#hard to be loose with my strokes and have line confidence

[nutsack90]

!!!got a proper tablet!!!

im free from the shackles of drawing with my finger on my phone!!! also click for higher res tumblr hates my textures lmfaoo 😓😓

[assembletheimagines]

was thinking about steve and a shield agent also avenger living in the compound but having like lots of sexual tension so both make goofy jokes about hook up and then they do but hard and dirty :)

A/N: Omg yes please. Also, if people don't realize I publish without proofing first- apologies!

Warnings: Oral (f. r), dirty talk?, a smidge or hint at a dom!Steve? (like squint and turn your head- it's a little vibe)

The air in the room fills with electricity when the words fall from your lips. Your inner thoughts winning in the moment when Steve and you were lounging in the library of the compound. You two had been relaxing, going back and forth with teasing smiles and lingering looks.

The energy in the small room building as you talked innocently as friend and coworkers normally do before diving into more mature topics. Toeing the line, before your tongue became a little too loose and you admitted you've never orgasmed from someone else.

Steve’s blue eyes darken at your confession the same time your cheeks color red. "It's fine, it just take a moment for me to climax, it's just easier to do it myself, y'know?" The words falling from your lips in a jumble as you try to back pedal but only dig your grave further down. He doesn't say anything for a moment, the silence thick in the air as you wish the couch you were sitting on opened up and swallowed you whole.

"I bet I could," Steve finally murmurs, his voice deep and rough as he licks his bottom lip with his tongue. His gaze already gliding down your body and causing you to blink at the super soldier in confusion.

"Excuse me?" You challenge, eyes wide as you watch the handsome blonde man lean back against the library desk, crossing his arms over his chest confidently. His smile curving into a seductive grin.

He doesn't stop looking you in the eye as he answers, "I can make you cum." And then takes it a step further by beckoning you to him with a teasing curl of his fingers. “C’mere.”

And you have no time to think as your legs move on their own accord. You can feel a wetness pool between your thighs by just the one word, crossing the room with four easy steps. You feel like your body is on fire already and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

His eyes are hooded as he gives you a knowing smirk. “Such a good girl, you follow orders so well.” He coos and doesn’t miss the whimper you let out in response nor the way your thighs squeeze together from his words. "Do you want me to make you cum?" He asks, reaching out for your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Hmm? Want me to show you how good it feels to cum on my fingers, my mouth, on my cock?" His voice low and soft as he dips his fingers under the hem of your dress for a moment, his fingers brushing over the back of your thighs making a shiver run down your spine.

And your nodding your head, the lust taking over. A quiet and breathless, "please," the only permission he's needing before he's moving. Forcing you to take his place against the desk. His warm big hand pressing between your shoulder blades, making you bend over the desk and presenting your ass to him.

You hear him suck in a breath before groaning as your dress rides up and exposes your panties to him. You feel your pussy clenching around nothing in response, knowing he's groaning because he can see the wet spot on your panties. Your thoughts confirmed when his knuckle brushes over your wet folds, the panties being the only thing separating his fingers from your dripping cunt.

"Did I make you this wet, baby?" He asks and your eyes squeeze shut, your legs being knocked further apart by his leg as he keeps a consistent press on your back. Keeping you pinned over the desk. "Fuck, can't wait to taste you. You're going to let me, right? Want to cum on my mouth, right?" He prods, fingers still stroking you over your panties as you try to think and speak.

"Yes, fuck, yes," you press back onto his hand and earn a laugh from him.

"So eager," he hums and you whine as his fingers disappear before reappearing on the back of your thighs. You take a chance to look back over your shoulder and gasp as you see Steve on his knees behind you, his hands rubbing up your legs and pushing your dress up to around your waist. "Don't move from your position." He orders and you stay bent over as he slides your panties down your legs in one slow motion.

"Steve," you grip the edge of the desk, desperation filling your voice as you realize this is really happening. A new wave of arousal forms and Steve's fingers wrap around your ankle, lifting it up momentarily and discarding your panties.

"Fuck, you're dripping down your thighs," he rasps and you keen, blushing as he moves your thighs farther apart. Finally feeling his warm breath fan over your wet folds, his fingers exposing you further as he finally gets a taste of you. His tongue giving a long broad lick, collecting your slick with a low groan.

And that's the final straw, his face eagerly pressing into your dripping cunt after he get his taste. Moving your leg, making you hook it over the desk edge as he sucks your clit into his mouth reverently.

Your at his mercy, crying out as he eats you out like a man starved. His one hand keeping your leg on the desk as the other holds your waist. Tongue swirling around your clit before dipping into your entrance, slurping up your arousal with each lick.

The library quickly fills up with your moans, your hips rolling backwards to press into his mouth more. You can already feel a familiar knot build in your abdomen as Steve works you up.

You didn't know you could be so turned on by hearing him slurp and groan between your thighs. But you're getting wetter with each lick. Thighs tensing as you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. "Oh, just like that," you gasp stomach clenching as you feel his tongue thrust in and out of your cunt and his hand that was once on your waist, now stroke your clit.

The pitch in your cries, increase as he rubs the bundle of nerves in swifts circles. His groans muffled but deep as he brings you closer to the edge. You can't help but think, no wonder no one's made you orgasm, no one's eaten you out like Steve. Your walls clenching around his tongue as you feel it fast approaching. Your hips wiggling back in desperation, you need to warn him, you-

And then your body seizes, a broken gasp echoing in the air before you cry out. Your thighs shaking violently as your orgasm consumes you and makes you see stars.

Steve takes everything you give. Tongue stroking over your twitching pussy, thumb firmly pressed on your clit as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

He only stops when you whine in overstimulation, your breaths coming in quick pants as you slowly drop your leg off the table. Your thighs still shake, but you slowly turn around to face him; and the sight before you makes your cunt throb, a new wave of slick rushing between your thighs again.

Steve's still kneeling on his knees. His bottom half of his face a shiny mess with your arousal smeared on his nose, lips, and chin. His lips puffy from the heavy make out he did with your pussy only moments ago.

He's licking his lips savoring your taste as he stands up. He doesn't hesitate as he nods his head at you, "lay back on the desk. You still need to cum on my fingers before you cum on my cock, baby."

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "pretty sounds" ⎯୧ (lsh)

+*:🩷:*﹤smut, sub!riwoo, sounding, bondage, loose handjobbing / wc: 1.6k / masterlist / this is not the best representation of sounding but i did a lot of research! / a/n : my FIRST riwoo work!! I’m slowly getting down the line…somebody please match my freak…

✧･ﾟ: *

riwoo would do anything for your beautiful smile and praising words. he’s always tended to hold back his noises in bed because they’re so embarrassing, but when you call them pretty and confess to him that they turn you on, it’s all he can do to let his mouth hang open during sex, let his pretty noises tumble out of his mouth unrestrained. 

before he met you, he had never done anything more than typical, vanilla sex, but he lets you pull him into scenarios he would’ve never imagined, ones that often leave him wondering how the hell he got there. he realizes tonight is no different when you loop your pink handcuffs through the decorative bars of your headboard, then latch them onto his wrists. 

this isn’t new for the two of you. in fact, it has almost become a habit for you to restrain his hands, ‘cause he’s easily overwhelmed and will squirm away from your hold if given the chance, even if he doesn’t want you to stop touching him. still, he tugs at the chain anyway, and breathes out a shaky, fearful sigh when it barely budges, when he realizes he can barely move his arms. 

his eyes are wide and searching for safety when he looks at you, and you coo at him, cup his cheeks, and press a sweet kiss against his pink lips.

“this is just so you don’t pull away and hurt yourself, okay, riri?”

he nods, and reminds himself that you’re not here to hurt him. that you're going to take care of him like you always do, but it’s a little hard to remember as he eyes the rod you’re sterilizing.

sounding. that’s the new thing you want to try out. he’d facepalm, but well, you know. his throat is dry and his words are failing him. he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, but he's just so scared. 

“i don’t- i don’t know about this, n/n. what if it, like, hurts?” he gulps when you come to straddle his thighs. now he can’t move those either, and his hips only slightly jerk when you wrap your hand around his cock. he’s completely trapped.

“i won’t hurt you, sweetie.” you slide your hand up and down his length slowly and tsk when his hips try to twitch into the feeling. “i’ve done it before.”

riwoo’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, and he’s momentarily distracted from the feeling of your hand on his dick. “what? you’ve done this before?”

���of course. i wouldn’t put you through this if i wasn’t 100% confident. you’re too fragile for that.” he isn’t really sure if he should be thankful for your consideration or embarrassed by that statement. you stop stroking him and pick up the rod. it’s skinny and black, and has small ridges. looking at it makes riwoo’s blood run cold. “my ex seemed to like it. just wanna know if you would, too.”

riwoo’s skin itches at the mention of your fucked-up ex. he wants to do all the things you used to do with that scum, wants you to think about riwoo instead when you think back on these kinds of things.

“but we don’t have to do this,” you say. “you can say no, and i’ll make you feel good in a different way.”

he thinks over your offer. he’s still terrified, but you’ve done it before. you won’t hurt him, you’re 100% sure. you want to see him, specifically, like this.

he squeezes his eyes shut and nods.

“gotta use your words, riri.”

“we can-,” his words cut off, and he gulps thickly. “we can do this. you can do this.” he says, because he trusts you so much, you could probably do anything to him. he watches as you spread lube around the sound, and his confidence falters.

“i-if i don't…like it, you'll stop?” he asks, hands clenching into fists against the headboard. you smile at him before leaning down to place another kiss on his lips. 

“if you don't like it, i'll stop immediately, okay?” 

he takes a deep breath, then nods again. you don’t wanna give him more time to overthink it, so you line the rod up with his opening. when he doesn’t say anything else, you ever so slowly slide the first two smooth centimeters in. 

riwoo sucks in a breath, and his hips tremble, but they barely move under your weight. you wait a couple of seconds, then slide in two more centimeters. riwoo hisses, and you stop. when you look up at him, his mouth is hanging open and his chest is rising and falling quickly. 

“how does this feel?” 

riwoo tries to adjust to the feeling. you were right, it doesn’t hurt. it just feels kind of…heavy? and foreign, like it’s not supposed to be there, but it doesn’t hurt. he’s failing to see how it’s going to feel good, though.

“talk to me, sweetie,” you say, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“feels…weird, confusing,” he whispers, and looks down to see the rod sticking out of his tip. he looks away almost immediately.

“think you can take a little more?”

“i don't k-know, ‘s scary.” 

the remaining portion of the rod is ribbed. you rub his hip soothingly, then guide more of it in until it’s halfway sheathed. riwoo lets out a small whimper that catches your attention. 

“feels okay,” he answers breathlessly when you check in on him again. you pull the rod out just the tiniest bit and slide the length back in. he makes another tiny noise and his hips move just a bit under your weight.

“riwoo, be still,” you warn, and his response is just a whine that's cut off when you rotate the rod, letting the ridges hit different areas of his insides. 

“oh- y/n, y/n,” he chants out in a whispered tone, looking at you with big, wet eyes. you hum in response and slide more of the rod out this time. you wait a second before sliding it back in a little deeper than before.

“feels g-good…” he trails off, and you smile at him again.

“knew you’d like it, baby boy. you always make the prettiest sounds.” you pick up the pace, thrusting a little bit of the ribbed portion in and out of his opening, and the chain of the handcuffs clinks against the bed when riwoo’s upper body jerks. you look up at him, but his eyes are squeezed shut now, and his mouth is open with a silent moan. he lets out a desperate, breathy noise when you twist the rod once more. 

“w-wait, wait,” he calls out, and you stop. 

“what's the matter, sweet thing?” you ask while trailing your nails down his waist. his stomach trembles and he gasps at the feeling, then he begins stuttering around a sentence.

“what i-if i…need to, y’know…” 

even at a time like this, he’s shy, and it makes you laugh fondly. “what, cum?”

he nods. his cheeks are pink, his forehead is beading with sweat. he’s breathing harshly, and you figure he’s definitely not gonna last much longer.

“just let me know, and i'll take it out.”

he nods and whimpers again when you start up the short, thrusting motions again. 

“good, good,” he's mumbling repeatedly, eyes empty when you look at him. you smile at him and wrap a loose hand around his base. he starts shaking when you massage the area, and his fingers twitch uselessly. 

you keep both of your hands occupied with the motions, listening as riwoo's noises raise in speed and pitch. you alternate between massaging his base and stroking his shaft, and when you look back at him, there's a single tear rolling down his cheek. 

“aw riri,” you coo, and his eyes flutter open. “what's wrong?”

“i t-think i’m gonn-a,” he hiccups. “n-not gonna l-last.” 

you hum in thought. “like it better than you thought you would, huh, baby boy?” 

you can slide a majority of the rod in and out at a steady pace now, and riwoo gasps out harshly when you move your hand down to massage his balls instead.

“out, please, i–,” he starts. a few more tears tumble down his skin, and his hair roughs up as he shakes his head against the pillows. “can’t t-take it, gonna– need it out.”

“i’ve got you, sweetie,” you oblige and start pulling the rod out, but the process is slow, because you don't wanna hurt him. you twist the rod slowly, teasingly as it slides along, and riwoo's stomach convulses.

“please, please, please–” he babbles, and you shush his cries as you ease the rod out of his opening. a milky white stream follows it immediately, and your mouth runs dry at the sight. riwoo whines, and his hips do their best to buck up into the air, shaking you lightly where you’re still straddling him. you climb off of his thighs and lean down to lick up the side of his wet shaft, and he's jerking away from your overwhelming touch.

“no, no– don't,” he begs, and you ease up with a smile.

“what did you think, riri?” you ask as you unbuckle the handcuffs. you massage the red marks they left on his wrists. 

“think you’re gonna be the death of me.”

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : i feel like this ends kind of abruptly, im sorry abt that!! please take aftercare seriously <3

[luveline]

Hi, I have an eddie, roan, reader idea! Maybe roan has a school play or dance recital and she's got a solo or something and she really nervous so que a sweet and sappy pep talk from eddie or reader. Then eddie and reader and sitting watching her like two smiley, proud goofs bc roan is killing it (obviously) 😊😂

thank you for your request ♡ you and dad!eddie comfort his daughter roan when she panics about her upcoming solo dance. fem!reader, 1.2k

Eddie crouches down by the car. He doesn't care that it's raining, doesn't care that he's gonna have wet knees for the two hours he spends in the audience. He doesn't even care that you're being rained on next to him as you hold the umbrella over his head, because Roan is crying. 

Not the roaring sobs of a tantrum nor the panicked braying of an owie. She's crying slow, sluggish tears, and she's declared a heart-breaking statement. "I don't think I can do it," she sobs, covering her face with her hands. Her nails are painted silver and pink. The bracelets around her wrists slip down to her elbows, sparkly bangles you'd insisted she needed. It's a very glittery display of unhappiness.

"Sweetheart, what? Are you kidding? If anybody can do it, it's you." 

She'd been a little bit quiet on the ride over, but she smiled when you bragged preemptively about how many photos you were going to take of her performance, and laughed when Eddie said, "So don't mess up!" 

Not his best joke, he realises now. 

"I don't want to mess up the dance," she says through sobs. 

Eddie puts his hand behind her and pulls her toward him gently. She's reluctant at first, though she melts as he pats a short rhythm into her back. "You won't mess up the dance," he says, nudging her forehead with his nose to make her look up. "You practised with me so much, we know all the moves back to front." 

"But it's different," she says, shuddering. Her body attempts to regulate a sudden emotion. It doesn't do a very good job. 

"It's different," you say. "The lights and having the mommys and daddys looking at you. It's different. But different doesn't mean you'll mess up, right?" 

"And messing up isn't the end of the world," Eddie says. 

"Exactly!" you agree. "Nobody watching will care if you make the wrong dance move, babe. You can make mistakes." 

"You can make all of the mistakes," Eddie says. 

Roan rubs her wet cheeks into Eddie's shirt. "I don't want to look bad for you," she says. 

"What do you mean, Ro?" he asks, his voice softened to silk. He can't stroke her hair, not after the hour he'd spent making it look perfect, but he holds the back of her head in his hand and rubs a line across her cheek with his thumb. He needs her to calm down. "You don't need to worry about us. We're proud of you no matter what." 

