#he loves to watch you use him for his own pleasure

[reignpage]

Bubble Bubble

Summary: in which alien!reader splashes around with Gojo Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: smut, 18+, not really a standalone, find the other parts in my fics masterlist, not proofread

Day 14

“Yeah, so then I told Yuji, ‘You just gotta go with your gut,’ y’know? He didn’t get it, but eh, he will, eventually.”

You hum. 

The two of you are in the bath. More specifically, sharing a bath. It’s not something he’d ever share he does to anyone, since, well, he doesn’t exactly feel proud of his decisions. 

It’d been two weeks by now, since he first met and took you in, and you’ve gotten along splendidly. Maybe, a little too splendidly if the fact that boundaries have been crossed majorly is anything to go by. And what Satoru means by this, of course, is how, since that fateful night where he had shoved his foot in his mouth and sparked a curiosity for pleasure in you, you two had been sleeping in bed together. 

Something about humping each other like dogs on the sofa seemed to mean all bets were off. 

Honestly, Satoru doesn’t sleep very often. He still has duties to attend to but also, he really likes watching you snooze — the man hates how creepy that sounds, how creepy all of this sounds but the blue lights that hum beneath your skin just demands his attention. So, at night, he traces his fingers lightly over your bare skin, following the lights as they journey back and forth from your heart. They follow blood flow, he figures, though he’s no doctor. 

There’s also something else: you and him have now developed a routine of dry-humping before bed. It’s terrible and Satoru should be ashamed, he knows that. His relationship with you was never supposed to be like his. You were supposed to be friends and he’s gone and taken advantage of you at your most vulnerable. 

He wants to stop. Really. 

But when you hold his arm, pressing them between your soft and warm breasts, and look up at him with those pretty eyes, how is he ever supposed to say no?

“But it’s your job, no? To teach?”

Your Japanese has gotten so much better. All those movies are really paying off — if only he could put a movie on for his students and let them figure it out. It’s great to be able to communicate with you better. Now, you two actually have discussions about what you’ve watched and what you want for dinner. You even tell jokes sometimes. They’re terrible and cheesy but when they come out of your mouth, they’re hilarious. 

One problem though: you hold him accountable.

Defensively, Satoru, answers, “I do. I teach all of them. I’m a great teacher!”

“But if Yuji confused, then you not teach well.”

He groans, head thrown back over the foot of the tub. You’re sat in front of him, between his legs with your head resting on his wet chest. "Why is no one on my side? Not even you."

"Maybe you teach us," you reply, following it with a giggle over your own joke. In spite of himself, he chuckles, admitting defeat. Then, playfully rolling his eyes, he tickles you as revenge. Whirring sounds out from your chest as you laugh uncontrollably.

This is nice, he thinks. He wishes he could stay here, in this tub, with you forever, even if his whole skin becomes wrinkly.

Your relationship is developing quite fast, so is your general capabilities. Soon, he'll have to open the door and let the world know who you are, let the sun graze your skin, the wind kiss your lips, and the ground feel your weight.

Satoru can only hope that day is far, far in the future.

"Whad'ya want for dinner tomorrow? I'm going shopping in the morning on my way back from my mission."

"Hmm, ramen?"

Playing with a lock of your hair, he notes, "We've been having ramen too often, E. Let's try -um- something healthier, m'kay? L-leave it to Toru."

The steam rises up and floats in the air, blurring his vision ever so slightly. Lovely as it is, the heat is getting to his head, short-circuiting his brain, making it difficult to focus, especially when you’re flicking your own nipples. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he scolds, grabbing hold of your mischievous hands.

Oh and another thing, you two have gotten a little more adventurous than over the clothes humping. Satoru started off with wanting to make your ride, no pun intended, smoother by stimulating your chest — that had been an experiment to see if you have nerve endings there and you most certainly did because you writhed faster and moaned his name deliciously. 

At first, it was over your shirt for the friction, which you love. But then he couldn’t help himself and his wandering hands found themselves under your shirt and groping your breasts. They were warm and heavy and so soft. Since then, he hadn't been able to get his hands off your tits. And apparently, neither could you.

“No,” you say. “I like it.”

Satoru makes a noise of embarrassment, like the consequences of his horniness is catching up to him. “No, E, baby. You don’t do that in front of other people.”

“No other people. Just Toru.”

“Okay, yes, good. But you only play with yourself during special times.”

You shuffle around and with your head tilted, you ask, “What ‘special times’ mean?” 

Oh great, yet another dirty thing to teach you. If the government ever found out he’s harbouring an alien and he didn’t attempt to find out the secrets of the universe but instead chose to molest said alien, he’d be arrested, convicted, and he'll go down in the history books as the most perverted human in the world — no, the universe. 

“Forget it, E. Let’s just get washed up, okay? I’ll do your hair.”

Water splashes around when your fist smacks against the surface, more bubbles forming. “No, Toru is teacher. You teach. Not fair you teach Yuji but not me. I want to learn too. Tell me special times, Toru!”

How does he even begin to explain the distinction between teaching the kids versus teaching you? Because he really wants to make clear that he does not teach the kids anything remotely resembling this. Let that be known far and wide. 

Raking a wet hand through his wet hair, he sighs. 

“Alright, E. This is another thing we don’t talk to other people about, okay?”

You beam, a wave of blue lights running through your body just once, making a krrrrrrrrr sound that he finds just so endearing. “Secret?”

“Yes, secret.”

Soft lips meet his. 'Secret' is code for the intimate moments you share where you’re not alien and human caretaker, but rather just E and T. As soon as that word is uttered, you'd reach up and kiss him, tracing the seam of his lips with your tongue before plunging in, melting against his body. 

Satoru holds your head close, spare hand clasping your wet neck and then falling down to one tit, groping it the way you like. When you arch your back, he takes that as a sign to flick your nipple. It never fails to make you gasp into his mouth. 

Groaning, he deepens the kiss impossibly further, chasing the sweet taste of your lips like it might be his last meal. Though you two have never humped against each other completely bare, being naked like this hasn’t been new for almost a week now. Still, when his cock hardens even more, you giggle. “Toru boner? Want me to make it go away?”

“No, not yet, E,” he mutters. “First, I gotta teach you about ‘special times,’ remember?”

Manoeuvring you back into facing the front, he holds your knees and widens them until they’re resting against his thighs perfectly. He’s never taken a proper look at your pussy before and even from this angle he can’t really see much. He knows you have a slit, bare and smooth, and everything on the outside looks fine. But he’s never felt more. Since you like grinding so much, he figures you must have a clit, right? So surely this wouldn’t be too hard to do. 

“So, E, special times refers to masturbation. It refers to when you make yourself feel good alone. Do you wanna know how women masturbate?”

Breathless, you nod. 

He skims one hand down your stomach, tickling you for a second, before he spreads your lips and feels with his middle finger what you have there. Oh. “Feels pretty normal to me. Are you sure you’re an alien, E?”

“Yes. I come from stars. Far away. You can’t fly to. No air up there. You die.”

Right, okay, well he wasn’t planning on doing that, so he focuses back onto your pussy. He finds your clit easily; it’s exactly where women’s tends to be so he wastes no time in rubbing around the area, laying feather-light touches to your clit here and there. 

Blue light is shining under your skin again. He must be doing a good enough job. 

“You rub this. It’s called a clit. Can you say that for me?”

“C-clit. I rub clit for special times.”

He hums. "Good. Now if you ever want some time alone, just tell me you want to play with your pussy, 'kay?"

"I play with pussy?"

Satoru kisses your head, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You’re growing wetter under the water, your pussy warm — hotter than he remembers the average pussy to be — and he’s growing breathless too. You feel so good. “Play with your titties, baby. Just like earlier. Go on.”

Your hands fly up, groping hard. He watches the fat pool between your fingers and his mouth suddenly feels empty; he hasn’t tasted your tits yet. What a shame. 

Venturing lower, he feels the divot in your pussy and he knows you also have a hole. He tests it with one finger at first, poking and waiting for any sign of pain. There is none. Instead, you jut your hips out, encouraging him. So, he pushes that finger in. 

“Oh, fuck, E. W-what are these?” There’s pleats inside your pussy. They’re moving. Withdrawing in a haste, he examines his finger. It’s still there so he knows your pussy juices aren’t corrosive or something, though he does feel some tingling. Oddly, there's a light sheen of blue in the translucent liquid. “Baby, do you know anything about this? Do you know if we can do this? Like, I don't know, did you learn anything from your home?”

Still playing with your nipples, you throw your head back and whine. “It’s okay, Toru. Safe. Just make me feel good, p-please.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t exactly want to get hurt too but I can turn my infinity on.”

“Shield?”

“Yeah, shield.”

Grabbing his wrist, you lead it back to your pussy and press it hard against the entire area, humping his palm unashamedly. “No. Safe, Toru. Listen to E! My people say we are—“

And then you proceed to make alien noises that confuses him even more but he trusts you. You may not know much about Earth but you aren’t stupid — you just find it difficult to communicate. 

Hesitantly, he pushes two fingers in, testing your stretch. It’s a tight fit for sure but somehow your moving walls are massaging his fingers, welcoming him in and urging him deeper. The sensations are new and odd but somewhat addictive. He wonders if you have a G-spot. 

Curling his fingers, he presses against where it usually is and you whimper, body tensing. Okay, so G-spot check. Good.

“‘We are’ what, E? I didn’t understand.”

Your chest makes a thrill sound. 

“How say, okay together? Match?”

“Compatible?”

You shrug like that’s a good enough synonym. Resuming playing with your breasts, you let Satoru explore your insides, thrusting his fingers in slowly as his thumb rubs your pussy. 

Definitely hotter inside than usual, Satoru also notices something else. Actually a couple things, all driving him absolutely wild: one, every spot inside you is a G-spot, he knows that because your eyes fly open and both your skin and your eyes glows brighter in pulses every time he presses in at any spot.

Two, your canal is longer than average because not even his ‘freakishly long’ fingers (as Shoko called them once) can reach your cervix when usually that had always been the case with the women he’d been with before. 

Maybe you don’t have a cervix. You haven’t had a period at all and though he knows a month hasn’t passed, you also haven’t brought it up even when he tried to teach you about menstruation. Maybe you don’t have a womb either. His dick throbs. Yeahhhh, he’s a terrible human being. There’s no way he’s getting turned on by the prospect of having as much unprotected sex as he wants with your beautiful body, pussy leaking his cum and making your thighs sticky. 

“Can you have babies, E? Y’know, little humans.”

Beginning to thrash around, you’re more than distracted. He has to nibble on your ear to get your attention, and then, you, with very little patience, respond, “N-no. Babies made different way. Ah, T-toru! I feel good again. More, please!”

“Alright, alright. Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to withhold an orgasm. Tilt your head this way, E. Wanna kiss you. You know how much I love it when we kiss whilst you cum.”

Ever so obedient, you hurriedly turn your head around, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him desperately. Every kiss, every touch of your tongues together is interrupted with high-pitched moans, splashing water, and vibrations from your chest, that telltale humming growing louder and louder as the pleats in your pussy wrap around his fingers in a tighter and tighter hug. 

They hold onto him like they’d be very upset if he removed them for too long as he thrusts and presses all your sensitive spots over and over again, the water sloshing around and spilling over the tub, creating a mess he'll have to deal with.

“T-toru! Fingers soooooo long. I feel full!”

“I know, E, baby. You like feeling full, don’t you. Your pussy doesn’t want me to leave, does she?”

Satoru fails to mention one other thing he’s noticed and he really can’t spend too much time thinking about it because it’s threatening to make him bust his load prematurely: your pussy emits light. 

Seriously, it’s like something from some shitty hentai. But there’s no doubt about it; blue light is shining onto his pale fingers, making the water and the bubbles an even darker blue. Everywhere he looks, there’s you. You are blue. When he stares up at the sky, he feels his chest ache. And when he sees stop signs and cars resembling any shade of blue, his cock is growing in his trousers. 

Fuck, even when he catches sight of his eyes in the mirror, unobscured by his blindfold, all he sees is you. 

“You’re so hot inside. Do you hate me for wanting to fuck you right now, E? Hmm? Would you hate me if I just lifted you up and dropped you down on my cock? No, probably not, right? ‘Cause you want me too, right, E? You want Toru?”

“Y-yes, Toru. Want -ngh!- you. Always”

He coos, “Aww, you’re such a sweetie-pie, aren’t you? My good girl. Go on, then baby, show me h-how much you want me. R-ride my fingers.”

Smelling like roses and bath salts, the steam fills his nose and Satoru thinks he might just pass out from the overstimulation — your soft breasts pressed against his bare skin, your lips wrapped around his, your hot pussy pulsing, and flashes of light casting blue shadows around the room. “You gonna cum, E? You feeling good? Is this better than humping my cock, baby? We — ha yes just like that, ride my fingers, baby— we can do b-both now. Just gotta tell Toru when you want to —ngh- feel good, yeah?”

“Yes, Toru. I tell you. Oh, I’m close! That good feeling coming. Don’t stop!”

Even from his angle, your body is rubbing against his cock which he had been steadily grinding against you the entire time. 

Together, you cum. 

“Ah, fuck, E. Ah, shit, oh yeah, baby. So good.”

Your nails are digging into his wrist as you ride out your orgasm, the glow under your skin thrumming devastatingly. He can't help himself; Satoru tilts your head back, lips skimming against each other but not quite pressed together, just gulping down your moans. He loves seeing your eyes too.

In these moments, he sees himself reflected in your eyes the way he sees you reflected in every breath, step, and move he makes. It's like a brand, a punishment for making him so weak. Those glowing blue eyes are his only reprieve for his crimes, the consolation for his depravity, and the very thing that convinces him he's doing right by you.

"T-thank you, Toru," you sigh out, body relaxing and lights shutting off.

He almost misses the pretty lights. "Mmm, you're welcome. Not like I didn't get anything out of it. But I have to say, your pussy took me by surprise. I didn't expect for there to be moving things. And the light! Damn, do you just glow everywhere?"

You hiss, nails digging into his thighs.

