, concern not even a thought in your mind.

after all, there was no point in questioning her, right? she normally made you tea, so it wasn't something unusual.

that was, until you drank it. the liquid was sweet, almost too sweet, and made you feel kinda fuzzy, almost like some twisted version of melatonin.

or so you thought, until you felt your skin burning, aching for your girlfriend. heat was pooling in your gut, a sudden need for release clouding your brain.

you try to ignore it, but the longer left unattended, the worse it gets. finally, you work up the courage to whimper out her name, her graceful figure now standing in the doorway.

"what's wrong, darling?" she coos, so sweetly. she knew exactly what was wrong - it was hard not to, your face was flushed.

"i- i need you," you whine, much to your disproval. you were crumbling, lust coursing through your veins at rapid speeds.

she hums, pulling the chair out to better access your legs. "yea, you want me? does my sweetheart need me?" her words had you melting, nodding eagerly as she works your bottoms down, pressing her fingers between your lips. "suck"

you take them into your mouth, looking down at her, framed so prettily between your legs as you work on her digits, coating them in saliva before she withdraws them.

she eyes your pretty hole, kissing your thighs as she complements you, showering you with "so pretty"s and "my darling looks so ready f' me already", circling her fingers teasingly.

with a free hand, she jots down her observations onto a notepad. "warm skin, sensitive to the touch, extra whiny, trying to rut against the air..." she list off, still tracing around your hole. you whine, trying to get her to already sink them in.

"paitience, dear" she hums, before finally dipping one finger in, curling up to massage your walls. you whine, squirming from barely any stimulation, watching her write down notes.

it was insane to you, how composed she was, as if you weren't feeling your orgasm already creep up onto you.

ruan mei continues her jotting, now adding a second finger, peaking up to observe your face. "red, flushed, lips are bit raw, maybe some tears from overstimulation? all plays into sensitivity..." she whispers, still writing down notes.

her words were so arousing for no reason at all, clenching around the two digits she was leisurely pumping in and out of you.

"there it is, sweetheart" she coos, jotting down notes while muttering "clenching at two fingers" under her breath.

you can barely take it anymore, especially when she breaks her usually distant demeanor, placing a kiss on your inner thigh. "you're doing so good, love, this aphrodisiac really did the trick on you."

that was it, your orgasm crashing over you at her words of praise. she gives you a small smile, continuing to press her fingers into you as you ride it out, before withdrawing.

she writes down two final notes, muttering as per usual - "came after praise" and "was such a good subject."

she sets the pad aside, rising from her position between your legs.

"i'm assuming that wasn't enough, i believe i put too much into your cup... how about we continue this in the bedroom? my observations are done."

you nod, following her graceful figure out of the room. you couldn't deny, being ruan mei's test subject sometimes wasn't so bad.

©2024 spikesbunny- please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡

[attractedtopeoples]

sweetheart

Zoro Roronoa

KINKTOBER - @ficsforgaza

prompt: subspace

warnings/tags: fem!reader, sub!zoro, bondage, riding, subspace, mdni, 18+, dont like dont read, minors. go away., no beta we die like my sanity, lemme know if theres anything more i should tag in the comments (pls dont say bad spelling im sensitive) <3

0.9k words

A/N: okay so i may have forgotten to take this outta my drafts and actually post it, so ignore this being a touch later than the 15th (it’s 1:33am on the 16th for me 🥲) but otherwise here you go!

“Fuck, oh- fuck, fuck,” Zoro groans out, although it sounded a lot more like his version of a whine from where you sat on his lap, not that you’d ever say that aloud.

“You okay baby?” You ask mockingly, tilting your head down to look at him as you rise and fall on his cock. He bites his lip in lieu of response, biting back a groan as your hands wander over his chest. 

Looking down at him with adoration you stop your hips, willing away your own frustration as you watched his eyes flicker up to you again, a mix of anger-horny-why?-anger staring at your smirk, hands still mindlessly wandering over his skin.

His hands clench from where they lay tied against the headrest, the fluffy green handcuffs Nami had given you as a gag-gift coming in handy as he whimpered beneath you. Neither of you had done much with bondage, minus his own hands wrapping around your wrists when the positions were swapped. But this was fun.

He groans again as you pinch at his side. You’d been doing this awhile.

You’d ride him, both of you having a lovely time when he’d bite his lip, shutting himself up despite your earlier statement of not wanting that at all. He wasn’t a very good listener. Then, just like now, you’d stop your movements, watching as he released his lip and stared at you.

At the start the look was a lot more pissed off, however the overwhelming pleasure being so intense and then suddenly ripped from him again and again was beginning to impact him (no shit). 