"I'm no good," Roan says, sniffling. 

"You're no good? Why would you think that? You're so good," Eddie says.

"I'm gonna mess up," she says, holding your hand loosely through the gap in Eddie's arm. The rain wets your hair. You don't even feel it, your eyes full of patience as Roan devolves. "I'm gonna be bad. Everyone's gonna laugh at me. I can't do it, dad." 

You clear your throat. "This recital is to show off how good you are, yeah? Me and daddy already know you're amazing. We've seen you doing the perfect dance every night for two weeks!" 

"And if anyone laughs at you, I'll beat them up." 

You choke on air at Eddie's declaration, but you don't tell him to take it back. In fact, you nod solemnly. "I will make daddy beat them up. But nobody is going to laugh at you, Roan." 

"You're beautiful," Eddie says, taking her by the shoulders. "You look so pretty. You worked so hard on practising your dance, and you're gonna show everybody how awesome you are. I promise, babe. Cross my heart." 

"You think it'll be okay?" she asks unsurely. 

Eddie stands up on aching knees, looking down at her with his most encouraging, most saccharine, most confident grin. "I know so. I know you're worrying, baby, but we have to go inside now. We don't wanna be late, and Y/N's drowning." 

You stand with him, holding the umbrella steadfast over Roan's head. Your coat is shiny with rain, and your jeans are a formidable blue. Eddie'll have to rub them to warm them up when they've found their seats (oh no, what a chore). 

Roan hesitates. Eddie cups her cheek. 

"You can do this, bubby. I have never ever been so sure about something before as this." 

He's lying —he's ninety nine percent sure Roan won't mess up, and he'd been a whole percentage point more sure about one thing in particular. You're standing by his side, nodding vehemently. 

"You can do this," you reaffirm. 

In the end, Roan makes it on stage. You and Eddie campaign for a pair of great seats not quite as in the middle as you wanted, but close enough to the front for Roan to see your eyes. You hold the video camera chest level and Eddie rubs your legs until friction heats the chilled skin there, warming you toasty. He whispers a quick thank you for your generous umbrella-ing, to which you kiss his stubbly jaw and babble about protection detail. You're more excited than you were before Roan's Mother's Day dance, and that's saying something. 

Roan appears toward the right hand side. The music is loud but non abrasive, and if you and Eddie didn't already know, it would surprise you when she spins forward into centre stage halfway through the dance. He holds his breath and you squeeze his hand, camera held steady as the bodice of Roan's white dress catches the light. Her tulle skirt flares out like the petals of a daisy as she performs her solo. It's over in less than ten seconds, the other girls and boys falling forward to join her, but they're the proudest ten seconds of Eddie's life. 

He doesn't expect to feel heat behind his eyes. Alarmed, he digs a finger into his shirt and pulls the collar to his eyes to wipe at the wet corners. 

"She did it!" you whisper, shooting him a smile. "I knew she could do it!" 

Eddie beams. He doesn't even know how to explain the level of pride he's feeling. He starts with a hug that lasts a good ten minutes after the show (Roan jumping into his arms, shouting "I did it!" at the top of her lungs) surrounded by parents praising her for a job well done. They go for ice cream, and they stay out late celebrating. Eddie swears he's gonna fall asleep the second his head touches his pillow, but he has enough energy left in him to put his cheek on your shoulder and whisper, "Can you pass me the video camera? I wanna watch it back." 

"Again? She rocked it, baby. Please go to sleep." 

"I will! Just– after this one." 

[likecastle]

Ronance Femslash February - "Ow, you said you wouldn't do it that hard!"

Many thanks to the anon who sent “Ow, you said you wouldn't do it that hard!” I’m fairly confident this isn’t what you were expecting, but then again, maybe it was!

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. I have a few more prompts in my inbox, but I still need a few more to get me through the end of the month, so please send them my way! Anon asks are totally fine, and you’re welcome to send more than one prompt. Don’t be shy! You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

“Ow!” Robin cries, flinching away after the second stroke. “You said you wouldn’t do it that hard!”

Nancy huffs out a frustrated breath, struggling to hold Robin in place. “This wouldn’t be so difficult if you’d just—stop—squirming.”

Robin tries to stay still, but can’t help hissing between her teeth at another sharp sting.

“You’re the one who asked me to do this for you,” Nancy reminds her.

“Well, never mind, then, I take it back!” Robin snaps. “Just forget I asked.”

Nancy sets the hairbrush down. “Do you really want me to stop?”

Robin hesitates, turning around to look at Nancy. She draws her lower lip between her teeth, scraping the delicate skin as she considers. “No,” she says slowly. “Just—go easy on me, OK?”

This time, when she picks up the hairbrush, Nancy grasps Robin’s hair at the root, and holds her hand steady as she brushes through the length. The tangles in Robin’s tawny waves come out more easily as she works through her hair up from the ends, and this time when she reaches Robin’s scalp, there’s no sign of discomfort on Robin’s face.

She works her way slowly around Robin’s head, admiring all the different tones in Robin’s hair, blonde and brown, light and dark, and even a little bit of copper here and there. Nancy delights in finding a spot in the under layer of Robin’s hair where her waves are slightly tighter, forming soft, loose ringlets against the back of her neck. When she reaches the other side of Robin’s head, Nancy goes back over the hair she’s already brushed, just for the pleasure of Robin’s hair slipping smooth as silk through her fingers. By the time she finishes, Robin’s shoulders have gone slack in relaxation, and Nancy can practically feel the contentment radiating off her.

“Is that better?” she asks, before kissing the pale line of Robin’s part.

“Mm-hmm,” Robin says drowsily, and presses back against Nancy like a self-satisfied cat.

“I still don’t know how you manage to get your hair so tangled,” Nancy murmurs, stroking Robin’s hair because she misses the slide of it against her skin already. “It’s not even like you have all that much of it.”

Robin makes a pleased noise and leans into Nancy’s touch. “Just lucky, I guess.”

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

💄 Anomalous: Chapter Four

Anomalous: You are attending a make-up artist convention in London, England for your work as a MUA yourself. Little do you expect to meet a handsome stranger at a bar, proceed to ditch your friends with him, have a one-night stand, and then flee because you are late for a convention event. Unbeknownst to you, that will not be the last time you see that handsome stranger, and now that you think about it… you really should have gotten his number. 

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a No No), Tom is Whipped for Reader Already.

To Note: Tom Sturridge x MUAFem!Reader, Respect The Actor! (This is Fiction), Reader has long hair for reasons, You can thank @pinksirensong for this lovely mini series. 

Word Count: ~2.8k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Somehow, someway, Tom had enough coordination to lift you against his chest with your legs wrapped around his waist and carry you to his bedroom all the while never once breaking the lip lock between you. Tom was ungodly strong, his arms holding your body with effortless ease while his lips ravished yours until your mouth stung. Even then you still wanted more, and Tom was more than willing to give it to you for the night. 

No one kissed you as he did. No one feasted on your flesh like it was their last meal like he did. No one treated you like you were the very object of their desires like he did, and on this night, you would give him anything just to have those intimate and soft moments a little while longer. It was a good thing that Tom wanted you just the same. 

You were carried into his bedroom and lips sliding from his, you pressed a line of kisses along his jaw, enjoying the softness of his skin and the sharpness of his jawline. It was cruel that he was made to be so beautiful. Beauty deserved to be worshipped and you wanted your turn. So you kicked your heels off to the side, enjoying the way Tom’s obsidian eyebrows rose. Your lips twitched against his. 

“You had your turn, I want mine,” You told him before reaching back to gather your hair, winding it around into a twisted ponytail, you knelt and held up your hair with a wicked smile. “Hold my hair for me?” Tom swallowed hard at how quickly you had gained confidence and the look that was now burning within your eyes. Oh yes, he would hold your hair for you, he would hold it for as long as you asked of him and then some. 

“You’re still hungry after that late dinner and dessert?” Tom countered with another cheeky smile, taking your offered hair in a gentle grip. You grinned deviously. 

“Ravenous actually,” You purred dangerously, licking your lower lip. Now, you hadn’t sucked many men off and had never really had the desire to… but something about Tom made you want to drop to your knees and worship his body. Tom’s free hand brushed across your cheek, his fingers gently stroking your cheek. 

“Who would I be to refuse such a demand,” Tom said, his eyes glittering with darkness. You quite liked that, you liked that a lot. “Because I am far from done with you, my sweet little Sunday.” Oh, he wasn’t done with you yet? Well, after that near earth-shattering orgasm you felt you ought to return the favor. Your fingers snuck up his thighs, tip-toeing delicately across dark jeans. 

“Promises, promises,” Your whispered response received another heated look and you dug your fingers into the waistline of Tom’s jeans, running your fingertips along the edge until they met the button and zipper. The button was easy to slip loose, but you took your sweet time unzipping his jeans, and that made Tom give your hair a little tug in a warning. 

“You are being a tease, Y/N,” At Tom’s rumble, you snickered and flashed your eyes back up to his.

“I’m taking my sweet time, Tom,” You told him as the zipper caught the end of the teeth, and your smile stretched wider. “And I’d like to savor you.” On your last words, you climbed your fingers up and hooked them into the band of his boxer briefs. Then you sharply jerked both the boxer briefs and jeans down, your eyes not once leaving Tom’s. “Now may I please lavish you the way I wish to?”

“You wish to lavish?” He asked, you gave him a look. 

“You are asking me that now?” You asked incredulously. “You are the first man that I genuinely want to suck off, Tom, can I please have my turn?” 

“Forgive me for my interruption, Sunday,” You huffed at him and leaned forwards brushing your nose across his hipbone. Whatever he had been up to recently had put him in very good shape, you could tell that much already. So you decided to place a line of kisses across that very hipbone, letting your nose nuzzle his skin as you went. Tom’s happy trail of black led down to reveal a small thatch of hair and then your prize. Your hands ghosted down Tom’s hips, a little teasing before you wrapped one hand around his erection and gave him a light stroke. The proceeding groan that slipped from Tom’s lips was so delicious you repeated your action just to hear it again. 

Why did he have to sound just as beautiful? 

You had to admit, your desire to hear those beautiful sounds may have led you to play around and tease Tom a little more than you had originally planned. You stroked him and softly giggled when his cock swelled in your hand. 

“You are being a menace, Sunday,” Tom groaned, his hold on your hair tightening. Your eyebrow rose and your eyes flashed up to give Tom one last look. Oh, he thought this was you being a menace? So with an innocent little smile plastered on your lips, you bent your head and completely enveloped the head of his cock with your lips and sucked. Tom was immediately cursing, sliding his fingers through your hair in a strong presence. You continued to stroke his shaft while you sucked, his reaction to your ministrations only fueling your desire for more. More sounds. More curses. More jerks against your hand and mouth. 

The tug on your hair, while leaving an ache of pain, only spurred you on in your assault. You took his cock to the back of your throat, trying not to gag, as you did exactly what you had wanted to do. Worship. Tom’s free hand caressed the side of your face as your mouth worshipped him with great hunger. 

“Fuck,” Tom growled, the hand knotted within your hair guiding your head while his hips thrust forwards. Delicious indeed. It was all too easy to bring him to climax and his release flooded down your throat in a hot rush. His groans and grunts sounded so sweet, so heavenly, you basked in them. Hands pushed you back from the cock you had been so lovingly worshipping and you gulped, taking a few moments to lick your lips. Salty, a nice change from your sweet dessert. Your eyes rose back to Tom’s as your tongue swiped the remnants of his release from your lips and you could have sworn his eyes bulged. One more small giggle from you had Tom moving. 

He pulled you up to your feet once more and wrapped an arm around your back, then his other hand cradled your face and he pulled your lips back to him. Your mouths crashed together violently, Tom’s tongue curling against yours and his teeth catching your lips. A low moan emerged from your throat as you brought your arms up to drape them around Tom’s neck. Holy hell no one had ever kissed you like this and no one had ever kissed you after you had just sucked their cock. Tom was another breed of man, you were sure of it. Another streak of fire and excitement erupted between your legs as your body was pressed against his. Between the dampness your felt and the cock pressed between your legs, your need for him and you needed him now. 

Tom nipped and tugged on your lower lip, savoring the sounds you were making. He was aching to have his cock buried within your cunt, he longed to see how your face would be blissed out, flushed with arousal. He already knew you tasted like nectar and he could only dream of what your velvet walls would feel like wrapped around his cock, squeezing him. So twisting his tongue with yours one last time, his fingers grasped onto the zipper of your dress shortly before he yanked it down. You jolted into his body, your face heating up as the clinging material slipped from your body. At least your breasts finally stopped feeling like they were being squeezed by a vice. 

Heavily breathing out at the relief your body now felt, you blinked once before Tom was hugging your naked body to his, his hands wrapping around your sides and pressing into your back. You stood up onto your toes, returning your lips to his. A rumble of appreciation went through Tom’s chest at your soft body pressed up against his and he couldn’t wait to explore the rest of your body. So he spun you around and pressed you flat on his bed. Your lips broke apart as you panted for breath and while your forehead pressed against his, you gazed into his beautiful eyes. 

“Please tell me you have condoms,” You breathed out. Tom smirked at you. 

“I may not have planned on taking anyone home tonight, but you’re in luck, Y/N,” Tom told you. You sighed in relief and slouched back against the bed, watching as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. This time it was your eyes bulging. Good god, Tom had a body sculpted by the gods! You were surely drooling over his sculpted arms by the time he had kicked off his jeans and briefs. Tom slid the condom on his cock and leaned back over you. You slipped your hands up to cradle his face, marveling at his cheekbones and eyes once more. “What is it?” Tom asked, his head tilting to the side.

“You’re so beautiful,” You sighed, your eyes gentle and appreciating. Tom, who hadn’t been expecting that, blushed, and you giggled. “It’s almost criminal, really.”

“I could say the same about you, you know,” Tom spoke, running a hand up and down your body in appreciation. You had all the right curves in all the right places and didn’t starve yourself like many models he had seen in his line of business. That made you so beautiful. He leaned his head down and kissed your jaw, slowly moving his lips down your neck. You moaned and dug your fingers into his hair once more, wanting more than just teasing kisses upon your skin. 

Tom chuckled, knowing exactly what you wanted. But was he going to rush himself? Hell no. So he took his time, running his lips along the tendon of your neck, biting little kisses against your flesh to leave little marks… but then he reached your breasts and couldn’t help but nuzzle them, reveling in the softness. Tom’s gaze washed over your flushed face for a moment before he devilishly flicked his tongue across a nipple. Your back arched as you whined and twisted beneath him. 

“Tom,” You gasped out, your nails sliding harder into his hair to scrape his scalp. “I beg you, stop teasing me,” Tom pushed his fingers along your face, brushing wayward strands of hair back.

“Apologies but I like to take my time to appreciate true beauty,” He purred, his body dropping down against yours, pressing his finely trimmed and sculpted body along yours so you could feel every inch of the masterpiece he was. You soft groaned and wondered if the man knew how lethal he was. His pretty eyes met yours and as distracting as his touch upon your body was, with his hand spiraling all across your breast and stomach, your eyes couldn’t leave his. 

Hand stroking your face, Tom pressed his lips back against yours. Your lips parted against his, kissing back and once again getting lost in his delirious kisses. Your mouths seemed to know exactly how to move against each other. When to tug. When to lick. When to turn soft. When to turn hard… you gasped against his lips when your legs were pushed apart and you felt the head of his cock brush your drenched folds. Yes. Yes. Yes. When he pressed inside you, sliding slowly over a spot that made you gasp loudly, your fingers tightened their grasp on his hair and you moaned softly against the corner of his mouth. 

“You are so fucking tight,” Tom rasped, nuzzling your face and peppering your cheek with light kisses. 

“Should I apologize for that?” You breathed out, tracing his back with your fingers and draping your leg over his hip. Tom snorted and nipped at the underside of your jaw. 

“Fuck no,” He growled, his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you further against him. You grunted when your bodies crashed together and your pelvis ground against his. You could have sworn that you saw stars for a moment with the way his cock was stretching you out. Redirecting his mouth to yours, you nipped and tugged at his lips, drawing his lips to part so you could kiss him deeper. Tom was all too happy to return your demand, twisting his tongue against yours and nibbling on your lower lip. 