"Youch! Hey, what was that for?"

Pushing away from him, you shuffle over to the other end of the tub, holding your knees together as you dip lower into the water, your eyes the only things visible.

Poor baby's sulking and he doesn't even know why.

"Hey, E. Talk to me. What's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I? I didn't scratch something?"

Flicking water at him, you growl, "No."

"Okay, so what's wrong? Uh, hey, don't look at me like that. If you don't talk to me, I'll take away movie privileges."

"No movie?"

"No. Movie."

SPLASH!

Dumbfounded, Satoru sits there, soaking wet, water dripping from his hair with his mouth open. In front of him is a woman who's playing with some bubbles, the picture of innocence. "Alright. Fine. That's how you wanna play? Stay here by yourself then."

He's out of the bath and towelling off by the time you get to him, arms wrapping around his waist as you smush your face against his chest. Forcing his limbs to not embrace you, he waits patiently for your next move.

Though he would never want to upset you or make you feel like he's mad at you, he has enough tact to know permitting your bad behaviour even once would only spell trouble for him in the future.

"Come." You urge him to bring his face closer and so he does. Then, with gentle hands, you wipe the suds from his cheeks and grab a small towel to dry his hair. He lets you ruffle it around with the 'swooosh swoosh swoooosh' sounds he makes when he does yours.

Once dry, he peeks out from under the towel and his gaze softens. "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what I did wrong."

You sigh. "You make fun of me. My body. You think I'm...weird. Am I not pretty like women in movies? Like Rapunzel?"

His heart breaks. Literally. He feels it give up on him and shatter into tiny little fragments, like mere reflections of stars on a dirty puddle on the road.

"Oh, no, E, baby. Hey, listen," he urges. Grabbing your face, he presses a kiss on your nose and smiles a little when you crinkle it. "I think you're pretty. Very pretty. Prettier than Rapunzel. Prettier than everyone else. I'm sorry I made you think that I think your body's weird. No, of course not. Sure, it's different but so am I to you, I'm sure. I was just taken by surprise because of how new it all is. I think it's very cool. I think you're cool, okay? Tell me you understand, sweet thing."

"I pretty?"

"Gorgeous. Stunning. Ethereal."

Flattening your bare body against him, he feels every curve and has to will his dick to stay asleep. Then, with a much lighter tone, you ask, "You like me, Toru? More than movie girls?"

He whispers against your head, "Yeah. I like you more than them. I like you more than anyone else in the world. In fact, I like you too much to let anyone take you away."

"Someone take me away?"

Then, with a fierce resolution burning in his eyes, he swears with all the cursed technique swirling in his veins, "No. Never."

[fangdokja]

♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 827

The first time he dragged you from the library, he did it without hesitation, and you followed without question. You remember the way people stared, how the chair screeched against the floor as he yanked you up by the nape of your neck, fingers possessive, unyielding. There was no struggle. No protest. You just packed up your things and went where he wanted, as if you belonged to him already.

He liked that. You know he did.

Now, it’s routine. The way he looms over you, his touch always present—around your throat, in your hair, at your wrist, like he’s making sure you don’t slip away when he isn’t looking. It’s not about affection. It’s about control.

“You’re a creepy little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, thumb stroking absently at your pulse. His voice is always amused when he talks to you, dripping with derision, like he’s fascinated by your willingness to submit.

And you are willing, aren’t you?

The backseat of his car smells like leather and sweat. He’s already got you folded up against the door, your knees pressed to your chest, body caged beneath his weight. His hands are rough, greedy, digging into your thighs as he forces them apart. There’s no preamble, no patience, just the brutal press of his cock against your slick entrance before he’s forcing his way inside, stretching you too fast, too deep, making you choke on your own breath.

“Fuck, look at that,” he groans, voice thick with pleasure as he watches the way your tiny hole struggles to take him. “Dumb little bitch can barely fit me in.”

You whimper, squirming under his grip, but there’s nowhere to go. He presses a palm against your lower stomach, applying pressure right where he’s splitting you open, grinning at the way you jolt.

“Feel that? That’s me, stuffing you full.” He laughs when you tremble, your breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. “Shit, you love it. Love getting bullied even when I fuck you.”

The degradation never stops.

He shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you drool all over his hand, his hips snapping against yours in merciless, unforgiving thrusts. The car rocks with the force of it. Your back slams against the door, the seatbelt buckle digging into your side. You’re a mess—spit leaking from your swollen lips, moans punched out of you with every brutal movement, body limp and pliant beneath him.

“Fucking pathetic,” he snarls, dragging his teeth along your jaw, biting down hard enough to bruise. “What kind of freak just lets someone use them like this?”

You don’t answer. You never do. But he knows. He knows exactly what you are.

His grip tightens in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat is exposed, vulnerable, and he presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against the column of your neck. His tongue flicks over your pulse before he sinks his teeth in—hard. You yelp, body jerking against him, but he doesn’t let up. If anything, he’s crueler.

“Stop making those sad little noises,” he mocks, voice dark with amusement. “You knew what this was. Knew what you were getting into.”

And you did.

You’re not stupid. You knew exactly what he was when you let him take you, when you let him keep you. You knew he wasn’t gentle, that he wasn’t kind, that everything he did was for himself, to satisfy his own desires, his own obsession. You knew that when he dragged you from the library for the first time, his grip firm, his voice dripping with condescension.

And yet—you followed.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours, panting as he fucks into you harder, deeper, wringing desperate little sounds from your lips. “Gonna break you, baby. Gonna make you cry for me.”

He does.

He always does.

Tears sting your eyes as he forces you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you too fast, too strong, leaving you gasping, sobbing, clawing at his arms, his back. He doesn’t stop. Not until you’re spent, not until you’re shaking, not until you’re too exhausted to move, too wrecked to fight back.

Then, finally—finally—he stills.

He keeps you pinned to his chest, his arm thrown over your waist, a heavy, suffocating weight. He’s still big, still overwhelming even when he’s at rest, his body heat sinking into your skin. You’re panting, boneless, and he hums in satisfaction.

“Still breathing, baby?”

You don’t answer right away. His fingers dig into your hip, a silent warning.

“…Yeah,” you murmur, pressing closer, your voice hoarse.

He must like that. The deep, satisfied chuckle rumbles against your back, and you barely register the soft kiss against your shoulder.

“Good,” he breathes, tightening his hold. “Gotta take care of my little freak.”

Your heart skips a beat. You think he can hear it.

He exhales, slow, heavy.

Then, softer—like he isn’t a monster, like he isn’t the same man who just ruined you—

'Love you.'

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

Ace Attorney: N/A

Arcane: N/A

Blue Lock: Michael Kaiser, Shidou Ryusei, Yoichi Isagi

Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi, Katsuki Bakugo

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A

Death Note: N/A

Demon Slayer: Sanemi Shinazugawa

DC: Damian Wayne

Dishonored Series: N/A

Genshin Impact: Childe, Scaramouche

Haikyuu!!: Hajime Iwaizumi, Yūji Terushima

Honkai Star Rail: Blade, Boothill

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Uvogin

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: N/A

Jujutsu Kaisen: Naoya Zen'in, Ryōmen Sukuna

Kill The Hero: Park Yong-Wan

Love and Deepspace: N/A

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: N/A

MONSTER: N/A

Naruto Shippuden: Hidan, Zabuza Momochi

One Punch Man: Suiryu

Reverend Insanity: N/A

TOUCHSTARVED: Vere

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Bill! Sans, Dust! Sans, Fresh! Sans, Ink! Sans, Killer! Sans, Nightmare! Sans, Shattered Dream! Sans, Underfell! Papyrus, Underfell! Sans, Undertale! Chara

Wuthering Waves: Scar

Your Throne: N/A

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood. Thank you.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @imnotabot28 , @han11dh

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”:

♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.

[nikkento-writes]

Ever since you introduced your sweet, innocent boyfriend to your sex toys, he's been absolutely fascinated ever since. It took a while for Choso to be brave enough to actually start using them on you, though. He was always afraid of user error, breaking it, or ruining the vibe with his clumsiness. Part of him was also a little jealous that these gadgets could get you off as hard as he does. But over time, he realized that the sex toys and him could work together as one giant fucking machine to pleasure you.

It starts with the humble vibrator. Based on trial and error, he has come to the conclusion that if he fucks you silly while he presses it max speed on your clit, you will squirt for him without fail. There are far too many ruined bedsheets to support this theory. He loves how loud you get when you're moaning his name, covering him in your wetness. It's one of his favorite toys to use on you, not too complicated, and gets the job done.

The other one he's really into lately is the classic dildo. He's way too jealous to share you in a threesome, but he's obsessed with the idea of filling up all your holes. Like really obsessed. Gets him off harder than most other things. He likes to start with your mouth first, his cock shoved to the back of your throat while you pump the lubed-up dildo in and out of your cunt. You've got a butt plug in, prepping your hole for later. Once you swallow his first load, he spreads you out on top of his face, eating you out while he watches you lick your own cum off that dildo. The two of you do this until he's hard again. You straddle him and sink down, his dick sliding easily inside you, pussy drenched from your multiple orgasms, hole still puckered around that plug. His tongue fills your mouth this time, drinking you up while you ride him. And, of course, he has to fill your womb up with his cum.

Finally, with one orgasm left in him, he gets behind you, carefully pulls the plug out, sucks on it a little bit, then starts eating your ass. At this point, you're jelly, complying to every deranged thing he wants to do to you. He licks at your rim until he's hard again, using his spit to lubricate it. Then, he fucks you in the ass, pumping his fingers in and out of your mouth while you fuck your pussy with the dildo. It's quite the process, but by the end of it, you're completely filled to the brim with him and the both of you are in an otherworldly state of bliss.

You always knew your precious Choso had a freaky side to him. And all it took was a couple of toys to bring it out of him.

[inkivaari]

I need to see more conquest with wifey!

Conquest reacts to his baby's or how he reacts to you treating his baby's softly?

Is he relieved or disappointed his kids are going to have a soft side? Maybe he's really fucked and gets jealous😭

𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜 (𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚢! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

a/n: anon i love you so much, yes yes yes i kiss your mind mwwwwwwwwah! disclaimers: sexual content, childbirth mentions, f! reader, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, violence mentioned, conquest being sweet but in a fucked up way but its okay we love himmmmm

you're in labour for what feels like days, it's a chunky baby even for viltrumite standards. conquest refuses to let his child be born anywhere else. no, you're doing this at home. he does have the sense to abduct provide you with a midwife, but he never lets her leave his sight. he sits beside you in solemn silence, watching. even when you try to joke, and tell him he's not going to like what he sees. he glares back at you. there's no way he's missing a moment of this.

his firstborn child is a son. he was slightly disappointed that it wasn't a daughter, one he could watch grow up into a smaller you. yet, when he saw his child, when he saw his son's eyes open and they were yours, when that bundle began to whimper and cry, and his woman held it close to her exhausted little body, weeping softly herself but with that beautiful, angelic smile... he cried himself. made no excuse, made no apology. never brought it up again.

conquest takes care of you and his son over that bumpy first month. he does so without complaint. nothing is off limits, nothing is too much, nothing bothers him in the slightest. you two were the centre of his universe now, and he who had never had anything for his own, not truly, took ownership with pride. you will want for nothing, his wife in his bed swaddled up with his baby, well fed, calm, happy.

that isn't to say that he's not selfish. it doesn't take long for his loins to ache again, used to being pleasured by you every night. but no, he knows not to press the issue with you, knows that little body like the back of his hand, and knows it must rest and heal. will that stop him lusting for you? absolutely fucking not.

he fists his cock with any item of clothing he can get from you pressed up to his face, his sensitive nose filled with your scent, drool staining the fabric as he bites down into it to muffle his grunts and groans. you were sleeping beside him, after all. you needed your sleep. but that didn't mean he'd deny his own needs, primal and obsessive as they were.

his favourite clothes to do that with were your nightshirts. you'd be all embarassed and whiny when you'd be sitting playing with the baby on the couch and your engorged breasts would begin to leak and stain your comfy tee, hiding them in the laundry basket bundled up with the other clothes so as to hide them from his view. hilarious. he scented them out right away when he was doing the laundry later that evening, and hungrily bring it to his mouth, even the slightest taste of that sweet wifey cream made his cock stand up...

the jealousy began to trickle in after that grace period. he could hardly stand it, seeing you be so soft with that baby. he watched you kiss its little head, squish its cherubic cheeks, hold its tiny hands with a finger and sing little silly songs to it to make it laugh... you had been like that with him a few months ago. there was a time where all you'd do is cling to him for the whole day, naked up against him, whining and giggling as you climbed all over his big body, yowling playfully for attention. but his little kitten was so consumed... too busy being soft with someone else, even if that someone else was half of him. more than half, if we're thinking about the dominance of viltrumite genes in hybrid offspring.

he grumbles disapprovingly when you babble back to the baby, when you tickle its little belly, when you cover it with raspberry kisses as it squeals and smiles... you're indulging weakness, that's his excuse. in reality, he doesn't care if his children inherit the softness of their mother, they're still his progeny, they'll be killers anyway, it's written into their dna to conquer and crush. he's learned that caring for your loved ones only makes indulging that destructiveness all the more satisfying, when you're doing it for a purpose. what he does care about, what eats him alive, is that you're not giving him that softness anymore. the bitterness, the despair, the loneliness that plagued him for centuries, it all comes rushing back. and it gets to a point where he has to leave for a while. days at a time, to let out his anger that he'd never lay upon you in a million years, but had to get out. he slaughters thousands upon thousands, he levels skyscrapers, brutalises and tortures and conquers. until that rage leaves him, and he can go home, exhausted enough to fall asleep beside you without a thought.

but when he returns one night to find you sitting up in bed, weeping softly, he pauses in the doorway. the cot was no longer in the bedroom, you must have moved it to the nursery at last. you look up at him with those wide, wet eyes, and you crawl to the end of the bed, mewling and crying softly. you missed him, where did he go, why did he have to leave, you were so lonely...

it hits him then. he'd been neglecting you too this whole time. consumed in the caretaking, silent for most of the day, only using his voice to reprimand you for being soft, the thing he loved the most about you... and then he'd left you in the house by yourself while he selfishly dealt with his anger instead of talking to you, paying attention to you like you desperately needed him to...