“I- fuck you,” he breathed out, shifting his hips up seeking friction but you simply lifted higher off of him. He let his hips fall back onto the bed with a small groan. 

“Hm? Well I can see you’re trying baby,” you tease, appreciatively flickering your eyes over him for the millionth time tonight as his cheeks blush at the words. You could admit you were rather lewd, but you were having far too much fun to stop fucking with him.

“Now c’mon, what did I say earlier baby?” You ask, referring to the rules you set early on before you started, fairly simply, but including a clear ‘I wanna hear you’ policy that you think was being ignored rather blatantly.

“You're an ass,” Zoro quips instead of replying, his voice cracking a lot more than you think he meant it to be as you lean forward, lips joining your wandering fingers on his chest as you kiss gently up his chest.

“Not quite right,” you reply, rolling your hips with the words just to watch him groan again, shoulders going tense as his arms tug at the cuffs again. You know logically he could just rip them off, but you also know he won’t. Definitely not right now, he is not risking the blue-balls.

“Annoying fucker,” he mutters under his breath as he glances to the side, blatantly avoiding eye contact as a pretty blush makes its way up his chest. “You- you said to not bite my lip,” He huffed out, sounding like it physically pained him to say as he begrudgingly turned his eyes back to you.

You grin at him, despite the slight inaccuracy in his ‘retelling’. He deserved some leeway, with this only being his third time subbing and first successfully, you made the executive decision he was allowed to be a little shy.

“That’s right sweet boy,” you say, beginning to rock your hips again, building the pleasure back up. His hips roll up to meet you and you don’t bother correcting him this time when he lets out an unabashed groan as your teeth reconnect to his skin, grazing over his nipples before biting into the soft flesh of his neck.

As your movements speed up, you release his skin, instead resting your head against his shoulder moaning alongside him as the crescendo of your pleasure crawls towards you. You were close, and by the way his hands were grasping onto those cuffs you could tell he was too, letting out the prettiest sounds.

Finally sitting back up you moan as it causes him to shift deeper within you, your movements barely coordinated anymore as you fall over the edge, him joining you not too soon after with a loud moan that makes you oh so thankful for the empty ship. 

The two of you remain quiet for a moment before you go to shift off him, knowing he probably wasn’t capable of doing so without his hands, but before you could go far you heard a low whine come from him and you paused.

That was new.

Looking back at him you noticed his eyes were drooping but stuck on you still, and after a moment it clicked in your head. Oh baby.

“Zoro? You okay in there sweetheart?” You ask softly, hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he groans again, leaning into the touch as he breathes, pressing soft kiss to your wrist. 

“Hmm,” he hums against you, his eyes slipping shut as his body relaxes. He was definitely in the subspace. 

“You did so good, baby, but I gotta clean us up m’kay?” You gently remind him, in a way that you knew you’d copied from him when you got like this. He lets out another little whine at the idea, and oh how pretty he was. “I won’t go far, promise.” 

You wince a bit as he slips out of you, rising on shaky legs as you make your way to the bathroom for a towel, snatching up a bottle to refill with water on your way. Your boyfriend was such a sweetheart.

[vennilavee]

diet pepsi

written for @ficsforgaza!! the prompts were squirting + nagi seishiro from blue lock. wc is ~3k (sorry)

warnings: oc is kind of a stalker

A familiar username pops up in Nagi Seishiro’s periphery, showering him with bits once again. As far as he remembers, fairygrl777 has shown up in every single livestream he’s done since he started. He usually streams when he plays video games, or if he has a quick twenty minutes before practice. 

But fairygrl777 always shows up, without fail. When he’s playing video games, he tries to answer as many questions as he can even if he’s on a timed side quest. All these strangers seem to be enthralled by watching him quietly play Overwatch or Final Fantasy, for some strange reason. 

Fairygrl777 doesn’t just send bits, chats and cute emojis to him, but when Nagi is feeling particularly exasperated by the gameplay and complains about how annoying this particular mission is, they always talk him down. Or tell him what the next step in the game is. He supposes they’ve already beaten it. 

Little does he know that fairygrl777 didn’t sleep for thirty-six hours in an attempt to finish this game for that exact reason.

Fairygrl777’s little fairy wings pop up on MapleStory as a mage, too, one of Nagi’s secret guilty pleasures. Sometimes he likes to do missions with her, his illium mage running alongside her ice and lightning arch mage.

It’s just footyboi7 and fairygrl777 spending time in the Secret Garden before standing in the Kerning Tower together. 

