#give them soft tender moments more please

[woozinhos]

hi i wanna request something fluff!! can you please write about svt ot13 reactions when they finds out the pregnancy test is positive? because i know some of them would cry. thank you btw, i love your writing so muchh 💗💗

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆

Seungcheol:

Seungcheol is shocked and happy to hear the news. He looks at you with wide eyes, a mixture of disbelief and joy on his face. "You're pregnant? With my child?" he asks, his voice full of wonder. "That's amazing!" He quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride and love.

Jeonghan:

Jeonghan is equally as surprised as Seungcheol, but he's more excited than anything else. He lets out a gasp and claps his hands together. "Oh my god, I can't believe it!" he exclaims, a wide smile spreading across his face. "You're going to be such a great mom!" He gently places a hand on your stomach, feeling the small bump that has already formed. He then looks at you with a look of pure adoration, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

Joshua:

Joshua is also overjoyed by the news, his expression filled with excitement and tenderness. He walks over to you and takes your hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Congratulations, love," he says warmly. "You're going to make a wonderful mother. And I'll be right there with you every step of the way." He leans in and kisses your forehead, his heart swelling with love for you and the new life growing inside you.

Jun:

Jun is speechless for a moment, staring at you with his mouth slightly open. He quickly collects himself and rushes over to you, picking you up in his arms and spinning you around. "You're going to have my baby? I can't believe it!" he exclaims, setting you back down on the ground and holding you close. He kisses your cheek repeatedly, his hands rubbing your stomach as he tries to process the news. He's elated and proud, a mix of emotions overwhelming him.

Hoshi:

Hoshi's reaction is lively and playful. He jumps up and down excitedly, a big grin on his face. "Yay! We're going to be parents!" he cheers, throwing his arms up in the air. "This is the best day ever!" He starts to dance around you, twirling you in circles and singing a little song about babies. He's completely full of energy and can't contain his excitement.

Wonwoo:

Wonwoo is trying to keep his cool, but he's struggling. He leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you. "So, I'm going to be a dad," he says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "I guess I need to step up my game then." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, but he can't help but smile at the thought of being a father. He looks at you with a mixture of love and responsibility, ready to take on this new role.

Woozi:

Woozi is a bit quiet, his usual calm demeanor slightly shaken by the news. He approaches you slowly, a serious look on his face. "I have to admit, I'm a little nervous," he confesses, taking your hand in his. "But I'm also really happy. I promise I'll do my best to take care of you and our baby." He squeezes your hand gently, his grip firm yet reassuring. He wants to be a good father and a good partner, and he's determined to make it happen.

Minghao:

Minghao's reaction is calm and supportive, as always. He listens to you with a gentle smile, his eyes soft and understanding. "That's wonderful news, love," he says softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "I'm here for you every step of the way. We'll figure this out together." He gives you a reassuring squeeze and leans in to kiss your temple. He knows that this will be a big change for you both, but he's ready to face it with you by his side.

Mingyu:

Mingyu is absolutely ecstatic. He practically squeals when he hears the news, his eyes widening in excitement. "We're going to have a baby? I can't wait to meet them!" he exclaims, bouncing up and down like a child on Christmas morning. He immediately starts making plans, talking about all the things he wants to do with the baby and all the fun they'll have together. He's already thinking of being the coolest dad ever.

Dokyeom:

Dokyeom is a sobbing mess when he finds out. He's overcome with emotion and tears of joy stream down his face. "I'm going to be a daddy!" he cries out, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "This is the best day ever! I can't believe I'm going to be the best dad in the world!" He hugs you tightly, his tears soaking your shirt as he holds you close. He's so happy that he can barely contain himself.

Seungkwan:

Seungkwan is also emotional, but in a more dramatic way. He pretends to faint when you tell him, falling to the floor in a heap. "I can't handle this!" he exclaims, covering his face with his hands. "I'm going to be a dad and I'm going to spoil that baby rotten!" He sits up and wipes away his fake tears, a huge grin on his face. He jumps up and starts dancing around, singing about how he's going to be the fun dad who takes the baby on all sorts of crazy adventures.

Vernon:

Vernon is chill as usual, but he has a small smile on his face as he listens to you. "That's great," he says casually, but there's a hint of happiness in his tone. "You're going to be a great mom. I'll be here to help out, just like always." He gives you a reassuring pat on the back, silently letting you know that he's got your back no matter what happens. He may seem laid-back, but he's ready to step up and be there for his future child.

Dino:

Dino is surprised but also excited when you announce that you're having a baby. "Wait, we're actually having a baby?" he says, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Like, an actual baby?" He looks at you with a mixture of shock and awe, his mind racing with all the possibilities. He's young and inexperienced, but he's ready to take on the responsibility. "This is crazy," he laughs, running a hand through his hair. "But I'm in. I'm going to be the best dad ever."

[yandere-romanticaa]

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[arminsumi]

cws; 18+ smut, cr★★mpie, mentions sq★★rting, use of sl★t

Choso Kamo who is so soft and slow and sensual, caressing your body with careful hands and pressing tender kisses to it with a slowness that shows you how much he savors your taste, how much he loves you.

Swirling his tongue around your nipple, he takes his time feeling you up with his hot mouth until you're squirming and muttering an impatient "Baby, please," in pleading breaths, "Stop teasing, I need you!" and he giggles as you practically pull his cock into you the moment he aligns himself at your entrance.

Oh, he's a sweet lovesick boy; pupils dilating as he plunges into your squishy walls that suck his cock so good, "Ahhah fuck — someone's excited tonight. You must be really feeling it, huh?" he mumbles all into your ear, pressuring you with his heavy muscles and smushing you into the pink satin bed. "Nn! Yeah, 'm sensitive... 's that time of the month..." you moan, feeling his cockhead dragging through your walls, "Fuck, do that again..."

He chuckles when you start rubbing your clit to orgasm, watching you cum deliciously on his juicy cock. His hand steadies you as you let it all out, feeling your pussy gush like a fountain, his hand stroking at your cheek to soothe your twitchy body as is gets wrecked by pure ecstasy. Choso narrows his eyes at your spasming pussy, lips forming a smile at the sight of it freaking out, "Shiiit, your sweet little pussy squirted a lil' there. Look at her trynna drown my cock. You're crazy, baby."

Clamping down on him, his cock freaks out as its squeezed up into your guts — much too deep for either of you to handle but you're fucking like wild animals tonight; you're leglocking him for nasty creampies and he's happily delivering them into your weeping hole. "Fuck, so sweaty..." he grunts, peeling his muscular frame off of you to give your hot wet body a breather. You smile under him, making his heart tick, "I am not sleeping in this wet patch..." you declare, making him chuckle before he timidly slides the tip of his cock back inside for just a lil' more.

Neither of you can reach orgasm by this point, you fucked all the orgasms out of your bodies and now you're just continuing for the sake of feeling that pleasurable friction, being one with each other — cuddling close and drenching the bed in sweat and falling in love with the same feeling in the air as when you first met so long ago at that little party. Suddenly Choso gets nostalgic, recalling a the hot memory of fucking you in the backseat of his car. You're weeping underneath him, hot face buried into the pink pillow and body tingling with each of his heavy thrusts that have his balls smacking into your clit. "Nn, remember how we fucked when we first met, at that party? Yeah... 'n you thought you didn't like emo boys... now look at you being a lil' slut for me... all cute and sweaty." he husks against your ear, hitting you with a newfound force and god, the wet sounds of your squelchy hole and of skin slapping together is almost gross — sticky, sweaty, messy, pure and raw sex with no end in sight, you think, 'till you hear Choso let out a strangled moan and feel his pelvis shaking. He slams down his hand at your side, trying to stabilize himself in the moment of his body-wrecking orgasm. He's so pretty when he gasps and shudders like that, wolf cut all stuck to his face and disheveled.

He carefully slides his overworked cock out of your trembling body with a wet pop, "Fuck... y'know your pussy's kind of menace... you nearly squeeze my dick off every time." Choso pants after rolling off your body, cock finally too sensitive to snuggle into your abused pussy anymore. "Yeah, well I'm all sticky and gross — 'n my walls feel beat 'n my thighs ache... you're a little monster." you huff, forearm draped dramatically over your forehead. "I'm sorryyy," he coos in a hoarse voice, lazily rolling over to you so he can soothe your muscles. His big hands rub out the stress and soreness, fingertips digging into just the right spots. "Is this a good enough apology?" he asks, tickling your ear to get a squirming giggle out of you. "Or how about I make breakfast tomorrow?" he suggests, face now hovering over yours, lips teasingly close. You hum at this, cuddling to his firm body after cooling down and letting the sweat dry off a little, but your pussy was still wet and slippery, leaking and slicking your inner thighs. "That sounds like the perfect apology." you smile, taking in his tired features before plucking a kiss off his lips.

And surely, the next morning Choso is wearing a tight-fitting apron that hugs his big muscles just right. He cooks breakfast with a Zen focus on his face, swiftling moving left to right to get everything into the pan and cooking. But he stops everything when he hears the soft thuds of your footsteps. Oh, he admires your sleepy self wandering into the kitchen. Wrapping your arms around his waist for a morning hug, he looks down at the top of your head and his heart throbs at the size difference. "How did my naughty little princess sleep last night, hm?" he asks, stroking your hair — "Mm, like a baby..." you mumble dreamily into his soft white cotton shirt. "Huh, I wonder why." he teases, knowing damn well that you only sleep so well 'cause his good dick pampers you for two hours before bedtime.

[esote-rika]

Red is Your Color | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI

Summary: You just committed perhaps the most atrocious wrongly sent message ever. By some trick of nature, your coworker is more than willing to play along. (This is from @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient prompt list. Character receives scandalous selfies from a coworker; check out her prompts, they're really fun!)

Content: softdom!spencer, fingering, multiple orgasms (female receiving), p in v, creampie, reader is on the pill, Spencer calls reader a naughty girl and pretty girl, tenderness and lots of checking in, vaguely Christmas themed. 

Word count:  3.1k

A/N: I read something really poetic and profound yesterday and it inspired me to write, but my mind was in the gutter, so this happened. lmfao happy holidays. UNEDITED, I wrote this at 2 in the morning T.T

Do you think Santa would bend me over and punish me?

Spencer Reid was almost too scared to even open the following messages—he’d already made the mistake of opening this one. And there was a barrage of them, sent a few minutes after the very first one, in quick succession, one right after the other. His phone buzzed and buzzed, matching the distracting hum in his brain at the moment. He should probably read the next messages, because surely, surely those contain the explanation to this one.

Unfortunately, his eyes were glued on this first one—it seemed like it was the only one that contained a picture, after all, and what was that they said about a picture saying a thousand words?

What could it mean then, this picture his coworker had sent to him? What did it mean that he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it? (What did it imply if he didn’t want to? That he liked the picture? That it made his pants uncomfortably tighter?)

He stared at the picture, his eyes greedily taking every inch of smooth skin exposed by the short, strapless sexy Santa dress his coworker was wearing. It wasn’t explicit—she was fully dressed, after all, but the caption, paired with the way she had been posed… Sitting on what he presumed was her bathroom counter, her legs artfully crossed, the fabric of the dress hiked up to reveal long, luscious thighs. With her pursed lips painted crimson, it was obvious what the message was meant to imply and Spencer felt his mouth grow dry. He shifted on his seat, both hands gripping his phone because he didn’t trust them not to wander down, to give himself relief.

No, he should not be jerking off to his coworker. He shouldn’t even be fucking looking at this photo. He should delete it, call Penelope and ask her to rewire his cloud or memory or data or whatever it was called. Just to get rid of it from his phone. That would be the decent thing to do, and Spencer had always prided himself on being a gentleman. 

He knew that would be futile; knew his mind would be treacherous and have the image of her with those supple thighs, and red mouth in his dreams, his nightmares, in every fantasy—

His phone was ringing.

He stared at it, wondering how she was sending so many messages so quickly, before he realized that she wasn’t texting anymore.

She was calling.

His thumb found the answer button without his consent. The next thing he knew, her voice was pouring from his phone’s speaker. Soft. Contrite. Embarrassed. He frowned. What on earth was she embarrassed about, he wondered. She, who looked stunning, who looked good enough to be worshipped—

“—Please say something, Spence.” she was saying, pleading, and something in his gut clenched. That nickname, coming from her lips. That nickname, coming from her lips, while she was wearing that dress.

“Spence—”

“It’s all right,” his voice was strangled. He cleared his throat, “It’s all right. I’ve deleted it.” Lie, what a liar, she deserved better than hastily told lies.

“Okay,” she sighed, relief palpable even without seeing her face to face, “I just didn’t want to get in trouble with HR, on top of everything.”