...he could scent your ovulation, too. it had returned, your body was ready to be seeded again. his precious kitten, so beautiful, growing evermore heavenly as a mother...

and so he holds you close as he makes love to you, over and over again, holds your trembling body to his as if you'd fall apart without his touch, explores your body as if it were the first time he'd seen it, worshipping at his wife's altar once more and finding joy in all the new sensations and softness... he caresses your broad, fertile hips with disciplined, reverent hands, maps out the changed walls of your vagina, as if he were acquainting himself to your perfect little pussy all over again, and he finally, finally allows himself to latch his lips to your engorged nipples and savour your most holy milk, liquid gold on his tongue... you were the most perfect, most incredible living thing to exist in this pathetic, inferior universe. you had made life from within yourself, and you had done it for him... the least he could do was worship you for the rest of your lives together.

and of course, give you another. his cum pours inside you many times that night, and the next, and the next... until your son is introduced to his little sister...

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i wrote this instead of going to a lecture i need to be shot......... thank you again anon i need to go lie down...

[other-fandoms-reblogs]

Simon’s Succubus

Inspired by @impala-dreamer ‘s Dean’s Succubus

A/N: Hope you don’t mind, Beka, that I read it and ran with my own version. If it’s too close to yours,‘l please message me here or on discord and I can change it. ❤️❤️❤️

Simon can always tell when you’re about to ovulate. Your libido skyrockets and becomes demanding. He loves it.

He loves how assertive his baby becomes. Dragging him by his shirt to the bedroom when he gets home and won’t even let him take off his combat boots. How you tell him what you want, practically dominating him. You sit on his face, covering him and his mask at times in your juices. He has several identical masks for this reason now.

The man cannot get enough. He loves how you taste sweet and tangy.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves how spicy you two are normally. It’s a kind of balance. Normally, you want his hands and mouth everywhere on you. You blush and get shy trying to ask for what you want in bed. He finds it endearing.

He tends to help by giving his partner options, almost like a menu unless he wants to try something new. Then, he says he has a treat or wants to try something different. You’re always happy to experiment.

He loves every moan, groan, and breathy pant. He tried to ring orgasm after orgasm out of you.

When it’s nearing your time each month, your tolerance for him not stopping until he’s rung as many orgasms as he can increases dramatically. There have been times when his jaw felt like he needed to lubricate like a machine. You don’t mind. He is amazing with his fingers.

He knows how to play you like he’s disassembling and reassembling any of his guns blind. He knows how and where to touch you to rile you up and push you over the edge as many time as he wants or his jaw screams at him.

When you ride his cock, he can go for quite some time normally. He giving you long thrusts, torturing you with pleasure and sensation until you whimper and writhe under him. He loves to hear you beg him so he will let you orgasm. He will change position to hit your g-spot or a-spot, if not both, or reach down between you to rub your clit.

During that time, you’ve been know to tire him out. He isn’t as young as he used to be but is happy to eat you out or finger you until you’ve soaked his arm. He also has recently loved watching you take your pleasure and use his thigh to get off on. When you’re about to go o er the edge, he will nibble and bite your neck and shoulder intensifying your orgasm further. His little masochist, how he loves you.

[yena-enha]

𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞 - 𝐏𝐒𝐇 𝐗 𝐏𝐉𝐒

Warning - This story contains extreme A/B/O dynamics with feral, rut-driven alphas overpowering their omega. There is dub-con/non-con, forced mating, knotting, excessive overstimulation, and deep bite marks that draw blood. The alphas are aggressive, merciless, and fully consumed by their instincts, using their omega purely for pleasure and breeding. There’s also choking, manhandling, degradation, forced submission, and no aftercare. Reader is crying, shaking, overstimulated to the point of exhaustion, and left completely ruined. Pain is treated as pleasure, and the alphas do not stop, no matter how much she begs. This is not a soft or loving portrayal of A/B/O—this is primal, brutal, and merciless. Read at your own discretion.

Note - MDNI (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), Interact At Your Own Risk, NSFW Content

Genre - Dark Smut, Werewolf AU

Pairing - Alpha!Jay x Omega!FemReader x Alpha!Sunghoon

Inspiration - Requested By anon - 🫧, Animals By Maroon5

Word Count - 2.3 K Words

𝘞𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘖𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢

You barely made it to the door before a hand wrapped around your throat, yanking you back.

A scream tore from your lips, but it was useless. Jay and Sunghoon were in rut. Their instincts had taken over, their rage palpable in the thick, suffocating air of the den.

“You fucking ran from us?” Sunghoon hissed against your ear, his grip bruising as he shoved you forward. You barely had time to catch yourself before Jay grabbed your waist, throwing you onto the bed like a ragdoll.

You scrambled back, fear mixing with something darker as two sets of glowing gold eyes stared you down. Their scents—**musk, dominance, need—**clouded your mind, making you dizzy.

Jay stalked toward you first, his fangs bared. “We should punish you for that.”

Sunghoon growled, gripping your ankle and yanking you toward him. “No,” he said, voice dripping with menace. “We will.”

Your whimper was cut off when Jay’s claws ripped your dress to shreds, leaving you bare beneath them. The cold air sent a shiver down your spine, but their burning touches quickly replaced it.

Sunghoon clicked his tongue, fingers spreading your slick folds apart. His eyes darkened as he watched your hole clench around nothing. “Look at this,” he murmured, dragging two fingers through your wetness before shoving them into your mouth. “Fucking soaked already.”

You choked, tasting yourself on his fingers, but Jay was already positioning himself behind you. One strong hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back. His breath was hot against your throat.

“You’re our omega. We’ll fucking ruin you.”

And then he thrust in—brutal, unrelenting, tearing you open.

A scream ripped from your lips as Jay speared into you, forcing you to take every inch of his cock. The stretch was unbearable, your body shaking from the sheer force of it.

Sunghoon’s fingers gripped your jaw, forcing your teary eyes up to his. “You can take it,” he growled. “You were made for us.”

Your sobs were muffled as Sunghoon shoved himself into your mouth, forcing you to choke around his length. The intrusion burned, but he didn’t care—he held you there, using your throat like it was his right.

“Fuck,” Jay grunted, his claws digging into your hips as he pounded into you, ignoring your cries. His knot was already swelling, stretching you too much, too deep, too full.

Your body convulsed, overstimulated already, but they weren’t stopping.

Bite.

Jay’s fangs sank into your shoulder, the sharp pain making you cry out—but Sunghoon only groaned at the vibrations. His grip on your hair tightened, and he thrust deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth raw.

“Crying already?” Sunghoon mocked, watching the tears spill down your cheeks. “We’re just getting started, pup.”

Jay’s knot swelled inside you, locking him deep. Your body went rigid as heat spread through your core, his seed flooding your womb. But before you could even catch your breath, Sunghoon pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop.

“Flip her over,” he ordered.

Jay grunted, lifting you effortlessly, his knot still inside you, forcing you onto your back. Your whimpering protests were ignored—Sunghoon was already lining himself up with your untouched hole.

“W-Wait—” your voice cracked.

But he didn’t.

One brutal thrust and Sunghoon buried himself inside, forcing you to take both knots at once.

Your scream was wrecked, pure agony and pleasure twisting together into something unbearable. The stretch was blinding, splitting you apart, your walls clenching helplessly around their cocks.

“Too much,” you sobbed, body shaking violently.

Jay snarled, gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes. “You can take it. You will take it.”

Sunghoon groaned as he bit down on your throat, a deep, bruising claim. “Omegas don’t get to say no,” he growled. “You’re ours.”

Jay grabbed your thighs and bent them forward, pinning you in place. The new angle made Sunghoon hit even deeper, forcing a broken sob from your lips.

Bite.

Sunghoon’s teeth tore into your shoulder again, sharp canines embedding into your flesh. The pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure, making your vision blur. They weren’t being gentle. They weren’t giving you a break.

They were fucking you through their ruts—using you, claiming you, breeding you.

Jay’s thrusts turned erratic as his knot pulsed again, more thick seed flooding your womb. But Sunghoon wasn’t done—his grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air as he chased his own release.

Bite.

Your skin was covered in bite marks, deep and permanent. You’d be wearing their claims for weeks.

And then—Sunghoon slammed his knot inside, locking both alphas deep.

Your body convulsed, breaking apart as they stuffed you full. Heat bloomed inside you, both knots swelling, forcing their seed deeper into your womb. You sobbed, overwhelmed, overstimulated, shaking.

“F-Full,” you whimpered, barely able to form words.

Jay chuckled darkly. “Not full enough.”

Sunghoon smirked, grinding into you despite his knot keeping him locked. “Yeah, pup. You’re gonna take everything we give you.”

Your heat was just beginning.

And they had days to break you apart.

Over.

And over.

Again.

«Masterlist || Introduction»

[gyuubear]

Mean dom!Kai

Pairing: mean dom!Kai x gf!reader

Warnings: mean dom!Kai ofc, Kai’s got a huge dick, pet names, dacryphilia, tummy bulge, slight overstim, no protection, I can’t think right now, anything else I missed, MDNI

A/N: a quick drabble bc I couldn’t help myself…I’m a sucker for mean Kai (╥_╥) also please excuse any typos and errors this is not very proofread.

WC: 0.7k

Sex with mean dom!Kai who starts off slow, having so much fun watching you break down while he takes his time with you. Deep, agonizingly slow thrusts, forcing you to feel every inch of him. “My poor baby”, he’d coo, voice dripping with concern, but you both know he’s just mocking you, “fucking you so good, yeah?”

He’d laugh when you whine in response, because he really is fucking you that good. His fat cock stretching you out so deliciously; hands at the back of your knees, shamelessly spreading your legs wide open for him, allowing him to get so deep his tip's just kissing your cervix.

And all you can do is lay there. Hair damp against your face, eyes hazy, body littered with red and purple marks and covered in his saliva. You're left unable to form a single comprehensive sentence. Just so fucked out as you lay limp, taking the pleasure Huening Kai’s giving you.

He bites his lip at the obscene dick print on your tummy, cruelly pressing down on the bulge, enjoying how you mewl and squirm in response.

"So hard to stay still, hm?”, he breaks off with a delighted scoff, “god, you’re so easy."

His hips roll into you, cock head pushing against that magic spot. Whimpers and cries leaving your lips, hands weakly grasping at the sheets beneath you. He follows with a sudden forceful thrust, this time ramming into your sweet spot, cursing when your soaked pussy clenches around him. Your juices leak out, walls wrapped around him so tight he can hardly move. But he keeps going anyway, monster dick stubbornly pushing against your slick gummy walls.

“Hyuka— ‘nngg!!” You wail, so stuffed full of him you can hardly breathe. “What's wrong, angel?” he asks, brows knitted and eyes wide, an exaggerated pretense of worry you're almost tempted to believe. But his sudden rough thrusts, lips curving maliciously at the corners, keep you from falling for his act. Getting frustrated, you pathetically paw at his chest, only fueling his enjoyment.

Clicking his tongue, he sneers, "try using your words". But the second you try to formulate a single thought, he slams into your poor ruined pussy, practically bullying your g spot. And he doesn’t stop. no. He wraps his arms around your body, pressing your pelvis into his, thrusting wildly into you. Grinning into the crook of your neck as you squeal at the sudden change in speed.

"No—mmph! Ah! P-please! please!" Hot tears stream down your face, burning your eyes and skin, pleading, but to no avail as he doesn't even budge from his brutal pace.

"Look at you", he taunts, "so cute when you beg like this, angel. Love seeing you fall apart on my cock".

You sob, pressing you cheek into the pillow cushioning your head. Your wails get higher and higher as Kai now pounds you into his mattress. "'Fuck!! Oh! Fuck! Hyuka I c-can't-", Your words break off in a choked moan as your orgasm takes over your body. Hot pleasure blinding you in ecstasy as your body twitches and spasms. Huening Kai still doesn't relent, continuing to plow through you, selfishly chasing his own release, which doesn't take long with the way your walls pulse around him.

A few more rough thrusts into your swollen, ruined pussy and he's cumming, filling you up to the brim with his hot seed. Poor cunt painted white, the cream being pushed out as he rides his orgasm.

When he finally pulls out, your combined cum drips out in thick globs. Mesmerized, he scoops the cum up in his fingers, shoving it back in, but it just keeps oozing out. “Fuck, baby..what a mess. Maybe I should fuck it back into you? Fill you up so much it drips out of you for days. I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You try to protest, claiming that you’re overstimulated. But as Huening Kai’s massive cock parts your slimy walls again, making embarrassing squelching sounds, you moan uncontrollably. Brain in over drive because it feels so damn good.

——

[liubovricci]

Astarion. Undead weirdo.

I thought a lot about this post https://www.tumblr.com/preciouslittle-bhaalbabe/759003055035416576/is-it-bad-that-that-is-my-entire-headcanon-for?source=share after I first read it and realized that a lot of it is actually my headcanon. And a lot of weird stuff started coming into my head that could be done with this kind of Astarion. This text is split into two parts, because I went further, delving into the contrast between Spawn Astarion and AA. This part is about SPAWN, so it's still odd (I warned you!), but not as much as the next part about AA.

1. Breathless

Sometimes Astarion forgets to breathe until he starts talking, and then takes a sharp breath as if to gather air for a line. Sometimes he forgets to breathe mid-sentence, his words dissolving into raspy croaks. Yara mimics breathing for him, placing his hand on her diaphragm. He stares, fascinated, as her chest rises. But during sex and feeding, on the contrary, he starts breathing too much, panting deeply and loudly, so much that any mortal could get hyperventilation. Not because he needs it or is trying to imitate life, but in order to constantly smell the scent of his lover's blood and body.