As Tom fell into a gentle pace that left you feeling each and every stroke of his cock against your sensitive walls. Your nails clawed the taut muscles which you had once caressed, and Tom broke your lip lock and shifted his attention to your heaving breasts. He kissed them fervently, marveling at their softness and wanting to worship such beauty. A strained moan left your parted lips when he licked and rolled a nipple, sealing his mouth against your delicate flesh.

“Oh,” Your fingers once again dug into midnight strands, tugging on them, only feeding Tom’s endeavor to see how undone he could get you. Thrusting a little harder into your divine cunt, your eyes rolled slightly and you clung tighter to him, gasping and panting.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Tom growled, his lips leaving your breast and prowling across your chest, marking it with bites and kisses. Your cunt pulsed and clenched around his cock, squeezing him almost painfully. “You gonna come for me again, Sunday?” Your face, blistered with heat and ecstasy, grew even hotter if that was possible. Orgasm again? You had never had more than one and didn’t feel like you could have another one. Tom took your silence as a no. “No?” He purred in your ear, thrusting hard against a spot that had you seeing stars. You yelped and scratched at his shoulder. “Come on, darling, you can do it, I know you can.” 

“Tom,” You gurgled, your nails scraping down his scalp and neck, you couldn’t help but buck your hips against his. “I—“ You stuttered, rendered breathless for a moment as explosive pleasure ripped at you from the inside out. Your head pressed back against the bed and your neck strained, baring it for Tom to turn his attention to your unblemished skin. 

“Come for me, darling, I know you can do it,” He encouraged, feeling your body reacting to him and climbing closer and closer to ecstasy. You cried out and writhed against him, the heel of the leg draped over his waist digging into his lower back. Tom brushed his lips along your racing pulse, loving the feel of how it fluttered and rushed under his lips. “One more, Sunday, one more,” 

Your cunt clamped down around his cock and Tom groaned, feeling the full force of your orgasm hitting you. Your body arched into his as you cried out and viciously dug your fingernails into his back, clinging to him. It was quite a sight watching you come undone beneath him, and as your released flowed, Tom’s hips faltered in his orgasm. He clutched you to him, burying his face into the crook of your neck before his body exploded in passion. Your entire body was trembling as you lay sprawled and limp, limbs tingling and twitching ever so slightly. 

“Oh my fucking god,” You whispered to yourself, staring up at the ceiling in utter shock. Tom kissed your neck repeatedly with light kisses, silently pleased with himself when his eyes caught sight of the little marks that were beginning to bloom on your skin. 

“Don’t tell me something is wrong after you came like that,” Tom purred, hugging your body and feeling on cloud nine. You soft groaned and carded your fingers back through his black hair, Tom closed his eyes and basked in the feeling. He wished that it could last forever. 

“I’ve never slept with a man I just met let alone had two orgasms in one night,” You meekly admitted. 

“No?”

“No,” You agreed, relaxing and leaning your cheek against his hair. “But I am in no way complaining.” 

“Good to know,” Tom chuckled, placing another kiss against your neck. 

Date Published: 12/25/22

Last Edit: 4/25/23

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[bowbownow96]

Threads of Desire ♥️♠️🃏

(Part 2)

Hisoka slid his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly in one swift motion. A small gasp escaped your lips as your instincts took over, your arms and legs wrapping around him for stability. Hisoka’s signature playful smirk tugged at his lips as he carried you to the bed, lowering you onto the soft surface with a confidence that made your heart race.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his movements teasing yet commanding. His tongue brushed against yours, vying for dominance, and unsurprisingly, he won, leaving you breathless. “Hisoka…” you murmured, your voice breaking into a groan.

He pulled back just enough to let a sly, mischievous grin spread across his face. Then, with deliberate intent, he bit down on your lower lip, tugging it playfully. “Mmm, what’s wrong, my dear?” he purred, blood tripling from your lip, his voice low and smooth as he began to unravel the towel draped loosely around his hips.

Your gaze dropped instinctively, and your breath hitched. A flush bloomed across your cheeks, painting your pale skin a deep crimson. Hisoka’s eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly reveling in your reaction. “Don’t like what you see, my love?” he teased, as he dripped with mock innocence as he stroked himself lazily, the evidence of his arousal glistening in the dim light. Hisoka grabbed your trembling, desperate hand, letting you trace down his 8 pack and v line. “Oh…y/n…”

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly as his legs spread wide, his posture oozing confidence and power. His eyes met yours, his grin turning wicked. “You know what to do, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice laced with seductive challenge. You bowed down in front of him, clenching your legs as close together, letting a soft whimper escape your mouth.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as Hisoka’s gaze bore down on you, sharp and calculating. His golden eyes gleamed with both amusement and impatience as he took in your vulnerable frame, barely concealed by the thin fabric clinging to your skin. His smirk faltered, replaced by a cold, dissatisfied glare.

“Strip,” he commanded, his voice low but cutting, leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in defiance despite the danger that radiated from him. Summoning a flicker of courage, you tilted your chin up and replied with a smirk of your own. “Make me,” you dared, the challenge hanging in the air like a loaded weapon.

The words had barely left your lips when Hisoka moved, faster than you could react. His hand shot out, tangling roughly in your hair, forcing your head back as you let out a startled gasp. His grip was unrelenting, and before you could fully process the pain, the cold, sharp edge of one of his cards pressed against your neck.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery and menace. His fingers tightened in your hair, yanking hard enough to make you wince. The blade of the card traced along your skin with maddening precision, leaving a stinging trail in its wake.

A thin line of crimson began to bead and trickle down your neck, the warm sensation making you shudder. A small, involuntary yelp escaped your lips, and Hisoka’s smirk returned, more dangerous than before.

“There it is,” he purred, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear. “That delicious little sound. Now, are you still feeling bold, or have I made my point?”

Your chest heaved as you tried to steady yourself, the fire in your eyes dimming but not extinguished entirely. Hisoka chuckled darkly, clearly entertained by the mix of fear and defiance he’d drawn out of you.

[octobersmog]

Sketches

Summary: Reader is Abby's lab assistant and sketches her sometimes, unbeknownst to Abby, who Reader is crushing hard on.

Pairing: Abby Sciuto X Reader

Word Count: 590

Warnings: None

A/N: kicking off the ol’ blog’s revival with my first abby fic! still a little rusty after not writing for a while but i’ve got some more content in the works and hope to get something of a posting schedule worked out sometime soon!

The lab was a flurry of light and sound, the clacking of a keyboard barely heard over the blaring music. You perched at a free table, notebook open in front of you, taking advantage of the brief lull in your workday as Abby typed rapidly, eyes fixed on her computer screen. 

You turned your attention back to the notebook, pencil tapping gently against the tabletop as you looked over the rough sketch on the page. Your impromptu reference was still typing furiously as you began smoothing out some of the sharper lines. The sketch had captured Abby in the midst of her work, hands poised in place on the keyboard, eyes carrying the same sharp focus as they usually did when she was buried in her work.

You erased a few stray lines, brushing the page clean of eraser rubbings. Similar drawings filled the rest of the page, most hasty sketches taken down during moments of respite in the lab, but all of them illustrated Abby in some motion of work. 

Unbeknownst to the forensic scientist, she had been the main source of your artistic inspiration over the past few months you'd been working together. She hadn't noticed your frequent sketching, and you hadn't had the nerve to make her aware of it, terrified of ruining the rapport that had quickly built up between the two of you. That, and the fact that you liked her a little more than a colleague probably should.

The pencil glided across the paper, the details becoming clearer with each stroke. You were so utterly absorbed in the process that you didn’t register the absence of typing, or the fact that Abby was no longer in front of her computer screen.    

“Is that a drawing of me?”

You scrambled desperately to cover the page from view, cheeks burning with embarrassment as Abby peered over your shoulder. “No! Not that I wouldn’t draw you, I mean, I would but not like-”

“Relax, Y/N,” Abby grinned, chuckling a bit. “Whoever it is or isn’t, you’re a good artist. Like crazy good."

“Thanks,” you laughed nervously, staring down at the table and mentally kicking yourself for your momentary obliviousness. “Art school was my backup plan if this,” you gestured vaguely to the lab around you, “didn’t work out.”

She leaned against the tabletop beside you, arms folded loosely. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you ended up here instead."

"Really?" You smiled shyly, fiddling with the pencil still in your hand.

"Totally! I've never really clicked with an assistant before like you, Y/N."

Another wave of warmth assailed your cheeks. "I'm glad I ended up here too, Abbs. God knows I wouldn't have met anyone quite like you at art school."

"Y’know, I wouldn't mind taking a peek at the rest of your art sometime, if you wanna share,” she said, smiling hopefully.

“Of course, yeah,” you replied, finally raising your eyes to hers. “If you promise not to try and hang any of it up in the lab, that is.”

The two of you shared a look, grinning at each other. Her gaze sent your mind pinwheeling, a strange burst of confidence taking over, and you opened your mouth to speak; to ask her out, to tell her how you felt, to tell her-

A loud beep sounded, and Abby tore her eyes away toward the source. 

“Results are in?” you asked almost disappointedly, confidence dissipating as fast as it had come.

“Most definitely.” Abby hurried around to the computer, fingers flying across the keys as she studied the screen. “Looks like we’ve got our guy.”

“Call Gibbs?”

“You know it.”

[justanotheranxiousfangirl]

Plan B

“What are you thinking about so hard over there gorgeous?” Jake said his body turned towards you the arm under him propping his head up as the free hand traced light lines across your arm and towards your back. You hesitated hating having to shatter this perfect moment with reality.

“Jake, did we use a condom last night?” You whispered, so quietly that you were unsure if he had heard you.

“No baby we didn’t.” He answered, using the hand that was tracing shaped over your arm and back to anchor you at the small of your back and pull you forward, chests touching. So close that in order to look him in the eyes you had to look up.

“Umm- I’ll go buy plan b, I can take take it in front of you. But this is a really bad ti-“ you managed to stutter out as panic began to flood your veins.

“Baby baby,” Jake cut you off, “you don’t like plan b. You said so yourself” you looked up at him shocked he had remembered the offhanded comment you and phoenix had made during a drunken game of never have I ever.

*3 months ago at the Hard Deck after hours, post Uranium Mission*

“Go on, Bob!” Payback slurred, encouraging Bob to add to their drunk game.

“Ok-uh-um. Never have I ever taken Plan B.” He stuttered out.

“Oh, come on Robert, I told you that in confidence.” Phoenix groans, as she downs her 5th it was it 6th shot of the night.

The squadron turns to look at you, “hey, just because I’m Pro-Choice, doesn’t mean I have exercised that right, um I’ve just you know always wanted kids that if it were to accidentally happen, I wouldn’t be mad at it.” You managed to squeak out.

Phoenix nodded, “honestly I kind of wish I would of just let things play out, but I definitely was not Mom Material at the time.” She rests her head in your shoulder, and you run your fingers through her hair in an attempt to comfort her.

*Back to Present*

A light stroke across your cheek towards your ear brings you back to the present as Jake brushed a loose strand of hair back into place. “Babe.” He speaks, “I knew what I was doing last night and this morning. Now if you really want the plan B I can go grab one for you.” You look up at him shocked. This man, will bring you to your knees.

“If I want…” you repeat, your tone mystified.

“Yes honey,” Jake coos, “if and only if you want it.”

“So what if I want it?” You wondered aloud.

“Then I will hop in the car run to the nearest pharmacy, grab one and your favorite Starbucks drink and bring it to you with some breakfast, where we can talk about our plans for our first date.” Jake answers his face a blank smile.

“And if I don’t want it?” You prod.

“Then I will go get you some food and coffee, then we can talk about us some more and maybe kiss a little?” He offers.

“Jake, this isn’t like a she might be pregnant thing,” you began, looking at his crazy smile as you talked, “I’m ovulating, so this is like a, she will be pregnant, and having my child in 9 months thing.” He smile only grew wider.

“Then we better start looking at some houses and engagement rings, whichever one you want first.” He answers, you throw your leg over him, snd straddle him.

“What about we go for round 2 first just to make sure, you know, then breakfast?” You offered.

He smiles as he rolls you into your back, “you read my mind pretty girl, you read my mind.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck.

[elysianslove]

i would like you to consider cockwarming sukuna on his throne

i am considering. i am very much considering. 

let’s go back to you being his favorite girl in his little cult thing. 

this. this turned out so long. is this even a drabble anymore. 

he has you on display as always by his side, in some dress that doesn’t even count as a dress, just some cloth draped mercifully over your intimate parts, and it’s kind of transparent too. but today, today for some reason, he wanted you on his lap. you don’t understand, as you don’t most of the things he requests and asks of you, but like the obedient girl you are, you sit. you sit on his right thigh, twisting slightly so that you can face forward, with his arm coming around to squeeze at your bare waist. 

and it goes on like that for a while, a few weeks. every day you walk into his throne room, and every day he pats at his thighs, and every day you sit yourself where he wants you to. 

until one day, he asks something different. spectacularly different. with a few spectators, he dares to ask, “sit on my cock,” with inexplicable confidence.

it’s not the first time he’s requested something like this of you, and it wouldn’t be the first time you’d agreed. somewhere in between the gray lines of his morality, he finds it in him to hear your yes first, even if it’s as hesitant as ever. and who wouldn’t be? hesitant, that is. he’s no human, neither does he fuck like one, and his cock, for every night you’ve lain within his chambers, it splits you open, and every time he sinks into you, it feels as if you’re a virgin once more. but you’re not alone with him. you’ve let him do whatever he pleases, let him do whatever he desires, but alone, privately. 

but— 

daringly, your small voice asks, “n-now?”

he grins down at you from the height of his throne, teasingly glaring as he retorts, “do you have somewhere else to be?” 

although you want to do otherwise, you slowly shake your head, already approaching him. he nods, pleased and amused and satisfied, outstretching a hand for you as you climb up to him. your hand settles in his larger, warmer one, just as his other hovers by the skin that the dress reveals. “my little plaything,” he muses, a finger dancing along your waist, dipping at your hip. 

at his touch, you shiver. you try to withhold it, but he notices all too soon. 

“you’re scared?” he wonders, looking up at you. 

despite the fact that you’re the one looking down at him, he seems still so much larger than you. you bite back a whimper. you trust him. you trust him. you trust him. and you do, against all odds. in spite of everything, you really do trust him. it hadn’t always been like this, where barely any hate dwelled in your heart for him, but nights upon nights upon nights passed, and you began to understand that the same way people were made for certain things, like to be warriors who fight for their land and people, you were made to warm his bed and ease his suffering, to shoulder his burdens and responsibilities. it seems taxing, seems bothersome, seems sad. but it isn’t. not when he has the most beautiful of dresses sent to your chambers, woven from the finest silk from across the globe, and not when he keeps your belly full and hunger sated, and not when he treats at your wounds and eases your illnesses, and not when he wipes at your tears and kisses at your shoulder blades, no matter if it’s in the privacy of four walls. 

and it doesn’t matter where you’d started, where you’d begun. only where you are now. 

with every promise he’s made you kept in mind, you steel yourself, and shake your head. he grins again, lifting up the hand that’s intertwined with yours. “of course you aren’t,” he says, and he’s not mocking you. he’s proud. 

the hand in yours lifts up higher until he’s urging you to twirl around, and at the insinuation, you pause. “everyone will see,” you quietly warn, voice cracking. 

he doesn’t let you falter in your step as he pushes you on his lap, just like every other day, except you feel it, his cock, hard and hot and stiff at your lower back, bulging through his kimono. “i know,” he replies. his legs spread, widening, and you nearly fall had it not been for his grip on your waist. “i want them to.” 

you shiver again, but you don’t attempt to hide it this time, not when you can hear the squelch of his hand stroking at his cock, slow and languid, and not when he pushes aside the dress, easily revealing your ass to him. the dress had essentially been a piece of cloth draped over each shoulder, resting over your breasts before sinking between your legs, while it hangs loosely all along your back, hooked at your waist with a simple string, with your sides are completely revealed. had he been planning this the whole time, then, from the moment he’d had you dressed in this? 

his fingers dip to your cunt, spreading your folds and teasing at your clit. at the stimulation, your hands rush to grasp the throne’s arms tightly. the crowd beneath you slowly starts to vanish when he urges you up, when he brings the fat head of his cock to your hole, when he sits you down, fills you up to the brim inch by inch until you positively feel him in your throat, your thighs flush against his. all the scowling faces of jealous girls and the disappointed faces of men and women alike, all the villagers that call you a whore and all the men that whistle at the sight, disappear, and it’s as if you really are alone with him. 

you trust him. 

the hand on your waist presses you back and you fall, sighing delightfully as you rest against him, back pressed to his chest, head lolling on his shoulder. sukuna’s unmoving, not thrusting up into you or forcing your hips to roll and grind against his. his cock twitches inside of you, begging for attention, and you squeeze and clench down on him, just the way you’ve learnt he loves, and still, he doesn’t make a move to fuck you. 

you’re breathless, somehow you are, and you hiccup lightly before you whine, “s-sukuna.”

soothingly, he shushes you. “spread your legs,” he commands, softly, and you do. you obey, pushing your legs open, letting either leg hang over either of his thighs, loosely and helplessly. the dress falls to between your legs, concealing you modestly. he hums in appraisal, arms twisting to wrap tightly around you. you’re already so delirious, mind hazing over as you twist your neck to bury your face against neck. his arms, large as ever, hold you close to him, and still, all you do is sit on his cock. yet, you don’t have it in you to complain, because this is somehow just as satisfying as ever he’s ever done to your body. 