HR. He almost laughed. They wouldn’t care (unless someone blabbed, like what happened with Derek and Penelope, but he would never do that to her, not in a million years.)

“You wouldn’t, I promise… it wasn’t even that explicit, if I’m being honest.” he heard himself say. He rubbed his eyes in frustration—why did he have to add that?

Her laughter floats from the phone, nervous and low. “I guess not. I wasn’t about to send a complete nude to my friends.”

He straightened up, confused. “Your friends?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice still wavering nervously, “Like I said in my texts, it was wrongly sent to you, I was talking to my friends.”

In other words, it wasn’t for him. He would have known that, had he opened her texts, had he not been too busy ogling the picture she had mistakenly sent, the picture that wasn’t even for him. Something unpleasant burned in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of the curiosity that lingered.

“You send explicit pictures to your friends?”

“I thought you said it wasn’t that explicit,” she chuckled, “But, uh, yeah I do… I dunno, maybe that’s weird, but we were joking around.”

That was something new he learned today. That friends could casually send sexually charged photos to each other. The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. “So you don’t actually want to be bent over and punished?”

Dear heavens, sometimes he understood why his teammates gave him weird looks. If he had a mirror, he would give himself a weird look. Still, he held his breath for her answer, surprised by the wave of disappointment at the thought of her saying no, it was just a silly text.

The pause grew between them, and Spencer was almost about to apologize, when she spoke again.

“I mean, if someone were willing to do it…”

He swallowed. His pants felt tight once again, and he had to force himself to take deep breaths. This was not an invitation, he thought, she had not asked him, she was not saying if you wanted to do it (which, he does, desperately so.)

“Right.” he managed to croak. Another pause, as if she was contemplating. 

“Spencer,” she was whispering now, “Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“How fast can you get here?”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

You’re not sure what possessed you into inviting your coworker over, but you did. And now, you’re sitting in your living room, in that blasted sexy Santa dress, panic texting your friends about it. He had said fifteen minutes. Eight minutes had gone by, and you knew he would fulfill his promise. He would be here in seven minutes.

Perhaps you weren’t expecting him to agree. Your perception of Spencer Reid has always been of a sweet genius, wholly brilliant and too preoccupied with academics to even give a second thought to sex and romance. He was a germaphobe, for crying out loud, you had thought it would make him have some sort of aversion to the inevitable sticky, sweaty mess of two bodies coming together. 

But you’d heard it in his voice. Strained, low, and riddled with desire. 

So you had mustered enough courage to ask. And now—

Your doorbell cut through your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you shoved your phone into a drawer, not wanting to see the offensive piece of technology for the rest of the night. You looked out through the peephole, and there he was, still in his office clothes. Tall, and slender, and dishevelled and yours for the night.

You pulled the door open, ignoring the heavy thump in your chest. 

He smiled. “Hi.”

“You’re early.” You teased, standing aside to let him in. His eyes were glued to you, pupils dilating as he took you in.

“You’re still wearing the dress.”

Right. Once you had realized you sent the text to Spencer instead of your friends, you had spent the next several minutes in agonizing anxiety, sending text after text to Spencer in an effort to explain. In your utter mortification, you had forgotten to change out of it.

He seemed to like that. It gave you enough confidence to surge forward, blindly, recklessly.

“I am.” You said, red lips tugging into a smile you reserved for handsome strangers at a bar. You lowered your voice, just enough for the next words to come out breathless, “Honestly, it’s a little itchy.” 

“Is it?” He stepped forward, crowding you into the door. It creaks as it moves with your weight, the knob clicking in place. He reached forward, and you held your breath, anticipating his hands on you, gently running over your skin, but instead they closed over the doorknob, locking it. He didn’t miss your reaction, though, his eyes a glittering night sky of sweet, utter want. “Maybe I can help you with it.”

You nodded, mouth parted in silence, whatever words you wanted to say have died in your throat.

He brought his hand up, caressing your jaw, and you marvelled at how large his hands are, long fingers reaching the nape of your neck. “Red is your color.” he murmured, before leaning in to capture your lips.

His lips were cold and chapped, and you returned his kiss eagerly in an attempt to warm them. Your mouth opens at one swipe of his tongue, moaning as he leans his whole body into you, pushing you harder against the door. Tonight, you learned that Spencer Reid, the sweet, unassuming genius, kisses like he wants to crawl into you. It’s a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth, and a whimper escaped your mouth as he bit your lower lip.

“Too much?” he asked, pulling away for a moment. 

As an answer, you wrapped your hands around his neck, and returned the fervor of his kisses. You heard him chuckle, felt it on your own tongue as it happened and it made your knees buckle from sheer want. 

His arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up into his embrace. You felt him move, stumbling across your apartment before setting you down again. The blunt edge of a drawer hit your lower back, just as he pulled away. 

A whine left your lips. You didn’t know if it was from the pain, or the loss of his kiss.

“Turn around, darling.” he murmured, but your brain was so damn distracted you just stared at him blankly. He grinned, hands at your hips gently maneuvering you to face away from him. “You said you wanted to be bent over.” 

Chills went down your spine as he pushed you forward, elbows landing on the smooth, wooden desk. 

“Y-yeah, I did say that.” you managed to reply. This time, the breathless quality in your voice was not an affectation. You felt his nose on your neck, pushing away the stray locks of hair, before his mouth landed over the skin, open and wet, traversing the expanse of your flesh with reckless ardor. You moaned, craning your head back in a wordless plea for more.

You felt teeth, the sting of it clamping over your flesh. You didn’t even realize you’d yelped until he stopped.

“Sorry,” he whispered, soothing the bite with his kisses.

“It’s okay,” You replied, one hand reaching up, running through his hair. “Do it again.”

The rumble of his laughter made your stomach warm. He sunk his teeth into your neck again, sucked at the spot he bit, and you would have face planted into the desk had it not been for his hands holding you up. 

“You’re a naughty girl,” he purred against your skin, “Aren’t you? Sending that picture to me, I bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

“It was,” you protested, but then he grinds his crotch into your ass and any indignation was stifled by the feeling of how damn hard he was. “It was - I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to make me this hard?” he asked, rolling his hips against you, “I think you knew exactly what you were doing, naughty girl.” Before you could answer, you felt something digging into your ass. He was tugging at your panties. To the side, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to strip it off of you. 

It was hot as all hell.

“My god, you’re absolutely soaked for me.” he groaned into your ear, and you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers ran through your cunt. Somehow, his fingers have remained cold, and the sensation sent a shudder down your spine.

“S-Spencer,” you whined, knuckles finding leverage at the edge of the desk you’ve been sprawled over.

“Mhm? What is it, darling?”

“M-more.”

His laughter filled the room once again, “And I thought I was being needy.” he said, but he obliged your request easily, slipping two fingers into your pussy. His breath fanned over the overheated skin of your neck as he buried his face against your shoulder, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you moved your hips against his hand, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. You’d never enjoyed this by yourself; your own fingers were thin, too short to cause any sort of pleasure when you touched yourself. But Spencer’s hands were large, his fingers long and elegant and perfect. They curled inside you, hitting a spot you’ve never been able to with your own hands, and you cried “Oh, fuck yes!”

It was everything. Quite literally. His arm was holding you against him, his body a solid, lean mass behind you, pressing into the slopes of your own, digging in wherever your softness yields to his hard angles. You moaned and moaned again, as his fingers quickened, as his thumb found your clit and rubbed fast circles until your arms gave out and your entire upper half was splayed on the desk. 

He didn’t stop, cooing soft words into your ear, his tongue and lips and teeth a whole other dangerous territory of its own. You knew you would have hickeys tomorrow. You knew the team would ask questions. You didn’t particularly care.

“Can you take more?” he asked, and you nodded, eager to take whatever he was going to give. A third finger slid into your dripping cunt, stretching you in ways you haven’t felt in a long time and you groaned, head buried in your arms. He paused, his other hand rubbing circles on your hip, “Are you all right, darling?”

“Yes.” you sobbed, and you knew he wouldn’t believe you because you sounded sad, and everything that Spencer has done up until this point proved that, despite it all, he cared. 

“You can tell me if it’s too much, you know.” he murmured. His lips laved featherlight kisses along your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, bucking your hips. The idea of being slightly incoherent from the pleasure he’s been giving you was a little too enticing, and you were in no mood to stop, “Please.”

“Okay,” he resumed his ministrations, slower this time, dragging his fingers in and out of you with a precise rhythm, now that he’s figured out your weak spots. “You are so pretty like this, darling. Dress hiked up, your lipstick smudged.”

A mewl came out of your throat, and you would have been embarrassed if you still had the presence of mind to feel an ounce of shame. He coaxed a second orgasm from you, and you marveled at the fact that he could elicit responses like these with just his fingers. It seemed unfair, but a large part of you reveled in it.

“That’s it,” he whispered, slowly pulling his fingers out, “That’s my pretty girl.”

You lifted your head from your arms. The sight that welcomes you is a blurry one, impeded by the clumpy eyelashes and messy tears that had gathered in your eyes. You knew you looked a mess, far from the pretty girl he kept repeating, but you ate up the praise all the same.

As if by their own accord, your hips move back, grinding into his erection. You wanted more. You wanted him to be in the same daze you were in right now, wanted to be one. “Spencer,” you whined, and he laughed, and you wondered if it was possible to get drunk off of a sound.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he replied, playfully chastising, but the sound of his belt buckle reached your ears and you grinned.

“Just wanna make sure you get something too.” you mumbled.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I had forgotten a condom?”

Now it was your turn to laugh, bracing yourself on your elbows again, and looking over his shoulder.

“Wow, isn’t your whole thing the complete opposite of forgetting?”

“I was a little distracted.” he said, his smile sheepish.

“I don’t mind,” you replied, “I’m on the pill.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm-hmm.” You nodded, one arm moving and blindly grasping for the zipper of your Santa dress. His hand gently encircled your wrist, placing it back on the desk.

“It stays on,” he said, as the blunt tip of his cock pushed past your pussy, “I told you, red is your color.”

Your mouth dropped open as he sheathed himself inside you in one thrust, and wordless expression of pleasure. He had spent a large chunk of time fucking you with his fingers, and the necessity of it dawned upon you now.

He was big.

The stretch made you groan, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy fluttered around him. He pressed his body over yours, pushing you into the desk as he began to rock, in and out of you. Involuntarily, you clenched around him, earning a sharp hiss.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, holding you tightly around the waist with one arm. The other went to the desk, steadying himself as he found a rhythm that made you writhe beneath him, “Oh god, yes.”

You couldn’t even respond, your body moving on autopilot, meeting his every thrust with your hips. The sounds your bodies made were obscene, wet, sloppy noises of flesh meeting flesh. It filled your head, made you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Spencer,” at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated his name. The world has anchored all meaning to that one sound, and you said it, over and over again, “Spencer.”

“Mhm,” he responded by snapping his hips, pushing his cock so deep into your toes curl, “That’s it, darling, say my name.”

“Spencer,” you said in your broken voice, every repetition turning higher and higher in pitch, and it seemed like the higher your voice went, the harder he fucked you. Your desk banged against the wall from his rough thrusts, joining the cacophony of sounds from your coupling. 

His pace grew rougher, faster, his grip on you reaching the point of painful and bruising, but it made your head spin in the most delicious way possible. You clenched around him, squeezing his cock in an attempt to find your peak, and instead initiating his.

“Fuck—” he groaned, as his load exploded inside you, somehow filling you even more, and you dropped your head to the desk again as your own body shuddered with release. 

Panting, and exhausted, you both stayed there, bent over the desk half upright, like a tower about to topple. He kissed the back of your neck as you fought to catch your breath. Looking over your shoulder, the sight of him fills your vision, hair tousled and sticking to his forehead, his lips smudged with your lipstick, and you couldn’t help but think that red is his color too.

[ivy-elle]

How they tend to you after getting injured

Feat. Albedo, Childe, Kinich, Scaramouche

A/N: Slightly suggestive in Childe's part, more so in Scaramouche's

“Move it a bit for me?”

You couldn’t help but grimace a little at that prospect. “I’d rather not.”

That promptly earns you a disapproving look from the alchemist. Which is quite an unusual sight for him, you think. He must be really concerned then.

“Slowly.” A soft musing laced in his voice as his fingers gently wrap around your wrist to move your hand at a slow pace.

You hiss quietly at the sharp pain. “It’s not broken,” you state, trying to convince yourself more than actually being sure of that.

“No,” Albedo attests, touching up your wrist, careful not to hurt you further, “it’s fortunately not. Yet, your wrist is in a less-than-ideal state.”

You raise your eyebrow and reply in a flat tone, “Really.”