Fairygrl777: <3 how romantic… it’s almost like we’re holding hands isnt it

Footyboi7: if u say so

Fairygrl777: :) 

Fairygrl777’s icy blue hair and sword has become a comforting presence to him. It’s quite often that he finds himself trotting after you in the game, his bow tight in his character’s hand. The hours seem to fade away with her excited chatter in the chat as they both collect mesos and finish jobs together.

Sometimes he leaves abruptly, but fairygrl777 never says anything. Out of the two of them, she talks more than he does in the chat.

Nagi is curious what her voice sounds like- he bets she sounds ethereal, like the translucent wings on her back.

It must be a coincidence, how fairygrl777 is almost always online when he is. Or how she never seems to miss one of his rare livestreams.

Nagi shrugs. It’s just a sheer coincidence.

Nerves seize you the moment you exit the train and head for the platform, though you’d classify them more as excited butterflies than true nerves. It’s like you’ve been here before, even though you’ve never set foot on English soil in your life. 

All you’re relying on is Nagi Seishiro’s vague retelling of the area.

It doesn’t take long for you to make your new apartment in Manchester your own. The apartment was already somewhat furnished, so all that’s left is to decorate it. Trinkets sit on top of your desk, matching the rugs adorning your floors.

You absently wonder if you asked Nagi in the chat to help you move furniture in, would he have helped you? 

You sit on your bed after you unpack all your things and inhale deeply. This is your life now. 

Before the anxiety of being alone in a brand new country can wash over you, you take in a deep, deep inhale of the crisp, autumn air from the open window. Leaves have already begun falling, shades of burgundy and marigold settling tenderly along the roadside.

It’s overcast in Manchester today, but you are in high, bright spirits.

The apartment you’re renting for an indefinite period of time isn’t too far from the Manshine City stadium- only a fifteen minute ride on the rail. You’ve nearly the path to the surrounding parks and already researched what restaurants and grocery stores you may frequent during your time in Manchester.

It’s meant to be a fresh start for you, after all. A new country, a new city. A new you, with new friends, new lovers. A fresh start from your old, doldrum routine you had been desperate to escape.

If you only had five minutes, you could show Nagi Seishiro how well you’d be together. You could mold yourself into the perfect partner for him. Who knows better than you what he needs?

You could be anything he wants, like a blank canvas waiting to be filled in. You want him to fill you in with broad brushstrokes and streaks of color.

The timing has to be perfect. You trust that it will happen, that he will notice you. You just have to be patient. You can’t be too much or too little. You have to be just right to pique his interest and keep him curious for more.

Perfect. You will be perfect when the universe opens the door for you.

“Don’t you recognize me, Seishiro-chan?” your voice is sickly sweet.

“No, am I supposed to?” Nagi tilts his head to the side and you giggle, the sound reminding him of a windchime.

“I’ve been to all of your games since I moved here and watched all of your streams,” you reply, nudging his shoulder with your own. Nagi’s eyebrows raise as he traces your face, trying to place where he knows you from.

“You’re not the first or the last girl to do all that,” he mutters, “What is it? Do you want a drink or something?”

“If you’re offering,” you shrug, “Just a diet pepsi for me.” He turns his back to you and leans against the bartop, waiting to get the bartender’s attention.

The bar is packed with Manshine City players, security and the lucky few fans who were able to get through the crowd and into the bar. Purple and blue lights bounce off of Nagi’s perfectly tousled locks  in waves, making his eyes look softer than they actually are.

If you pretend hard enough, Nagi Seishiro could be your boyfriend. You could easily lean against him, feel him relax against your touch as the warmth of his hands wraps around your waist like gentle vines.

But instead, he stands a few inches away from you, his handsome face drawn forward and looking away from you. He taps on the bartop impatiently with his credit card, long fingers curled around the piece of plastic tightly.

Nagi huffs, turning to you with ire in his eyes.

“This is taking forever,” he complains.

“Maybe you should be a little more patient,” you reply, gesturing for him to give his order to the bartender. The bartender rolls his eyes at Nagi. He definitely heard his complaint. You get lost watching the planes of Nagi’s face, the curve of his nose and the depth of his eyes. 

Your fingers brush against his accidentally. You hardly notice his fingers linger.

“Patience pays off, I guess,” you joke when he hands you a drink.

“I guess,” he echoes.

“Everything has its sacrifice,” you reply, looking him dead in the eyes. Recognition flashes across his face momentarily but it goes as quickly as it comes. Where has he heard that before? It sounds so familiar, but he can’t quite place it.

The intensity in your eyes lessens before you offer him another sugary, sweet smile. It’s mismatched on your face, like a piece of a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit. It would be unnerving if he didn’t think you were cute.