“sukuna,” you moan again, but you’re not asking anything of him. 

“perfect,” he whispers, craning his head lower to kiss at where your neck meets your shoulder. “so obedient.” you moan again, unintentionally grinding down against him. “i can feel the rage of those girls beneath, wishing it was their cunt swallowing my cock whole.” at his words, you whine, in annoyance, in anger. “yeah,” he quietly agrees. “never a cunt like yours, my sweet thing.” your body’s impossibly heating up, and you’re doing your all not to writhe in his grasp, opting for futile squirming. he can tell, because of course he can, and he shushes you again. 

“stay still for me, darling,” he urges you, and you huff, sinking into his hold. “and i promise i’ll fuck you the very way you love tonight.” 

he waits for you to nod, and once you breathlessly, mindlessly, do, he grins again, shifting in his seat until he sits high again, leaving one arm around you and keeping you pressed to him as he leans his elbow on the opposite arm of the throne, resting his chin in his palm. and then, he briefly nods at a man kneeling beneath his throne, and says, “now, back to this.” 

swag lip bite emoji 

[oh-holy-slut]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, blood sharing, mentions of death, oral sex

Word Count: 2,6k

Summary: Stefan forced Damon to try his animal diet. Damon hated it, but didn't had a choice... until Reader makes a suggestion. Suddenly things get steamy.

Being with Damon was complicated. Him and Y/N have seen each other a lot in the past weeks. The two of them had a lot of fun; saw a lot of movies. Actually, Y/N was sure Damon secretly hated many of those. However, anytime Y/N suggested another dramatic, romantic cliché movie like "Last Song" - the vampire groaned, put his arm around her shoulder, let her head rest on his chest and endured every single second of the movie of her choice.

Damon even flirted and teased Y/N here and there, but didn't lead to anything more intimate so far.

Today was another of those days. Y/N stuck around at the Salvatore boarding house, brought a few of Damon's favorite groceries and a bunch of movies, of which she thought that they will suit his taste. Even if they were a little to bloody and brutal in her opinion.

"Pick one!", she demanded, holding all three Blu-ray sleeves in front of him. Damon just shrugged, not bothering to even look.

"Don't be a killjoy, Damon Salvatore!" Y/N sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong or pick a movie. You've got no choice. And besides that... Which number of drink is this?" Y/N frowned, pointing at the liquor in her friends hand. Damon usually consumed his beloved bourbon with pleasure.

But the man on the couch didn't seem pleasured at all. His facial features totally hardened and a look in his eyes like he was ready to rip someone's heart out.

You put the disc's back in your handbag, closing the zipper and put the bag on the floor.

"Fine. No movie night today. Who are we going to kill?"

A small smirk appeared on Damon's lips, finally looking towards Y/N.

"Stefan and his hero hair. He made me go vegetarian... well, for a vampire... and I can't get myself to eat one of those chipmunks, bunnies or bambis." He shook himself with disgust.

"And why did he count you in? You clearly aren't excited about the changing... So, why did you agree?"

"He said, he would kill me, which is kinda funny. But-" Damon made a wide gesture "he stole my daylight ring. And he wouldn't give it back until I stop feeding on innocent people - and kill them."

"So, you truly let your younger brother blackmail you like that?! Wow... I don't know how to feel about your dieting or your new path. Or whatever this is supposed to be."

"You don't like me killing people either", Damon maintained, while taking another sip of bourbon.

"Well, I don't", Y/N agreed, took a step forward, stole the glass from the vampires hand and put it on a small table nearby. "But I don't believe in forcing as a method to get people to change their minds. I believe that change for the better must be an intrinsic motivation," she added quickly, giving the vampire an innocent smile.

Damon's lineaments suddenly turned from annoyed to curious. "Any suggestions, little one?" The vampire raised an eyebrow and a little smirk showed up on his lips. On the one hand, Y/N blushed over the nickname, Damon called her.  On the other hand she felt skittish looking forward to making a deal with him. Not only a deal. It's far more than a simple agreement.

It's Y/N, actually giving Damon a part of her. The red elixir of life. She was about to give him total control of her body and she not even for a heartbeat doubt that Damon will use it against her.

"Actually... Yeah. There's something on my mind." Y/N said chewing on your lip. "I could open up a vein for you. I mean, you could feed on me. And since you have my permission, there's nothing for anybody to have objection about."

Damon frowned and gave her an incredulous look. "You would do that for me?" The vampire couldn't believe, he understood correctly. Why would Y/N want to get involved with him feeding on her? What's in it for her? Damon tried hard to connect the dots, but he wasn't able to. It all seemed to make no sense. Y/N wouldn't have an advantage of that. The vampire hesitated, pinning his dangerously blue eyes on the girl in front of him.

"Is it so suspicious of me, that I'm trying to help my closest friend?" It pierced Y/N's heart, realizing, Damon's trust in her was rather fragile. "Never mind", she waved the pain away and forced herself to keep her composure. "I only had a hasty idea; you really don't need to fee-"

Suddenly Damon appeared behind Y/N, using his vampirism. "Shhhh", he whispered softly. "I never said, that I don't want your blood. I'm thinking about if we are going to cross a line? Blood sharing can be very personal..."

"It can be? It is personal already. Believe it or not - I'm not gonna offer my veins to all the vampires of Mystic Falls." Y/N rolled her eyes, her arms folded on her chest to point out the indignation she felt right now.

"Kinda sensitive today, huh?" Damon gently stroke a strand of hair behind her ear, Y/N could hear this smug smirk through his words. It was a true 'Damon thing' to do. "I didn't mean it like that, princess." He sighed; unsure if he should agree or not. Damon didn't want to act selfish towards Y/N. He compelled a lot of girls for the purpose of drinking blood in the past. He literally used them as long as they weren't too annoying - and then he acted like they have never met. Damon Salvatore couldn't imagine this scenario with Y/N. They've been so close, the vampire couldn't stand loosing her. The offer was risky, but it also could bring each other even closer.

Damon tried hard to avoid any serious attraction between Y/N and him, afraid of messing up. Indeed, he found himself thinking, and even dreaming, about Y/N more than he wanted to admit. She was smart and had this special sense of humor, the vampire adored so much. She was the only one, who could make him feel good no matter what. Needless to say she had that glimmer in her eyes, when she did something she truly loved. In these moments she was even more pretty. Y/N was hard to resist.

And maybe now he could have her like nobody else. At least the vampire gave in. He wanted her blood. He wanted her.

Y/N flinched by the feeling of Damon brushing her neck with his lips.  "Oh, Damon", she gasped. "Bite me." Y/N almost begged for the vampire's teeth breaking through her skin. Damon loved the sound of her husky voice. In less than a heartbeat he turned into his vampire shape. "If you insist", he grinned devilishly, ready to place his teeth on to her skin.

Suddenly Y/N made a slight move forward with the intention to interrupt her friend. "Did you change your mind?" Damon was close to switching back to human, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Mostly a lack of understanding, but also a little of disappointment and even anger. Was Y/N playing games on him? While Damon Salvatore was sorting feelings, Y/N turned around, standing now in front of him.

She was so close, not even a piece of paper would fit between them.

Y/N slightly exhaled breath, her eyes darting between the vampires eyes and lips. It was the first time Y/N saw him like this. The icy blue of his eyes, she loved so much, has turned darker. Purple veins appeared under his eyes; Y/N couldn't help herself. Damon's appearance fully intoxicated every fibre of her being. Her fingertips found their way gently brushing over his dark purple veins. She felt heat and softness, while tracing one of them.  It took her a few seconds to get out of trance, realizing what she had done. "Sorry", she murmured with a voice barely audible. "Don't apologize, little one." Damon tilted his head, his lips curled up in a self-assured grin, exposing a perfectly white vampire fang. "I never saw you like this before, you loo-"

"... look like a monster?"

Y/N shook her head. It was nothing like that. Yes, he did look unfamiliar. And she should be scared under normal conditions. Instead, his look hit her in an unexpected way. He looked hotter as a vampire, if it was even possible. 

Y/N cleared her throat, looking up at Damon. "I feel... attracted to you."

"So nothing's changed", Damon teased, raising his eyebrows. The girl in front of him softly slapped him on his shoulder; which was only possible because the vampire permitted. "You are always so full of yourself." She smirked, feeling more confident being to something, they have had been so many times before. Granted, he was terrifying accurate, but she wouldn't serve her feelings on a silver platter.

"I'm still into it. You can bite me; feed on me. I only needed to see you before..." 

A shockwave of electricity flowed through her body the second Damon took her hand and pulled her close.

"I'll be careful", he promised, nuzzling his head into the nap of her neck. Damon once again placed his lips on her soft skin. 

Suddenly a harsh pain made Y/N feel like in a kind of haze. She flinched and let out a groan at the same time, unintentionally biting her lower lip. 

During Damon embedded his fang deeper and deeper, she started feeling dizzy. Her hands searched for the vampires upper body, finally wrapped around his neck. She needed him to lean on. A narrow trickle of blood flowed down her neck. Let Damon feed on her felt like flames licking up every fiber of her body. 

With every passing second Y/N could feel her control slip away. Her body was now firmly pressed against Damon's, like she would want to merge them into one.

Damon noticed her staggering, wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her.

Bloodlust already messed up the vampires mind, so he continued feeding on Y/N.

A tempting moan escaped her lips, but she didn't care to cover up. Y/N's heart was racing, her eyes flattering. It was almost as if he was about to push her over the edge, but in a different way. "Mmm, this...this… feels soo weird... and so good...", she whispered under a shallow breath.

As soon as Damon heard her fading voice, he abruptly

quitted drinking from her.

"Fuck!" He rapidly laid her on his lap and checked Y/N's vital signs, to make sure she was okay. Instinctively he bit his wrist, pressed it against Y/N's mouth. He knew his blood would heal her, but it wasn't going fast enough. A few seconds passed through, to him they felt like centuries. Y/N finally blinked and Damon was relieved. He cupped her cheeks, his gaze never leaving hers. "I thought, I'd gone-" Damon cleaned his throat. "I'm so glad, you are doing well", he whispered, while trailing her lips with his fingertips. "So, fuckin' glad..." The vampire exhaled a deep breath. 

"It... You made me feel good. Strange, but good", Y/N appeased and flushed over the memory. "Maybe you got a little carried away, but I don't mind. I wouldn't trade the feeling for anything."

Y/N quickly interrupted herself, before she could reveal too much.

However, Damon used his vampire skills, noticing that Y/N was hiding something from him. "Isn't there anything else you want me to know?", Damon asked without taking his eyes off her. Y/N shifted and flushed even more. "It's unfair. You use your vampirism to get everything out of me."

"Well, if that were the case, I could easily compel you." Damon shrugged and found back to his smugly self. "Tell me, what you are hiding". He said in a seductive voice.

"I wanted to get lost in you."

Her confession sent shivers all over the vampires body. At first he could not decide, how to handle this. "Are you sure that's what you want? I could really hurt you..." Y/N hummed.

In the next split second, Damon pinned Y/N against a wall, smashing his lips on hers, kissing her with all the passion he had to give. The vampire devoured Y/N with a new kind of hunger. He didn't know he could crave someone so much.

"Fuck me, Damon..."

The vampire felt him getting hard, only by hearing those little three words out of her mouth.

"Say it louder. Tell me, what you want me to do."

Y/N pulled him closer, gently biting his earlobe.

"Fuck... me, Damon." It took her a second to focus and forming the words again. After she was near to climax earlier, it wasn't a long way getting to the edge once more. "Make me cum... You almost had me there..."

A deep moan got over the vampires lips, once he understood, what Y/N was trying to tell him.

With the next blink Y/N found herself in Damon's bedroom, lying on his bed.

From now on there weren't many words needed. Damon's hand's found their way under her shirt, cupping her breasts and make her moan over and over again.

He closely listened to the rhythm of her heart, making sure he would be able to delay her climax to the point he needed her to.

"Don't cum yet... I want to taste your little pussy first."

Y/N grabbed the vampires head, running her fingers through his dark hair - pushing him down, since she was unable to form a single word.

As Damon got down, he didn't take his eyes off Y/N.

He used a hand pushing up her skirt and lightly stroking over her panties with his fingertips.

"My girl is so wet", he praised in a low husky voice."-and I barely touched you."

His dirty words in combination with his touch lead to another moan, almost turned into a scream.

Damon pushed the fabric aside, leaving sloppy kisses on the inside of her thighs.

Y/N's eyes fluttered, when his soft lips reached her middle.

Damon's tongue licking around her entrance was driving her nuts.

"...so delicious..." were the only words she was able to catch up. Damon knew, he couldn't thrill her forever, so he got back to her. He spit on his palms, stroking his hand over his crotch. In under a second Y/N finally felt this releasing pressure of his cock. It was like a switch went off in her brain and she braced herself for the hard thrusts that would follow.

Damon dimmed the whining noises Y/N made with a passionate, hungry kiss.

He cheated with his vampirism to give it to her deeper and faster, knocking out all the air of her lungs while Y/N screamed out Damon's name. Her walls clenched around him and made him twitch. It was like her pussy massaged his dick the best way possible.

Every time he hit her harder and rougher he was making sure he hit her spot with every thrust.

Damon gathered speed one last time and pushed her over the edge until she was a moaning whimpering mess.

With her last contraction around his shaft, Damon was cumming inside her.

"You are so tight, little one", he whispered under his breath. "We should make arrangements more often."

Please like or/and reblog if you enjoyed reading or/and want me to write more stories about Damon.

Thanks guys ❤️

[joshslater]

Dionysus

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I was very hesitant when he picked me up at the nightclub. I could feel the disappointment and outright hostility from all the women and a lot of the men as the God walked up to me, started to make out, and then asked if I was up for some fun. That's what you get away with when no one ever says "no" I thought. With his incredibly handsome face, black hair, and athletic build that was probably not a word he was used to hearing. It would be impossible for him to know I was into guys, and coming on so strong could land you in hot water or rather knocked cold on the floor. Turns out he could know, and there was more to him than just utter handsomeness and unparalleled confidence. Way more.

It was back at his place he asked me if I could look like someone else, who would I pick? That's a game I've played many times before, so I instantly knew to answer Marco Albieri, the soccer player. He raised an eyebrow, took a step from me, and asked me why. "I don't know what it is about soccer players, but something about the game makes their bodies stunningly handsome. And Marco is just a step above the rest." He smiled a bright smile, made a dramatic gesture, and I was Marco. Looked exactly like him at least. It took me a moment to even realize what had just happened, but I could see myself in the full-length mirror. Or I couldn't, I should say. I saw Marco Albieri in full Paris Saint-Germain F.C. game kit. Mesmerized I took a step closer to the mirror, and Marco on the other side of the glass stepped closer as well. I looked just like him, my wettest, wankiest dream. I'd come so many times to exactly this fantasy. There was even a sheen of post-game sweat making all the skin glistening in his hallway designer lights.