Albedo’s eyes meet yours, unaltered. “Positive.”

Then his brows furrow as his gaze falls on something next to you on the table. He reaches for the bottle of painkillers you took earlier, inspecting them with concerned incredulity. “My love, I hope you didn’t expect to cure a sprained bone with these pills alone?”

 “Well…I mean, maybe?” you fumble with your words. “They’re good.”

Albedo can’t help the sigh leaving his lips as he shakes his head and grabs the pack of bandages, he prepared. “I will bring along some more profound remedy later if that’s alright with you.”

Carefully, he starts wrapping a string of bandages around your hand, making sure it sits steady and firm but not enough to be painful.

“Does that feel comfortable enough?” He shifts his eyes back to yours, observing closely for any indication of pain on your face.

Somehow his soft-spoken words seem to soothe the pain on their own Your heart tightens along with the last string of bandages as he seems to be so utterly tender and gentle with you.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Thank you. I’m sorry, for the fright earlier.”

“Nonsense.” Albedo gently lifts up your now bandaged hand and presses a feather-light kiss against the cloth. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re slacking more than usual. Where’s your fire today?”

The sounds of clashing swords against each other halt for a moment when Childe stems his sword into the earth beneath. He tilts his head as his arms sneak under to support his chin against the grip of his sword. A boyish grin on his lips as wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Long night?”

You huff, mirroring his position. “Shut up, you shithead.” He knows damn well who’s to blame for your lack of sleep recently.

But Childe only snickers, like that smug ass he is, giving you a once-over. “Oho, we have a sore loser here I see.”

“You just want me to pay for the dinner tonight.”

“Precisely.” His smirk widens. “There is an evening waiting for you full of relaxation, notorious meals and of course the best company Liyue has to offer.” Childe takes a few steps back, widening his arms out in a dramatic manner. “Me.”

“See, I’d actually beg to defy that statement,” you start as you put your sword away. But when you look back up, the single head movement causes a sudden spur, your vision adorned by black dots for a moment. “Damn,” you huff, holding onto a tree for some support.

“Woah, there.” Within a second Childe is at your side, his hand reaches out, holding you in place. “You okay?” His tone has shifted into a more serious one.

You blink and your vision clears one more. A sort of sheepish, perhaps slightly embarrassed grin settles on your lips as you meet his eyes. “Yeah. That treasure hoarder must’ve gotten me a bit harder than I’ve assumed.”

But Childe doesn’t join in on your amusement and frowns instead. “What treasure hoarder? On your way to Liyue earlier?”

Exasperated, you run a hand through your hair as you get reminded of the events earlier that day. “Unfortunately.” An annoyed scoff escapes you. “Please, it was embarrassing enough as it is. Don’t make me live through that again.”

Childe’s eyes slightly darken and he’s quiet for a moment. Contemplating. As if settling on some plan. Then from one moment to the other, his expression immediately clears up again and he ruffles your hair in an affectionate way. “I suggest, we let the food deliver to us instead and you’re gonna tell me exactly what happened, hm?”

Disgruntled, you push his hand from your head. “Childe, it’s-“

“Ah-ah, no. Concussions should be treated seriously. Off you go now.” He shoos you forward gently, but now his arm is draped around your waist, just to make sure you’ll stay on your feet. “Come now.”

“You’re walking funny.”

Confused, you turn your head back around to where Kinich is walking behind you, raising your eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Kinich’s eyes are focused on your feet, analysing. “Did you sprain your ankle?”

“No,” you turn back ahead, “it’s not that bad.”

His fingers take hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “May I see?”

You frown. “My foot?”

“Your ankle,” he corrects, his face unchanged.

“Right now?”

“Yes.” It’s obvious he isn’t up for any kind of discussion.

You look around the jungle you’re passing through. Quite the inconvenient setting.

“Kinich, I swear it’s-“

“Please.”

You nearly crumble. Both at his touch as well as the tender look in his eyes. So you relent with a sigh. “Alright, just-, “You look around for something to sit down. “Let’s get somewhere closed off, yeah?”

One settled on a nearby rock, Kinich crouches down in front of you, one hand on your calf the other on your knee. He sure seems like he’s done this a couple of times before. Well, in his line of work…

“Can you bend it?” Kinich asks then. Some strands of his hair fall into his face and you’re tempted to reach out and gently brush them away.

You blink. Focus.

“Sure. Well, I think I’d rather not bend it though.”

He hums, contemplative. “I’d rather you not as well.” After carefully checking up upon your skin and bones he looks up again to meet your eyes, a bit of a stern look on his face. More so than usual. “You realise this is swollen, right? Surely you must feel that?”

“Mayhaps,” you admit more hesitantly than he’d like.

Kinich frowns, sighs and then stands up. “Come on. I carry you. It’s not far off anymore, anyway.”

At that suggestion, your heart skips a beat. “No way.”

He crosses his arms. Then one eyebrow rises. “You think I’d dare to drop you?”

“I have dignity.” You explain and prop up your elbows as you lean back against the rock before you add, “And pride.”

“There won’t be much left of your pride if you continue to walk that way in the open.” He takes a few steps back with a glint in his eyes. “I’d put that into careful consideration as well if I were you.”

You squeeze your eyes at him. “You’re playing dirty.”

Kinich lips curve into a smile. Then he adjusts with ease and lifts you up into his arms. “And yet I win.”

You are in heaven. You could swear it.

It has been weeks now, where missions, the fatui or simple life have kept you away from each other, getting barely any time to spend.

And while Scaramouche might not outwardly admit that he’s missed you (or your touch), it is now quite evident in the way his lips adorn your skin, his fingers trailing along your body like he has to physically assure himself, you’re right here. Right beneath his very hands.

His hand slides down your midriff and his fingers grace the skin beneath your shirt, causing goosebumps to spread there. “Your fingers are cold,” you murmur dazedly between kisses, yet a slight amusement has found its way into your voice.

Scaramouche simply captures your complaint with his lips, a slight tug on his mouth. “Don’t tell me we have a temperature problem on our hands?”

“Not for long I hope,” you reply with a teasing grin and return the kiss again with more fervour. He obliges immediately.

But just as he’s about to slip your shirt over your head he pauses. You bite your lip to stop a few less-than-dignifying words from leaving your mouth and open your eyes instead. “What’s wrong? Too cold after all?”

Scaramouche’s hand tethers your waits as his gaze is locked on someplace on your ribs, the reverence from moments ago completely vanished. Now there’s a grim expression as his eyes dart down to you. “What happened here?”

You follow his line of sight where sure enough, the gash from one of your fights greets you. One, that you have perhaps pushed back farther into the depths of your mind for the sake of the moment.

“It’s nothing bad,” you explain. You feel somehow caught, trying to overplay the situation by mumbling on. “Seriously, just a stupid cut from days ago.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” There’s an agitated tension in the room now as Scaramouche’s annoyance level rises and his expression darkens. “I know for a fact this hasn’t been here for a few days already. It’s fresh. And you’re aggravating it further.”

That prompts you to prop your elbows on the bed, frowning. “It’s not bleeding, it barely even hurts. It is fine. Absolutely. Can we just…?”

His eyes narrow at your words, jaw clenching. “Perhaps you’re the stupid one then.” He clicks his tongue in irritation and gets up from the bed, muttering some disgruntled curses.

Slowly, you sit up on the bed and pull your shirt back down to cover your midriff again. You watch him roaming around the room, gathering some utensils from the shelf at his side of the bed before he returns to sit beside you. Scaramouche doesn’t look at you. In unbent silence, he pushes you back down on the sheets to give him a better angle to the wound on your side. You swallow a grunt at the sharp pain and his grip on your waist tightens for a moment.

You observe him quietly as he works, eyebrows scrunched with his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Obviously, you’re aware that his irritation stems from the desire to keep you safe, from his protective nature, and his destined grief of you one day inevitably slipping through his fingers.

“Scara-“

“Shut up. I’m done already.”

His gaze meets yours once again and for a few silent moments, you just stare at each other, with unspoken emotions swirling around on both of your faces.

Then he suddenly scoffs and puts the utensils away. As if trying to shake off his sense of irritation. “Who risks their health in such a way just to get laid?”

You can’t help the grin spreading on your lips. “Hey, at least that’ll leave a sick scar.”

“I’m gonna murder you, y/n. I’m serious.”

He isn’t.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3

[screampied]

edging choso. thank you for listening 👍

꒰১ cw. fem reader, cowgirl, mdni.

“my g—god,” choso huffs out in short breathy pants, his breathing became shallow—almost as if it came with ease, a straining exhale snatches from his throat as he leans back. you’re riding him, sensually grinding your hips against him to where his droopy eyes roll way back into the depths of his cranium. “more, more, moreee,” he pleads with crimson red lips, two big hands stuck to your waist. he was so whiney, with the way you rode him until he clung onto his final breaths—how could he not moan out a whimper or two . . ?

it’s sloppy, the way your ass moves up and down against him— he’s so thick too, such length to him that the stretch just comes so easily. callused fingertips roughly dig into your skin and his head throws back the moment his tip thrashes against your most sweetest spots. you feel it and he feels it too. “choso, how’s it feel baby? feels good?”

“uh huh, uh huh,” he’d immediately nod, half lidded eyes and he looks so cute— his entire body felt hot, he can’t help but pull you into a steamy kiss. the feeling of your warm lips mashing against his was enough to make him get off, so warm. his thighs start to pang, the undersides of them tense and he knows in the back of his mind that he’s about to dump yet another load right into you. “uh,” he whines, departing away just to see the sheeny cobweb of spit leave from your lips. choso was horrible with eye contact— he’s panting heavily before he moans out that sweet familiar, “princess ‘m gonna cummm.”

but that’s right when you amp up your speed, the piston of your hips only grow quicker— he bites his tongue, feeling a twinge of arousal brew up before he’s hitting you deep. the crownhead of his cock only tickles against your clit before right when he’s about to sink into his release,

you . . . stop.

choso inhales . . then exhales, he’s confused..

a cute perplexed expression with a pout before his eyebrows curl up. “. . wha-” he croaks and his voice cracks as you just sit there. your attention suddenly aims at coating the inner part of his chin with a plethora of sweet kisses. mwah after mwah, he moans from your touch before finishing his sentence. “why’d you stop? why—why?”

“not yet, baby.” you coo, pressing a kiss near the pierced lobe of his ear.

he frowns at that, balls deep and he was so close, so so close…

he wanted to pump you full, choso’s mouth felt dry, the inside of it felt equivalent to the sahara. he’s always had a hard time being told no and he was adorable. “n-not yet?” he repeats, soft big arms wrapping around your waist. you lean into his bare chest before giggling. you were panting yourself, heave after heave leaving your lungs as you glance into his darkened irises. “but why?”

“because,” you kiss near his neck, then his chin, then finally . . his mouth. a lewd moan escapes from his throat at your touch, he loved your kisses more than anything. his dick twitches inside of you and your tender touch only drives him more crazy. warm breath wafts against his skin and he moans again, your touch was truly his worst enemy. out of all the enemies he’s been in battle with, a simple touch or kiss from you was simply choso kamo’s weakness. “because, i want you to wait a little. is that a problem?”

“oh . . !” he cutely mutters, a sheepish smile on his lips.

he gulps, finding your sudden dominance a bit hot — dark pools of aroused eyes gaze into yours before he scoots you closer against his lap. with a low soft tone, he rasps a, “g-guess not,” and he swallows the invisible lump in his throat, feeling your pussy soak him dry. “if my love wants me to wait, i’ll w-wait.”

“you’re such a good boy, ‘cho.”

“hey, don’t call me that though. please.”

you titter, peppering a kiss towards the corner of his lips.

his mouth quivers, always so weak for any amount of kisses that you give him. he’s so grateful, the warmth that you always provide him, whether it’s being inside of you or simply sharing a sweet kiss with you, you were really his kryptonite.

“i thought you liked when i praised you?”

“i— i do,” he protests, jaw tightening as you move a bit more with him still stuffed inside of you. his cock continues to pulsate and it feels so good. but being edged felt different, something surges within him as if he was most definitely on pause mode. “it’s just . . it’s embarrassing. ‘m supposed to call you good. ‘cause y’know, you’re my good girl.”

you giggle once more, wrapping your arms around him—trying to stall as much time as you could and it was working.

“but whenever you say it, it’s just cute.”

“hmph,” he pouts, a cute tint flushing towards his cheeks before he pulls you even closer. “baby,” he questions out, snapping back to lewd reality. his head throws back as he feels the same throb stir up inside of him. a thumb strums alongside your back before he pants. “can i cum now? i waited, i just wanna fill you up— please. let me cum, okay?”

another chaste kiss goes against his lips, he whines from the contact your mouth goes against his. so sweet, you’re so close to him that you can hear him swallow and he stares at you with glossy eyes, reddened lips just shuddering from your movement.

