#his front teeth are so fucking adorable

[viktors-sternomastoid]

Viktor's front teeth are the cutest - 2/?

Extras

[webism]

pornstar!nanami who has a signature style to his videos—all of which are solo content consisting of him, manspreading in front of the camera in an awfully expensive suit. as his hands trace the muscles of his thighs, the seams of his trousers, the outline of his hardened cock.

pornstar!nanami who always takes his time getting to the good stuff, his voice silken as he speaks to those watching him. praise falls from his lips, which are always just out of view—the man doesn't dare show his face. something about professionalism and all.

pornstar!nanami whose videos usually end with him cumming into his closed fist, or into a toy if he's feeling so inclined. as a long time viewer of him, you've come to learn a few things about how he orgasms—he always bucks his hips up, chasing that instinct to breed. he always moans like he's in heat just before his climax, but because he's not great with breathing through his orgasms he chokes up just as he falls over the edge—it's a pretty sound.

pornstar!nanami who sometimes gets messy with it—he's such an organised and ritualistic man in his day-to-day that he sometimes just wants to let loose. sometimes, he'll only pull his cock out of his pants through the fly, and let the world watch as his precum dribbles all over those pressed pants of his. oh and does he go feral knowing that he's dirtying something so expensive with the receipts of his lust. who will stroke himself to completion just to watch his cum stain the fabric he's worked so hard to afford—there's no explaining that away to a drycleaner.

pornstar!nanami who likes to imagine it's a pretty thing riding his thigh that wrecks his trousers. wonders how many of his viewers touch themselves to his videos, hoping the could take him for all he's worth as well.

pornstar!nanami who, after a particularly messy session one day, gets an email after uploading his video. it's not even been ten minutes, which was the length of his video, so he assumes whoever has emailed him came particularly fast to that one.

pornstar!nanami who was more than right in his assumption. because as his eyes rake over the email sent by an adoring fan, he sees about a million different typos that indicate nothing other than messy fingers and a fucked-dumb typist. in your barely legible email, you explain that Mr. Nanamis videos are tagged 'near-you', and you'd happily offer your services as the next sex toy he uses to fuck-and-film in exchange for an orgasm or three.

and oh is pornstar!nanami intrigued. because his life is a busy one, he's a businessman when the sun is up time is precious and human connection is a scheduling conflict—his videos aren't solo out of preference, poor nanami, the pornstar, is a virgin.

pornstar!nanami who, after a few weeks of back and forth and some genuine conversation, ends up with his camera flashing red as you sit naked on his lap. and oh are you happy with the sight of him, blonde and sculpted to perfection underneath those lovely suits of his. Your ass is on display to anyone watching, upper half out of shot as your teeth clash with his.

pornstar!nanami who can't help the sounds he makes when you grind against his clothed cock. your slick, your pooling lust, it smears over the fabric of his pants and leaves a gloss behind in turn. he's ravenous, holding onto your hips and grinding you down against him in all the right ways. who moans into your mouth, already a little pussydrunk and he's barely had a taste of you.

pornstar!nanami who hopes he isn't unseemly in the way he manhandles you to sit properly on his lap. he knows you're as desperate as he is, what with the way you slip your hands down to undo his belt and pull his cock free. your fingers wrapped around his length is enough of a narcotic to cum on the spot, though he steadies his reeling mind and holds out.

pornstar!nanami who offers to fuck you on his fingers first, to use his tongue to warm you up and get you ready for his, frankly overbearing, size. but you're insistent, eager, and lowering yourself onto his aching cock with a kiss to his lips and a sharp inhale shared between you.

pornstar!nanami who thanks whatever god may be out there for letting him film a glimpse of heaven.

pornstar!nanami who can barely keep himself together as you ride him like he's the toy at hand. he's sure he's never been this vocal for his viewers, moaning alone is a feat that is hot at best and hauntingly awkward at worst—this, though—he's never been so mindless. and you love it. all the videos you've watched where his voice is smooth and confident and he's the picture of put-together. having such a man, a gentleman like nanami, absolutely melting with each clench of your dripping pussy around his length? it's an aphrodisiac in itself.

and when you catch onto the fact that pornstar!nanami is about to cum—the bucking of his hips, those drawling moans, the hitch of his breath—you kiss him stupid, and then speak against his pretty swollen lips. 'breathe'

and oh does pornstar!nanami breathe. a desperate droning moan escapes his breath, right into your mouth as he empties himself inside of you like he's trying to give you his last name.

pornstar!nanami who can't help himself. flipping you over and onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as he continues to fuck into you. he's going to pull as many orgasms out of you as he can—it doesn't even register in his mind that, due to the new angle of your bodies, he's just let the world see his face, and the pretty pussy drunk blush that paints it pink.