He approached me from behind, still handsome but now by a much narrower margin. "You ready to fuck?" I didn't even answer but just turned around and kissed him. He wasn't shy in grouping me back. What followed was the longest fuck fest I've ever been part of. We went from room to room. It was like this body had limitless stamina, though it was the body of Marco after all, but an insatiable horny lust as well. Perhaps he had that too. It wasn't until early morning I fell asleep next to him, exhausted.

It was almost noon when I woke up, disoriented by everything. It was like it wasn't until now the craziness and impossibility of last night hit me. I could see Marco Albieri in the mirror at the other side of the bedroom, without shirt, and the most unkempt hair I had ever seen him with. I knew for a fact the secret hairstyling trick was body fluids. I suddenly felt very uneasy and exposed. Vulnerable even. I was here on vacation. How could I leave if I didn't look like my passport? How could I leave this building looking like Marco? There would be fans stopping me instantly. What the fuck am I thinking about? I'm erased from the world. No one I know, no one in my family would recognize me. Could I convince them I'm me and not a millionaire soccer player? Perhaps. But my life would be so complicated.

That's when he lazily strolled into the bedroom, completely naked showing off his chiseled body, one mug in each hand.

"You did this! How the fuck did you do this? You can't leave me like this!" "Morning!"

He handed me one of the mugs. On reflex I took a large sip of coffee only to discover it was red wine. It took me by surprise and I almost sprayed his white sheets with red mist of wine, but instead got some down my lungs and started to cough.

"Is this really the best you can think of?" he said. At first I had no idea what he meant. Then, still coughing, I realized it was my body again. The one I used to fly here, check into the hotel, and go out to nightclubs with.

"I... It's awfully inconvenient if I tried to leave with a different body." "That's it? That's the only reason?"

I felt stupid and unsure what to say. I liked my body, so why was it so hard to defend it? He took a large sip from his coffee mug of wine and climbed into bed next to me, but standing on his knees looking down on me.

"When's your flight back?" "Eh, in... On Sunday." "Plenty of time to let loose. How about going to the beach like this?"

This time I noticed the shift. The bed sagged down a bit under the extra load and I didn't even have to look in the mirror to see the freakish muscles. Two huge chest muscles peeked into my field of vision, and moving my arm I could see it was thicker than what my legs used to be.

I felt light-headed as we walked down to the beach. Probably the wine. He was subtle and classy, black Nike sneakers, black boardshorts, and a white T-shirt. I was anything but subtle. Probably twice his mass, annoying flip flops that flipped and flopped every step, white compression shorts that looked blindingly bright against my deep tan, a purple thong that peeked up over the rim of the shorts by the hips, visible because the neon yellow tank top was cropped above the belly button to show off the abs. The stringer waved for every step as my obscene pecs push out the yellow fabric like a hanging flag. It touched my body in surprisingly few places. Top of the traps and the nipples more or less.

After spending a few hours getting everyone passing by on the beach to turn their heads to observe the freak show he asked me to play floatation device for him. We went out in the water and did our best to have sex just outside where the waves broke. I think anyone who paid close attention could tell what we did, but no one could be really sure. He didn't appear to care.

"I made you something," he whispered. "What?" "A surfer," he said and begun walking towards the beach. As I wiped my long hair out of my face I understood he changed me again. No more shaved head, no more enormous meat slab. I still had a six-pack, I was still 6'-something, and my skin was deeply tanned, but that's about where the similarities ended. "Why?" I asked as I lied down on the beach towel next to his. "First dive bar opens soon, and I thought this would play better to the crowd." I was feeling woozy. "We want to play to the crowd?" He reached over and squeezed the pec closest to him. "Well, make them jealous at least."

There was something nagging at the edge of my thoughts. Some question I felt I needed to ask. I just couldn't quite put it into coherent thought.

"Did you drug me?" He made a high-pitched "Mmmm" sound. "Just a bit. To fit with the rest. Just go with it."

I shut my eyes, relaxed, and let his hand stroke me. I don't know how long we lied like that. Not too long, because the sun hadn't moved that much, but I sure did dozed off.

"Come on!" he said, like it was asking me to hurry up for the third time. A bit confused I got up from the beach towel. I wore a pair of eye-popping turquoise board shorts with black pattern and trim. Neon turquoise, if such a color was a thing. I knew it had a real trade name, but somehow it kept slipping my mind. They had a good fit, not loose, not tight, but rode low on my lithe body. Fuzzy pubes peeked out over the waistband, like a little forest edge where the treasure trail from the belly button ended. I looked around for a shirt or something to put on, but there was nothing except for a pair of flip-flops. These didn't look as cheap and fit much better than the previous pair though.

"Is that it?" I asked incredulously. "What more do you need?" he said, and looked at me like he wanted me for dinner. "Come!"

The bar wasn't far away and already busy when we arrived. He almost danced in, basically dragging me in, holding my hand. I was woozy from whatever I was drugged with, but in a way that made everything look amazing to me. In any direction I looked I was delighted by what I saw, no matter how mundane. The bar was not even half full and everyone looked as relaxed as you would expect from a bar half a block from the beach, though no one else was bare-chested. The decor was a random mix of styles, as expected by a dive bar. Tables for two or four were lined up in front of the bar at the back of the room. From a backroom somewhere behind it pumped music. I looked at my watch to see if it was already dance time, but I was only wearing a red nylon cord as a bracelet.

"You must be thirsty after a day in the sun," he said and handed me an Aperol Spritz. I could have sworn he hadn't left me for the bar, but then I didn't really trust my senses. We took a table for four and sat next to each other, facing the rest of the room. "So, tell me about your day," he continued, as if he hadn't been there for all of it.

For whatever reason I found it hard to figure out where to start, like it was all jumbled together despite nothing of consequence had happened. I began to describe how I had woken up in bed and how he surprised me with breakfast. How I had mistaken the red wine for coffee. I could feel his hand moving down my abs and into my board shorts. As he pulled out my erect cock from the shorts my immediate thought was of surprise. I hadn't realized I was hard. I continued to talk about how we went to the beach, while he was jerking me off with one hand under the table. It then hit me that I had no idea what my dick looked like, if it was big or small. I had never seen it. He had transformed me somehow into this surfer. How could I have forgotten something so monumental.

At that point I shot my load under the table. Four or five large pumps. I was suddenly aware again that there were people around us, and looking around tried to figure out if any of them could see I had my dick out. At the same time I was still feeling high or whatever it was. "I'll get a refill," he said, stood up and headed for the bar. I decided to put my dick back into the shorts.

"Hey, dude. Is he like your boyfriend?" someone standing next to me asked. How long had he been there? He was handsome, not quite as tall as I was now, but more muscled. The tight billabong shirt didn't hide much. "Him? No. We just..." I was trying to think of a good word. I wasn't sure what he was, or what was happening at all really. "Wanna check out the dance floor?" "Yeah... Yeah, I would."

I followed him towards the bar, and away to the side into the dance room. It was far from packed, but we were not alone at least. Immediately I regretted following him there, even before he started moving to the music. Once he did I knew I would look silly. I started to mimic his moves best I could. He smiled a crooked smile, though not an unkind one, when he saw what I was doing. He leaned forward and barely audible over the music asked "Are you up for a second round?"

"What do you mean?" I asked back. "I saw what that other dude did to you. I live nearby, if you want to try something that isn't over in minutes."

In the door opening I see him standing with two large drinks in his hands. He looks emotionless, which in itself was a scary contrast to how he looked before. He then drinks one of the drinks in one go, then immediately empties the other one as well. No sooner has he turned away with two empty glasses when I feel a desperate need to take a piss. He's fucking with me.

"Don't go anywhere," I say and dash towards to men's room.

It's empty. I go to the lone urinal and yank my dick out of the white thong. I'm confused, but happy I got there in time to relieve myself. Why am I wearing only a white thong to a bar? As the piss is streaming for longer than I can ever recall I look down my bare smooth legs and find a pair of eye-catching red hightops. When I'm finally done I have a look at myself in the mirror. Cute, young Latino boy with a red baseball cap on his unkempt hair, and a grey shirt. The shirt in a way makes the thong stand out even more and look intentionally inappropriate. Perfect!

I return to the dance floor and find the guy waiting. "There you are. Let's go!" he says, almost demanding. He doesn't say anything on the way to his apartment two blocks away. I keep looking his way, and it feels like my dick is growing bigger every time I look at those muscled arms. His pace is brisk without being conspicuous, he clearly wants us to get to his place as quickly as possible without being seen. In through an unlocked entrance, up two flights of stairs, and in through his apartment door.

As soon as he whisked me in and closed the door behind us he grabs me, shoves me into the wall next to us, and forcefully kisses me on my mouth. "You fucking whore! I'm so fucking horny you better know what you're doing."

He snores loudly again. I had tried to ignore it to spend a few more hours in the bed, but it's getting pointless to try to sleep any more. I carefully get up and get dressed. No need for a shower, now that everything dried. I make a final check I got everything with me that I brought in. There is that nagging feeling that I'm missing something. Well, whatever it was it can't be important. Quietly I exit his apartment and make my way out of the building. I feel restless being so quiet and calm, like it is unnatural for me to be that way. I basically explode in emotions as I exit the building and literally dance down the last few steps.

I try to think what to do next. My mind is like a spinning punch bowl of thoughts and I'm only able to fish out simple verbs. Party! Drink! Dance! Fuck! The sun is barely up, but perhaps I can find some nightclub still open.

[beautiful-and-terrible]

little things

Rating: Gen

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, SoftBoi!Rodrick, Insecure!Reader

Ship: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Warnings: Body Image, Eating Disorders / Body Dysmorphia, Insecurity 

A/N: this is. SO shmoopy and cheesy lmaoooo but this was an anon request and i live to please :) enjoy!

---

You dragged yourself through your front door, kicking off your shoes in the foyer. The house was dark - your parents were probably asleep already.

You had just spent the day with Rodrick at Six Flags, and you were exhausted from spending all day in the hot sun, running around with your boyfriend like children. You smiled to yourself thinking about the events of the day, the thrill of the rollercoasters you went on.

You clutched the teddy bear Rodrick had won you close to your chest as you slowly ascended the stairs, trying not to make too much noise.

You entered your room and tenderly placed the bear on the bed, giving it a little kiss on the head as you did so before starting your night routine. Change into pajamas, brush teeth, wash face. As you were putting on your final face cream, your phone vibrated on the bathroom counter. You knew who it was from the specific rhythm of the vibration - two short bursts, like a heartbeat.

Rodrick had sent pictures of you two from today - a lot of selfies, but also a couple of far away shots that Rodrick had harassed people into taking for you. People rarely were able to say no to Rodrick once he had gotten an idea into his head - even if that idea was wrapping himself around a street lamp like a stripper for a good picture.

You finally, blissfully laid down in bed, letting out a giant groan as you cracked your back. You browsed the photos, feeling your heart-rate pick up as you gazed at Rodrick in the pictures. He looked so cute today - he had been wearing cut off black jeans, black high-top vans, and a loose button down Hawaiian shirt, half-way unbuttoned to show off his tanned chest and the multiple layers of silver necklaces he was wearing. His nails were painted black, but his eyes were free of makeup, simply accented by his naturally long eye-lashes and the smile-lines around his eyes.

After admiring Rodrick, you turned your gaze to yourself in the pictures. You felt your heart sink into your stomach. When you had left the house this morning, you had felt pretty confident in your outfit - just ripped jean shorts and a crop-top with converse. But as you looked closer, you couldn’t stop thinking about how unsatisfied you felt with the way you looked in the pictures.

As you continued to scroll through, the more faults you found in your appearance. Your thighs being squeezed by your shorts, which didn’t feel too tight but apparently were not as flattering as you thought. In one picture, you were sitting down on a bench, your legs over Rodrick’s lap, but you couldn’t stop staring at the roll of your stomach that came over the waistband of your shorts. You felt tears pricking your eyes, but you stubbornly refused to cry. You spent a long time trying to feel confident in yourself - you weren’t going to let that hard work be ruined by a few unflattering photos.

However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way your body looked in those pictures. You got up to stand in front of your full length mirror, looking at the reflection critically. You were craning your neck to look at your butt when you heard a soft tap-tap-tap at the window. You jumped about 2 feet in the air before you realized it was just Rodrick, grinning from outside the window and placing a wet kiss on the glass, making you laugh. He made a grossed-out expression when he realized the glass was not as clean as he thought it was, wiping his tongue on the back of his hand.

“I swear to God, you’re like a toddler. Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to lick random surfaces?” you asked as you opened the window to let him in. He folded himself gracefully through the window, all long limbs and messy hair. You felt both comforted and electrified in his presence.

“Since when have I ever listened to any authority figure?” Rodrick asked, grinning wolfishly and leaning down to kiss you softly, juxtaposing his rebellious tone. For someone with such a seemingly hard exterior, Rodrick was always very gentle and sweet with you. It was one of the things you loved most about him - he seemed to hate everyone but you. It made you feel special and appreciated. 

As he pulled back from the kiss, he frowned, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are red,” he said, making a pouty face. You shrugged, turning away and shaking your head.

“No, just allergies probably.”

Rodrick scoffed, “Sure, allergies. You’re a bad liar, you know that?”

You refused to look at him, instead going to your record player and flipping through the vinyls you had stacked in a black milk-crate. “I’m not a bad liar,” you said half-heartedly, not really able to come up with any other excuse.

“You totally are, you avoided eye contact and everything. Seriously, what's wrong? Do you not like the bear?” Rodrick asked. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, his chest pressed against your back, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself smile despite your bad mood.

“No, I love the bear. I named him Sasha Bear-on Cohen. Get it?” you said, turning your head to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Ahh, a-very nice,” Rodrick replied in his best Borat impression. You giggled. He gave you a squeeze, hands warm on your waist, but the sensation made you self-conscious about your body again, and you wiggled away. You couldn’t understand how Rodrick could bear to touch you. You had no idea why he was attracted to you in the first place. It made tears spring to your eyes again, and you sniffled.

“Y/n”, Rodrick said softly, looking genuinely concerned. “I know you. You don’t get sad for no reason - unless you’re on your period, or you start thinking too much about the Mars Curiosity Rover.”

You sighed, but you knew he had a point. It took you a minute to get your thoughts into words before you spoke.

“I just... I know its silly. But those pictures - you look like a Hot Topic wet dream and I look... I don’t know. I just don’t like the way I look. And most of the time I don’t let it bother me - at least, I try - but I hate having my picture taken because whenever I see them, all I can see is the things I hate about myself. So. Yeah.”

You feel the tears making steady rivers down your cheeks, and your voice shakes as you speak. Rodrick listens attentively, sitting on the foot of your bed. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. His hand rests on your leg - not constraining you or placating you with a hug, just letting you know he’s there.

“Y/n, I don’t know how to tell you this without sounding like a giant cheese-ball, but... holy fuck. You are so beautiful. I - every time I look at you all I can think is goddamn, I can’t believe she’s into a loser like me. And don’t argue, it’s just a fact,” he says quickly as you try to defend him from his own self-deprecation. 

“I’m not good with words... I’m more of a man of action, y’know?” he says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You smack him on the arm, but his silly expression still makes you smile.

“But, I can still tell you - and don’t repeat this to anyone ever because I’ll never live it down - you give me butterflies. Every time. No matter if you’re in pajamas or a ballgown. You make me feel like a stack of pancakes with warm butter and syrup,” he pauses as you laugh, his warm brown eyes gazing into yours. “Just... I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point. You make my bones feel funny. That’s how beautiful you are.”

Rodrick finally wraps his arms around you. You let yourself be folded into the embrace, feeling content and more than a little overwhelmed by his confession.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unable to find any other words at the moment. You want to say all of that back to him, ten-fold. You want to tell him he makes you feel like flashing concert lights and Fourth of July fireworks. But your mouth can’t make the words, so you just wrap your arms around him tighter.