“Thanks for the drink, Seishiro-chan,” you chirp, “Cheers to new friends!”

“Friends? I’d hardly call us friends,” Nagi says sincerely.

“Maybe something more?” you tease.

“More? Like best friends?” 

Nagi thinks of Reo briefly, catching a glimpse of the man’s violet locks. The back of his head indicates that he seems agitated by something.

You don’t reply, instead peering at him from the top of your glass while you take a large sip. Nagi decides not to shake you away for the time being, basking in your attention and allowing you to cling to every word he says.

His eyes catch onto your forearm when you adjust your purse. He lingers at the patch of newly exposed skin, peering curiously at the not so hidden tattoo inked. 

It’s a pair of icy blue fairy wings, so small that if he wasn’t paying attention, he’d miss it. His dewy lips part curiously, a question bubbling on the tip of his tongue. But Nagi cannot find the words to ask it.

“Wanna see? You can touch, you know,” you say easily, “You just have to ask.”

“Can I?”

You nod and Nagi allows his thumb to glaze over your smooth, warm skin and over your tattoo. What you don’t say is that it’s a relatively new tattoo, only about six weeks old. To commemorate your move to a new country.

His touch his gentle but you shiver at the concentration captured in his baby brown eyes. The buzz of the bar fade away with each second he holds your gaze and you refuse to be the first one to break.

Nagi can hear Reo now, chiding him for what he’s about to do next-

“Wanna get out of here and go back to my place?” he says, taking your empty glass and placing it on the bartop.

“How romantic,” the familiarity of your words rings a bell in his head, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Nagi ignores Reo’s calls and texts, the buzzing on his phone incessant in his pocket in favor of pressing you against his closed bedroom door. He refuses to let you get too far, his lips chasing yours the moment he entered his apartment. You taste sweet, like his favorite cherries and vanilla, and he forgets to breathe for a minute when you bite his bottom lip.

He pulls away for a minute, devouring your smudged lip gloss and gilded eyes reverently. The depth of his gaze makes you excited, as if he’s devouring you slowly. 

You’ve sprayed on his favorite perfume. You hope he unwraps you with his teeth.

“Can I take this off?” he says hoarsely, tugging at your blouse.

“Duh, but,” you look at his pants, “Are you sure you don’t want to get that?”

His phone is still vibrating. 

“Sorry, babe, let me just get this,” he kisses your cheek in apology and you nod, getting comfortable on his bed. 

“What the fuck do you want, I’m busy,” Nagi nearly snarls into the phone.

“Did you go home with-”

Nagi turns his head, only to see you unbuttoning your blouse with a shy smirk. His throat goes dry and he gulps as you lean back once you’re completely bare. Your warm skin glows with the dim lights of the bedroom. He’s itching to touch you.

“No, I gotta go,” he says quickly and hangs up, ignoring Reo’s protests as his phone falls ot the floor carelessly. 

“Come here, Seishiro-chan,” you murmur, spreading your legs for him to rest in between them. He’s impatient, eager to touch you and run his hands all over your heated skin. 

Nagi’s breaths are bruising as he licks his reverence against your skin. You pretend that this is not the first time he scales your body with his hands, that his touch is that of something more than a lover. It’s easy to pretend when his fingers shake as he fumbles with the button of your jeans. It’s easy when he licks into your mouth and presses his clothed hips to yours.

He doesn’t know where to look first, so he lifts your hips easily and tugs your jeans off. His breath hitches when he catches the expanse of your thighs in his tight, strong grip. The sigh that leaves your parted lips washes over Nagi like a wave.

He wants to hear more of you. More.

Something sits on the tip of your tongue and it escapes your throat in the form of a breathy gasp of his name. Your belly curls at the heat in his dark, grey eyes. 

His body is taut, lean from hours and hours of training and practice. Your fingers ghost over his chest. Goosebumps rise on his skin. You reach for the belt buckle of his pants, but he stops you with a warm hand on your wrist.

You shiver at the strength concealed in those fingers.

“Are you sure about this?” Nagi rasps, his tongue feeling dry in your throat. He feels a bit depraved, for how much he wants to touch you, to claw at your heated skin and close the space between you both. He is hungry, the desire to consume you nearly overwhelming him.

You see it in his glassy eyes. The desperation for a release.

He won’t move, won’t give in to the friction that your skin grants to him. You place your foot on his chest, toes freshly done in a pretty dark blue, and nod at him with a soft smile.

It looks misplaced on the planes of your pretty face. Nagi can’t shake the odd sense of familiarity in you, can’t help but lean into it. Lean into you.