[geneviveleocardius]

“kiss, fuck, or kill—

price, ghost, or könig?”

you had no idea how a silly game during downtime could spiral into this. the question had been innocent enough: “kiss, fuck, or kill—price, ghost, or könig?” you’d laughed, brushing off the idea, but soap had insisted, his grin wicked as he leaned in, waiting for your answer. the others in the room chuckled, the atmosphere light and playful.

“fine,” you had relented, rolling your eyes but secretly enjoying the attention. “i’d kiss könig. he’s just… so sweet and adorable. i really like him.”

soap hooted with laughter while könig, sitting off to the side, froze mid-drink. you’d missed the way his ears turned crimson under his hood.

“fucking ghost, though,” you added, biting your lip without realizing it. “he’s so… hot. just looking at him turns me on.”

ghost, who had been leaning against the far wall, tilted his head slightly. you didn’t notice the way his dark eyes sharpened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his gaze.

“and price?” soap asked, barely containing his laughter.

“oh, i’m killing price,” you said, laughing. “he’s like a father figure to me. no way i could think of him any other way.”

the room had erupted in laughter, soap practically crying with amusement. you thought that was the end of it.

you were wrong.

a few days later, you found yourself cornered in the dimly lit storage room. könig and ghost stood in front of you, both men radiating a heat that made your pulse race. you didn’t know how it happened, but the door was closed, and the air felt heavy, charged.

“so,” ghost started, his deep voice laced with amusement, “fuck me because i’m hot, yeah?”

your throat went dry, your eyes darting between them. könig’s hood hid most of his face, but his eyes were locked on you, intense and burning with something you couldn’t quite place.

“and what about me?” könig asked, his voice softer but no less filled with tension. “adorable? sweet? you like me?”

“i—” you stammered, taking a step back until your spine hit the wall.

ghost chuckled darkly, stepping closer. “you really thought that little game wouldn’t reach us?”

könig moved in as well, his massive frame towering over you. “we couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he murmured, his voice low and thick. “you choosing us… the way you said it.”

“and now,” ghost added, his gloved hand reaching out to brush your cheek, “we’re gonna give you exactly what you want.”

your breath hitched as könig’s hands found your waist, his touch gentle but firm. “so pretty,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. it was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring you. his hands slid up your sides, tracing your curves with reverence.

behind you, ghost’s body pressed close, trapping you between them. his hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. “she likes it rough,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear.

könig pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with adoration. “tell me if it’s too much, schatz,” he said softly, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

ghost chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “she’s tougher than she looks. aren’t you, love?”

before you could respond, könig’s lips were on yours again, his kiss deep and consuming. his hands roamed your body, gentle yet possessive, while ghost’s hands moved to your thighs, pulling you back against him.

you felt ghost’s teeth sink into the curve of your neck, a low growl rumbling from his chest. “so good for us,” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with hunger.

könig’s kisses trailed down your jaw, his hands lifting your shirt to expose more of your skin. he pressed soft, worshipful kisses along your collarbone, his touch so tender it made your heart ache.

meanwhile, ghost’s grip on your hips tightened as he positioned you against him. “gonna mark you up, sweetheart,” he growled, his lips trailing hot kisses down the back of your neck. “everyone’s gonna know you’re ours.”

könig’s voice was a soothing counterpoint to ghost’s roughness. “you’re perfect,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your temple. “so beautiful. i’ll take care of you.”

your head spun as the two of them worked in tandem, ghost’s rough dominance balanced by könig’s soft, attentive care. you felt every kiss, every touch, every whispered word, and it was overwhelming in the best way.

“you said it yourself,” ghost murmured against your skin, his hands gripping your waist as he slammed against you. “..you want us.”

könig’s lips brushed yours again, his voice soft but firm. “and we want you, schatz. always.”

the hours blurred together, their attention leaving you trembling and breathless. ghost’s gruff dominance and könig’s tender care were a perfect storm, leaving you marked and utterly claimed. by the time they finally let you rest, you were sure of one thing—your little confession had changed everything.

and neither of them would let you forget it.