“Do you want me to spend the night?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. You simply nod, already moving up the bed and pulling back the covers as Rodrick goes to turn out the lights.

In the dark of the room, only illuminated by the street-lamp outside your house, Rodrick looks very alien - all long lines and lean angles. It makes your heart-rate kick up again, and you feel a blush form on your cheeks. It’s not as though this is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed, or even been intimate, but this feels... different. 

Rodrick tucks himself in next to you on your bed - it’s a queen size, so it fits both of you well enough that you could sleep together not touching if you wanted to. But Rodrick is a big cuddler at heart, even if he would deny it to his grave. He wraps his arms around your waist as you lay your head on his chest, already being lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You feel like it’s important to tell him before you both lose the tenderness of the moment, so you finally open your mouth to speak.

“I’m so lucky. I know you think you’re... a loser, or whatever but, Rodrick. You aren’t. You are so beyond cool, and brave, and courageous. Thinking about you makes my head spin. And whenever I see you... I’m home.” You trail off, feeling awkward, but Rodrick simply tightens his arms around you, stroking your back with his fingers.

“If I knew we were getting this sentimental I wouldn’t have brought lube... and maybe a few tissues,” he snickers, and you pinch his nipple, causing him to squeal.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” he teases back, and you sigh softly, feeling your body and mind relax. You had almost completely forgotten about the pictures - and at this point, you didn’t really care. The pictures didn’t speak. The only voice telling you that you weren’t beautiful was the one inside your head, and it could definitely be a bitch sometimes.

You could’ve imagined it, but as your brain was finally shutting down, you could’ve sworn you heard Rodrick start to sing, “you are my sunshine... my only sunshine...”

“you make me happy... when skies are gray...”

“you’ll never know, dear, how much i love you...”

“please don’t take my sunshine away...”

[tlcwrites]

Consequence

A birthday gift for @paper-n-ashes

Summary: When you steal the Supreme Leader's sweater, there are... repercussions.

Word Count: 3483

Tags/Warnings: Kylo Ren x Fem Reader. NSFW, 18+. MINORS DNI; PIV sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, heavy dom/sub dynamic, praise kink, breath play, I'm probably forgetting other kinks but I finished this at 3AM last night and I'm not even sure that I used real words let alone remember what I wrote so if I missed any let me know and I'll update the tags, smuuuuuuut for daaaays, canon what's canon The Rise of Skywalker can go fuck itself mostly except for that beautiful white set of rooms on the Steadfast.

Author’s Note: It's my hetero lifemate @paper-n-ashes' birthday today (at least in my timezone for a few more hours so IT COUNTS sorry Sarah at least you got to read it yesterday) and she has been waiting SO patiently for me to finish this damn fic. I started writing it back in like November? Maybe even October? and have struggled so fucking hard with finding the mojo to finish it. Then out of the blue this week, said mojo came back and I figured Sarah's birthday was the perfect deadline. So, voila. And don't forget to go tell her how awesome she is.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SISTER IN THIRST AND SHAMELESS HOEING. I couldn't actually get you Kylo so I got you this instead. #throne room hair is the best hair forever the end

You’re perched on the sofa, open book on your lap, when the comm chimes. You can’t help your soft smile; it’s finally that time of the day cycle.

You don’t bother answering the comm, since it’s an alert, not a call. Closing your book, you rise and return it to the bookcase set into the wall of the lounge. With a gentle press, the hatch closes, and the bookcase disappears into the stark white expanse of the rest of the room, precious cargo hidden. Books are an expensive indulgence, even for the Supreme Leader.

Or whomever he choses to share them with.

You cross to the base of the stairs that lead to the chamber’s entrance and open a small compartment, also a part of the structure of the room. You toe off your slippers, setting them carefully inside the cubby. Your soft leggings pants are next, folded carefully. You start to remove your sweater as well, but hesitate. It is chilly. For all of the technology the First Order has amassed, you’d think they’d have figured out how to keep their Destroyers at a comfortable temperature.

You leave the sweater. He’ll definitely have an… opinion about it.

Now bare but for the sweater and your bra, so scant it hardly deserves the term, you take your place at the base of the stairs. The hem of the sweater brushes your thighs. Standing tall, feet together, hands clasped loosely behind you, you wait. You keep your eyes on the blast doors.

When the doors finally open, you smile softly. “Good evening, Supreme Leader.”

His cape billows behind him as he descends the stairs (he’s clearly inherited his family's flair for dramatics). As he reaches the bottom, you respectfully drop your gaze. His boots stop in front of you, your bare feet looking so small compared to his. But then again, everything looks small compared to him.

He raises a gloved hand and strokes the back of a finger down the collar of your sweater. “What’s this?” His voice is throaty and deep. As usual, it sends a thrill through you.

You keep your eyes downcast. “A sweater, Supreme Leader.”

“Clearly.” His finger continues down from the collar of the garment, caressing the soft rise of your breasts. “Perhaps I should rephrase my question.” His finger catches your nipple, and you can’t help but gasp. “What is my sweater doing on your body, when your body doesn’t have permission to be wearing anything?”

You finally risk a glance up. His face is impassive, but there’s a glint in his eyes. He’s amused.

You raise your chin. He loves when you’re confident. “It was cold.”

“Cold.” The finger continues to tease your nipple through the fibers. “In space.” The tease turns into a flick, and you barely smother your gasp. His lips twitch. “Imagine that.”

He’s in a good mood. You decide to toy with him. “Perhaps I simply need something substantial to keep me warm, Supreme Leader.”

One eyebrow raises, ever so slightly. He’s going to play along. “Do you find my care unsatisfactory?”

“Of course not, Supreme Leader.” His finger has shifted to your other nipple. You take a shuddering breath. “I would never dare to question your wisdom.”

He shifts almost imperceptibly closer to you. “And yet-” He brings that accursed finger back up your sternum, tracing up your neck and ghosting over your jaw. “-is that not exactly what you’ve done by ignoring my directive?”

Kriff.

He passes the leather-wrapped digit over your lips, stroking the soft skin. “Nothing to say, pet?”

You drop your eyes again. “My most sincere apologies, Supreme Leader.”

His hum of approval reverberates in your chest. “I imagine they will be.” He applies the barest hint of pressure to your lips. “Open.”

You comply immediately, opening your mouth enough to allow his finger entrance. The leather tastes so different from his skin. He presses the thick digit inside, and doesn’t have to say a word as you begin to suck obediently. He adds a second finger and you can’t stifle your moan.

“Good girl.”

Two words. Just two words, hummed in that honeyed voice, and you can practically feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You glance up once more.

He’s watching you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Maker, you love his eyes. You can always read him through his eyes. He tries so hard to bury his emotions, but nothing can be hidden in their cinnamon depths. And right now, his eyes say that he’s about half a standard second away from losing what’s left of his famously little control.

Hmm. Time to have a little more fun.

You deliberately graze his fingers with your teeth, the leather of his glove supple under your bite.

His cheek twitches and you know instinctively he’s chewing on it. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart,” he warns you.

Pulling your mouth off his fingers with a ‘pop’, you smile serenely up at him. “Whatever do you mean, Supreme Leader?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he purrs, dragging his spit-soaked fingers along the edge of your jaw, his own clenched as he tries to keep himself in check. “Careful you don’t get burned.”

Your smile becomes less teasing, and more sincere. It’s okay, you think, knowing he’ll be able to feel your emotions. You never guard yourself around him. I trust you, Master.

There’s a split second when his eyes search yours; for permission, for acceptance, for confirmation of that trust that you hold in him and that he holds in you. It’s a breath of a moment, but he leaves his raw self exposed.

He’s affection starved, your Supreme Leader, even if he’ll never admit it. Deep inside, where even his former masters couldn’t reach, is that little boy he once was; still desperate to please and be praised by those too focused elsewhere to pay attention, and terrified of disappointing those who do. It breaks your heart that he’s spent his whole life feeling so alone.

Your dynamic fills that void in a way he feels safe with. It’s on his terms. He needs your adoration; needs your worship. He craves the affirmation. No more abandonment and fear from those he should be able to trust most; no more abuse and gaslighting at the hands of those who are supposed to guide him.

Just trust, and love. Pure, unconditional love.

He presses his lips to yours.

You whimper into his kiss, pressing a hand against his massive chest to steady yourself.

In the next moment, he scoops you up, pressing you against the window and hooking your legs around his waist. You yelp at the coolness of the transparisteel against your back, even through the sweater, but he swallows your cry as he plunders your mouth.

“Kylo,” you whimper when he lets you up for air, but he ignores you, sucking a line down your neck to your collarbone.

“Get this off,” he growls, tugging at the neckline of the sweater. “Or I’ll take it off for you, and it won’t survive the removal.”

You let go of his shoulders, grasping the hem of the top and practically ripping it over your head.

His mouth is on you in an instant, those plush lips teasing one nipple at a time through your lacy scrap of a bra.

“Maker!” you gasp, flinging the sweater in the general direction of the floor and bringing both hands to grip his hair. Frantic fingers twist his dark waves. You could write sonnets to his hair. “Kylo!”

You feel the clasp of your bra come undone. He rips his lips from your breasts, and with one barely-there flick of his fingers, the undergarment is on the floor next to the sweater.

“Did you just-” It’s next to impossible to smother your giggle when you realize what he’s done. “I can’t imagine the Force is meant to be used for that.”

Kylo ignores you, although you’re positive you can detect the barest hint of a blush on his ears. But then you’re not paying attention to his ears, as he’s sucked one of your nipples back into his mouth and is grazing it with his teeth. Your moan turns into a shriek when he hooks his arms under your legs and hefts you higher against the wall, so it’s easier for him to feast on your flesh.

He shifts your weight to one of his massive arms, that paw of a hand gripping the opposite flesh of your rear as he brings his other hand back up to your mouth. “Open,” he commands once more.

You take the two still-gloved fingers as deep in your mouth as you can, gagging slightly as he presses on the back of your tongue.

His dark chuckle is breathless. “Such an eager whore,” he murmurs against your chest, your answering whimper going straight to his cock. Pulling his hand back, he nips the skin at your collarbone at the same time he drags the fingers you’ve just drenched straight through your swollen folds below.

“Do you even deserve my fingers, Pet?” He smirks as you drop your head back and moan. “Such a wanton little thing you are.” He teasingly traces a circle around your clit with just a fingertip, satisfaction growing at the sound the movement elicits from you.

“Master,” you gasp.

Without warning, he twists you away from the window, carrying you with ease to his desk. When he drops into his chair, he’s unable to suppress a sharp intake of breath as he settles you on his lap and brings your core into direct contact with his cock, hard and throbbing beneath his trousers. The contrast of your nudity with his still-clothed body is intoxicating. He guides your hips to roll against him again, your moans simultaneous as your cunt makes slick the leather stretched taut over his arousal.

Already closer to his breaking point than he'd prefer to admit, Kylo clamps his teeth down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to break the skin, the pain working as usual to allow him to refocus his energy and reclaim control of his passions. Unhinged as his reputation is, there is part of his life the Supreme Leader rules with meticulous care- you.

He knows you love him, and you’ve declared time and again it’s unconditional and without reservation. Your submission is a gift he knows he will never truly be worthy of. Maker knows he adores you with every part of his long-shrouded heart. But the fear never leaves him. Decades of distrust and broken promises means he lives in terror of the day his tenuous temper snaps, and he horrifies you or, stars forbid, truly hurts you.

That dark voice lurking at the back of his mind teases him with a possibility somehow perversely worse than fear or injury: abandonment. That you’ll inevitably see him at his most honest; broken, contemptible. Unworthy.

He loathes himself all the more, because he knows if it comes to it, he couldn’t survive letting you go. He isn’t strong enough to endure the loss of the only light he still has.

Unaware of his internal torture, you grip the front of his gambeson and try to rock your pelvis against him, whining as you’re foiled by his hands still gripping your hips. “Master, please.”

Your voice jerks him back to reality, and your begging makes his cock twice as hard. “Something you desire, Pet?” he purrs, grateful you were too wrapped in lust to notice his momentary lapse.

“You, Master.” You can’t help a frustrated whimper as you try once more to undulate against him and are again prevented from doing so. “Please, Kylo, let me please you.”

He reburies his anguish, and smirks at you. “Very well.” He releases your hips. “Please me.”

As soon as he lets go, you’re sliding off his lap and on to your knees, scrambling to unhook his belt. He obligingly helps you open his trousers. You make quick work of the placket and draw out your prize, salivating as you pump his already-leaking cock.

He hisses as your mouth engulfs him. “Yes, just like that. What a good, good girl you are.”

A lewd moan escapes around his length as he fists his hands in your hair.

He doesn’t need to say another word. You can read it in his eyes, every filthy, dark thought as you bob your head on his shaft. How good it feels when you take his cock in your throat; that he knows exactly how hot and wet it makes you when he fucks your mouth; how knowing you’re waiting in his quarters to be used as his personal whore is the only thing that gets him through the day. You moan again, and one corner of his mouth twitches.

You know him well enough to recognize it as a smirk.

“As delightful as this is, Pet,” he finally sighs, a slight waiver to his voice the only indicator of how close you already have him to release, “there’s a different part of you I desire at this moment.”

Releasing his cock with a ‘pop’, you continue to stroke him with your hand as you beam up at him. “As you wish, Master.”

Your mouth and chin are wet with precum and spit. He drags his thumb through the mess and brings it to your lips, his cock jumping in your grasp as you wrap your tongue around the digit.

“Up,” he snaps.

Rising immediately, you can’t help your squeak as he spins you to face the desk and pulls you back onto his lap, impaling you on his cock with one hard thrust. You gasp, unable to cry out as all the air is expelled from your lungs. Your arms are wrenched behind you by invisible bonds, the posture thrusting your breasts out. You hear his low chuckle as he tweaks both nipples while simultaneously bucking his hips, eliciting a shriek from you.

Thick fingers twist into your hair, pulling you back until you're flush with his chest. His breath is hot against your ear as he snarls two words that have your cunt clenching in anticipation: “Ride me.”

No further encouragement is necessary. He works your body over as you rock in his lap, reducing you to a burbling mass of arousal. Releasing his grip on your hair, his hands make their way down your body, the leather feeling so kriffing good as he caresses every inch of you.

Plush lips drag against your jaw as he leans forward, pressing his chest closer against your back. He trails his fingers up your thighs while simultaneously dragging his teeth along your earlobe. The noise that escapes you is undignified at best, and positively libidinous at worst.

The bastard’s smirk is obvious against your heated skin. “My beautiful Empress,” he murmurs, licking a stripe up your neck.

You can’t suppress your panting as he nips at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “I’m not your Empress,” you manage, your voice breathy with arousal as you continue to move.

“Mmmmm.” Kylo hums as his right hand trails up your abdomen to gently cup your left breast, those elegant fingers plucky at your nipple and making you moan. “Not yet.”

“Oh.” You squeak as he latches on to your pulse point, his teeth scraping over your skin as he marks you. His other hand drops to your core, fingertips stroking your folds as deftly as a musician plays a hallikset. You cry out as he deliberately ignores your clit, but your cry becomes a gasp as he abruptly slaps the inside of your thigh. “Kylo!”

“Feel how wet you are, little whore.” He pulls his hand from your cunt and wipes your slick across your cheek. “Only the most depraved whores drip like this.” When he wraps the same hand around your throat, you sob in euphoric bliss. His chuckle is low. “Look at you, reduced to a needy slut who wants nothing more than to be filled by her Master.”

You can’t help but moan as he tightens his grip, the other hand on your breast squeezing hard.

“Speak, Pet.” His order is hissed in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Need you, Master,” you gasp, deliciously light headed from the lack of oxygen. “Need you to- oh, Maker!- need you to fill me, need you to fuck m-me oh!”

A squeal erupts as he abruptly thrusts up, hard, and proceeds to set a brutal pace. Helpless to do anything but take what he gives you, all you can do is wail and enjoy the desperation in his movements.

When he stands and surges forward, shoving you against his desk while still buried in your swollen heat, it’s just enough to send you over the edge and you crash into your climax with a scream.