2. Eyes and sounds

His pupils dilate enormously when he's excited, turning a metallic shade like quicksilver. When light hits them, they glow with a subtle red reflection, and when he drinks blood, they turn completely black, the irises disappearing almost entirely. Yara loves to watch in fascination as his pupils return to their normal size and dilate again at the same speed as a cat's.

He often makes inhuman sounds: a hoarse hiss when he's angry; a low rumble in his chest when he's happy; and a grinding of his teeth as if he's sharpening his fangs before a hunt. During intimacy, especially when he is sincerely lost in sensations and feelings, he can forget how to sound human, tempting, and sexy, and then his voice splits—one tone is gentle, high-pitched, and almost inaudible, the other is raspy, deep, as if from the depths of the earth.

3. Sleep

Astarion neither sleeps nor meditates but can fall into a motionless brooding state when he wants to rest mentally, or torpor, a complete trance-like oblivion, when he needs to restore his vitality. While resting, he can move, and his thoughts transform into dreams that he can't or doesn't want to control. In torpor, however, his body is completely motionless, his breathing stops, and he becomes even paler than usual. He doesn't just look dead; he is dead. At first, this scared Yara to shit. The first few times she shook him in tears, trying to wake him up. She had to sit next to him until he came out of the trance on his own and sat up in bed with his back straight as a stake, not taking a single breath, like a fucking Dracula. Over time, she got used to it and even began to lie on top of him on particularly hot nights, taking advantage of the fact that he is cold and feels nothing at all.

4. Blood and feeding.

5. Sex.

When he drinks from her, he does so slowly, with aching self-control. His hands cradle the back of her head, his lips pressed to the wound as if he wants to seal it, not open. He purrs and sniffles into her neck, taking only a few sips, and then nuzzles his face to the bite for a long time, as if he's going to keep going, but he never does, just licks up new drops until the flow slows down completely. Perhaps he's training his willpower, or maybe he's really enjoying it. With his love, this act is never about hunger, always only about sacred pleasure. Afterward, he always makes Yara do something about the blood loss, and sometimes she thinks he feels just the slightest hint of guilt.

“My love... you shouldn't be so generous. One day I might be unable to hold back.”

6. During periods

Over time, he realizes that he can stop pretending and playing roles in bed and do what he really likes, and Yara won't judge him. Sometimes he gets too chatty and mumbles something about her being a real witch, a plague, a disease that infected him; sometimes it's just loving, sweet nonsense, and sometimes he starts to speak Elvish, and Yara really doubts that it's something meant for her ears.

After sex, he often fascinatedly counts, touches, and kisses the bruises, hickeys, and teeth marks he left on her body this time. He licks the sweat off her body and likes to stay inside her for a while, until he starts to harden again.

Yara doesn't need to keep a calendar because Astarion can smell her period coming a few days in advance. When it begins, Astarion becomes extremely affectionate and clingy, both because he cares and wants to ease her pain and because the constant scent of blood beckons and doesn't let go. He heats the blankets for her and brings her the herbal tea that she always brews for herself according to her father's recipe. But he adds something of himself to this recipe, and then the spoon stands upright in the cup because it is no longer tea with honey, but honey with tea. He drapes her thighs over his shoulders and presses his cold cheek to her lower abdomen. His voice cracks—part concern, part hunger. “Gods, you're hot like a furnace. Does it hurt? Tell me how to fix it.” But she never has time to answer, and it ends up with his face buried between her thighs anyway.

7. Weird habits

Sometimes he puts her on top of him in an uncomfortable position for both of them, her back to his chest, so that her heart is in the same spot where his should beat, but she never complains. They lie there for a long time, silently. And he imagines that her heartbeat is his own.

He can sit for hours twirling a strand of her hair around his finger like a boy playing with thread. Sometimes he tears off a single hair and puts it in his pocket like a talisman. When Yara silently looks at him questioningly, he makes an indifferent face: “What? You don't mind, do you? It smells like you, darling.” He collects her hair/objects, but never admits how many he already has. This habit makes Yara really happy because it reminds her of the behavior of rats, which she adores, when they drag everything they think is treasure into their den. But I wouldn't be surprised if among these treasures there is something bizarre, like a piece of bandage from Yara's wound, which almost killed her once.

Astarion lays his head on her stomach and listens to her body work: her stomach rumbling, her intestines moving, her lungs filling with air, her blood rushing through her veins. He knows he once had the same thing, but he can't remember what it felt like. “Mortal temple,” he murmurs under his breath, thinking she can't hear. But of course she does, and she smiles sadly and caresses his hair with her fingers.

He doesn't feel cold and always wears clothes unsuitable for the weather. And when Yara starts to freeze, he tears his own clothes and wraps her in them, trying to “warm her up,” but instead freezes her even more. Does she complain? No, hardly.

He watches her sleep, perched at the foot of the bed like a gargoyle. When she wakes up, he's inches from her face, eyes wide and unblinking. “You twitched. Were you dreaming of me?” At such moments, in the absence of light, it seems that his smile doesn't reach his eyes, and he looks like a ghost.

8. Care and romance

Yara has almost completely given up the sun to lead a nocturnal lifestyle with Astarion. And when she goes too long without seeing the sun's rays, he cups her face in both hands, examines her skin and the dark circles under her eyes. He frowns, makes a noise. “You're getting pale. You'll soon turn into a drow.” And he goes to build her a nest of pillows and blankets by the window so that she can bask in the rays. He hides behind a curtain in a dark corner, watching the light play on her skin. They talk for hours, until the sun goes down.

He never says “be careful,” but every time Yara goes on a dangerous mission, he discreetly puts some nonsense in her pocket that he considers a talisman. Maybe a cinnamon stick dipped in sandalwood oil because he remembers that she loves that smell. Or a fang that looks suspiciously like a vampire's, and she doesn't even want to know from whose mouth he ripped it.

He memorizes her heartbeat. When she's stressed, he curls around her like a serpent, aligning his stillness with her pulse. His hands flutter, unsure where to touch without triggering her trauma, so he settles for tracing the scars on her forearms with a feather-light touch.

He gives her gifts that he considers romantic, not those that are acceptable to give to loved ones. A wilted rose that he picked up from who knows where (“She's as beautiful as you are, even when she's hurt.”); perfume that he made for her, which has a completely incompatible mixture of scents (“Smells like a disaster. Specially for you, darling.”); live rats that he hates and she adores (“If you smiled like that because of jewelry, I'd steal it for you every night.”).

Sometimes he silently creeps up behind her and demands that Yara tell him she's alive with a blank expression. “You know I'm alive,” she replies with a sigh.

“No. Say it out loud.”

“Fine. I'm alive, love.”

“Say you'll still be alive the next time I wake up.”

“OF COURSE I—”

“Say it.”

“Uhhh... I'll still be alive the next time you wake up.”

“Good,” he replies, burying his face in her hair, and for a moment he looks like an ordinary elf again. But after such conversations, he follows her around like a shadow for a long time.

Astarion kisses her scars with aching compassion and draws out all the darkest details of her own slavery. Sometimes she thinks that he is too distant and indifferent, his eyes become glassy and void, as if he doesn't hear her at all, but in fact he is experiencing all these moments with her live and comparing them to his past. And when she weeps, he never tries to stop her tears. He just cradles her and whispers, “Give it to me. Give it all to me, my love.”

He teaches her how to waltz in the silence and darkness of the abandoned estate hall, but his movements are mechanical, as if he were copying movements from a past life. Suddenly he stops:

“I... don't feel the music. Could you... speed the rhythm for me?”

“Speed... the rhythm?”

“Yes, darling. Your heartbeat.”

And I love him like that.

[mandaloriankait]

Double the Pleasure, Part 1

A/N: So this was a present for the lovely Kat @gothcsz who mentioned a Javi P x reader x Clint from Freaky Tales threesome one time and my brain went brrrrrr. She's graciously allowing me to share it with the rest of you all, lol. Love you bb 💕💕

Warnings: Unprotected pinv, oral(m!receiving), fingering, threesome

Taglist: idek if either of y'all are interested but @clubsoft @the-only-din-i-want

Clint stared at you as you moved into the space, passing Javier with a soft smile. You, his partner's girlfriend, were not someone he should be watching and feeling some type of way about. You glanced his way, a smirk pulling at your lips as you raised a hand in greeting. Clint returned the smirk, nodding slightly. He could feel Javi's eyes on him and quickly averted his gaze from you. Javi followed you, quickly wrapping you up in his arms as you giggled, resting your head on his chest as he kissed the side of your neck. The giggles turned into a soft moan and Clint turned away, shifting in his chair at the sweet sounds. Yeah, he felt some type of way about you, and Javi knew it, staking his claim every chance he got. Little did Clint know that you returned those feelings; something that Javi also knew about. What neither of you knew, however, was that Javi was planning something for the both of you. 

“Javi? What is this? I thought you said you had a surprise for me.”, you called out, stepping into your bedroom. “Patience, cariño, patience. I know that's not your strong suit.”, Javi responded, running a hand through his hair as he opened the front door for Clint. He led Clint through the house, stopping at the bedroom door before pushing it open for both of them. You turned, then gasped as you pulled your robe tightly around you. “Javi, you didn't tell me Clint was here!”, you exclaimed, shooting a nervous smile his way. Clint grinned at you, trying and failing to not rake his eyes down your form. Dressed in a short crimson robe with your hair down, you were nothing short of a vision. “What's going on, Javier?”, it rumbled out of his chest harshly before he could stop it. “Look. I know you're both….attracted to one another.”, Javi stated, looking between you both. You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but Javi held a finger up. “You don't have to deny it, it's okay. I thought that maybe I could help ease some of that tension before it chokes us all to death. Clint, you can have her tonight; I may join in, but the night will mostly be for the two of you to get it out of your system.” Javi explained his thoughts as you stared at the floor, embarrassed. Your life with Javier was everything to you, but ever since you had met his partner, you couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him. Larger than Javi, broad chested and with a scar across his nose, Clint was all rugged where Javi was svelte. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to fuck him. You were so lost in your own mind that you didn't hear Javi until he was right in front of you. “Cariño? Did you hear me? I said take your robe off, let him see you.”, he said, reaching for the ties himself when you didn't respond. He pulled the robe off of you gently, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. Clint couldn't help but let out a low whistle as he took you in; dressed in a deep red lingerie set, you were absolutely stunning. He moved closer to you, seemingly already accepting how the night would be going. “Damn Peña, you're a lucky bastard.”, he murmured, slowly circling you.

Javi moved away from the two of you, settling on the bench against the wall. He gave you an encouraging smile as you glanced over at him nervously. Your gaze shifted as Clint touched your waist, pulling your soft body against his with a groan. His lips found your neck and started sucking, causing your eyes to flutter shut. The added scratch of his beard on your skin felt heavenly, and you tilted your head to give him better access. Clint moaned into your skin at the taste of you, pressing kisses to your jaw before turning you to face him. You stared at his chest; he reached down with two fingers and tilted your chin up to meet his fiery gaze. He searched your eyes for a minute, and after finding no hesitation, crushed his lips to yours. You moaned into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip in with ease. Where kissing Javi was easy, practiced, kissing Clint was harsh and rough. His calloused hands palmed at your ass roughly, pulling your hips flush against his own. You whimpered when you felt his hard length against your stomach; he felt just as big as Javi. “Fuck.”, you murmured quietly as you broke the kiss, holding onto Clint's shoulders for support.  Without another word, Clint lifted you up and carried you to the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. As he laid you down gently, his hips started grinding against your core, causing you to whine at the friction. He undid the clasp of your bra with one hand, pulling it from you and tossing it into a corner of the room. Both hands came up to engulf your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples as your back arched. His mouth followed his hands and he sucked first one, then the other nipple into his mouth, laving each one with his tongue until you were writhing under him.

Javier was watching all of this unfold with interest, his pupils blown wide and a bulge forming in his tight jeans. Clint slid your underwear down your legs and whistled as you spread your legs for him, pussy gleaming with your slick in the light. “This all f'me sweetheart?”, he murmured, not giving you a chance to answer before sliding a finger through your folds. You cried out at the sensation, nodding frantically. Slap. A hand to your inner thigh. “Use your words baby.”, he said, staring at you intently. “Fuck, yes, Clint. All for you.”, you whined, your hips moving slightly as you sought his touch again. He groaned at your words, this time sliding two fingers through you until they dipped into your entrance, then pushed inside.  You keened, back arching, thighs shaking as he immediately found the spongy spot inside you. His thumb found your clit and rubbed in slow, tight circles as he thrust his fingers into you again and again. Soon, you were teetering on the edge of your orgasm, clenching down on Clint's fingers with every thrust. The thumb on your clit sped up and a third finger was pushed inside you, stretching you even wider. Your eyes widened before rolling back, hips grinding against his hand as you rode out your high. “Oh my god, Clint!”, you cried out before clapping a hand over your mouth, head turning towards Javi. “Nuh-uh, don't look at him, you look at me. I'm the one doing this to you.”, Clint rasped, forcibly grabbing your chin and turning you. You whimpered, eyes closing as he pulled his fingers out of you, immediately sucking them clean with a groan. 

“You still good with this Peña? ‘Cause I want to fuck ‘er.”, Clint asked, staring at Javier as he palmed the bulge in his pants. “Fuck. Yes, do it.”, he replied with a groan. “Alright, scoot up.”, Clint ordered you as he stripped; you rushed to obey, eyes darting towards Javi as if he might change his mind. When no dissent came, you relaxed into Clint's kiss as he climbed over you. His fingers tweaked your nipple and you shivered, biting at his bottom lip with a grin. He slid his cock into you, both of you moaning when he bottomed out. “You feel so goddamned good baby girl, Jesus.”, Clint cursed, resting his forehead on yours for a brief moment before pulling almost all the way out and slamming home again. Your breath stuttered as he set a harsh pace, hands coming up to curl into his hair as he sucked a bruise into your neck. Your cries of pleasure grew, and before you knew it, you looked up and Javi was standing over the both of you, chest heaving. “Hands and knees, get ‘er on her hands and knees Clint.”, he ordered, undoing his belt and finally freeing his cock. You moaned as Clint pulled out, effortlessly flipping you onto your stomach. You scrambled to obey Javi, but the both of them pulled at you until you were in the position they wanted. Clint slid into you again, making your eyes roll back at the new angle. When you opened them again, Javi's cock was in your face, tip red and smeared with precum. “Suck, hermosa.”, he ordered, cradling the back of your head as he guided you to him. Obediently, you opened your mouth and he slipped inside, groaning above you. Clint's forceful thrusts pushed your mouth further and further down Javi's cock until you gagged, the tip hitting the back of your throat. You breathed through your nose and swallowed around him, causing him to let out a string of curses. Soon, they fell into an easy rhythm, using you for their pleasure. You moaned with every thrust Clint gave you, clenching around his cock as he hit a particular spot every time. Javi had both hands cradling your head, thrusting in and out of the wet heat of your mouth with abandon. You had never seen him so worked up, and the man loved having sex with you. 