[xxsabitoxx]

Stay Quiet

Yuta x Fem! Reader Smut / characters are 18+

Warnings: semi-public sex, hotel sex, sex with someone else sleeping in the room, titty worship, raw sex, creampies, squirting

A/N: Baby boy is backkkkkk _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): since I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write smut… here is a smut imagine :D

Word count: 1.7k

“Y-yuta~”

Your back is arching into him, hand slapping over your mouth to try and suppress your whimpers. Your boyfriend isn’t listening to your quiet pleas, his head under your shirt, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples.

His only response is stopping his sucking to bite instead, earning a sharp cry from your lips that you quickly try and smother. Beside you, the bed is rustling as Inumaki tosses and turns in his sleep.

Not even a vacation with long time friends in a shared hotel room with two beds would stop Yuta from having his way with you. So long as you kept quiet…

“Yuta please…” you begging him, tone soft but labored as his hand tightened its grip on your side. Still, he didn’t respond, mouth far too preoccupied to speak.

You could only imagine the mess he was making, littering your skin in bruises and saliva to make you his. He’s always adored your breasts, both in the sexual and non-sexual sense. Sometimes he just needed to hold them, other times he needed to fuck them.

You never complained, not when he worshiped you the way he did… the way he was right now.

You could feel your eyes threatening to roll back, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud as his thigh pressed further to your covered cunt. You were soaked, Yuta could feel the dampness through your night shorts as they pressed into his bare thigh.

Yuta left your breast alone, kissing the bruises he left before turning his head to the one he had been neglecting. It sent a whole new wave of pleasure through you, hand pressing to your mouth tighter as you couldn’t contain your whine.

He nipped at your skin, just hard enough to leave teeth indents that would turn into pretty bruises.

Your hips jerked as he bite down on your nipple, pain and pleasure making you clench around nothing. Your cunt dragged along his thigh, too many layers separating you to gain any real satisfaction from the friction.

“A-at least fuck me, Yuta.” You begged him, hand slotting back over your mouth as he sucked your neglected nipple. Still, you were left with no response, nothing but his hips jerking against your abdomen told you that he had heard your quiet plea.

You felt him, hard and heavy resting on your abdomen, straining in his briefs. If it weren’t for the sheer amount of body heat from being under the covers, you’d have been able to to feel the wet patch forming on the front of him.

Yuta indulged himself further, practically moaning as his hips rolled against you. “N-not fair.” You breathed, one of your hands coming down to rest on top of his head, not able to reach his hair since he was protected by your shirt. “So hot… Yuta I’m hot…”

You knew it was useless, he wasn’t going to stop anything he was doing until he was good and ready.

You could feel it though, your skin was starting to turn slick with sweat. So was Yuta’s, but that didn’t seem to phase him at all. Not when he was lathering your breast with his tongue and whining as he rut his hips against your abdomen.

So needy yet so controlling.

It was a dizzying mix, being completely at his mercy.

Your hips rolled against his thigh, trying to create some sort of relief since he was purposely ignoring you. Three rolls of your hips and Yuta’s grip was tightened, stopping you from moving all together as he released your nipple with a soft pop.

“So fucking needy.”

He practically seethed, pulling his head out from under your shirt to glare at you. “M-me?” You whisper yelled, face warm from anger and need. “Yes you.” Yuta shot back, the anger on his face didn’t concern you.

Not when you could feel his cock twitching.

“We’re both needy, you’re just mean, Yuta.” Your lip wobbled, head turning to look at the other hotel bed. Inumaki had seemed to settle into a deep sleep, back facing the two of you.

“Eyes on me.”

You shivered involuntarily, head turning back to face Yuta in record time. “If I fuck you, you need to keep quiet.” You nodded eagerly, but Yuta wasn’t satisfied.

“Promise me you’ll stay quiet.” You felt your breathing stop, taking a moment to start again as you quietly whispered “I promise.” Yuta still seemed skeptical.

“I still don’t believe you.” He mumbled as he began pulling down his briefs, just enough for his cock to spring free. “Yuta I mean it.” You whined, hands rushing to yank your sleep shorts and panties off for him.

“You’re never quiet, pretty girl.” Warmth flooded you, causing you to suck your lip between your teeth as your hips raised. Yuta helped you despite scolding you, tossing the two clothing items off to the side.

“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll stop.”

You nodded, taking your vow to silence literally as his fist wrapped around his cock. Your legs spread further to accommodate him, cunt throbbing with the desire for him to be inside of you.

“Tell me you understand, pretty girl.”

He froze just as he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you further by prolonging what you needed. “I understand, Yuta.” And he pressed in, watching your mouth fall open as your chest rose and froze.