“pretty please,” you whisper. “say that ‘n you can cum.”

“. . . babyyy,” he groans, reaching to grab onto the headboard and it’s unintentionally sexy— the way his veins on his arms pulse and bulge, a whimper drags out his throat before he finally gives in. “fuck, okay okay. fuck just, pretty please. pretty please, can i finish inside you? please.”

with the way you’re straddling him— keeping his throbbing idle cock between your gummy walls, he was about to risk it all. “okay,” you comply with a soft voice, gently stroking your thumb against his neck. “you can cum, baby. don’t waste it.”

“i won’t. promise, promise.” he purrs out, both hands going towards your bare ass. he squeezes it tightly before once you give him permission, he’s floating on cloud fucking nine. “fuh—fuckk,” he breathes, melting into a puddle once you take the time to plant a kiss near the bridge of his nose where his darkened scar remained. it shot up, arose— and it was so much. his heart pounds, a rapid heart beats through his ear before finally, he finishes.

thick velvety ropes pour right into your womb— it shoots out in such a hot way that you’re spasming, you feel each spurt and you hug him tightly. “make me feel s-so good, princess,” he pants, entirely out of breath. he’s shaking underneath you, lip quivering from the way his cum slowly but surely fills you up to the brim. your pussy’s flooded, sweltering with nothing but the hefty amounts of his cum before he bites into your neck softly. “thank you, t-thank you.”

“what for, baby?” you mutter in a hushed tone, watching as he brings his head back up to look at you with sweet droopy eyes.

choso shivers, your words only making him ten times more hard as he pulses inside of you still.

“for . . for making me a messy boy,” and he swallows, eyes closing for a brief second. “fine. fine,” and your eyebrows furrow at what he means before he whimpers into your neck, gentle breath bristling against your skin. “i . . . a-admit it, ‘m your good boy,” he moans, a hand grabbing your ass for the umpteenth time before he sheepishly huffs. “can— can we do that again though? pretty please?”

[kateschi]

chef's kiss is not enough

synopsis: a simple night out for good food changes when you meet the chef behind a dish that leaves you speechless.

pairing: chef!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the restaurant is cozy, the kind of place that doesn’t draw much attention from the outside but feels like a hidden treasure once you step inside.

soft lighting casts a warm glow over the wooden tables, and the low murmur of conversation mixes with the occasional clinking of plates.

you’re here with friends, seated at a corner table, menus spread out in front of you.

it’s the kind of night where you’re just looking forward to good food and laughter.

the waiter approaches, balancing several plates on his tray, and sets a bowl down in front of you. you thank him absentmindedly, but the moment your eyes land on your dish, you can’t help but pause.

it’s beautiful in its simplicity—steaming ramen served in a deep bowl, the broth shimmering under the restaurant’s soft light.

thin slices of pork rest delicately on the surface, alongside a soft-boiled egg, its yolk a vibrant golden color. green onions and a sheet of nori top it off, each detail deliberate and precise.

when you take the first bite, your eyes widen. the broth is rich and savory, the kind of flavor that seems to envelop your entire mouth.

the noodles are perfectly cooked, springy but not too firm, soaking up just enough of the broth.

each topping complements the next—the pork is tender, the egg creamy, the green onions adding a fresh, sharp contrast.

it’s the kind of dish that doesn’t just taste good; it feels like someone put their heart into it.

“oh my god,” you mutter, setting your chopsticks down for a moment. “this is incredible.”

your friends laugh at your reaction, one of them nudging you with their elbow. “you always get like this when the food’s good.”

“no, but this—this is different,” you insist, leaning closer to the bowl as if it holds some sort of secret. “this isn’t just good; this is like…life-changing.”

the comment earns a round of laughter, but you’re already distracted, glancing around the room for the waiter.

when you catch his eye, you raise a hand. “excuse me, who’s the chef here?”

the waiter looks surprised by the question. “our head chef is bakugou katsuki. would you like me to—”

“yes, please,” you interrupt, a little too quickly. realizing how eager you sound, you backtrack. “I mean, if he’s not too busy.”

the waiter nods and disappears toward the kitchen, leaving your friends to give you a variety of amused and curious looks.

“what?” you say defensively. “it’s not every day you eat something this good.”

a few minutes later, the kitchen door swings open, and the man who walks out is…not what you expected.

you were picturing someone older, maybe with a few gray hairs and a soft smile.

instead, this man—bakugou katsuki, apparently—is tall and broad-shouldered, his chef’s coat fitting snugly over a strong frame.

his spiky blond hair looks slightly damp, like he’s been working hard, and his expression is one of mild irritation.

he looks more like a professional athlete than a chef.

“what?” he says, his voice low and rough, as he strides up to your table. his crimson eyes sweep over the group before landing on you.

and for a moment, bakugou freezes. he didn’t know what to expect when the waiter said someone wanted to meet him—probably some pompous critic or a customer with a laundry list of complaints.

but you’re not what he expected. at all. there’s something about the way you’re looking at him, your eyes wide with a mix of nervousness and awe, that throws him completely off balance.

you’re…really pretty. too pretty, actually.

it’s annoying, how much it catches him off guard. his chest tightens, and he suddenly feels hyperaware of himself—his hands, his posture, the faint dampness of his forehead from the heat of the kitchen.

damn it.

“I, uh,” you start, faltering under his intense gaze. you weren’t expecting him to be so—well, intimidating. “I just wanted to say that the food is amazing. like, really amazing.”

for a moment, he just stares at you, his jaw tightening slightly. then he rubs the back of his neck, glancing away as if trying to compose himself. “thanks,” he mutters, his tone less gruff than before.

the way he looks away almost makes you smile.

he doesn’t seem like the type to take compliments well, and you can’t help but find it endearing. but at the same time, his presence is overwhelming, and you feel heat creeping up your neck.

“well,” he says abruptly, his eyes snapping back to yours. “if that’s it, I’ve got stuff to do.”

“right, of course,” you say quickly, nodding. “thank you again.”

he nods once, almost curtly, before turning and heading back toward the kitchen. you watch him go, your mind racing with thoughts you can’t quite organize.

the rest of the evening goes by in a blur.

you and your friends continue to chat and laugh, but your thoughts keep drifting back to bakugou. his sharp eyes, the way he looked almost flustered when you complimented him.

it’s distracting, and you can’t quite shake it.

as you’re leaving, stepping out into the cool night air, a voice calls out behind you.

“hey.”

you turn to see him standing in the doorway, still in his chef’s coat. he looks like he’s debating whether this is a good idea or not, his expression tight with something between determination and reluctance.

in his hand is a paper bag with the restaurant’s logo. “here,” he says, holding it out to you.

you blink, confused. “I didn’t order takeout.”

“it’s on me,” he says, shoving the bag toward you. his crimson eyes flick to the side, avoiding your gaze.

“oh, but—”

“just take it,” he interrupts, his voice firm but not unkind.

you hesitate for a moment before taking the bag. your fingers brush against his, and the brief contact sends a strange warmth through your chest. “thank you,” you murmur.

he nods, and for a moment, it looks like he might say something else. but then he just steps back inside, the door closing behind him.

when you get home, you open the bag to find a perfectly packaged serving of the ramen you raved about earlier. sitting on top is a small note, written in slightly messy handwriting:

xxx-xxx-xxxx the name’s katsuki. text me.

a smile creeps onto your face, and you find yourself thinking that maybe, just maybe, you will.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[kurooh]

Heyy I love your works!! Can I get some praise kink works with husband! Kuroo, atsumu and ushijima ?? 🥹🥹

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE.. PRAISED ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurou, & ushijima wakatoshi lovin’ on and praising their beautiful wife in bed.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, one squirt, intimacy, praise, mirror sex, creampies, pet names, fluff, lingerie.

xoxo, juno: HI i hope u see this it’s been a few months 🥲 i loved writing atsumu’s he’s so cute

MIYA ATSUMU.

“haah, i fuckin’ love it when ya get dressed up like this, baby. ya always take such good care of me.” atsumu’s fingers smooth over the thin material of your lace thigh highs, his most favorite kind of lingerie to see you in. your soft legs are splayed out on either side of him as you bounce on his cock, squirming whenever his tip kisses your cervix.

he’s huge, easily stretching you out and filling you up just right. atsumu’s never been afraid to be vocal with you, but tonight he seems to be much louder than usual . .

a stream of curses falls from his lips like it’s nothing, and his nails dig into the skin of your hips, leaving indents shaped like crescent moons. “ngh, don’t—please don’t stop.”

“sensitive much?” you giggle, feeling a lot less tired now that he’s used your favorite word. in a heartbeat, you’re moving more deliberately, rolling your hips forward and nosing at the tender skin of his neck. with a moan, atsumu pulls you close and lolls his head over your shoulder, giving you any and all access. 

“jus’ a long day, angel,” he breathes out, clawing at your skin when you press open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck, occasionally nipping at the damp spots. “did ya know ya always make ‘em better?”

“mmm, you said the same thing about your salt baths,” you tease, lightly tracing the curve of his jaw with your tongue, pulling a groan of both pleasure and ire from the depths of his chest. 

“ugh, y’know what i mean,” he rolls his eyes even though you can’t see him, “i don’t look forward ta them like i do ta seein’ ya.”

“tsumu,” you say, borderline moan, and a shiver ripples through his body and makes his balls clench. “i was about to say the same thing, you keep reading my mind.”

you’re both on the same wavelength — which is why your pace quickens, much like his heart, without him having to say anything to you. gingerly, your fingers slip into the gold tufts of his hair and your nails lightly rake across his scalp. it’s when you pull hard that he lets out something between a whimper and a whine, teeth scraping over your shoulder as he searches for something to bite down on.

atsumu’s neck absorbs your own sounds of lewd delight as you ride him into oblivion, trying your hardest not to stop despite the burn in your thighs or the racing of your heart. you gasp sharply when his cock twitches deep inside your cunt and he grips your hips hard, holding you in place as he moans incoherently into your shoulder.

you pull him back by his hair and then into a kiss, your lips muffling his frantic gasps. whatever he said or tried to say is unimportant, because he ends up cumming abruptly, spilling white against your cervix. atsumu’s muscular back heaves as he struggles for breath, the entirety of his body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat that you can’t help but think about licking off.

“tsumu?” you ask gently, fingers lightly scrabbling at the nape of his neck, “you okay?”

he weakly hugs you closer, breathing heavily as he comes down from his high. “god, ‘m definitely gonna be dreamin’ about that,” for a moment, he pauses to kiss away the cooling spit on the slope of your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “jus’ wanna stay like this for a minute, angel. missed ya a lot today.”

KUROO TETSUROU.

“that’s my girl,” tetsurou coos, voice low and lustful, “swear you were made to take my cock just like this, sweetheart.”

clap, clap, clap. the crude smack of skin against skin grows louder, filling the room and inevitably pissing off the neighbors—tetsurou’s always loved to show off, and his most favorite ways to do so are by taking you to office gatherings or like this . . your wrists are bound together by his favorite silk tie for work and you’re sobbing out his name so loudly you’re drowning out the sounds of the bed.

you’re too cock drunk to even think about what flies past your lips. “o-of course i was, tetsu, ‘m all fuckin’ yours.”

he chuckles, bringing a hand down hard against your asscheek. your babbling is cute, but you’re burying yourself in the mussed sheets and making it difficult for him to hear you the way he expects to. that slap stings, and heat licks at the spot where his wedding band came down against your skin, but you don’t do anything other than arch your back and moan.

lithely, tetsurou leans forward over you and slips his hand beneath your chin, cupping your jaw as he lifts your head up and makes you look at the full length mirror that’s set in front of the bed. a dazed glance shows you the fucked out expression on your face and the makeup that’s smudged every which way.

“just look at you,” he chokes out, squeezing your hips as his dark eyes rake over you like he can’t get enough, “i love it—i fuckin’ love it when you’re archin’ like that, so damn pretty.”

tetsurou’s compliments are saccharine and raw whenever he’s inside you, full of filthy appreciativeness as your needy cunt sucks him deeper. he’s practically in your stomach now, taking the saying of ‘rearranging your guts’ almost too literally—it’s impossible to complain, especially when you’re too busy drooling while your eyes roll back in bliss.