You were completely blissed out, mind blank as they fucked you until you came hard, clenching around Clint's cock and milking his own orgasm from him. Your moans vibrated around Javi as he clutched the back of your head, thrusting in once more before releasing himself down your throat with a deep groan of your name. They both released you and you collapsed onto the bed, all three of you panting harshly. Javi sank to his knees in front of you, kissing you gently; you hummed against his lips tiredly. “Good surprise, cariño?”, he asked softly. You nodded, turning your head as Clint closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in his own gentle kiss. “Think we could do that again sometime?”, you asked them both, and to your surprise, they both nodded. You grinned, pulling at Javi's arm as you snuggled back into Clint's embrace. The three of you stayed in bed like that for a while, hands stroking up and down your body reverently. After a while, Clint got up and dressed; with one last kiss to the top of your head, he was gone. You slowly drifted off to sleep, your head on Javi's chest as you listened to his breathing, letting it soothe you.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Blue Blood and Rain [10] - Final

King John x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You're the personal attendant to The Dowager Countess of Bowhale, who was visiting the court with her son.

Do you take the King's hand, or not?

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, kisses, pet names, overuse of italics, power dynamics because he's the king, I have totally made up servant/noble dynamics because I wanted to, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1918

Your mind freezes, utterly unable to process what is happening. What you just heard. 

The eyes of the nobles are heavy against your skin, but the King’s expression is so soft despite the mischief. 

Even if your thoughts are frozen, your body isn’t. It seems to move of its own accord, walking forward with sure steps as you reach out and take the King’s hand. Your fingers tremble slightly, but his are warm, and steady. He rubs his thumb against your knuckles and the back of your hand soothingly. 

Gently, he guides you into the seat next to him, right next to him, sharing the space at the head of the table. He waits, standing until you’re seated before sitting himself and gesturing with his free hand that the others may now sit. 

Nerves twist and claw at your insides. 

“So this is the lovely Lady Avalon you have told us so much about?” The young man to your right smiles, you recognise him from the first ride you had been on with the King. The public one he had used as a masquerade to speak to you. Faintly, you remember he had been wearing his family crest - Whitehaven. 

“Oh,” You smile politely back and give the King a sideways glance. He is grinning wickedly. 

“Yes, it is.” The King answers, still holding your hand. 

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, the King has been regaling us all with tales full of your praise.” He must recognise you, he must. But there is no ill will in his words or tone. He seems perfectly happy to accept this alternate reality the King seems to have been weaving. 

You nod graciously, your throat dry. You glance around the room quickly, trying not to be too obvious. The other nobles are eating, talking, but you can tell they are all trying their hardest to listen in. You avoid looking anywhere near Hugo.

“My love is a little shy.” The King says calmly, though you can hear his utter amusement shining through. “Not used to her praises being sung so loudly.” He brings your hand up to his face so that he can place a soft kiss on your skin. 

You swallow as you watch him, his eyes trained to halfway down the table. Exactly where you know Hugo sits.

The rest of the meal goes surprisingly well. You talk with the nobles sitting nearest to you and the King, though you still flounder a little when they and the servants address you by My Lady. 

It takes you an upsettingly long time to notice the long waistcoat the King’s servant, Wymare, had given you. It’s a bright red, regal, with finely detailed stitching of the King’s crest and coat of arms in a repeating pattern. 

Part of you is sure it must look silly over the top of the rest of your clothing. You can’t help but touch it unconsciously as the meal continues, running the tips of your fingers over the fabric and marvelling. It must have taken highly skilled people weeks. 

Not long after breakfast is finished, the King announces he must attend to his daily duties. He takes your arm gently, helping you out of your chair with the smallest bow. You notice he makes sure that you both stand up at the same time, so that the rest of the table have no choice but to stand and bow to you both. 

He tucks your hand into his bent elbow, beaming and giving you a small, cheeky look. You give him a glare back when you’re sure no one is watching, and his grin widens. 

As he leads you towards his private corridor, some of the nobles stand to start their own day, Hugo catches your attention. His eyes are wide, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. 

For a second, he goes to stand as well, still looking at you beseechingly, and you tense. The air in your lungs seems to turn to stone. Your hand squeezes the King’s arm unintentionally. 

He pauses, following your line of sight as he places his warm fingers over yours. You miss how his gaze hardens. He nods his head to his guards at the side of the room, they straighten, waiting for the order to strike. 

But Hugo’s mother, Edith, puts her hand on her son’s shoulder and whispers sharply. He sits, slumping back down into his seat. 

To your surprise, it is Edith who stands and walks towards you and the King. She is smiling warmly, happiness radiating from her soul. 

The King’s fingers still tighten on yours as he steps closer to you. Three of his guards move forward. 

“Your Highness,” Edith curtsies and then turns to you, “My dear, dear Lady.” She gives you a brilliant smile, her eyes shining before she curtsies to you, dipping even lower than when she did so to the King. 

“Countess.” The King greets, his expression polite, but wary. 

“May I speak with Lady Avalon for a moment?” She asks and the King stiffens. 

You have never seen such a look of viciousness on his face before, but it disappears like clouds passing the second he turns his gaze on you. “My love?” His voice is soft. 

You bite your lip and nod, the action sure and fast. A vast juxtaposition to the sensations in your chest. 

He nods and turns back to Eidth. “Of course.” 

You lament his touch the moment he steps away, suddenly fearing that you will fall without his support. But you push it down, deep into your chest. 

He doesn’t go as far as you think, merely walking a few steps to rest against the wall and has a seemingly telepathic conversation with his guards. Five of them move toward to flank you protectively. 

The sound of them moving in unison echoes over the nobles conversations in the hall, but no one else seems to pay it any mind except for you. 

Edith says your name and your attention snaps back to her. 

“Oh my dear,” she takes your hands in hers and squeezes. “Are you alright?” 

You nod.

“Are you happy?” 

You nod again.

Her smile widens and she wipes at the tears in her eyes, joy, not sadness. “Oh, I cannot express how overcome I am with happiness.” She laughs softly. “How long were you hiding this?” 

You bite your lip, but don’t even get a chance to open your mouth to answer.

“Please,” she waves her hand. “None of my business, you look radiant, so happy. I know it is forward of me, but… You know how I care for you.” She gives you such an honest look, the weight of her emotion holding you up. “This is wonderful.” 

“I…” You swallow. “Hugo…”

“Oh,” she tuts, looking a little annoyed, but not at you. “He told me he spoke to you of his ridiculous plan.” She pulls a face. “Obviously, you are spoken for,” she smiles, “But even if you were not,” she gives you a very serious look. “I would not have allowed it to stand.” 

Your shoulders slump as you let out a shaky breath, your chest loosening. 

“Not of course that I don’t think you are not worthy,” she quickly adds, mistaking your relaxation. “It just isn’t proper to demand anything from someone like that, without their say so… I know you care for my son,” she smiles again, “Like family. Nothing else.” 

You nod. You want to speak, thank her, tell her how sorry you are for ever doubting that she wouldn’t be in agreement with Hugo’s horrifying plan. But the words just won’t seem to come. 

“Besides, if I am to lose my most trusted and beloved companion,” Edit continues. “It is only fitting that it is for the King. No one less.” 

You smile and hug her tightly. 

She laughs in surprise and quickly hugs you back, “I wish you all the happiness in the world, my lady.” As you both break apart she strokes your cheek softly, almost motherly in her touch. “Please do write, and visit.”

You nod. “I will, Countess, I promise.” 

She tuts, good-naturedly, “I think Edith will suffice in any company now.” She gives your hand one last squeeze before she curtsies to you, an action that you mirror, and then to the King before she walks away. 

Hugo says something to his mother as she approaches, her back is turned to you so you cannot see her expression. But she does swat her hand out at him to give him a light smack on the back of his head. 

The King takes your arm again, his expression warmer. “I hope you do not mind that I eavesdropped, my love.” 

“Well,” you smile as he leads you back to the doorway. “You were barely three feet away. I’d be more than shocked if you didn’t hear.” 

“Hmm,” he nods, “It seems that the Countess has manners at least… You trust what she said to be true?” 

The guards hold the door open for you as you both enter the King’s private corridor, but they do not follow. It’s quiet when the door shuts, cutting out all but a faint echoing of the sound from the hall. 

“I do.” Of this, you are certain. “She doesn’t lie often, and when she does… I have been around her long enough to know it.” 

The King nods again, seemingly satisfied.

“I would not want… ill to become of her… or Hugo.” There’s a little uncertainty in your voice. 

“I know.” He lightly traces your cheek. “I hope you’ll forgive my theatrics.” 

“I am uncertain.” You cross your arms and pull an over the top expression. “This is twice that you have tried to play me for a fool.” 

“I have not.” He laughs, trying to pretend to be insulted.

“Tricked me then.” 

“I will accept tricked, my love.” He steps closer, lightly worming his hands under your arms so that he can hug your waist. 

“First with the bridge and now this.” 

He giggles, thoroughly amused. “Did you not love it?” 

“Hmm.” 

He kisses your cheek, nuzzling against you. 

“Lady Avalon.” You scoff.

“I thought it was a good name.” 

You give him a glare. 

He smiles wider, but pauses. “I have something serious to speak with you about.” He waits for your nod before he continues. “I mean it, you are to be Lady Avalon. There are lands you will be given, a yearly wage, a fine house built.” He pauses. “If you ever wish to leave here, leave me, you can go. The money will not stop. You will be able to live out your life however you wish it, free from others' interference.” 

“Your Highness…” You lightly touch his beard, he turns and kisses your fingers. 

“I never want you to leave, I want you to stay with me, sleep in my bed and let me kiss you and touch you every day I have on this earth. But I want you to know you are not forced here, you are not beholden to me. You are free.” 

“Well, I am sorry, Your Highness, I cannot offer you the same.” 

He pauses, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. 

“Because you are not free, you are mine. Forever.” 

He laughs and squeezes you tightly before kissing you wantonly. “Your King.” He mutters into your mouth, lightly pushing you up against the wall.

“My King.” 

“Just for you.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[chelseeebe]

would that i

18+. mdni. smut!! tommy hagan is mean and there is slight homophobic language! no use of y/n!

part two to this fic! can probably be read on it’s own but p1 will help you understand things!

would that i - hozier because i think steve used tommy as a scapegoat for never being himself and now he doesn’t have to <3

HIHI! i’ve been away for a little while and i apologise tremendously! this is a part two which seems completely out of left field but i found it half-finished and really liked it!! i’m hoping to start posting this multi-part eddie fic i have been working on but i want at least a couple parts solidly finished beforehand because i know exactly what i’m like lol

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

as to be expected, tommy has no interest in steve. three years of friendship washed down the drain for no good reason. on reflection, steve doesn’t really count what tommy and he had as true friendship, they were just using each other.

he was too terrified to be alone while tommy saw that and took full advantage, milking his credit card along the way. 

he’s got you now, he supposes. finding solace in your house, away from the judgemental glares and snickering whispers of his teammates and friends. 

robin seems to be warming up to the idea of having him as a constant presence in your house, though it’s slow and longwinded. steve had found that she was nothing like tommy, she couldn’t be bought with pizza or gifts but not with lack of trying. 

you sit now on the couch, your head in some book with your legs strewn over his lap as the tv plays sunset avenue loudly. he’d never take someone like robin as an avid soap opera watcher, but then again, he shouldn’t be either. 

“donna should’ve left him years ago,” steve adds, a comment that was supposed to stay tucked away in his mind. 

you look up slowly, robin’s head turns, confusion plastered across your faces. 

“what?” you laugh, placing the book down on your lap. 

he just shrugs, eyes darting between both pairs of baffled eyes, “david’s an asshole.. she should’ve left.” 

“no no, i got that, i’m just- you watch this crap?” 

he shrugs again, “yeah,” finding great pleasure in the way he had finally gotten robin to crack a smile, “my mom used to watch it.. what’s the big deal?” 

you look to robin, a knowing smirk on your lips before picking up your book again. 

robin just grins, “oh steve harrington, i think we might just be friends.” 

and thus, a weekly tradition was born. 

he and robin would settle in for their fill of second-rate acting every tuesday at eight on the dot. 

he lets her know that her opinions are trash and she kindly tells him to fuck off back to the barn he was born in. they were two peas in a pod really. 

steve appreciates the newfound friendship. it’s comforting in ways no one else had ever been. he just hopes robin sees it that way too, he’d had his fill of one-sided friendships to last a lifetime. 

-

steve hadn’t really left your side since the night he tumbled down your staircase and proceeded to confess, rather terribly, that he was practically in love with you. 

he doesn’t mind, he likes spending time with someone who actually likes him for once. 

even now, as steve attempts to settle down for the night, you’re restless, sat at your vanity rooting through your makeup. 

“so i’ve been thinking,” you did a lot of that, most of it nonsensical. 

“hmm?” quirking his brow, always a little worried for what was about to blurt out. 

“i think you should let me put eyeliner on you,” spinning around to face him with a maniacal grin, the pencil already poised in your hand. 

there was one outcome here, and it absolutely involved you jabbing a pencil into his eye. 