You were good, holding in the moan that was threatening to burst your lungs as he sunk deep. Your cunt had no resistance, swallowing his cock whole as he bottomed out inside of your tight heat. “Good girl.” He groaned.

Your hands found their way to his biceps, nails digging into his muscles as your legs locked around his hips. You managed to exhale the breath you had been holding, barely making a noise louder than a pant.

Yuta wasted no time, hips drawing back and snapping forward. Your head fell back against the pillow, mouth open as a quiet gasp left you. He was focused, head dipping down to watch where he appeared and disappeared inside of you.

Never mind being mindful of the noises you were making, Yuta had to be mindful of the noises your bodies made. Anything louder than the squelching and bed creaking and he was certain Inumaki would be waking up.

But it was hard to be rational when your cunt was suctioning to him, velvety walls begging to milk him for all he was worth. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

Every drag of his cock had you arching, scratching at his biceps as sweat dripped down your brow. You couldn’t think straight, breath catching in your lungs every few thrusts as you tried to ignore the urge to scream his name. “K-kiss me.” You managed to choke out.

It certainly wasn’t a whisper, the rustling in the bed over confirmed that. Yuta dropped lower, practically draping his body over you, hips rolling slowly rather than thrusting as he slotted his lips over yours.

Still, he was listening, silently praying Inumaki wouldn’t wake up because dammit he was certain he wouldn’t be able to stop fucking you even if he did.

“Y-Yuta-“ it was muffled, swallowed whole by his tongue slipping past your lips. You gave in, nearly melting into the mattress from his weight settling on you, the close proximity causing his pubic bone to brush your clit.

You felt it then, molten hot arousal pooling in your gut as he offered to the slightest bit of relief.

Yuta pulled away, saliva keeping your lips connected. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. He almost woke up.” You nodded, eyes so bleary and lips so swollen that he couldn’t bring himself to really scold you.

Yuta found his pace again, hips smacking into yours and creating a soft slap that was just barely muffled by the hotel comforter. He was struggling to contain his own noises as your cunt clenched around him, one of your hands falling away from his bicep to sneak between you.

“Rub your clit for me, pretty girl. Make yourself cum on my cock.” It was a whisper but it seemed to echo off the walls of your skull, rendering you completely speechless.

You did as he asked, hand slipped down to feel your soaked cunt, rubbing your clit in face circles as Yuta’s cock stroked your sweet spot. “Make yourself cum on my cock, please. You know how much I love that.”

You nodded, mouth hanging open as breathless pants slipped past. They were quiet enough to not wake Inumaki but if anyone were to enter the room, it would be painfully obvious what was happening.

Yuta watched you, eyes torn between watching your tits bounce with each thrust and watching where his cock kept disappearing inside of you. It was utterly entrancing, making him gasp as his cock twitched violently within your walls.

“I’m gonna cum, pretty girl. Cum with me please.”

His voice cracked, face sweaty and flushed as he begged you so sweetly. It sent electricity straight down your spine, clit throbbing as your orgasm built. The thrusts got harder, a little sloppier… and louder.

Not that Yuta could care in that moment, he seemed to forget everything he had been drilling in your head as he moaned your name. You whined, eyes widening at the volume of his voice as your walls clenched again.

You were close, fueled by the feeling of his cock twitching deep inside of you. “Cum with me, please.”

Breathless, you nodded, head falling back as you brought yourself over the edge just as Yuta did. His hips stuttering before burying deep, pushing against your cervix as he spilled his load in you.

You had barely registered the warm gush that flooded between your thighs, not until Yuta collapsed on top of you. “Fuck.” You offered weakly, feeling the dampness on the sheets below accompanied by your sweaty skin.

“We made a mess.” Yuta’s tone was sheepish, vibrating your neck as he spoke into it. “It definitely reeks of sex in here too…” you felt your face burning, realizing there wasn’t any windows open to allow ventilation.

“He’ll figure it out regardless.” Yuta sounded defeated but you could feel a smile on his face. “I’ll take the blame… since I’m the one who can’t resist your breasts.”

“You better.”