“oh, fuck—t-tetsu, ‘m close,” the wet squelches of your pussy grow louder as he jackhammers his cock right into the soft, spongy spot inside of you that always reduces you to a mess without fail. his eyes lock onto you in the mirror as tremors roll through your body like surface waves, your face crumpling at the ecstasy licking at each and every one of your limbs. “ah, right there—oh, oh my goddd, ‘m gonna cum!”

in an instant, tetsurou snakes his hand over your shoulder and wraps his fingers around your neck, firmly pulling your body back against him. breathlessly, he groans into your ear and the sound only makes your heart pound harder, “wifey’s gonna cum all over me, huh?”

you nod frantically, arching against him as your short breaths shift into pitched gasps.

“let me feel you, honey,” warmth ghosts over the shell of your ear as his grip tightens just a fraction, “but i want those pretty eyes to stay open, ‘kay? watch yourself in the mirror like a good girl.”

so you do, even though your eyelids flutter a few times and an influx of tears blurs your vision. like a vice, your walls squeeze down on his cock as if they’re trying to milk him for everything he’s got—it almost works, but he drags in a harsh breath and barely holds it together. he’s got no other choice but to bite down hard on his lip when he feels you gushing waterfalls, soaking his skin with your delicious slick. but, tetsurou isn’t ready to give this up yet, not when he’s having this much fun watching the best porno that’s ever blessed his eyes.

you’re out of breath and entirely limp, voice cracking when you try to say his name. “hold—hold on, i need to sit down.”

an infuriating pout plays on his lips when you look into the mirror, and he takes the opportunity to diligently switch into an easier position where you’re sitting on top of his cock, thighs on either side of his hips. “better, baby?”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

“you didn’t have to, ah, do all that,” you gasp, voice breaking and eyes fluttering shut as the languid thrusts of his cock seem to reach your lungs, “‘toshi, how long were you planning everything?”

wakatoshi chuckles breathlessly, pressing his sweaty forehead to yours. soft, small bits of baby hair stick to his skin, but he’s too focused on you to pay it any mind. “sweetheart, that doesn’t matter. it’s our second anniversary, of course i’d go all out.”

your back arches off the bed, and your hardened nipples press into his own. he’s never been so fulfilled by anyone before—not by friends, or family. not like this. you’re his everything, his favorite part of the day and the person he’d choose over everyone else. in the background, the bed creaks faintly, barely audible over the smooth music that pours into the room from a small speaker. 

it looks like the most romantic scene in a movie, of course it does—wakatoshi’s still as in love with you as he was the first time you went out on a date together, all those years ago.

“i wish you could see how beautiful you look right now,” a warm whisper ghosts against your lips before he gives you a kiss, swallowing your answer and the soft moans that follow it. “mmm, my lovely wife. i’ve been waiting all day to touch you, darling.”

even this far into your relationship with him, your cheeks still get hot when those endearing petnames roll off his tongue—it’s intimate, a gesture that leaves no question about the fact that his heart is entirely yours. 

“toshi,” you whine, nails digging into his muscular shoulders, “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, it’s—”

“i was about to say the same, honey,” he groans, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling your scent, “we’re not done, this time i want to—ngh, i want to put a baby in you.”

something delightful flashes behind olive green eyes, and he thinks of you, swollen all from carrying his child. he can’t help but picture walking around with you and everyone knowing that you’re his just from one glance. maybe it’s the baby fever talking or his well-known possessive streak, but wakatoshi’s lost in the fantasy of it all, abs clenching and hips faltering against your own as inescapable ecstasy licks at his limbs.

a sob of his name bursts out of you as you abruptly cum all over his cock, cunt sucking him deeper and gripping him like a vice. he grips your hips to keep you close, and you’re already on it, reading his mind with ease: your legs lock around his waist and draw him in, your own way of telling him you want the same thing he does.

wakatoshi spills inside you while you’re shaking, hot ribbons of cum gushing against your awaiting cervix. even as you thrash beneath him, he firmly holds you in place with his own weight and rocks his hips into you to push his load impossibly deeper. he murmurs sweet, sexy nothings into your ear and feels his eyes roll back when you thread your fingers through his hair. “sweetheart, you’re jus’ so damn perfect,” wakatoshi’s heart pounds even harder in his ears, “i need to—fuck, i have to fill you up again and again . . ”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond x brothel reader 👀

So what if instead of Aemond visiting the older woman in yesterday’s episode - he goes to the brothel and immediately regrets it and is about to leave until he sees reader and is mesmerized by her beauty. They have their little moment and she gives him comfort. Definitely feel free to add more or change anything! This is just a thought that I’d like to see created. Thank you!

Request: Aemond and a brothel girl (maybe a dancer idk) like the scene in the episode. Except they are more intimate and not weird age gap like the madam. It gave me the ick… He truly feels for her.

Warnings: mention of (past) character death, mommy issues,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The mysterious customer under a cloak all piqued your curiosity. You never had the chance of properly seeing him, always immediately escorted to a private bed. Some girls said he was disfigured, and that it was the reason he covered himself with a cloak. Some said it was Aegon Targaryen, but you knew the newly crowned King favored Flea Bottom’s whores. 

As you danced, your eyes would try to see through the veils he hid behind. To get a glimpse of him. But you never saw anything other than his bare feet. All you knew was that he was with Madam Sylvi and that he requested hot milk.

One late evening, you saw him leaving the veils. His cloak was on, but he saw you. He saw you dancing and moving your naked body to the rhythm of the music, entertaining the customers. 

The next time he came by, he asked for you. 

Madam Sylvi was not pleased, but he was the paying customer. 

You reminded him of his mother — physically —, but more caring and nurturing. He found your voice soothing and loved to rub himself against the fullness of your breasts, making your nipples harden to the stimulation, until he came to rest his cheek on top of it, humming in satisfaction. His mother let him do this as a child, when she was still comforting him, and he missed it. 

Every night, he would curl against you, or in your lap, and stay here for hours as you gently caressed his pale skin. Unlike the other customers, Aemond was not there for sexual satisfaction. He just wanted comfort.

‘’Daemon sent them to kill me,’’ he said, his naked body shielded by the veils circling the large bed. ‘’It was my head they wanted, not my innocent little nephew’s.’’

Your heart was heavy as the prince mentioned the murder of Jaehaerys — a child. The barbarous act had everyone in tears. 

You rubbed his arm gently, the aroma of calming lavender wrapping around you. ‘’But you were with me.’’

‘’I feel sorry for my brother and sweet sister. She is traumatized.’’ Guilt filled his stomach as he remembered the suffering and painful grief in Helaena’s eyes. ‘’I should be grateful they did not find me, but a part of me wishes they had. Unlike my little nephew, I would have been able to defend myself.’’

‘’We cannot change the past, my prince.’’ 

‘’I know,’’ Aemond whispered, his cold, princely facade completely down in your company. He sighed deeply as your gentle caresses soothed his weary soul. His body relaxed as he buried his face into your covered chest, seeking solace in your warmth and tenderness. ‘’There’s a lot I would change about the past if I could. I…I do regret that business with Luke. I lost my temper that day, and I am sorry for it.’’

You stroked his hair gently, the soft, silvery locks running through your fingers. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away as he rested against you.

Aemond's eye closed at your touch, and a small sigh escaped his lips. ‘’They used to tease me, you know? Because I was different. One time, in the dragonpit, they…they said they found me a dragon. It was a pig. And my brother was part of the prank.’’

’'That was cruel of them,'’ you said softly, leaning to kiss his temple. He leaned into your touch as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. ‘’They were cruel to you, my prince. You didn't deserve their taunts and mockery.'’ 

You felt his hand reaching up and palming your breasts through your clothing. Getting the hint of what he wanted, you untied the front of your dress and freed your breasts. Immediately, Aemond’s mouth started to press kisses over them before. His hot tongue swiped over your nipple. You let him do what he desired, knowing this was his way of finding comfort. The warmth of his hand and the wetness of his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused on his needs.

As Aemond continued his sweet assault on your breasts, you noticed his cock was getting hard against his thigh, but didn’t mention it. Madam Sylvi never touched him there...or kissed him. Only you — when he asked for it. 

The music outside the curtains changed, and he shifted, letting go of your breasts to curl up with his head on your lap instead. You continued to rub his shoulder down to his back, then along his thigh and leg. 

‘’When I claimed Vhagar, I felt powerful.’’ 

His pride and confidence had swelled to an almost unmanageable extent when he returned to Driftmark. He was excited to tell Aegon, and his mother about Vhagar. But his cousins and nephews found him first. They got into a fight over the dragon…and Lucerys Velaryon took out his eyes. 

As if you read his thoughts, your finger brushed the scar going through his eyebrow. You couldn’t imagine the pain he went through. 

‘’Was it why you went after Luke that day? Because you wanted him to be afraid of you and your superior dragon?’’ 

Aemond grew still at the mention of Lucerys, the memory of that fateful day on Storm’s End, the catalyst of the brewing war, still fresh in his mind. 

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded slowly. ‘’Yes... In a way, I suppose so.’’ 

You hummed, brushing your fingertips along his cheekbone softly. 

Aemond wished he could take you to the Keep. To his chambers. It would be nice to not have to hide under a cloak at night and risk getting seen by anyone who shouldn’t. He wished you would be there, in his bed, when he would return from small council meetings, training or even just supper, to take care of him and hold him.

But that was impossible. His mother would never allow it.  

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Logan and Wade with shy gn s/o please?

I’m going to assume separate unless told otherwise as poly relationship between Wade/Logan and reader would be cool too, but again unless specified I’m just going to assume it’s separate.

Wade Wilson/ Deadpool

Wade found your shyness adorable but found your reactions to his teasing and flirting.

And he abuses the shit out of that to his hearts content.

Mouse was a nickname that you were given almost immediately from the moment you met as you were quiet and cute as one too that to Wade it just fit you perfectly.

Wade; stop being so fucking cute!

You: huh?

Wade: you heard me! It should be illegal to be as cute as you! You should be locked up for the thing you do to me, but I’d rather keep ahold of the details because half of them might make you faint little mouse.

You: oh. 😶🫣

Wade will make it a tradition to take you by surprise, whether it be by randomly kissing you, hugging you from behind, playfully smacking your ass, it didn’t matter because your tendency to whine his name out in embarrassment ‘waaaaddde!’ Before hiding your face in his chest as he laughs and whispers teasing words into your ear that only makes your flustered state worsen.

Wade didn’t mind that you were shy, he really didn’t as he found it to be one of the many things he loved about you and wanted to protect, he didn’t want you to feel as though you should have to change to better fit him when he was more content with you being you.

He’s never had as much fun nor laughter in his life like he did when he was with you, and Wade considered himself lucky to have someone as soft and sweet as you that he often times thought you’d be better off without a fuck up like him in your life but he’d kept it to himself, disguising it with humour and teasing you instead.

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine

Logan finds you being shy amusing to say the least.

It brought his protective instincts out as someone as soft and shy and softly spoken as you would need him by your side 24/7.

He’s your guard dog, scary dog privilege in the form of a very traumatised man who’s became more familiar with pain and heartbreak than the tender affection and touches you give him.

So you found it best to be patient with Logan and give him time to become familiar with your love and affection until he felt ready to reciprocate in his own way. And Logan appreciated you for that and would let you know his appreciation by planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

Logan is a softy with you and while he’s quick to bite back at other people, with you he’s much softer with his words that they’re practically sweet murmurs whispered within your ear, as he held you against his chest protectively as you both drifted off to sleep.

He more or less acts as your voice whenever you felt discomfort, he’d could easily tell from your bodily language and would immediately step in, and voice your discomfort for you in your stead for Logan knew that you’d rather avoid conflict then delve headfirst into it like him.

However Logan would be the type to try and teach you ways to defend yourself and how to stick up for yourself when he couldn’t, this is probably out of his fear of losing someone dear to his heart again, but he wasn’t about to risk looking you when he could give you the tools to keep yourself safe while he was away.

He gives you his jacket, just make sure that the point gets across that you were his and not theirs, after all he’s a possessive man who doesn’t like sharing what’s his with anyone else.

He didn’t care about anyone else, you were the only thing he gave two shits about alongside Laura Kinney (x 23) other then you two, nothing else mattered to Logan. He just wanted you to be happy for as long as possible.

Side note: he’d love it if you and Laura got along, it’ll mean all the more to him.

[happilyhertale]

My dragoness – Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Summary: Weeks have passed since the announcement of your betrothal to your Uncle Daemon. Since then, hardly a night has gone by without Daemon visiting you - without disregarding your wish not to take the final step yet. But tonight, on your wedding night, you will finally be fully his.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering, sex (p in v), breeding kink, size kink, loss of virginity

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

This is another part of my Shared Future series.

x3 When @targaryen-dynasty asked me if I would like to participate in celebrating her 3K follower milestone, of course I agreed x3

Some have asked for another part for the Shared Future series, which is why I'm celebrating Laura's milestone with this story.