“do i get a choice?” he asks naively, knowing the answer was certainly a no. 

you shake your head, smile stretching from ear to ear, gesturing for him to scoot back. eddie wore eyeliner, and those guys on your posters. is that why you wanted him to? to be more like them?

steve swallows that thought, pummels it down until it’s but a quiet whisper. he liked you for you, surely you felt the same. 

“if you really don’t want me to, i won’t,” sensing his apprehension, you were pushy and stubborn but not cruel. 

he blinks, who would ever see? maybe you’d tell robin, but she certainly wouldn’t care, in fact, she’d probably think he were cooler. “i wanna make you happy,” smiling softly, “and if putting eyeliner on is what makes you happy then.. do it.” 

your eyes light up, coming to stand between his knees, “you’re sure?”

steve nods his head, lying back on your bed as you get up to straddle his waist, black kohl pencil in hand. 

your thumb delicately holds the skin down, allowing the pencil to line his waterline. it stings for a second, an unfamiliar feeling of a pencil jabbing his eye. 

“babe ow,” exaggerating greatly. truthfully, he enjoyed the attention, the focused look on your face as your tongue peeks out in concentration. 

“shut up,” moving onto his other eye without much warning, his right eye blinking rapidly. “okay,” you smile, “sit up.”

he does as he’s asked, like always. holding onto your hips as he shuffles, keeping you steady on his lap. 

“oh my god,” gasping once his eyes meet yours fully, “oh my fucking god,” swooning over his forced makeover. 

“you like it?” he asks innocently, none the wiser to how he actually looked. 

your hands grab his cheeks, shifting on his thighs with excitement, “i love it,” gazing deep into his soul, “i just wanna kiss you.” 

the side of his mouth quirks, snaking his arms around your waist, “you can always do that.” 

“i know,” gladly connecting your lips, a softer appreciation for the intimacy you got to share now. nothing felt rushed or scary, you were able to enjoy each other without fear of getting caught. 

he keeps your body pulled tight to his, laying you back onto the mattress as he crawls on top, his hands sliding underneath your shirt. steve hadn’t realised how much he appreciated having sex in a bed and not his cramped car. 

your fingers brush the falling tendrils back from his face, interwoven into his hair with such tender loving care that it sends shivers down his spine. 

they hover over his scalp, tracing gentle patterns to the sensitive skin, “you’re so handsome,” mumbling into his mouth, “i can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” lifting your back from the mattress to allow him the space to tug your sweatpants down. 

“it should be me saying all that,” steve marvels, admiring the curve of your hips, the way your thighs fit him so perfectly between them. “you’re too good f’me,” saying so earnestly, he should be thanking the gods you ever looked at him twice. 

“stop it,” you hush, interlocking your lips once more in a bid to stop him rambling on and ruining the moment. 

steve sighs faintly, ridding himself of his shirt, giving you free reign of the delicate skin of his neck you loved so much. your lips find it first, peppering short kisses in the crook between his neck and collarbone, only for your teeth to graze the skin soon after. 

he enjoyed seeing your mark on him, violet and maroon splotch’s that meant he was yours. 

his hips grind down mindlessly, rutting desperately against your soft thigh. 

“we have to be quiet,” you mutter into his collarbone, cradling the back of his head in your hands, the feel of your thigh brushes against his ribcage as you shift beneath him. 

“i know,” he breathes, fumbling with his boxers in a desperate attempt to tug them down and feel you.  

“fuck,” almost growling as you bite down onto your bottom lip, “i can’t stop looking at you,” admiring his focused expression, the charcoal lines you’d painted below his eyes. 

“don’t,” fisting his cock, gliding his piece between your slick folds, “keep your eyes on me, darling,” nudging inside, his leaking tip just barely sinking into your cunt before you’re clawing desperately at his clammy neck, gasping into his ear. 

“sh-shit,” speaking in shuddered breaths, praying you won’t wake robin next door. on occasions, he missed the backseat of his bmw, for this very reason. 

he hadn’t heard you so loudly in months, the filthy, x-rated shit you used to growl only came out in whispers now. alas, his back had finally recovered after those weeks of trying to manoeuvre around the tiny backseat of his car and the faint scent of sex had faded. 

your delicate fingers stroke his jaw, panting in succession with his hips. he can see the exact moment the idea springs into your mind, moving your thumb to the plump skin of his bottom lip, itching for him to catch on. 

steve does, always one to please, you especially so. taking your thumb between his lips to suck gently on the digit, he can feel you practically convulse in response. clenching around him, keeping him so tightly wound inside you. 

“holy fuck,” releasing the most animalistic growl alongside your wretched smirk, ogling his face, tracing the curve of his lips with hooded eyes. 

taking his sweet, sweet time tonight, hips rocking at a astonishingly slow pace, hoping to keep you concealing your sweet moans for just a little bit longer. 

adoring the way you keep your eyes trained on him, humming in appreciation when his tongue dances around your thumb. 

your other hand brings his face closer, sliding your thumb down his plump bottom lip to replace it with your lips instead. groaning into his mouth when his hips still and his tongue runs the length of your bottom lip. 

messy and slow, just the way steve liked it. he wasn’t opposed to the hard and fast dynamic you shared either, but this way he could truly feel you, admire your curves and your warmth as it deserved. 

“can’t believe you’re mine,” he grumbles through shared kisses, fingers groping at your doughy hip.

the bed frame creaks as he moves again, disregarding how obvious the sound was to stay in this very moment. he wants to swallow you whole, sucking and nibbling ravenously at your jaw, trailing down to your neck. a safe haven for him to whine loudly. 

“ohh yeah, fuck- all yours,” reassuring him of what he already knew. 

steve shifts your legs, pressing down gently on the backs of your knees to allow himself further, deeper even. your eyes rolling into the back of your head when his cock nestles into your sweet spot. 

“shit baby, feels so fucking good,” murmuring through gritted teeth, his pace faltering as you rut back against him. 

he feels so obscenely close to you, connected in such a way that’ll leave your souls entwined forever. 

you’re close, steve can feel that much. no need for desperate gasps when you made it so obvious every time. you become accustomed to a person’s body when you spend every waking moment with them. 

“give it to me honey,” he pleads, unrelenting with his strokes, desperate for you to come undone beneath him before he lost it all completely. 

your whines become frenzied mewls, panting and sighing into his neck. 

steve’s arms tremble, succumbing to his own climax, especially when your thighs spur him on, entrapping him inside, your cunt clenching, tumbling over the edge with a chorus of pleas and utterances of his names. 

“ohh yeah- oh fuck yeah,” pumping thick ropes of cum into your hole, a decision he’d probably come back to regret. that didn’t matter now, not with you so placid underneath him, clutching onto his damp skin like you’d never let him go. 

he all but collapses, chest to chest, both heaving against one another. you sigh wearily, running your fingers along his shoulder, right up to his cheek, “i don’t think we were very quiet,” chuckling into the warm air. 

he shakes his head, “that’s your fault,” brushing the wisps of hair from your sticky forehead, admiring your spent state. 

“i love you, steve,” saying it aloud for the first time, exasperated but wholly true nonetheless. 

steve chokes on his tongue, the words had laid dormant for months now, only they fail to form at the most crucial time. dumbfounded by your admission as if it weren’t obvious. 

he coughs up a reply, cradling your jaw in his palm, “i love you too.. i really do,” slow brushes of his thumb on your skin, proving his full adoration of you. 

your smile causes his heart to thump, “i know.. but you gotta get off me so i can shower,” gently pushing his dead weight away, rolling out from underneath. 

his heart full of love and affection, you were everything to him and you hadn’t a clue. 

-

steve awakens to your alarm blaring, the weight of your body keeping him anchored to the bed. he peers over your lifeless body to the clock, 7:32 it reads. 

fuck. 

he was late. 

he peels your arm from his side, rolling out of bed to slam his fist on the frankly grating clock. you grumble in response, reaching your arm out for his hand, “don’t go,” murmuring into the pillow as you come around. 

“honey, i’m late,” he coos, pulling his sweatpants on, the remnants of your makeover smeared all over the pillow. “i’ll see you later, okay?” leaning over to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, receiving nothing but a soft hum in response. 

he hadn’t thought any more of his face until he busted through the locker room doors, receiving ten-fold the usual stares he’d get. 

they all snicker amongst themselves, elbowing one another as his heart sinks to his ass. dating you was one thing, wearing makeup was an entirely different thing. 

steve wants to die, far more than he usually does at this time of day. shoving himself into the far corner in hopes that they’d leave him alone enough to allow him to scrub at it. 

“are you wearing eyeliner?” jason perks up, grimacing right in his face. never subtle nor ever caring to be. 

steve shakes his head, his fingers trembling as he drops his bag on the bench, wondering if it’d be easier to just sprint out of here before tommy clocks on. 

too fucking late. 

tommy rounds the corner just as he takes off his shirt, a littering of violet markings scattered across his neck and collarbones. in any other circumstance, he’d show them off, be proud to be claimed by you. 

but not now. not as tommy whistles, scoffing to himself, “holy shit, what’re you fucking a vampire or somethin’?” the quip leaving his lips before he has time to spot the dark rings around his eyes. 

“fuck off,” steve retorts, pulling his jersey over his mop of hair, he’d had no time to style it this morning, treasuring his time with you instead. 

“you wearing makeup?” tommy punches his shoulder, far heavier than steve could brush off as just playful banter, “my god, steve.. she’s turned you into a fucking queer,” his words snide and venomous. 

a tongue so heavy and harsh, steve was genuinely surprised that that was the worst he’d said. 

though it doesn’t lessen the sting, watching the locker room erupt into laughter at his expense. 

tommy doesn’t deserve a reaction, knowing full well that any retaliation would end in a bloody nose and a busted lip. 

everything was new to steve, being the laughed-at rather than the laugher. now he understands why eddie hated him, why robin wasn’t interested in friendship or why people seemed to turn the other way when he was coming. 

it’s dreadful, the whirling nausea in his stomach and the flaming hot feel of his cheeks. nothing could’ve ever prepared him for being on the receiving end of tommy’s abuse. 

he barges past, desperate to just get their mandated practice over with and get the hell away from them all. 

he hadn’t understood it until now, how scared he must have made people feel, how dreadful he must have made their lives- your life. 

and eddie’s. 

steve didn’t deserve you at all, nor the kindness of your friends or your forgiveness for that matter. you deserved better, someone who wouldn’t get uneasy over eyeliner or kept you a secret for the first three months of your relationship. 

steve knows now that he wasn’t ashamed of you, he was scared. 

scared of tommy and his poisonous tongue, his teammates beady, judgemental eyes that saw him- saw you- as less than. 

he can’t face you tonight, unworthy of your warm bed and gentle embrace. questioning whether he had the gall to ever face you again. 

-

music thumps from below, showing no signs of stopping. a few months ago steve would have been right down there with them all, probably letting his mind wander back to you, just like it was doing now. 

he doesn’t like being here much anymore, the boys were too loud, too boisterous for steve to settle properly. the smell of stale beer and shoddily rolled joints lingered in every room, miles apart from your cluttered yet tidy house

he misses your bed, with the clean blankets and the fresh sage and lavender you kept in vases around your room. 

he misses you. 

screw it. 

if he wasn’t going to sleep well here, he might as well go back to where he belongs. shoving clothes into his bag without a second thought, he practically lived with you anyway, his own drawer full of clothes and other random shit he’d accrued. 

the clock reads 1:31, you’d probably be asleep but he’ll try his luck either way, the spare key tucked under the doormat if you really didn’t answer. 

sliding down the stairs and out of the door before anyone could notice him and poke fun at his co-dependency issues. 

it was only a short walk to your place, one he’d done a thousand times by now. passing other students just getting back from the bar or the library, paying him no mind, not like they used to. 

steve prefers it this way, without the notoriety that came with being tommy’s lapdog. 

tommy upset a lot of people, so in their eyes, steve also upset a lot of people. 

he supposes that’s fair, he’d never tried to intervene or stop tommy’s behaviour, a willing participant just by being there. 

he’d got his comeuppance though, what with being shunned by his basketball teammates and now becoming bullied as opposed to the bully. 

fortunately, there’s no time to stew on what his karmic punishment may be, sidling up the cracked path to your front door in record time. 

much to his surprise your light is on upstairs, a faint orange glow from behind the curtain. it settled his raging heart to know you were only seconds away. 

rapping his knuckles lightly against the door, hoping he’ll catch your attention and not robin’s. he could pelt pebbles at your window he supposes, truly old school romance. but he’s not sure how much you’ll appreciate that. 

the thought is futile anyway, he can hear your feet shuffle and creep down the stairs, flickering the lights on as you go. 

inching the door open to peer out, not expecting steve on the other side, “steve? what’re you doing here?” though you don’t sound angry, or even slightly annoyed for that matter. you look relieved that he’s here, after what was clearly a restless night for you too. 

“sorry, i tried.. i missed you too much,” pathetically shrugging his shoulders, “-is that my shirt?” knowing full well that it was. 

your head dips, becoming immediately bashful, “yeah, i missed you, i’m sorry,” pulling at the worn hem, weary eyed and full of sleep. “come in, it’s cold,” tugging him inside by the hand and locking the door behind him.

steve glances up the stairs, he knows the drill by now. traipsing after you like a little lost dog, he can’t help but let his eyes trail down to your thighs, his favourite tattoo of yours, a snake that wrapped around your leg peeks out from under his shirt. 

“and my boxers?” reaching out to brush his hand over your thigh, resisting the urge to pinch and grope like he really wanted. 

“sorry,” flashing a smile over your shoulder, “i told you i missed you,” hushed whispers as you pass robin’s room, her soft snores heard from the hallway. 

“stop saying sorry, i like it,” he mutters, clicking the door closed. back in his domicile, a wave of comfort washing over him immediately. 

“then good,” cradling his cold cheeks, “i’m glad you like it,” placing a soft, docile kiss on his lips,  clutching onto his hip, desperate to keep him close after a torturous twelve hours apart. 

steve hums in appreciation, relishing in the moment, wafts of coconut from your shampoo fill his nose as his chin settles on your head. 