Over your shoulder, you hear Kylo tsk in admonishment. “Oh, princess,” he chides, as you feel your Force bonds tighten even more, “you know better than to cum without permission.”

With that, he shoves you forward, pressing your chest flat against the thermoplastic and using his knee to spread your legs. You willingly comply, relishing in his hiss as he pumps into your wet, waiting warmth. He finally releases your throat, and the sensation of your cunt clenching as you cough is too much for him. His pace becomes blistering, each thrust sending your pelvic bone into the edge of the desk; speech is now beyond your power, incoherent babble all that remains as he obliterates your cunt.

The lewd symphony of your coupling is punctuated by his growls and your cries. You can already feel the crest rising anew and you beg for salvation. “Master, please!”

He grips the back of your neck, anchoring your head, snarling as he takes you with rapid, deep thrusts. “Do you think now you'll be able to follow instructions?”

You nod frantically, trying desperately to stave off your orgasm. “Yes, Master!”

His voice is deeper than ever, trembling slightly as he uses your body to chase his own end. “Tell me, my little slut; who owns you?”

“You, Master!” You can’t hold back the shriek that erupts from your lips as you feel that subtle tickling of his powers against your clit.

The sounds you’re making have him right on the edge. “You’re mine, all mine,” he sneers as you cry out once more. “Say it.”

“Yours, Kylo,” you gasp. “I’m yours!”

“You need to cum again, sweet little Pet?” When you frantically nod, he fists your hair and yanks your head back. “Do it,” he hisses next to your ear. “Cum for me. Now.”

You explode around him, screaming your pleasure. His echoing roar is your only warning before he slams into you a final time, ripping himself from your heat and snatching your body off the desk. You land on your knees just in time to receive his spend, splashing across your face and chest as he pumps his length.

---

It takes several moments before you can even start to become aware of your surroundings once more. In that time, Kylo has bundled you in your favorite cozy blanket, and cradles you in his lap as he smooths your hair back and murmurs sweet words of praise. His seed still decorates your body, and you preen as you feel his hands, finally ungloved, gently rub it into your skin as one more claim of his ownership.

Your contented sigh is what alerts him to your consciousness, and he can’t help his proud smile as your eyes slowly flutter open, or the chaste and caring kiss he presses to your temple. “How are you feeling, princess?”

A beaming smile is his reward. “Wonderful,” you sigh, and then giggle. “And filthy, in the best possible way.”

“As requested,” he slyly teases.

You notice that sometime during your torpor, he’s shed his gambeson and trousers, replacing them with soft lounge pants and  the stolen sweater. Hooking your fingers over the neckline, echoing his own earlier actions, you tug gently. “Thief.”

He laughs, your favorite sound in the galaxy. “The Jawa calls the Ewok short.” Your answering eye roll elicits another chuckle and another brush of his lips. “Happy birthday, love,” he murmurs against your forehead.

“Thank you, Supreme Leader.” Your smile is soft as you raise your face, content when he understands the overture and leans down to press his lips to yours. A/N: Alexa, play "I Want Kylo Ren To Rail Me on a Desk" by Beyoncé or someone.

Likes and reblogs feed my dirty, dirty soul. I always want to tag mutuals but then I feel like that would be super presumptuous even though I love being tagged, so IDK I guess send me an ask if you want me to tag you in new writings?

[bestiesenpai]

Adventures in babysitting - Nanami Kento

Everyone say it with me now: Fucking! The! Babysitter! Femme reader, 3K words

Content warnings: noncon that turns dubcon, cheating, age gap(imagine nanami to be mid forties, 45 preferably), uhm there’s fingers in your mouth in case you’re not into that lol

Nanami was at his wits end with you. One day after another you continued to test his patience and you didn’t even know it. It was becoming so hard to even look you in the eyes let alone be in the same room as you.

Having feelings for the babysitter wasn’t something he should have, he knew this, but at this age Nanami wasn’t one to deny himself the things he truly so desired. The way you pranced around in shorts much too short to be worn around his family, your silly little summer tops bustling in the wind and exposing your midriff, even the way you ate ice cream could be deemed inappropriate.

“Papa, (Y/N)’s here!” His young son shouted one sweltering summer afternoon, breaking Nanami from his daydream of you and bringing him into the present where you were being escorted into his house by his wife.

Standing there in a pair of those little shorts and a tank top that showed a cleavage, skin probably smelling of freshly applied sunscreen and hot to the touch from the sun, it made Nanami’s pants tighten. Coming to stand next to the woman he married, his eyes were still drawn to you.

The words you were saying went in one ear and out the other. You might as well have been speaking another language, Nanami wasn’t following along at all. He was busy tracing the outline of your body, unsullied by the hands of time like he was.

“Bye mama!” Hugging his mother tightly, Nanami’s son pounced on him next. “Bye papa!”

“Have fun you two!” Nanami’s wife spoke for the both of them as you walked off, back to your car with his child.

Hours passed and Nanami still found himself thinking of you, even as he and his wife had sex in your absence. Cupping her ass, he thought of what it would feel like to slip his hands down your shorts and feel yours. As he kissed her, he closed his eyes and pretended it was your mouth his tongue was in. Pulling out and cumming on her cunt, he only wished it was you beneath him, then he would never pull out.

“We’re back!” When you made your return as the sun set, Nanami found it so convenient that his wife had gone down the street to talk to a neighbor.

“Mama’s across the street with the neighbor girl, why don’t you go say hi to them? Tell them all about the movie you saw?” Nanami asked while you had excused yourself to the bathroom.

Turning around and fixing his collar, Nanami smirked as the screen door slammed closed. Walking straight to the guest bathroom, there was no hesitation in his stride, throwing open the door with confidence.

“S-sir!” You’d clearly just finished using the toilet, yanking your shorts back up over your hips as the toilet lid slammed closed. Nanami didn’t say a word as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, clicking the lock into place.

“Did you have fun today? At the movies with my son.” His voice was low, calm and cool despite the nerves tingling just under his skin.

“Yes.” Answering him slowly, your hands splayed out to try and cover your front. For some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to do up the button on your shorts, but you still had half a mind to try and appear decent.

“I bet you got a lot of stares.” That statement had your head tilting in confusion and Nanami chuckled. “A sweet young girl like you is sure to attract attention. Why, I bet people thought he was your little brother and not my kid.”

“E-excuse me sir, but-” Surely this conversation could be had outside the bathroom, and you tried to reach around Nanami to open the door.

“I’m not finished.” Snatching you by the waist, Nanami pressed you against the sink counter and stared at you through the mirror, letting his eyes rake more obviously over your figure. “Yes, I know for sure you got stares.”

“Sir!” Gripping the edge of the counter, you were helpless to stop Nanami as he ground his hardening cock over your ass, his fingers making it harder to breath as they trickled up to clutch at your ribs.

Pressing his nose into the side of your neck, Nanami closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. You smelled exactly like the sunscreen he thought you would and the heat from the summer sun still lingered on your body, warming his lips as he kissed you.

“Please let go, this isn’t- isn’t appropriate.” Wriggling in his hold, you clawed at his fingers to let you go. Despite the wear and tear years of fighting curses had brought onto his body, Nanami was still just as strong as when he was younger.

“What would a girl like you know about what’s appropriate? Prancing around my house in those shorts with your ass hanging out.” Wrapping one arm completely around your waist, Nanami snuck his other hand down your shorts, pushing the loose fabric down until it pooled at your ankles and he was able to grab onto your ass.

Keeping his eyes closed, Nanami rubbed and grabbed your ass to his heart’s content. He often stayed up at night agonizing about you and now he was finally getting what he wanted. Pushing your panties down your legs as well, his middle finger dipped between the curve of your ass and grazed your slit.

“Let me go!” Your voice had risen to a scream, desperately hopeful someone else was in the house and would hear your cries. Nanami let silence fall over the two of you, his middle finger lazily circling your cunt and making your thighs twitch against your will.

“Scream and shout all you want, it’s just me and you here.” Opening his eyes to look at you, Nanami sighs when he sees the tears streaming down your face. “Why’re you crying?”

“I don’t- this, please-”

“Sshhh…” Silencing your babbles, Nanami brought his hand to the front of your body, middle finger pressing firmly on your clit. “I know what you need, so just relax and be a good girl.” Flicking his finger, he smirked as you gasped loudly, one hand flying from the counter to grip onto his shirt sleeve.

Locked in a stare, Nanami watched your mouth hang open in shock as he massaged your clit, bringing in two more fingers and making bigger circles. There was slick building between your legs, gradually making his fingers glide easier over your swollen bud. Nudging your legs open a little further, Nanami slid his fingers down to your entrance.

“I’ll go slow for you.” He whispered gently into your ear. Prodding with one finger, he worked the long digit into your cunt, groaning at the way your walls clamped down tightly around it.

Keeping his thumb on your clit, Nanami pumped his finger in and out, kissing up and down your neck as he went. Slowly, your open mouth closed and your lip was caught between your teeth to keep small whimpers of pleasure at bay.

Adding in a second finger, Nanami had you fully rocking back and forth on his fingers, an orgasm that you didn’t want beginning to build between your legs. The slow, gradual pleasure that had built up was blurring the lines of what was right and what was wrong, the fact that this man was your married boss didn’t really matter any more.

Grinding onto his hand, you came with an embarrassed yelp and squeezed Nanami’s hand tightly with your legs. His thumb moved faster as your walls spasmed around his fingers, wanting - and getting - you to whine and moan loudly.

“Sir!” Stamping your feet as the pleasure reached a near painful peak, you forced your legs to relax and let Nanami go. Slipping his fingers out of your cunt, he circled your clit a few times before pulling away.

Grabbing your head with his clean hand, Nanami turned you to kiss him over your shoulder. The angle was awkward and a bit of a strain, but Nanami slid his tongue into your mouth with ease, quickly tracing along your mouth and committing it to memory.

The clanking of his belt buckle brought you back to what was happening outside of the dizzying kiss. The warmth from Nanami’s hard cock was no longer trapped behind a layer of fabric, it was right against your skin and nuzzling between your ass cheeks.

Breaking the kiss, you looked down at his cock. Just like the hair on his head, the trim patch of hair above his cock was starting to gray with a few streaks running alongside blond. Taking your hand from his sleeve, Nanami wrapped your fingers around his cock.

“Look what you’ve done to this old man.” He chuckled, moving your fingers up and down his shaft. A few beads of precum dripped out, coating the outside of your hand and leaving shiny strands of gossamer fluid connecting you to him.

Letting go of your hand to kiss you again, Namai was pleased that you kept stroking him on your own. You were even daring enough to smear more of his precum against the palm of your hand and use it for added lubrication. Going down to his balls, the feather light touches you gave them with the tips of your fingers made a short high pitched moan leave Nanami’s throat.

“Enough playing.” Grunting to cover up the unexpected noise, Nanami turned you back to face the sink and smoothed his hand down your back, pushing you to bend over the sink. Grabbing the base of his cock, Nanami guided himself into your cunt, shuddering deeply at the warmth enveloping him.

Putting his chest flush with your back, Nanami rested his forehead against your shoulder and caught his breath. Fucking you was something that was on his mind constantly, especially when he had sex with his wife. To finally feel the tight velvety walls of your cunt clamp down around his cock, it almost made him cum.

“Ha, not as young as I used to be.” A bittersweet sigh left his lips as he regained his self control and stood up a little straighter. Pushing his once perfectly styled hair out of his eyes, Nanami snaked a hand up your shirt and tugged your bra down enough to cup your breast and mold the flesh between his fingertips. “How do you feel?”

“Sir I-”

“Say my name.” Nanami cut you off swiftly, rolling your nipple in his fingers as he did. “Call me Kento when we’re alone.” Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you nodded and looked him in the eyes through the mirror.

“K-kento…” You say his name slowly, letting it roll and drip down the tip of your tongue, “I feel so full.” Your answer makes Nanami's head fall back, a wave of pride stroking his ego and bolstering his confidence.

It wasn’t like him to lack any in his day to day life, going about his business and doing what he had to do. But over the years, with an aging and changing body, Nanami had begun to wonder deep down inside if he was becoming less of the man he used to be in his 20’s.

“That’s what I love to hear.” But you’d brought it back for him tenfold. You, the babysitter that he shouldn’t be doing any of this with yet fantasized about every day. Giving an appreciative roll of his hips, Nanami smiled at you.

“Now, let me take care of you.” Hunching over your body once more, Nanami pulled his cock out slowly, teasing you with the leisurely drag of his cock before snapping his hips forward and making the first of many loud moans fall from your lips.

Massaging your breast in time with his thrusts, Nanami made sure your ass stayed flush with him as he fucked you. He wanted to drag this out for as long as possible and that meant shallowly humping your cunt like a pathetic teenager.

His lips never strayed far from your neck and he kissed down your back as well, careful not to leave any marks you’d have a hard time explaining to his wife. Instead of leaving the marks of his teeth he left large wet kisses all along your exposed skin.

“Kento, faster!” You sobbed, growing increasingly impatient for him to move. While the lazy thrusts had your legs trembling they weren’t enough to get you to cum.

“So cute when you whine.” Nanami hummed and he could feel himself getting wrapped around your finger. He didn’t have the heart to even think of denying you what you wanted and he stood up, giving you more room to breathe, but only for a moment.

Dropping both hands to your hips, Nanami properly thrust forward and the slap of your ass against his skin could be heard well outside the bathroom. A hunger to have you cum on his cock washed over him and his fingers dropped down to your clit once again.

“Fuck, Kento-” You cried, knees threatening to buckle and give out on you from the sudden pleasure. Wrapping an arm around your hips, Nanami kept you upright as he pounded into you.

Nanami could feel his own orgasm approaching quickly the longer he went. The slick gushing out of you was making it far too easy to pump you full of his cock, your essence dripping down his balls and coating his thighs.

“Papa?” The sudden curious voice of his son had Nanami stuttering to a halt and both your pounding hearts beat even harder. Falling completely silent, you waited for a knock at the door or any other indication the child had heard you two.

Pattering little feet against hardwood were the only things heard in the house, muffled only slightly by your heavy breathing. Listening intently, the footsteps drifted away from the lounge room and up the stairs.

“Keep quiet for me.” Nanami whispered as he began to pump his cock again, this time going as slow as he was before. He kept his fingers on your clit and rubbed tight circles, exhaling sharply through his nose as you whined.

Slapping a hand over your mouth as his son's feet thumped against the stairs once more, Nanami’s brows shot up when you opened your mouth and took his fingers in, flattening them against the curve of your tongue and sucking on them.

Nanami wanted to snarl at the seductive look you cast him in the mirror, your lips wrapped tightly around his fingers and your head slightly bobbing up and down as if it were his cock you were sucking.

When the sound of the front door slamming closed again met his ears, Nanami resumed the vigorous pace he had set previously. Keeping his fingers in your mouth, he snapped his hips forward and pushed the worries of cumming too early to the side.

“Be good and cum for me, naughty girl.” Gliding his fingers along your tongue, Nanami pried your mouth open and grabbed the tip of your tongue, pulling it out from your mouth and making drool drip down your chin. “Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Letting go of your tongue, he smeared your saliva all over your cheeks.

Pushing your ass back against Nanami, your moans reached a crashing crescendo and your knees knocked together. Nanami rubbed your clit furiously as you came, not stopping his thrusts until he was cumming deep inside you and filling you up with the hot, sticky fluid.

“Kento, Kento-” You cried, gripping the counter for dear life. It was a struggle to stay upright and even more of one to remember to breathe properly as your orgasm washed over you. Nanami hadn’t made it any easier, fucking the both of you into overstimulation.

“Good girl, what a good girl for me.” His voice was long gone, wispy and distant as he came down from his high. Keeping his cock snugly inside you he took his fingers off your clit, giving you some reprieve. Bringing them up to his mouth, he sucked on them loudly and licked all of your release off.

Your upper body collapsed against the counter, chest heaving painfully as you struggled for breath. Nanami kept your hips up as he pulled out, spreading your asscheeks apart to watch his seed begin to drip out of you. Letting out a low whistle, he thumbed your clit one last time before leaning over and grabbing some toilet paper, gingerly cleaning you up as you came down.