I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.5 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your eyes are closed and your shaky breath echoes in the chambers. The rooms that you will share with your husband from now on.

The ceremony seems only distant in your memory and now so surreal as you lie here on this bed. How all eyes were on you when your eyes only looked into your uncle's. How you couldn't suppress a grin when you recognised the slightest smile around his lips. How he gently cupped your cheek with his rough hand before enveloping your lips with his…

"Hey... open your eyes," you hear Daemon say - almost softly.

You obey him and your eyes slowly open. The scenery shoots in on you as you lie on the bed in just your nightgown, your husband standing in front of the bed, looking at you, slowly opening his shirt.

"That's better," he says gently and smiles at you.

You don't know why you're so nervous. He's seen you naked countless times, driven you to ecstasy with his touch. But this time it's different, it's your wedding night.

He slowly approaches you as he slowly opens his trousers. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your nightgown as you try to breathe more calmly. Without looking at him, you hear his trousers slide down.

Daemon's eyes linger on you. He takes in every nervous twitch and quickened breath and he moves closer.

"There's no need to be nervous. I've seen every inch of you, explored every curve, and tasted your sweet surrender. Tonight, we seal our union, and I will show you just how much you belong to me," he purrs, his voice low and seductive, "It will be special," his soft voice sounds and you hear the words you whispered to him countless nights ago.

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a mix of anticipation and excitement bubbling within you. You know that Daemon is a man of passion and intensity, and tonight, he intends to leave his mark on you in more ways than one.

Daemon's eyes flicker with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness as he watches you fidget and nervously avoid his gaze.

He reaches out, his hand gently caressing your cheek before trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His touch is both tender and possessive, a contrast that only adds to the intensity of the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your nightgown, slowly lifting it up, revealing your body to him in all its vulnerability.

You feel the mattress give way as Daemon kneels on the bed. You look up and your purple Targaryen eyes meet. A gasp leaves your lips as his hand brushes across your thigh, gently grasping the underside of it and spreading your thighs slightly - his rough hand, a stark contrast to your soft skin. His other hand slides to your face, his index finger and thumb cupping your chin, lifting your head slightly.

"Look at me... focus on me..." he whispers and you nod slightly as you look into his eyes. Carefully, he pushes your legs apart as he kneels between them. His lips glide over your cheek, over your neck, while his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your eyes flutter shut as you concentrate fully on his touch. His warm breath glides over your skin as his lips caress you. The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers grip your inner thigh.

"That's my girl... concentrate on my touch..." he whispers against your skin. You nod slightly again and gasp as his fingers cup your folds - you'll never get tired of this feeling. Slowly, his fingers move, smearing the wetness along your folds. His fingers find your sensitive bud, light circular movements follow and as if of their own accord your hips move to follow their movement.

Daemon follows your movements, sliding his fingers to your soaked opening, applying light pressure. His fingertips are literally sucked in and a mewling sound comes from your lips. You exhale heavily, his fingers thrust deeper, your eyes still closed.

Daemon's lips curl into a smug smile as he watches your reactions, relishing in the way you respond to his touch. He takes pleasure in knowing that he can easily bring you to the edge with just his fingers alone.

His fingers continue their exploration, sliding in and out of your wetness, gradually increasing the depth and pace of his thrusts. He watches as your hips buck against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"You're so wet... I don't even really need to work to get inside you," Daemon murmurs and you blush slightly, but your moans don't let up.

"Open your eyes" he whispers, "I want you to watch as I prepare you for me. See how wet and ready you are for my cock."

As you obey again, your eyes meeting his, Daemon's fingers quicken their pace, delving deeper into your core. He revels in the way your breath hitches, your body trembling with anticipation.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're ready for me, aren't you? You want my cock inside you, filling you completely."

You blush even more - you know that Daemon loves to fill your mind with filthy words. Even if they have the desired effect on you, you can't help but blush.

But suddenly you feel him pull his fingers out of you and a soft whimper leaves you. You feel your nerves again as you look down and see him pulling down his undergarments. You've seen his manhood many times before, on the nights he's visited you - but this is different.

His length is released and you gasp slightly - it's never seemed so big to you, so thick. His hand slides along his throbbing length and you hear him grunt slightly.

"Daemon... this... this won't fit..." you suddenly whisper nervously and your hand slides to his arm.

Daemon smiles, still pumping his hardness.

"Hey... look at me," he whispers again and you look up. But then he kisses you, wrapping his lips around yours, swallowing your doubts.

The kiss is filled with a hunger that ignites a fire deep within you. His hand roams your body, claiming every inch, as if marking you as his territory. The intensity of his touch, the way he dominates your senses, leaves you breathless and wanting more.

"It will fit... we will make it fit... It will hurt at first, but the reward will be all the better," he whispers against your lips. You can't help but nod as he slides the tip of his hardness through your folds.

Your eyes flutter shut and you inhale sharply. Your fingers dig into his skin as his length presses against your pearl. Again your hips move towards him, seeking more of that touch.

Daemon looks down, between your bodies, watching closely as your wetness and his precum mingle. His growl echoes through the chambers. You concentrate fully on the sensation as he guides its length to your entrance.

Slowly he pushes forward and you feel the pressure as his manhood tries to penetrate you. A slight whimper leaves you as your heat envelops his tip. He growls slightly, senses your tightness and starts to move slowly.

"You're doing great..." he whispers in your ear, gently kissing your cheek as he pushes further. You feel the pressure, biting your lip as he impales you on his hot length. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, is overwhelming. Your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate to his size. Daemon's pace is slow and deliberate, relishing in the tightness and warmth of your core.

But Daemon still feels a lot of resistance, he's nowhere near all the way in yet.

"Love... it's going to hurt for a moment now... but it has to be," he whispers and your eyes open again, looking at him. You whimper, but you nod slightly. He leans his forehead against yours, lets his nose slide gently along yours before kissing you softly again. His rhythmic movements don't let up as his tongue searches for yours and you moan slightly.

When suddenly he thrusts and you cry out as the sharp pain runs through your abdomen. He swallows your cry, his hand on your hip as his thick length works you open. "Uncle Daemon..." you whimper into his mouth as he slides in and out.

"I know..." he whispers, but he keeps moving. The pain slowly subsides. Your cunt, clenching around his cock in protest, slowly gives way. He feels the fluttering of your walls and closes his eyes briefly.

"Gods you feel so good," he growls. Slight mewling sounds leave your lips as your hips begin to move with him. He smiles at you, "That's my girl," he whispers a little breathlessly as his hips move faster. He can feel you soaking his cock, your pleasure increasing, and it spurs him on.

His thrusts get harder as he tries to bury himself completely inside you. He revels in the feeling of your tightness around him, the way you yield to his every thrust. Moans escape you now as your hands grip his upper arms. His hand still on your hip, holding you in place.

He watches your face, observing every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, marking you as his.

"You're so tight, so wet," his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. "You were made for me... Made to be filled by me," he grunts as he feels the tight grip of your cunt.

You are completely overwhelmed by the sensation as your cunt is fully stretched. You feel his balls slapping against you with every thrust and you whimper. His grunts echo through your chambers as he feels the continuous spasming of your wet walls. His eyes drift down again, seeing his glistening length disappear into your perfect womanhood again and again - the moment he's been waiting for so long, finally fulfilled.

He looks at your face again, sensing your impending climax - your eyes closed, your lips slightly parted as you try to follow his movements. Your noises a mixture of moans and whimpers. His hand slides to your abdomen, pressing lightly against it. He wants to feel his hot length sliding into you, bringing you to climax.

His thumb begins to tease your bud as he thrusts harder and faster into you. You cry out slightly, but you can feel the pressure in your abdomen. Your fingernails dig deeper into his skin as he pumps in and out, his thumb rubbing faster.

"Come for me... Soak my cock, suck up my seed..." he growls in your ear and you moan again. You open your eyes and look into his - blown wide with lust.

As your climax approaches, Daemon's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more powerful. He can feel the walls of your core tightening around him, signaling your imminent release.

With one final powerful thrust, he plunges deep within you, his cock pulsating as he finds his own release. The sensation of him emptying himself inside you pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You moan out, your walls milk his cock and he grunts loudly. He watches your face contort with pleasure as moan after moan leaves your lips while your warm walls spasm around him. He's never seen anything so perfect - you're finally his.

He leans down, kisses you, swallows your moans of pleasure.  His hips move more slowly as you come sliding back to reality from the veil of lust.

When his movements slow down completely, he releases the kiss. You can still feel him inside you, his nose slides gently along yours, you see him smile slightly.

"Are you all right?" he whispers a little breathlessly. You just nod and a breathless "Okay," leaves his lips. You whimper slightly in protest as he slowly pulls out of you. His length glistening with a mixture of your fluids. He watches you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction, before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

In this moment, there is no one else but the two of you, lost in the aftermath of your shared passion. Your bodies are entwined, your souls connected in a way that words cannot describe.

Your heavy breathing echoes in your chambers as he slowly releases the kiss, his gaze travelling down your body as he leans back.

His gaze is fixed on your womanhood and you feel something unfamiliar dripping out of you. Your hand instinctively wants to slide between your legs, but you only notice a slight shake of his head before he stops your hand. His other hand slides to your folds and slowly he pushes his fingers inside you, but you are overstimulated, your hips jerk back slightly.

"Don't," he whispers, "My seed must stay inside you.... I want a perfect heir to grow inside you"

You blush slightly, but his fingers slowly slide inside you, pushing the seed deeper inside you. Your eyes flutter shut slightly as you surrender to this feeling.

Daemon's eyes darken with possessiveness as he watches your reactions, his fingers still buried deep inside you. He can feel the wetness and warmth around his digits, evidence of the pleasure he has brought you. The thought of his seed filling you, the possibility of creating an heir, sends a surge of pride through him.

His thumb brushes against your sensitive pearl, eliciting a shudder from your body. He can sense your sensitivity, the overstimulation that threatens to overwhelm you. But he doesn't stop, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on your pleasure.

"You're mine… My dragoness" he murmurs, his voice low and almost commanding. "And I will fill you with my seed until you bear me a child. You will be the mother of my heir“

Daemon watches you, his fingers still buried deep inside you. His fingers move faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. He can feel the tension building within you, your body on the precipice of another climax. He wants to take you there, to see you come undone in his arms once more.

As the waves of pleasure begin to build once again, you can feel his fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot that sends sparks of ecstasy coursing through your body. It's almost too much to bear, the pleasure threatening to consume you.

And as your moans fill the air, your body convulsing around his fingers, he knows he has succeeded. He watches with satisfaction as your pleasure washes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers. In his mind, your precious womb sucks up his seed with every contraction.

Finally he slowly pulls his fingers out of you – a mixture of his seed and your arousal covers his fingers. He smiles and collapses next to you on the bed, his breathing still heavy and laboured.

He looks at you, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. You smile almost shyly before his arm wraps around your middle and pulls you closer. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. His fingers glide gently over your abdomen as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear - your heavy breathing and light giggles fill the air.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[hurlingdown]

CUNNILINGUS — ft. ftm!character. dom!reader.

imagine taking your sweet, sweet time savouring him. 

pressing your lips to toughened, scarred skin, puckering them lightly to let out soft muahs, letting him know just how much you appreciate him. making him squirm, face and chest glowing, so embarrassed by how delicate you’re treating him but at the same time not being able to look away. 

your gaze isn’t hungry, no. it’s a different sort of heavy intensity that’s residing within, speaking to him, drumming on his heart, making the space inside his ribs feel small and cramped. it’s almost like you’re in love with him, but this is just one of the many things that he wants… so much, too much, but knows no god out there would grant the wish of a devil. 

there’s no rush at all when you kiss your way down his stomach and navel until you’re snug between his thighs, pressing your cheek against one of them. he doesn’t ask what you’re looking at, knows exactly how much he’s leaking for you, and he clenches his hole to make it drool a little more. 

you smile when a hand cards through your hair, not a demand but something more tender. telling you he’s okay, you may begin when you are. 

he’s throbbing with need by the time you’re pressing open mouthed kisses on his clit, shivers of pleasure making him let out soft gasps into the open air. his hand never leaves your hair, and he’s trying his best not to tug at the strands, giving you all the freedom you deserve. he doesn’t ask for more—you already know. just lays back, and lets you make him feel good. 

we have all the time in the world, he thinks. lies to himself, because it helps soothe the ache. lets him forget a little while, the splinter in his chest. 

the first broad stroke of your tongue against him brings him back to reality. he lets go to fist his hands into the sheets, trying his best not to buck up to you. you’ve gone through this with him many times before, but he’s still afraid he’ll lose control and somehow hurt you in vulnerable moments like these. you loathe it, how he thinks of pleasure like a sin. 