“i don’t think i like sleeping without you anymore,” he’s laughing but he’s deadly serious, he felt empty without you, like a piece of himself was missing. 

there’d never been a time that steve had thought he’d become one of those unhealthy co-dependent people, but now he understands it completely. wanting to share your company constantly, missing your adoring touch and sarcastic jokes at his expense. 

“mhm, you don’t have to,” swaying in the low light, where the edges of you are a little fuzzy but his brain is still too amped up to sleep. 

“did i wake you up?” steve asks, lingering hands on your back before breaking apart. 

you shake your head no, kicking your obnoxiously cliche bunny slippers off under the bed, “i couldn’t sleep.. something was missing but i’m not sure what,” cracking a smile, tucking yourself into the soft blankets. 

ridding himself of his sweatshirt and jeans before crawling on in, right next to you. at peace once more, fatigue seeping through his veins. 

“how was your day?” he asks, settling in to his rightful space. 

your eyes roll back, “same old.. i passed that report i was worried about though, what about you? you look exhausted,” jutting out your bottom lip. 

steve mumbles some half-assed response, something about a long day and being tired but you’re too wise to his tricks, tilting your head when he doesn’t answer your question. 

“what happened?” settling into the bed next to him, “was it tommy again?” pulling the blanket tight around your shoulders, peeking inquisitively over the pillow. 

steve hums, staring at the ceiling, “i forgot to take that makeup off last night,” shrugging, because to most it wasn’t a big deal but people like tommy and jason aren’t in the 90s like the rest of humanity. 

“and they had a problem with that?” you ask, rather naively, because what other reaction would they have? 

“mhm,” he nods, swallowing his hurt, “tommy said some shit.. brought you up, it’s just- stupid, they’re stupid,” not seeing the need to repeat what he had said verbatim but hopefully saying enough for you to understand. 

he can’t see you though he can hear the blanket ruffle, “what’d he say?” 

steve doesn’t want to repeat it. he’s said some stupid things throughout high school but that wasn’t him anymore. 

“he.. he called me a- babe i don’t- i’m not saying it,” turning to face you, pleading with you to understand. “he said you made me.. gay, alright?” 

your brow knits together, doubtful that it were just annoyance and not pure wrath, “what a fucking-,” stopping yourself from saying anything else, that wasn’t the intention, “did it upset you?”

steve contemplates for a second, truthfully, he hadn’t really been able to really articulate his feelings. he wasn’t upset that he’d been called that, more so upset that someone he once called a friend could think so little of him over eyeliner. 

“i don’t know.. i’m not gay- i mean, i don’t have any problem with it, it’s just-,” he sighs, struggling to find the right words, “i dunno, he just said it so.. so angrily.. like it’d be the worst thing in the world if i was.” 

you exhale, not meeting his eye, “tommy’s just.. jealous, he’s intimidated by anyone that isn’t like him,” a concentrated look settles on your face, “he doesn’t have a job or a girlfriend, i mean, he’s barely gonna graduate.. it’s no surprise he’s pissed off that you’ve grown up without him.” 

it’s undeniably the truth, and yet it still hurts. 

this stemmed from tommy’s inability to grow up, and his raging jealousy towards anyone who was actually comfortable enough to be themselves. steve knows what tommy said to you, visiting the bar where you work just to try and get into your pants behind his back. 

he doesn’t hate you, he hates that you don’t care what he thinks of you. and neither does steve. anymore at least. 

“you’re really good at this,” he snickers, reaching over to stroke your cheek, “i don’t say it enough but i really appreciate you.” 

your smile creeps onto your lips, eyes creasing as it grows, “you say it, don’t worry,” leaning into his soft hand, “or you show me, at least,” feeling your smirk against his palm. 

“oh yeah? how do i do that then?” letting his own lips quirk up. 

“hmm lots of ways,” dismissing him with a shake of the head, “like when you kiss my head every morning before you leave orrr..” failing to turn this conversation around, “when you make me cum three times before even thinking about yourself.”

that was honestly just his duty as your boyfriend, your pleasure is paramount and seeing your eyes roll back and your thighs start to tremble meant the world. 

his chuckle bellows, louder than intended. “i’ll always make sure you cum first, don’t worry,” gaze flickering back to the ceiling, contemplating his next words. “even when we’re old and gray,” he’d been thinking it for a while, you deserved to know too. 

“oh?” yawning through your words, “are we going to get old and gray together then?” as if it weren’t a certainty. 

steve hums, unsure of how much detail to divulge, “oh yeah, i’ve got this all planned out,” his tongue clicks against his teeth, “you just have to agree.” 

you laugh sleepily, talking into the soft pillow at this point, “and you think you’re gonna tie me down?” 

he pauses again, “hmm no, i know i’m gonna marry you,” waiting for your reaction to his outlandish claim, though it doesn’t come. 

steve looks over, finding your eyes pressed shut and your mouth slightly open, soft snores floating out and into your room. 

“goodnight then,” reaching over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before flicking the lamp off and settling in. 

he would die a happy man if he got to talk nonsense with you for even one more night. 

-

eddie was hesitant to invite steve, it was his birthday after all. he understood, it’d take a while to earn his trust and respect, that was fair. 

but you were insistent, pestering eddie until he crumbled and said steve could join you all at the bar. so long as he was nice and didn’t bring any trouble. 

easy enough. 

steve keeps with you mostly, trailing around after you like a lost puppy dog. fetching drinks and accompanying you to and from the bathroom. fulfilling any and all boyfriend duties. 

“i’m just going to get another drink,” standing from the booth to shuffle over his legs, “stay here, i won’t be long,” patting his shoulder rather patronisingly. 

oh no. 

robin was in the bathroom, you were going and the two guys that eddie had arrived with were in a heated game of pool inside. leaving him no choice but to talk to him. 

“you’ll be okay, won’t you?” already walking off, leaving him with really no other option but to make awkward small talk with eddie. 

steve can sense how painfully awkward this was about to be, neither of them wanting to acknowledge the other without you here to mediate. 

no doubt some cunning plan of yours to get them talking. 

he determines that being the one to break the silence is the better move, clearing his throat before speaking, “so.. you having a nice birthday?”

“mhm,” short and curt, exactly as he expected. “i’m glad..” clearly struggling to be nice, “glad you could come,” his eyes flicker to the stone floor, “you’re not so bad, actually.” 

wow. 

steve almost falls out of his chair. 

he doesn’t know what to say, eddie had never been so polite, “th-thank you,” eddie already thought of steve as a loser, he didn’t need to make it any worse. 

eddie offers his cigarette carton out to steve, an olivia branch of peace or something. at least that was how steve saw it. it’d be rude not to take one. 

“thanks,” he hums, lighting the cigarette himself before offering his lighter out. 

it’s peaceful, and far less awkward than it had been just twenty minutes ago. maybe they could be friends, they had a common interest after all. 

“you know i used to overcharge you for weed, right?” eddie chuckles, taking a drag of his cigarette, narrowed eyes focused on steve.

he just sighs because yes, you had explained in great detail that thirty dollars was nowhere near the correct price for a gram of weed. “yeah.. she told me,” smiling back through his embarrassment. 

“sorry dude,” he shrugs, though it sounds completely insincere, “but you deserved it,” stubbing out the embers of his cigarette. 

“yeah, that’s fair,” he’d done far worse, he’s sure. 

just as they collapse into laughter, you and robin swan back through the door, carrying a tray of what looked like tequila. 

“absolutely not,” eddie cries out, watching robin grin as you hand them out. 

“it’s your birthday! don’t be so bor-“ interrupted as the door swings open again, a chorus of voices steve unfortunately recognised following suit. 

tommy, and his new lackeys stumble in, catching sight of your little party immediately. 

“this is sweet,” he mocks, “where was my invite, stevie? i thought we were best friends!” his tone patronising and his eyes narrow and dark, just as they were in the locker room. 

steve doesnt meet his eye, his didn’t deserve that respect. “we should go..” finding your infuriated gaze instead, noticing your clenched jaw. 

this wasn’t a fight worth having. 

tommy’d win whatever happened. 

“leaving so soon? but we just got here!” sneering at your silenced group, “c’mon man, where’s your hospitality?” swaggering over to the table, an overbearing grin that steve wants to wipe right off of his face. 

he won’t. of course. 

this is eddie’s birthday and tommy’s thoughtless stunts won’t get in the way of him becoming friends with your friends. 

but eddie’s up before steve can do anything about it, fist drawn back until it quickly meets tommy’s nose, a loud crack and a guttural groan follows. 

tommy grabs his nose, only to pull it back stained red, “what the fuck man!” staggering backwards like he didn’t deserve that and worse. 

eddie turns, entirely unfazed by his actions, “i think we should go home,” finding each of your eyes. he didn’t look ashamed, or even slightly concerned about the blossoming bruises on his knuckles, instead, he was proud. 

steve can’t sling his arm around him fast enough, stumbling out of the bar in sheer shock that that had really just happened. someone had finally shown tommy hagan up. 

“thanks man,” steve mutters into his ear, watching as you and robin attempt to hail a cab. 

eddie claps his hand against steve’s back, shaking his head slightly, “that wasn’t just for you,” his eyes trained on your back, “but her too.” 

their shared affection for you had been their means to come together, steve can recognise that eddie only ever wanted what was best for you. and now he thinks that eddie might just see that he was worthy enough to be that.

[izanacore]

“casual” | manjiro sano x reader

chapter twenty-one point five 𓂃⋆.˚

synopsis: a no-strings-attached arrangement between a party girl and a frat boy turns messy when mikey falls first. but when (y/n) runs from love, she loses him for good—until fate brings them back together, years too late.

characters: manjiro “mikey” sano, fem!reader

warnings: angst, heartbreak, fwb dynamics, explicit content, crack, fluff, jealousy, insecurities, themes of regret, alcohol use, violence, bullying, depression

addtional warnings: smut (18+), explicit sexual content, soft smut, possessiveness, marking

notes: happy days are starting… or ending?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

chapter twenty-one point five

their lips parted, but mikey didn’t pull away. he held her close, as if she were something fragile—something precious. his hands, usually so rough, moved with a gentleness that felt almost foreign as he slowly slipped the strap of her nightgown down her shoulder. his lips followed the path of exposed skin, pressing warm, lingering kisses against her.

his hands explored her body, but never with urgency. every touch was slow, deliberate—like he was memorizing her, like he was afraid he might break her if he wasn’t careful.

“i want you so bad, y/n…” mikey whispered, voice thick with longing as he caged her in his arms, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her neck, marking her in ways only he could.

y/n’s breath hitched, her body reacting instinctively as she slowly ground against him, desperate for more. her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

mikey groaned, barely holding himself back as he carefully laid her down beneath him. but as he hovered over her, something unfamiliar settled in his chest. this was new. this wasn’t like the countless nights he’d spent with other women, the meaningless touches, the selfish pleasure. he had never been careful before, never cared about anything but chasing his own high. but with her—with y/n—it was different. she was the only one who had ever made him feel this way, the only one he wanted to take his time with.

he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“manjiro, it’s okay,” y/n whispered, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “take me however you want… i’m not fragile.”

mikey hovered above her, his dark eyes searching hers, tracing every delicate feature as if committing them to memory.

“i know,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath. “but i don’t ever wanna hurt you.”

y/n’s heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice. she had never seen him like this before—so unguarded, so vulnerable, especially in a moment like this. he wasn’t just giving her his body; he was giving her a piece of himself, something raw and unspoken. she reached up, cupping his face, her thumb brushing over his cheek as she gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

just this once, she’d let herself fall. just this once, she’d let him have her like this.

mikey’s hands moved slowly—almost torturously—as they traced the curve of her waist, sliding down to her hips before slipping between her thighs. his touch was deliberate, featherlight, making y/n shudder beneath him. when his fingers hooked around the waistband of her panties, he took his time pulling them down, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

“fuck…” he breathed, pressing her thighs apart as he kissed the sensitive skin, open-mouthed and slow. his tongue traced patterns against her, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. but it wasn’t just the way he kissed her—it was the way he watched her. his gaze locked onto hers, filled with something deeper than hunger.

y/n smirked, tilting her head slightly, letting him see exactly how much she wanted this. wanted him.

mikey didn’t look away as he shifted lower, his face now between her thighs. the first slow lick of his tongue against her core sent a jolt through her. if she could’ve cum right then and there, she would have—because manjiro fucking sano, with his dark, lust-filled eyes and his teasing smirk, was a sight to behold.

“oh, god… so fucking good, manjiro…” y/n moaned, her back arching as his tongue worked her expertly, his lips sealing over her sensitive bundle of nerves.

mikey groaned against her, the vibrations making her whimper as she instinctively rolled her hips, grinding against his face. he didn’t stop her. if anything, he encouraged it, his grip tightening on her thighs as he let her use him, his tongue never relenting.

“manjiro… i need you… inside… please…” y/n whimpered, desperation thick in her voice.

mikey chuckled against her heat, the sound sending another wave of pleasure through her. but before giving in, he pressed one last slow, languid lick against her core, making her body tremble.

then, without a word, he trailed hot kisses up her abdomen—slow, teasing presses of his lips from her stomach to the valley between her breasts. each kiss was deliberate, like he was worshiping every inch of her.

by the time he reached her lips, y/n was already pulling him down, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him deeply. their smiles melted into the kiss, breaths mixing, bodies pressing closer, the air thick with something far more intoxicating than just lust.

mikey helped her out of her clothes, his hands moving with deliberate care before stripping himself bare.

he guided himself to her entrance, positioning himself carefully as his dark eyes locked onto hers. and then, slowly, he pushed inside.

the feeling nearly knocked the breath out of y/n. he stretched her so perfectly, filled her in a way that made her moan without restraint.

before he even moved, mikey intertwined their fingers, squeezing her hand like he never wanted to let go. “want to be the only one to hold you like this…” his voice was deep, tinged with something possessive. was it because of what he saw earlier? her and izana holding hands?

before she could respond, mikey began to move. his thrusts were steady, deep, unhurried—like he wanted to feel her, like he was claiming her in a way words couldn’t. his lips found hers, capturing her in a kiss that was just as intense as the way he moved inside her.

this was different. nothing like their usual hookups. for the first time, it felt like they were making love. every movement, every breath, every kiss held something deeper, something neither of them dared to name.

and yet, in this moment, nothing else mattered. not the past. not the future. just this. just them.

without warning, mikey shifted, sitting up against the headboard and pulling her on top of him, still buried deep inside.

y/n gasped, hands tangling in his hair as mikey held her close, one hand splayed against her back, the other gripping her thigh. he rolled his hips up into her, his breath hitching at the feeling.