“Yeah,” your voice is choked by your own desire, “I’m sure. Are you sure?”

“God, yes-”

“You don’t need to bring god into this-”

Nagi kisses your ankle gently, a stark difference from the blazing look in his usually resolute eyes. Butterflies flutter around in your belly and he keeps eye contact with you as he kisses up your calf. It’s sweet, for someone that you just met.

You fall into the fantasy even more, unseen fairy wings taking you higher and higher.

He cradles you, his arms bracketing your head and your legs wrapping lazily around his waist as he presses a deep, bruising kiss to your lips. You chase his kiss, refusing to let him go too far and rolling your clothed hips into his. 

“Ugh, you’re pretty…”

You preen at his praise, unable to stop a smile from forming on your lips as you kiss him again. You bite on his bottom lip before slipping your tongue into his mouth obscenely, swallowing his groan and locking it deep in your chest.

You could pretend that he just confessed his love for you. You throb with longing.

He traces the shape of you with his hands, chasing with his lips before slipping you out of your panties. He holds you as if you’d disappear into the night, like you’d fly away on the wings of the tattoo burned onto your arm.

You’d stay here forever to convince him that he loves you.

The reverie is jostled when you hear his phone buzzing on the floor again, calling out to Nagi. But he ignores it and doesn’t allow you to question it, instead licking and soothing his way down your navel and your hips. 

He knows you, you think happily, he really knows you. How else would he know how to kiss you, how to mouth at you in a way that has you seeing stars and curling your toes. He stares at you as his tongue nudges your wetness, swallowing every sweet drop of you that he can. He laps at you with a ferocity that you’ve only seen when he’s on the field.

Maybe Nagi sees you as a prize. The thought sends a bolt of heat straight down your spine.

Nagi looks at your pussy in wonder before spitting directly on it and rubbing your clit languidly, searching your pretty face for the tell-tale gasp of his name that tells him where to go by following the sounds of your breaths.

You don’t know where to look, and instead grip his blonde hair with enough bite to make him hiss. You writhe in his hold, feeling balmy coils burn in your belly as he slithers his hand within yours.

“You’re so wet,” Nagi mutters to himself. Or to you, maybe. He doesn’t let go, always touching and pressing some part of you as you bloom in his hold. Like a lotus. He wraps his lips around your clit eagerly, like a trained puppy.

Your eyes meet his eyes as he pushes a long finger inside of you while he drinks from you. Nagi is reminded of sweet nectar, unable to get enough. He is starving for you, for you to whimper his name again. Pushing down on your hips as you writhe in his hold, he allows himself to feast on you.

“Make me cum, Seishiro,” you gasp feverishly, “Oh, I’m so close…”

It’s agonizing, how hard he is. Nagi wants to sink into you, fill you to the brim with his cock. Split you open, see your eyes roll back to your head. But before he can do that, before he can bring you to sweet rapture, he needs you to unravel all around him.

He brings you to the precipice, bringing you so, so close. He’s never heard the sounds your pretty pussy makes with anyone else, the way his fingers curl tightly in you makes you jolt. But you don’t beg him to stop.

An aching begins to burn in your belly. You don’t recognize the feeling, but you let him continue to devour you with hungry lips. The sounds that he pulls from you- from your throat, from your pussy- are filthy. Enough for your face to burn, if you weren’t so fixated on how swollen his lips were and how he belongs in between your legs.

You gush all around him with no warning, coating his lower face with your cum and your wetness. Nagi pulls away with wide eyes, as if he can’t believe it. The blanket below your body is soaked, but he doesn’t care.

“Woah,” he says, “Did you just…”

“Yeah. I’ve never… done that before,” you reply. Your legs feel like jelly and you’re seeing stars at behind your eyes as you try to catch your breath. Nagi looks at you like you’re a meal and he’s ravenous.

“Let’s see if you can do that again,” Nagi says, looming over you with a tenacious look in his eye.

“Whatever you want, Seishiro,” you say easily with a disarming smile, tugging him closer to you, “I’m yours to use however you want.”

“Hey, call me sometime?” you say, pressing a post-it with your phone number on it to his chest, “Or, you know. Maybe I’ll just see you on Maple Story?”

Nagi’s lips part in surprise, his breath catching in his throat. There’s no way that you’re fairygrl777. That would be an insane coincidence… But the tattoo, the way you know what bars he frequents, when he’s online…

Maybe Reo was right to try to interrupt him all night. Something somber washes over him, keeping him rooted to the floor.

“Wait- you’re-?”

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ as you gather your things and head out of his apartment with a wicked smile, “See ya around, footyboi7.”