Once everything was back in order, your clothes fixed and lips thoroughly kissed just one last time, Nanami slowly opened the door. He hadn’t heard the front door open, the voices of his family weren’t resounding through the house. The coast was clear.

“Here’s payment for today.” Just as promised when you planned this outing with his child, Nanami handed you an envelope with your money inside.

“Thank you, sir.” You said quietly, quickly backtracking when Nanami quirked a brow at you. “I mean Kento.”

“That’s better.” Patting you on the back, Nanami pressed a sneaky kiss to your forehead before stepping back and opening the front door for you. “I hope you know this wasn’t a one time thing.”

Unable to answer, you giggle and smile shyly back at him. The gentle smile on his face has a certain flutter coming to your stomach; Nanami has given you special attention, one that you know for sure he isn’t giving to anyone else.

“Get home safe, (Y/N).” He says softly, giving a curt wave of his hand as you walked out of the house and to your car, your panties safely tucked inside his front pocket.

[chiwhorei]

pollock

paring: art major!k. tsukishima x fem!reader

genre: a dash of angst, hurt/comfort, smut, 18+ minors dni

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, spitting, dacryphilia, praise, daddy kink, breeding kink, impregnating kink, soft and kinda hard dom!tsukki, sub!reader

a/n: ahhhhh!! this is my first longer fic to come out in a while and i am ~so~ excited to share this with everyone. i have been keening over the idea of art!major tsukki and i hope you all like him as much as i do! this is piece is brought to you by the hqhq monthly server collab, so please go check out everyone’s amazing writing, the masterlist can be found here!

hymn: validation by herrick & hooley, cherry hill by russ

“Your work is always technically very well executed, Tsukishima-san.” The round, bald-headed man shuffles through the photos on his desk, pieces of Tsukishima Kei’s senior project that he’s tried to fit together before his final exhibit only four months away.

“But,” the dreaded word has Tsukki restraining himself from a long eye roll, “It seems like you’re stuck. You still need one more piece for the show. What inspires you?”

You hear a resounding slam of the front door swinging open and meeting the frame again, followed by a shuffle of feet towards where you’re standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment. Tsukki’s mouth is set in a flat line, expression softening only slightly when he sees you leaning against the counter. You greet him with a warm, but cautious smile. It had been a horribly long day, grating on every thread of patience Tsukishima has. The bubbling of anxiety and frustration mixing into a sour look on his handsome face. You hate seeing your boyfriend so defeatus, much preferring the sardonic, confident air he usually holds. Both of your final years of college have been exceptionally taxing, Tsukki’s final art project being the most stressing of all. It seems like as days propel forward, closer to his due date, the less assured he is of his talents, his passions. It’s heartbreaking to see someone so brilliant struggle through a million half fleshed-out ideas and crumbled up leaves of paper.

You pull one of his hands to you, examining the stains of paint and ink across his long digits and kissing each finger softly. You wish you could get inside that big head of his and help in some way.

“Did you have a hard day at the studio, Kei?” You wrap your arms around his neck and search his eyes. He’s not always the best at talking to you, especially when he’s upset, so you don’t expect him to give you an answer. Instead, you rub his shoulders, trying to coax the tension out. He sighs deeply at the contact, hands moving to rest at the plush of your hips and gripping tightly when you work at a particularly sore spot.

“You’re too good to me, princess. Thank you” He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, and you nuzzle into him. You don’t have the answers to his current road block, you don’t pretend to. But maybe, you think, you can offer him a more carnal outlet.

“Of course, Daddy.” The name hangs in the air for a moment, any response hitching in his throat. The title is familiar after years of being together, always being both comforting and electrifying. Since the title slipped out years ago for the first time, your boyfriend feels his cool demeanor snapping like a glow stick, leaving hot lust in its wake upon it rolling past your lips.

He pulls you closed to him by your ass, inhaling sharply at the contact on his jeans. All you have on is one of Tsukki’s loose, paint stained sweaters and a thin pair of cotton panties. You brush one of your bare thighs against his crotch, and he feels the stresses of his day falling out of frame. Your body is always a buoy to pull him back from the drowning of self doubt. A perfect slice of heaven he became addicted to from the moment he spotted you across the dusty stacks.

“What inspires you?”

The question rings in his head again, but with a new perspective. Tsukki hears pieces clicking together with your lustrous body pressed against him.

“Babygirl, I think I have an idea. But I’m going to need your help.” His hands move to cup your cheeks, scanning over your features and finding a devious glint behind your soft, e/c eyes. Tsukki trails a thumb over your bottom lip lightly, admiring how you lean into the contact. Always so eager to please him, your temperament goes straight to his cock every time.

“Anything for you, daddy.” You press your forehead against his, waiting patiently for his next move. There’s astounding beauty in the glossy, temperate look in your eyes that he wants to, has to, to freeze in time.

“I have a few things to set up. Come to the office when I call you,” Tsukki pushes a stray hair from your face with a fond smile before walking away, he stops for a moment to look at you over his shoulder, “Naked.”

Your mind races as to what exactly he wants to do with you tonight as you busy yourself with peeling off your clothing. There is very little that you and your boyfriend haven’t tried at least once, but the tone in his voice has left you reeling at the possibilities.

Your eyes catch your reflection in the hallway mirror, naked body completely exposed to your own scrutinizing stare. Had it been the stress causing the image in front of you to be so unsavory? Every plane of skin promoting a different insecurity. A blasted thing a hallway mirror becomes when you’ve never truly loved what stares back. You fuss with your hair in a feeble attempt to make yourself more presentable. The question of how Tsukishima sees you always rattling around in the back of your head, especially standing completely naked and waiting in your own insecurities.

“Princess, come here.” You are pulled from your deprecating thoughts at the sound of Tsukki’s warm voice. You walk into his office, and notice he’s changed into just a pair of grey joggers. The sight of the low hanging garment making you salivate so much you almost miss your surroundings. He’s struck some kind of inspiration, you can see it in his eyes as he adjusts his easel and props up a large, blank canvas. You fiddle with your fingers as he looks up at you.

“Jackson Pollock.” You meet your boyfriend’s eyes, confused by his seemingly random statement as he parses out different colored paints into small bowls. Red, blue, green, yellow. “He poured paint on a flat surface so that he could view every angle color could create, every curve.” Tsukki muses, dipping two fingers into the bright yellow hue sitting next to him, bringing them towards his face with contemplation. “But I think this sweet little body of yours will prove a much better canvas.”

His eyes provide no sign of bluffing, but you stare back at him dumbly. Sure, he’s used you as a muse before. Studying your hands or the way your hair falls in the sketches you see hanging up by his desk behind you. You love when he wants to use your body for inspiration, but is he really going to cover you in paint?

“We both know you don’t mind getting a little messy,” He trails his wet pointer finger across your collarbone, following a line towards your chin. He tilts your head up to meet his eyes, “Open your mouth.”

Your bottom lip parts from the top, eyes following the line of spit that drops from his mouth to your tongue with a resounding put.

You swallow thickly, the feeling of his control already bending your will to meet him at every pass.

“I want you to look nice and fucked out for me, baby. I want to show my stuffy professors where my inspiration comes from. I’m going to capture how sweet and submissive my little princess is and then everyone will get to see what I get to enjoy every night.” His unmarred hand moves towards your already disastrously wet pussy. You’re drooling at even the most slight contact, bucking into his hand in a plea for more. His words, complimentative but unmistakingly domineering, have your head becoming fuzzy.

“Daddy, please. Please touch me.” Your whines are music to his ears.

“Oh princess, I plan on it. But I need you to be good for me. You don’t want to mess up all my hard work do you?” His voice is steady, authoritative but still soft around the edges in a way that makes you feel gooey.

Tsukki leads you to the stool sitting in the middle of the room, and you perch on it with his hands keeping you steady. You are his muse and medium, his subject and his canvas to use in any way desired.

Smudges of color brandish every inch of your skin, each stroke is a reminder of where your lovers hands have been. Blue and pink splatter against your stomach, a vibrant red outline on each curve of your breast and purple fingerprints against your pert nipples. Your legs wear a trail of hand prints towards your glistening cunt, wanton cunt. Each marring of paint sits beside paths of hot, opened mouth kisses.

All that is keeping you balanced on the squeaky wooden stool is Tsukishima’s strong arms holding you captive in place. Your legs had been thrown over his shoulders after painting across your upper thighs in a sea of greys and greens. As soon as Tsukki’s eyes met with your bare cunt, his mouth was quick to follow.

He’s a mess of paint now too, muscular chest and arms covered in pigment and face covered in you. He’s always insatiable, drinking you in like it’s the only source of sustenance left in the world. He knows how to work you, how to propel you towards orgasm in a way no one else has ever been able to do. Worshiping your body with langued strokes of his tongue. You let out a pitchy moan in response to his mouth, pushing you towards an end you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I bet you want to cum don’t you, baby? I can feel it. Such an eager little thing.” Tsukishima ghosts his lips across your hot cunt, blowing at your clit to make you yelp. You’re so close, too close. Dangling above bliss but not tipping over, knowing you need permission. You’ve been so good for him, he has to give you your release.

“Please, daddy. Please let me cum.” Tears wet your cheeks as you beg, holding onto Tsukki’s blond locks like an anchor. All you need is his approval, but instead of persimmon you are met with a bawdy laugh.

You really should have known he wasn’t going to let you go that easy.

Tsukki stands up, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. You’re wrecked in every way. Hair loose and disheveled, body dipped in a thin layer of sweat and thick splotches of paint. The look on your face is equal parts pathetic and fervent.

“I need you to sit pretty for daddy, I want to capture how desperately beautiful you look right now.” His words make you preen, but it’s a compliment and a warning at the same time. He wants to capture the look of sweet pain of denied orgasm to display at an art exhibit of both peers and his seniors. Sadistic in Tsukishima’s own unique way.

You should have known better, Tsukki’s patience has always been astounding. You know all he wants to do is bury himself in you, but he wants even more to make you suffer under his stare. There’s plenty of times he unleashes his frustration out on you physically, ripening your ass cheeks in bright red handprints and ensuring you can’t walk in the morning. But it’s these moments that can be even harsher, when he regards you with steely eyes and a aloof threat, that make your nerves catch fire more than a spanking ever could.

He sits down to start sketching on the large canvas in front of him, pinning you to your position with a practiced glare and playing on your desire to please him.

You sit as still as you can, listening to the scratch of pencil on vinyl in an attempt to keep calm. Your cunt is still twitching, puffy and slick propped uncomfortably atop the wooden stool. Tsukki hums along to the rhythmic music coming from his phone speaker, a playlist you know to be the one that helps him concentrate on his work. His brow furrows in concentration, pushing his glasses back in place as he stares at you again. His eyes are calculating and coldly observant, but his mouth quirks up in a surprising smile.

“My perfect baby. So stunning in every way.” His thoughts start tumbling out without his usual sarcastic filter.

“I have never wanted something more in my life than you. All of you, all the time.” A genuine regard for you in the lilt of his voice clamps down on your chest. He’s called you pretty, told you he loved you a million times before, but there’s a calm resonance in his words as his hands move across the white caves in front of him that catches in your throat. With the pressure of graduation looming over the two of you these past few months, romantics have been pushed to the side to make room for laser focus on finishing your degrees.

Your eyes well at his confessional, struck by the vulnerability so unfamiliar to him. You missed this side of your boyfriend, unlocking it incrementally through the years and finding it virtually non-existent recently. He sees your shoulders trembling slightly and tears his eyes up to your form.

“I told you to stay still.” His voice comes out harsh, but melts away when he sees fat tears rolling down your puffy cheeks.

“Y/n, are you okay? Did I upset you?” He moves to console you, the action causing another round of sobs, your body on edge in every way after both the teasing and his impromptu affirmation. Your response surprises yourself just as much as Tsukki, not realising how starved of his affection you had become.

“I’m sorry daddy, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just- do you mean all that?” You lower your head in embarrassment, and Tsukishima’s heart breaks at the realization. Had he unintentionally disregarded you? Had he been ignoring you?

“Fuck baby, of course I mean it. I’m so sorry I made you doubt that.” He pulls you up into his strong hold, he lets you cry into his shoulder until your wracking sobs simmer to sniffles. He holds you tightly in an attempt at atonement. He has to do something to show you how he feels now that he knows his words have failed him. His actions have to speak in his place.

Tsukishima pulls you away slightly to meet his gaze before colliding his lips against yours. He traces his tongue in sonnets across your mouth, tasting the lingering essence of your arousal and the salt of your tears. He writes prose in the breathy gasps as you part for air, chests heaving. He has to show you what his words won’t always allow him to.

It’s bodies tangled together, covered in the colors of a man trying his best to show you how much he loves you. You had fallen to the floor at the behest of passion, Tsukki’s body covering yours, lips kissing any extension of your skin, uncaring of the paint covering both of your writhing frames.

You paw at his sweatpants as if they are the most offensive thing you’ve ever scene, Tsukki’s cock springs out to slap against the hard muscle of his abdomen. You don’t waste any time lining him up to your dripping folds, you’ve waited long enough. Hips crashing together like a fever dream, you’re wrapped in each other as if there’s nothing else in this world outside of a set of paints and four walls of a dimly lit apartment. The sun could be hurling towards the sidewalk just outside and Tsukishima, usually observant to a fault, would have no idea. All he knows is your body beneath him, clawing desperately at his back with every deep thrust, and the love poem he has written on your body. Reds across your breasts and brandishing your thighs. Greens and yellows across your neck, up your arms. Messy, sticky, covering the thin sheet Tsukki laid out to spare the hardwood.

Your panting, crying out for your daddy and consumed in the salty taste of love and lust crashing together like waves. His cock is heavy inside you, filling you up so completely. Tsukki rowes on, not daring to stop now, not with the resounding drumming of two hearts beat so perfectly together and the feeling of your clenching, velveteen walls hugging him like he’s coming home.

“I am so desperately in love with you. I want you like this, with me, forever.” He’s delirious, drunk on your body. Primal, as he stares down at you, colorful and completely conquered. He sees everything in your eyes, every baser desire, every hope for the future.

“I want to fill you up with my cum, princess. You are mine in every way. God, I want to see you swollen with my baby. Right here.” He presses against your belly, feeling his cock moving inside you from the splotches of pick and blue.

His confessional spurs you on, the emotions overwhelming. Feeling so loved, so needy, wanting everything the blonde above you is willing to give.

“Ah, Daddy! Please, please fill me up. I wa-want you to put a baby in me, I need it.” Your clenching tightly, each pump of Tsukishima’s cock better than the last.

“You are such a good girl baby, always saying exactly what I need to hear. Cum for me, princess, let me see how good I make you feel.”

His warrant is all you’ve needed this whole time, snapping to hours of tension with a sharp cry. You’re thrown into the pooling, honey-sweet feeling of release. Sinking every inch of your aching body into a blissed haze. Your walls spasm violently, tightening around him like a vice. He meets your hips with his own, knocking hip bones together like pool balls and holding himself in your heat as you milk his throbbing cock, stealing every drop of hot, while cum he has to offer.

He crumbles to the floor beside you, pulling you to his chest. Lying in a mess of paint and sweat and staggered breathing. Through the fog still resounding in your head, you hear Tsukki laughing lightly, “How’s that for inspiration?”

-Four Months Later-

You shift on your toes in anticipation, waiting for Tsukishima to release the hold he has around your eyes. You hear the bustle of people around you, the laughter and tinkling of glasses clinking together filling your ears. He kisses your temple before letting go, and you are met with a new reflection of yourself hung proudly on display. All of the places you see blemishes are drawn with vibrant purposeful color. Every curve of your form mapped out with the care only a lover could administer. Your naked form exhibited for hundreds of critiquing eyes, but there’s not a bone in your body that could feel embarrassed in this moment. As reflection so beautiful it’s unbelievable is staring back at you.

“Is this really how you see me, Kei?” You turn around to meet his eyes, his stare holds the love of epics. He would write you novels if he could, but this picture is worth a thousand words.

“Of course it is, baby,” He brings a hand to thumb at your slightly swelling belly.

“Of course it is.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️