“don’t hold back,” you murmur into his folds, and he lets out a shaky exhale at the sweet buzz that probes his walls. nods—yes, he will listen, even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. it’s you who deserves to be heard. you breathe in his earthy scent, a hand finding his clenched fist, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing; even as you begin to lick into him again, lapping up his slick and stretching him out. 

this time, and the next few times, he doesn’t stop himself. he parts his lips to let out a low moan as you pull back to suck wetly at his clit, and cringes at the noise. it ends shortly when you echo him with a loud, throaty groan into his pussy, as though his pleasure was your own. at this, he trembles with a gasp of your name, eyes widening because you were unpredictable like that. you only encourage him, free hand holding him still as you eat him out slow and meaningfully, eyes never leaving him to make sure he’s enjoying every second of it. 

after that, all hell lets loose, and he feels as though moan after moan is pulled out from bone and marrow, from the depths of his soul, the dirty places that he has tried to hide from you. it is the first time that he has realised that maybe he is allowed to feel this way. maybe he is allowed to want, and have, and not be satisfied with just ‘enough’.

“please,” he cries out, as you slurp him, feast him. he holds your hand tight as the first wave of his orgasm burns through him, the quivering flame inside roaring to life—and bursting into wildfire. 

he curses, writhes, fighting to jerk out from your grip, no longer trying to act tame and reverent. you continue to pleasure him even as buries a hand in your hair, trying to wrench you away, sobbing out pleas for mercy and for more. 

if this is what it takes to make him lose control, then you will do it. over and over again, until he breaks out of that hollow shell, the one that cages him in with his quiet self-destruction, away from release and pleasure. until he learns that being with you is supposed to feel good.  masterlist!

[mydear-corinthian]

trouble sleeping

synopsis: you're having a hard time sleeping and spencer helps you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, implied insomnia, praise kink

notes: short <w.c 1000 | ib: natt-ice's p-link | divider by lavendergalactic

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

Sheets ruffling. Bed moving. Annoyed groans.

The gentle rustling noises behind him woke Spencer. He was startled out of his half-slumber by the little shuffle of movement and the rustle of blankets. With a sleepy blink, he rolled over and watched you squirming around to find a comfortable position. You shifted the pillows with a groan and fidgeted under the blankets, clearly frustrated.

"Hey, why are you still awake?" Spencer murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he propped himself up on one elbow. His body was now fully facing yours, eyes tracing the silhouette of your restless form in the dim light.

You mumbled, "I can't sleep," in a frustrated tone. "God, this is so annoying!" You pushed a cushion beneath your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pain after yanking another pillow from the head of the bed but still no avail.

Spencer didn’t immediately respond. He just watched you, his gaze lingering on the frustration playing across your features. A soft scoff slipped from his lips, barely audible.

You let out a low groan as you shifted once more, desperate for some relief. The bed felt too warm, too cold, the sheets too tight, or too loose—nothing felt right. "Fuck this," you muttered, the words a bitter release, your head sinking into the pillow in exasperation.

After a few minutes of your boyfriend watching you suffer, he spoke up. "I have an idea. Statistics shows that you can sleep immediately after you exercise."

"Exercise?" your head rise a bit, looking at him questionably with the smirk that's planted in his face. "What exercise are you exactly talking about?"

Spencer smirked, perhaps enjoying the moment, but he didn't respond. He suddenly grasped your face with his palm, his thumb gliding over your cheek, his lips pressing softly but passionately against yours. Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, a breathless "oh" escaped your lips as a wave of warmth swept through you. You immediately put your arms around his neck and drew him in, kissing him more deeply as you both got caught up in the intimacy and the outside world faded.

"Mhm—" you let out a moan as his tongue worked with yours. Your fingers made its way to his hair, curling it in pleasure and then to his topless back.

The kiss was full of love, closeness, and lust. Spencer's lips pressed against yours, a mix of urgency and tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. As he deepened the kiss, his fingers began their slow, deliberate journey from your neck, trailing down to your stomach, exploring the soft curves of your body.

"May I?" Spencer asked softly as his hand rested on your shirt. You nodded in response and Spencer didn't hesitate to remove your t-shirt, leaving your bare chest exposed. He smiled at the sight before kissing you again.

"Spence.." you whispered. "Mhm—"

"Yes, baby?" he said in between kisses but you just moaned in response. "I need you to use your words, baby."

Your eyes pleaded, thighs shaking. "Need you, please.." you cried.

Spencer chuckled, bringing his fingers down to your white-laced panties before removing them slowly. His index finger rolled down to your sensitive clit, drawing figure of eights.

"Spencer— aah," you moaned, holding his upper arm tightly as you felt pleasure slowly waving towards you.

"So wet.. and sensitive, my love," he cooed.

As he slowly inserted a finger inside of you, you let out a gasp that echoed the shock and joy that filled your body. As the world around you seemed to melt away, your head sank back, giving in to the waves of pleasure that swept over you. Even though it was only a finger, it lit a fire inside of you. You spread your legs wider as he added another digit, pumping it in and out in a slow but steady pace. He held you tightly, your head resting on his other arm as he finger fucked you.

After a few more, Spencer's pace speeded up, hitting that spongy spot that made your back arch. "Aah— Spence—Fuck! Yes, yes, yes—" you chanted his name like a damn saint as you started to see stars when you closed your eyes.

"You like that, yeah?"

"Yes, Spen— aah!"

As he pumped in deeper, his lips catched yours. You kissed him back with full force while moaning in between kisses. The pleasure was overflowing.. and so was you.

Your core ached and clenched on Spencer's slenders. A familiar feeling coiled up your lower stomach, causing you to fully shot your eyes down and moan like crazy. Your legs shaked as his pace was getting harsher.

"I'm close," you ached.

"It's alright, baby," Spencer smiled as he purposely hit his palm on your clit. "I'm here, mhm? Cum on my fingers. Can you do that for me?"

After a few more, you came. His fingers were stained with your juices. You panted like a crazy madman as your legs collapsed.

Spencer pulled his fingers out and focused his eyes on you. Smiling, he kissed you again but this time, passionately.

"Remind me how that can make me fall asleep quickly?" you asked with a tired but satisfied sigh.

"Your body releases hormones like dopamine and oxytocin. They're responsible for making you feel less stressed, more comfortable, and can actually help you sleep. There's a saying, "It's the only sleeping pill with no side effects."

Spencer pulled the comforter up and tucked you in, smiling. "Thanks, Spence," you whispered as you kissed him on his cheek.

"Anytime, princess," he replied before the two of you dozed off, hugging each other tightly.

The next few days, you started to use this excuse on Spencer to get that pleasure that you want.

[moonreader1010]

♥ 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 ♥ - - - - - - - (18+)

𝓟𝓘𝓒𝓚 𝓐 𝓟𝓘𝓛𝓔 - ・❥・: ̗̀➛

︵‿︵‿୨♡ Ｒｅａｄｉｎｇ ｂｙ － ＭＡＥ ♡୧‿︵‿︵

(PLEASE DO CHECK OUT THE NOTE AT THE END OF THE READING)

PILE 1

Pile 1 – The Seduction of the Unknown

(4 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords, 8 of Swords, Page of Wands)

Let me tell you, love, this person is obsessed with the way you hold back. There’s something about the tension in you—the way you don’t give it all away—that drives them absolutely insane. To them, it’s like peeling away the wrapping of a gift they’ve been dying to get their hands on.

They imagine moments where you’re standing close, just far enough that they can’t touch you without leaning in. They crave the taste of your hesitation, the way your body might tense under their touch, only to slowly relax as they guide you into surrender. They fantasize about the contrast of your guarded energy and the fire you hide beneath it.

In their mind, you’re an intoxicating challenge. They picture teasing you, running their hands down your sides, stopping just short of where you want them most, whispering against your skin about how good it’ll feel when you let them have their way with you. They want to be the one who breaks down every barrier, one slow, sensual touch at a time, until you’re theirs completely—breathless, aching, and begging for more.

What keeps them coming back? It’s the way you make them work for it, and oh, how they love the chase. PILE 2

Pile 2 – The Lover’s Playground

(The Fool, 7 of Cups, 4 of Swords, The Lovers)

love, this person dreams about you like you’re their favorite fantasy, the one they can’t stop replaying over and over. You’ve got this energy that’s playful and free, yet sensual enough to make their pulse race. They’re hooked on the way you keep things unpredictable—like they never know if they’re about to laugh with you or lose themselves completely in the heat of the moment.

They imagine soft, teasing touches that turn into something deeper. They think about pulling you into their lap, hands exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and need, while they whisper in your ear just how badly they want you. To them, you’re like a dream come true—your presence alone makes them feel alive, but it’s the way you tease and tempt that has them craving more.

They picture the two of you locked away in your own little world, where every kiss, every moan, every whispered word is just for them. They love the way you can be sweet one moment and a total vixen the next, keeping them on their toes in the best way. They want to take their time with you, letting the tension build until neither of you can hold back any longer.

What keeps them coming back? It’s your ability to make every moment feel like a sexy, thrilling adventure they’ll never get enough of.

PILE 3

Pile 3 – The Heat of Power and Passion

(Queen of Wands, King of Swords, King of Pentacles, Strength)

love, this one is spicy. This person is completely captivated by your confidence, your fire, and the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you bring to the table. You’re their fantasy in human form—strong, magnetic, and irresistible.

They’re hooked on the way you challenge them. They imagine moments where the heat between you is so intense, it feels like a power struggle—your nails digging into their shoulders as they press you against the wall, their lips trailing down your neck, leaving you breathless and craving more. They love that you’re not someone who gives in easily; you make them earn it, and that drives them wild.

In their fantasies, they see you beneath them, your body arching into theirs as they take their time exploring every inch of you. They’re obsessed with the way your strength and vulnerability blend so perfectly—how you can be fiery and demanding one moment, only to melt under their touch the next.

This person wants to dominate the moment, to feel your body respond to theirs in ways that leave you both trembling. But it’s not just about control—it’s about the connection, the way your energy matches theirs, creating a fire that can’t be contained.

What keeps them coming back? It’s your ability to make them feel like they’re losing control while still giving them everything they’ve ever wanted. You’re their addiction, their obsession, and they’ll never stop craving the heat only you can bring. Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ

Check out our latest ------------(18+) services

This is a general reading take what resonates and leave the rest.

All credit of the pictures goes to thier rightfull owners.

Sending lots of love to whoever is reading this, take care.

[lovemomhatepolice]

cravings - carlos sainz jr.

navigation taglist requests

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem! reader

warnings: established relationship, pregnancy sex, needy!reader, cursing, p in v, fingering, tits playing, pet names, creampie, English is my second language!

type: smut! with small plot

word count: 2,8k

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER

summary: after dinner with his parents, carlos must properly take care of his pregnant fiancée

more content: formula 1 masterlist, carlos sainz masterlist

a/n: I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and my first thousand celebration PLEASE I AM DESPERATE, I HAVE TO WRITE SOMETHING!

Ever since you met Carlos' parents, you've loved them. And they have loved you. You always had a nice time, the conversations never stopped, and your cheeks hurt from laughing.

And so it was today, too - despite your almost seventh month of pregnancy, where your belly was already quite large and your uterus was pushing against your other organs inside, which was damn tiring, you had a good time at dinner with his parents.

“Eat up, darling. You’re eating for two, remember,” Reyes said with a playful wink.

You chuckled softly, but as you tried to make room for even one more bite, you couldn't help but let out a tired sigh. The baby had been particularly active today, and now, after a full meal, the pressure on your ribs and stomach was becoming nearly unbearable.

Carlos leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You okay, amor?” he whispered softly, his eyes full of concern.

“Yes, it's just that Ava is giving me a hard time today,” you laughed under your breath, stroking your belly.

Yes, you had a baby girl whose hair on examination was as thick and dark as Carlos'. Even though they had only recently grown into her. And you could have sworn you saw tears in his eye when he saw that on the screen at your gynecologist, too.

Now, as you caressed your belly, Carlos placed a tender hand over yours, feeling Ava’s little movements beneath your skin. "She’s a fighter already, just like her mamá," he murmured with a soft chuckle, his voice filled with admiration.

Carlos's Sr eyes sparkled as he watched the two of you. “Ava is already making sure everyone knows she's a Sainz,” he said with a proud smile.

Reyes reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “I can’t wait to meet her. She’s going to be beautiful, just like her mother.”

“Just say the word, and we’ll leave whenever you want. I’ve got you.” Carlos said to you, whispering.

And with these words Carlos smiled at you and put his hand on your thigh, gently stroking the hem of your dress with his fingers. You immediately became hot for this activity. Your fiancé always managed to make you ready in an instant. And so it was today, too, and all the exhaustion Ava was giving you disappeared.