“fuck, y/n… ugh… ugh…” his groans were raw, desperate, sending a shiver down her spine.

“manjiro…” she moaned, before leaning in, capturing his lips in another kiss—deeper, needier. she moved with him, chasing that high, her body burning from the intensity of it all.

mikey’s grip on her tightened. “i’ll never let you go…”

his mouth found her collarbone, then the curve of her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin before he sucked at the tender spot, leaving marks—his marks.

“mine.” his voice was a growl against her skin. “not izana’s… not anyone else’s…” his lips pressed against each fresh mark, punctuating his words with each claim.

y/n shuddered at the possessiveness laced in his voice. so that’s what this was about. izana had gotten to him more than she realized. and for some reason, she felt the need to reassure him, to tell him that she wasn’t going anywhere. she didn’t want to.

but words failed her, so instead, she kissed him—hungrily, desperately, as if she could pour all of her unspoken thoughts into him.

“ugh… i’m close, manjiro…” she gasped between kisses, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“fuck… me too,” mikey groaned. “wanna cum together…”

she nodded, arms wrapping around his neck as she buried her face against his shoulder. the pleasure was overwhelming, her body trembling, her vision blurring with unshed tears. “ugh… manjiro!!”

mikey groaned, head thrown back as his thrusts grew erratic, and within a few more deep strokes, they both came undone together.

they stayed like that, tangled in each other, catching their breaths as the weight of what just happened settled between them.

this was the most intense, most real thing they’d ever shared. for the first time, it wasn’t about lust—it was about something deeper, something neither of them could ignore anymore. feelings they’d spent so long burying had finally bled into every touch, every kiss, every whispered moan.

y/n slowly lifted her head, and as their foreheads touched, she knew—this moment had changed everything.

chapter twenty-one | chapter twenty-two

[hooked-on-elvis]

That edit killed me. 🥹🥹🥹 I see footages of fans crying copiously after seeing Elvis, specially after the show ended and he's no longer onstage. And they cry in a way it literally seems like someone died. It's funny but I SO understand them! Now we know all about how he reacted to that - sometimes he just laughed in disbelief, he was only a human being (at least in his own eyes) but then, there's that story of a fan fainting when she met him in the lobby of a hotel in (I guess) Florida, 1956. He asked for his friends and the people inside his room to help get her comfortable on the sofa until she came back and he was there, looking at her, stroking her hand. And when she came back, he was still there to ask if she was okay - and after all was said and done, he asked her not to faint when they met again. It seems like just a made-up story, but it's not. And it didn't happen only once... He was SO HUMBLE, SO DOWN TO EARTH, he never got used, NEVER GOT USED IN +20 YEARS BEING ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS PEOPLE ALIVE, with the fans commotion. And the funny thing is: We only know a few stories! We can't possibly read and watch and hear from all those fans who crossed paths with Elvis the things they could tell us. IF THIS GUY WAS THIS AMAZING, I FEEL SORRY, I FEEL SORRY AS HELL FOR NOT HAVING THE GREAT PLEASURE TO SHARE A SECOND OF LIFE WITH HIM. I write in capital letters because that's really screaming inside of me all the time: I LOVE ELVIS! I know he wasn't perfect but this guy was so lovable it's hard to understand how a human being can inspire these feelings in people who never saw him, didn't even live in his own time. You gotta be an angel to do that... There's some magic in him we can't put our fingers on. It's weird and amazing. He was... Unique. Literally unique. How I wish I could forge my own dreams... I would dream of him every night. Just to get the feeling. Yes, we can never repay Elvis for none of this. If anybody is in Heaven, it is him - so I hope he can feel our love and deep respect for him. God bless his sweet, sweet spirit. 🩵

DEAR @heart-of-ep, I guess we'll keep this rolling for a while. Hahahahaha. SO MUCH LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!

Celebs are really not made of what they used to anymore.

I just watched a celeb gossip content on Youtube in which this huge Hollywood star harassed a poor girl because she filmed her in the same hotel lobby that she was. I was like, "seriously?" Celebs want to walk and not be noticed anymore? I think there's limits we have to have in order not to invade other people's privacy, even if they are famous, because that's the right way to go, but sometimes celebs behave so weird. The girl was filming this one actress from afar, not right on her face with a phone, screaming or something. The girl told on Tik Tok that when she was leaving the hotel this celeb follows her, says 'hi' in a way to call her attention when all of her security guards start to circle her and her mom's car, filming and taking pictures of them and the plaque's licence of their car. This is too much. I would cry, I would get desperate, seriously... Was she going to call the cops now? Did this poor girl committed a crime by recording her walking in a hotel lobby with her husband?

Of course I thought about Elvis. I know, maybe he should've preserved his privacy some more, the guy was filmed everywhere, doing anything (horseback riding in his own home, sunbathing, riding carts, with friends having fun in amusement parks... it was insane!), but he was always so understanding about where this all came from, why the people wanted to film or take pictures of him... he knew it came from a place of love and amazement too, not from wanting to be invasive or hurt him and his image in any way.

I mean, I'm a huge fan of Elvis Presley but some people don't have the slightest idea of how much of himself as a human being - his privacy - he gave up. And although I feel protective of him, I am also so grateful he only poured love on the fans following him around, never being nasty and rude and telling them to fuck off or having bodyguards throwing them out of his sight, instead he was really what you expect a celebrity should be. Humble, kind, understanding, cute, generous with his time and image. Most of all, he did all of this because he was grateful for the people who put him in that position, who gave him everything he had. He said that in many different ways, like, "If they want the shirt I'm wearing, they can have it."

It's complicated. I believe celebs have to have their privacy respected. Like what happened to Amy Winehouse and before her, Britney Spears. Paparazzi harassment is never good, specially when they're after someone to mock them in gossip columns, but this case I mentioned has nothing to do with this kind of disrespect, it was a fan filming a celebrity in the same lobby as her in a hotel... It is understanding it's not something that happens to you everyday, so why bother so much with the fan?

This is just something random I felt like sharing my thoughts.

[teddybeartoji]

aizawa loves it when you get on his lap and grind and hump him until you're cumming when he's still fully clothed.... he'll hold your waist and he'll help you keep your pace and he'll guide you to and through your high all while just watching you because that's really all he needs

[bunnigumi]

─ A LITTLE BIT HARDER NOW!

WHEN HE PULLS BACK theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that.

cw. megumi x reader , stomach bulge , tummy pressing , size kink

Right now, Megumi has his grab on your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh, thumbs circling pink bites on the inner sides. It's a routine that's starting to become familiar. Your hips are slightly lifted up from the bed, and he really cant explain why, but when he can see the outline of his dick through your stomach, he absolutely loses it.

You were horrified at the sight when you first saw it, but Megumi on the other hand? He was turned on the most he's been in his entire life.

He just loves pressing on the bulge in your little tummy. Its addicting—watching you squirm and whine and protest with little results. Seeing the way you cant decide if you want to stray from his touch or arch further into it. Loving how big his dick is compared to you.

"Fuck baby," he breathes out in awe. "See that? Feel it? Can you feel my cock deep inside you?" He groans as he pulls out all the way just to slam back into you, starting a fast, rough pace that doesn't seem to let up and makes the sound of sticky arousal totally embarrassing.

A hand retreats from where it's holding up your thigh to grab one of your own hands, wrestling the grip you have on crumpled sheets and guiding it down to your stomach.

"Wha- nghh, M'gumi, don't—!" A long, drawn out moan escapes your lips before the rest of your complaint can. Your hand is trembling, and too weak to escape his grab.

"C'mon sweet girl, don't you like how full I can make you feel?" He coos.

Your head falls to the side, attempting to push your face into the soft pillows, "N-noo... feels so weird..." The drawn out nature of your words make you sound unsure. Megumi doesn't believe that you don't like it, because oh, he knows you do.

"Awwh... you sure you don't like it, baby?" He says, faux innocence laced in his sweet tone. You pout. You know what he's doing to you, and hes so wrong for it. He leans in closer, tilting his head, teasing you so you get all embarrased—hot and flustered. "I should just pull out then if it's too much."

You shake your head so fast you almost get dizzy, unable to form any coherent words. Only small uh-uh's make it past your moans.

It's too hot. Megumi is so, very close to you right now. You're able to feel the radiating warmth of his body, his breath against your ear. With the added weight of his teasing, it becomes far too invading. You bury your face deeper into the pillows.

When you get like that, the heat always pressures you into spilling whatever you don't want to say—always. You make for a terrible, terrible liar.

"What about when I do it like this?" You face him again with curiosity. Your brows are furrowed, sweat beads down your hairline. Glossy eyes search his face in confusion in the cutest way ever before dilating in panic.

He adds more pressure and forces your hand harder onto your stomach, closing the little distance seperating the two of you to kiss you sloppily. You make a noise of shock, whining as he continues to knead your hand onto it.

Your cries melt back into the sound of pleasure, moaning into the kiss, your whining dying down.

When he pulls back theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that. "Tell me how much you love it," he taunts.

When you're like this, you're able to feel all of him. Able feel every single thrust just grazing your cervix, senses going into overdrive as you subconsiously stop trying to fight his hold on your hand with the little to no strength you were using to begin with.

"I, hahh, love it! Love your cock s-so much! Feel so full... hah- aah—!" With one last thrust, your back arches, core unraveling around his length. Walls tightening, spasming in a way that makes Megumi spill all his praises. As your chest heaves heavily, your abdomen flexes and tightens, revealing the silhouette of your boyfriend's cock stuffed inside of you even clearer now.

The corner of his mouth quirks up in pride, "I bet you do, baby. I fuckin' bet."

He really should start doing this more often.

[succubusvalentine]

Part two of Simon Riley with a user who kidnaps herself. CW: Cunnilingus, Somnophilia, PiV, they're both a bit crazy, brief mention of blood (in a ring) part one here if you missed it!

Simon was currently stood over his bed. Staring at you. Under his covers.

You smelled so good too. Simon didn't want to get in bed and disrupt the scent of you with his own. He'd never forgive himself.

It was strange. Simon thought that if you found out he was stalking you, you would scream, call the cops, anything but this.

Maybe you were as crazy as he was. A thought that both terrified and excited Simon. Although the excitement definitely weighed out.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon merely watched you as days went by. He watched you eat, watch tv, sleep, bathe. And it didn't creep you out in the slightest.

You knew there was always an adjustment period when two people moved in together. So you let him watch you. He was like a wary cat. It was rather cute.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"You can get in bed, you know" you hum tiredly one night. Opening your eyes and looking up at the behemoth of a man that would have terrified anyone else if they saw him watching them sleep.

"Don't want to make the bed smell like me when it smells like you"

"If you cuddle me you'd be close enough to smell me really good"

Simon stared. Brows furrowing in thought. Before he gives in.

Simon awkwardly slid into the bed next to you, tensing slightly when you grabbed his arms and wrapped them around your waist.

But as soon as Simon seemed to understand that he was touching you and you wanted him to keep touching you, he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pulling you flush against him with your legs around his thick waist so he could bury his face into your chest.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After that, Simon could barely keep his hands off you. As soon he got home from base, he would find you somewhere in his home and wrap his arms around you. Refusing to let go for at least ten minutes.

He also gave you the best head you'd ever received. Definitely a bonus.

Every guy you'd been with before Simon, treated the act like a chore. Lazily licking you until raising their head and asking if you'd finished yet.

Simon though? He does it for his own pleasure.

Simon will find you wherever you're lazing about the house. Drop to his knees. And go to town.

Sucking on your clit until your legs shook, moving his head down to lick the wet slick coming from your hole. The first time he shoved his tongue in your hole to taste more of you? You nearly screamed as you came unexpectedly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

And the way Simon fucks? You could barely think a coherent thought afterwards.

Sure, the first time you two fucked Simon came almost as soon as he thrust into you. But you couldn't blame him. He was fucking the woman he'd been stalking for over a year. He was bound to get overwhelmed.

Now though, Simon could fuck you for multiple rounds. There'd been times you had to call out of work because you either couldn't walk, or your body was so exhausted afterwards.

And after telling Simon it was okay to fuck you while you were asleep? He was even worse. The amount of times you woke up to Simon fucking into you while cuddling you and drooling into your shoulder was immense. But you loved it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon's favourite part of you being his sweet little stalker, was that sometimes he would tell you he's going out. And then he would see you in the corner of his eye.

But Simon's favouritest part of his favourite part, was when he would go out with his team, and they'd point it out. Unfortunately it only happened a few times. The team getting used to seeing you watching Simon from afar. But whenever Simon noticed you, he got the stupidest smile on his face. Knowing he was definitely going to marry you. Propose to you with a ring where the gemstone was made of his own blood.

"tha' lass been followin' us bar tae bar all nigh'" Soap muttered. The rest of the team being concerned.

"Yeah" Simon grinned dumbly "she's the best ain't she?"

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Simon was just over the moon that you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. And you moving into his home unannounced had to be the most romantic thing Simon had ever experienced in his life. You were perfect for him.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

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guys I was even super nice and tagged a few reblogs that seemed super into this + made me giggle when reading. So so sorry if some of the tags didn't work/if I forgot someone. Feel free to scream at me in the comments if I did <3

just wanted to credit @feline-flame-fatale for the second last paragraph of this. Their comment was honestly perfect for this. Thank them in the comments RIGHT NOW.