You shifted slightly in your chair, fighting the urge to press your thighs together as his fingers continued their teasing strokes just beneath the tablecloth, hidden from everyone else. You shot him a warning look, trying to convey that this wasn’t the place, but Carlos, ever the playful one, only smirked, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Carlos...” you whispered, your voice low and breathless, as if the very air between you crackled with electricity. “Behave"

Carlos merely grinned, leaning back in his chair as if nothing had happened, though his fingers still lingered for just a moment longer before he finally pulled away. The absence of his touch left you feeling almost bereft, but it also sent a silent promise for later, when you would finally be alone.

And although you often had cravings for sweet things, this time you wanted something spicy and hot...

~ The road home was quiet. Your hormones had subsided, and Carlos was no longer going crazy with his fingers. Everything seemed to stop. You were a little tired, but happy. You loved the time with his parents, who were to become your family in the near future. Carlos was also terribly happy - for a while he could forget about his driving duties, the impending end of his Ferrari career and the whole that world.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I really needed that.”

Carlos glanced at you with that gentle smile that always melted your heart. “Me too, carino,” he replied, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “Being with my parents and especially with you is always amazing"

You just smiled at him and both of you entered the house. Your shared house, where you had not so long ago moved in. It was quiet inside, and the only sound you could hear was the water Carlos turned on for tea. This had been your ritual since you became pregnant - every day you drank tea before bed.

You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Carlos move around the kitchen with ease.

“Which one do you want today?” he asked, although he knew the answer well. But he asked anyway, in case you changed your answer or wanted to surprise him. “Peppermint,” you muttered, smiling sincerely at him. It was your favorite, especially now that you were pregnant.

When you heard the whistling of the kettle, you turned around and slowly began walking toward your living room. You sat comfortably on the couch, adjusting the cushions under your back, and waited for your fiancé, watching the view outside the window.

Carlos soon joined you, carrying two mugs of steaming tea. He set them on the coffee table and then sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Instinctively, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. A few minutes of longed-for silence passed, when Carlos spoke up.

“Wait here for me,” he muttered, kissing you on the forehead. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared from your field of vision and rushed upstairs, where your bedroom, bathroom and many other rooms were located. As you drank the last sips of your tea, you heard the water in the bathtub begin to run, and Carlos ran down the stairs. He joined you on the couch for another second before he easily lifted you in his arms, obviously being careful not to hurt either you or Ava, and started walking up the stairs. It was as if you weighed nothing.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and breathless as Carlos carried you up the stairs with such ease. “You really don’t have to carry me every time, you know,” you teased, even though you secretly loved it. It made you feel cherished, protected.

“You're my queen, you deserve it,” he laughed, kissing you lightly on the neck, tickling with his stubble. “Oh, and you're my Prince Charming,” you laughed, seeing his boyish grin.

"So here I am"

He carried you over to the bathroom, where the sound of water filled the air, gentle and inviting. The bathtub was already nearly full, steam curling up to fog the mirrors, and rose petals floated on the surface, turning the water into a delicate sea of pink and red.

“How did you do it so fast?” you asked as he gently set you down. Your bathroom had never been so beautiful before. Even if it wasn't quite as clean now as it was at first, that was definitely not the point. “I'm fast,” he muttered, placing his large hands on your hips. “Maybe not so fast as to win the championship, but you have your charm.”

You hit him lightly on the shoulder, giggling. Even at a time like this, he was able to laugh at himself. That's exactly what Carlos was - loving, caring for his loved ones. He was the sunshine that was often missed. “You'll win again someday,” you said, standing closer to him and smacking him gently on the lips. “In my eyes, you win every time.”

He helped you out of your dress with such tender care, his hands never lingering too long, though you could feel the heat in his gaze as he admired your body—rounder, softer, growing with the life you were creating together. Once you were undressed, he guided you carefully into the warm bath, making sure you were comfortable before joining you.

As you made yourself comfortable in the tub, Carlos' hands immediately found a place on your belly, gently stroking it. The water around you was pleasantly warm - not as hot as always and not too cold. It was just perfect, surrounding your swollen body as it should. Its scent was unearthly, gently teasing your nostrils, but enjoyably so.

“Does that feel good, mi amor?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper against your ear.

"Mhm" you mumbled, tilting your head to look at him.

“Ava’s been really active tonight, huh? She must be trying to get your attention,” he teased, his tone filled with wonder as his fingers brushed against a spot where she shifted slightly beneath your skin.

You smiled, covering his hand with yours as you both felt your daughter move. “She definitely takes after her daddy, always wanting to be the center of attention,” you teased back.

“Or after her mommy, who cries out for my attentions every time,” he muttered, looking into your eyes. “Oh, for real?” you asked teasingly, raising your eyebrows.

The atmosphere around you became hot, and it was not due to the warmth of the bath. Or the steam that was rising throughout the bathroom. “Mhm, look how wet you are” he whispered, directing his hand to your clit. You sighed as his fingers touched your tender skin where you needed it most. Your libido during pregnancy was not lower at all. Especially when you saw Carlos as he was now. A wet body that was properly trained, the messy hair you loved so much and softly rosy cheeks from the warmth that surrounded you.

“Carlos,” you groaned, involuntarily tightening around his fingers, which entered you. Carlos moved them rhythmically inside you, his thumb teasing your clit, which had become even more sensitive to his touch during your pregnancy. You couldn't resist it, and especially when his other hand slid down to your hard nipples. He caressed your neck with his lips, alternately placing subtle kisses and bites on it.

“Shh, cariño,” he murmured, his lips grazing the edge of your jawline. “I just want to make you feel good… let me take care of you,” he added, his voice low and husky, filled with that sultry tone that always drove you wild.

You didn't need much. Looking at how sensitive you were, you soon became a moaning mess around his fingers. Carlos knew what he was doing. He hit the perfect spot with them, circling his thumb around your clit, which accelerated your waves of ecstasy even harder. On the other hand, he continued kissing your neck, leaving there the love bites he most likely loved when you were wearing it. His dexterous hands squeezed and stroked your large breasts, which ached more often and harder. And your strained nipples, where milk was being produced.

"Good girl" he muttered against your neck, feeling your orgasm around his fingers.

“Carlos, please,” you muttered, turning your head to him. Your man joined your lips in a passionate kiss, slightly biting your lower lip to give him access to your mouth. Your tongues fought a fierce battle, but you wanted one thing. Without hesitation, you corrected your position on top of him and touching his cock, directed him to your entrance and gently leaned on him, your other hand catching on his neck. “Shh, fuck,” he moaned into your mouth, starting to move inside you.

“Oh,” you moaned, catching his neck more firmly with your right hand. With your other hand you held your breast, squeezing harder than Carlos had done before. Today you didn't want it to be gentle. You felt such a great need to fuck inside you that you were off limits. “Carlos, don't limit yourself,” you muttered into his swollen mouth.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he whispered with caring eyes. His hand wandered to your clit again, even though he knew full well how it would end. Before the pregnancy, you mostly came at similar times, but now you knew that tonight would not just be your second orgasm, but one in a row. “You won't hurt,” you said, grabbing his face tighter and looking straight into his beautiful chocolate eyes. “Just fuck me harder.” There was a hunger in his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long time. The bathroom was getting hotter by the second, even though the water was evaporating faster and faster. Carlos clung harder to your lips, kissing you with the great passion that had been between you from the beginning. You have always wanted each other in the same way, without letting it get any worse - it just kept getting better and better. And as if on cue, Carlos sped up, hitting you with his full length where he was supposed to hit. You moaned into his mouth, and he was not indebted to you. Although he was focused on giving you and himself physical pleasure, all the while he was muttering sweet nothings to you.

“You are so beautiful,” he purred into your mouth. “All swollen with my baby inside your beautiful body, fuck”. You moaned at his words. It was true, of course it was true. You were all sore and swollen, but it was his baby you had inside you. Your longed-for child, the one you had been trying for not so long, but she was the one you had been waiting for.

“Carlos, I'm so close,” you muttered into his mouth, pulling slightly away from him to look between you. Oh, that view was compelling every time. Carlos was going in and out of you with deadly speed, making the tub shake, and you could have sworn that if there had been neighbors around you, they would have definitely heard what was going on with you. “I know, carino, I know,” he said, and his gaze landed on the same spot as yours. By this time, your juices were blending together perfectly, making an unusual mess in the tub. His cum combined with your juices and you could watch it pour out of you.

You have never been bored by this view. It might have seemed strange to someone, but you and Carlos, once you could admire your liquids spilling out of your pussy, were in cloud nine. It was a kind of quiet promise, a moment of privacy and intimacy you shared with no one else.

"I love you so so much" he muttered, kissing you now lightly.

He continued to move inside you, but this time only so you could come down from your orgasm, just as he did. Your pussy clamped down on him, pleasantly enveloping him with its tightness. You both loved the feeling - you then finally felt as full as possible, and Carlos felt that he had found his place. However silly it sounded. You guys loved it.

When you cooled down and the water became unpleasantly cool, you decided to get out of the tub. Carlos did it first, so that he could safely help you. He carefully wrapped you in a soft, fluffy towel, his hands remaining on your wet skin, warm and soothing as he gently dried your shoulders and then your hands. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring your touch, making sure every inch of you was taken care of.

You stood in front of the mirror, your reflection soft in the dim light, your body round with Ava, the little life growing inside of you. Carlos moved behind you, his chest brushing against your back as he gently ran his hands over your shoulders, his touch lingering with care.

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “You are beautiful,” he purred, kissing the lobe of your ear. “I can't wait for Ava to get here and see it too.” You smiled with emotion at his words and turned to face him, placing your hands on his cheeks. You stood on your toes, gently kissing him on the lips. You felt him smile under the pressure of your lips, which you shared. “She will be even more beautiful. After all, her father is Carlos Sainz Jr, the fucking Prince Charming of Formula One.”

A/N: how I love pregnancy content!! AND CARLOS, OMG, my favorite driver, and I only have one one-shot with him, what's a shame (open orders, feel free to give ideas!)

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[missdynamighttt]

hey..can you please (if you are free) do a fic where reader and bakugo are married..and have kids? you can do whatever scenario you like :) thanks

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ i hope this scenario i wrote up is okay oml ☹️☹️ i just went for.. domestic vibes? nyeah, i hope you enjoy 💜💜

the morning sunlight streamed through the windows of your cozy home, casting a warm glow over everything. you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the elegant dress you had picked for a family outing.

you bit your lip, turning slightly to get a better view, but something still felt off as you smooth down the soft fabric of you new dress. with a small huff, you called out for your husband. “katsuki? can you come here for a sec?”

moments later, katsuki appeared in the doorway, his eyes immediately landing on you. he froze, his usual tough exterior softening as he took in the sight of you.

“does this look okay?” you asked with a hint of uncertainty, turning to face him fully. "it looks.. i don't know."

katsuki blinked, finally snapping out of his daze. “okay?” he repeated, stepping closer to you. “honey, you look...incredible.” his eyes raked over you, filled with genuine awe. “like... drop-dead gorgeous.”

"really?"

"sweets... let me put it this way. you could wear a trash bag and still look good.”

you rolled your eyes, though heat crept up your cheeks. “i'm serious, katsuki.”

“and so am i," he grins, leaning close to kiss your cheek.

"but for the record, the dress looks amazing. you look amazing.”

“you’re just saying that.”

katsuki shook his head, reaching out to take your hand. “nah, sweets. i mean it. come on, gimme a spin.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head before giving him a little twirl. the dress flared out slightly, flowing beautifully around you. and when you stopped, katsuki reached out to grab your waist, pulling you into his arms.

“you’re stunning,” he murmured, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her lips. “can’t believe you’re my wife.”

but before you could respond, the soft pitter-patter of feet echoed through the hallway, and your two kids burst into the room.

“is that.. mama! you look so pretty!” your daughter exclaimed, her eyes wide with admiration.

“very pretty,” your son added, nodding enthusiastically.

you felt your heart melt as you knelt down, beaming at them as you pulled both of them into a hug. “you think so?”

“uh-huh!” your little girl said.

“you’re like a princess!” your little boy added. "right, papa?"

katsuki crouched down beside them, ruffling his son’s hair. “uh-huh. see? even these little brats agree.”

you laughed, nudging his arm. “guess i’ll have to trust my little critters, huh?”

katsuki wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing another kiss to your temple. “you better, ‘cause they’ve got great taste.”

the kids giggled, and you felt warmth spread through your chest as you leaned against your husband's shoulder. it was simple moments like these that made everything feel perfect. like this is where you belong.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