[ohimsummer]

GIRL, I NEED A TASTE ft. PUPPYBOY! SATORU

— minors dni, needy + lovesick + puppyboy! satoru x fem! reader, tít sucking, subby! satoru, humping (dryhumping??), breeding + creampie mentions

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ i went a little overboard writing this <//3 strongest ‘puppy-dog eyes’ user everyone

wc 1.4k

you give puppyboy! satoru an inch, and he will take several miles.

he’s ready to pounce on you 24/7: when you wake up, when you return home, when you’re fresh out of the shower, when you come back from a 5 minute bathroom break during movie night. it’s insane the way, if it were up to him, your pussy would never know peace.

in satoru’s “defense”, he can’t help wanting to stuff you full of himself all the time. he loves you, he’s in love with you and, in his eyes, what better way to show it than the overwhelming amounts of euphoria he could put you both through? satoru loves to give, give, give to you; his heart, his attention, his affections, and his cum at the end of it all.

you suppose his reasoning is understandable, more so from satoru’s point of view, but fucking every minute of every day isn’t sustainable—it’s only fair you tell him ‘no’ sometimes. and that’s when satoru brings out the theatrics: whining, crying, whimpering and complaining about how he’s “sooo harddd” and he’ll “be super quick”. fluttering snowy white lashes to beg with those woeful, blue, puppy-dog eyes, glistening with tears that he seems to be able to summon on a dime.

satoru flashes you the cutest pout as he presses himself up against you, grinding his bulge against your ass as he nuzzles and nips at your cheek. slow, impatient sways of a fluffy tail, the perk of those twitching, adorable ears whenever you cast him even a glance. satoru whispers a hopeful “pretty pretty please…just once?” as he licks at the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps from your neck to spine.

it doesn’t matter, really. he can do it all for as long as his heart desires, because in the end…

…it’ll get satoru exactly what he wants every time.

the movie you put on isn’t nearly as immersive as you’d hoped. and even if it was, satoru keeps pulling your attention away with every nip and lick to your thighs.

“toru.”, you deadpan, and he instantly weaponizes those wide, doe-like eyes of his. paired with a slight wag of his tail, a friendly gesture which he aims to placate with, and satoru has easily dodged your annoyance once more.

you brush off his bad habit with a sigh before your attention returns to the screen in front of you. and then, not even five minutes later, the sharp poke of his fangs sinks back into the fat of your thigh. it’s always steady and deliberate; satoru wants to see just how much you’ll allow before jabbing an irritated finger to his forehead in disdain. meanwhile, once he’s satisfied with the depth of his teeth, he sucks harshly at the skin, glancing between you and the newfound hickey now blooming. then he goes in again, quicker but that’s only because he’s expecting a sure-fire dose of your wrath this time.

“satoru—“

“look!” he interrupts, tail wagging eagerly. “bit ya in the shape of a heart, because i love you.” technically not a lie, but not the full truth, either.

and you’re so distracted with looking at satoru’s little sign of affection, which is indeed adorably heart-shaped, you forget altogether your reasoning for addressing him in the first place: to chide him again on biting you so hard—which is all part of his plan.

it takes no time before satoru has squeezed way more out of you than you meant to give. when you stopped warning him about the biting, he readjusted to “cuddle” you. his head is on your chest like always, hands on your hips, but they quickly dip underneath the hem of your shirt to knead at your waist. and then they’re slithering up further, grazing at your underboob before finally squeezing one of your breasts.

“satoru.” he cowers under the angry heat of your stare. “if i have to tell you one more time…”

his tongue darts out to lap at your exposed neck, causing you to wriggle at the needy gesture. “ ‘m sorry, they’re like my little stress balls. can I touch, please?”

and you shouldn’t have relented and said yes. of course you shouldn’t have, you knew that. if you agree to this, he knows now that you’ll agree to pretty much anything. but satoru stares at you with those dreamy eyes, gleaming with stars to whisk you away to a bad decision. it takes a single, pleading blink as he gives you a small squeeze, and you have fallen victim to his spell once again.

your shirt is pushed up hastily to expose your tits, leaving them subject to satoru’s merciless greed. he pinches, pulls, and tugs with both hands and mouth, sinking fangs into every inch of your breasts since he cannot stand to not see signs of himself on them. because he thinks you’re pretty, duh, but he thinks you’re prettier when your body is spotted up with the marks he loves to leave.

not long after, he’s shed you of your pants, tossed somewhere over the edge of the bed. what started off as a slow grind has turned to satoru’s bare cock humping your thigh, searing and sticky as he leaks a mess of precum all over your skin. just the sensation of it sends an aching rhythm of throbs to your core, your painfully empty hole sporadically fluttering around nothing.

in your mind—buried beneath thoughts of this dreadful movie and the excruciating desire to have satoru’s cock battering your insides—are the very last remnants of willpower you cling to. you can visualize clearly the smug look sure to grace his face if you whine a single plea about satoru fucking you. after all, you’re the one who was all ‘no sex right now, ‘toru’. if you can’t keep your word for even one night, you might be just as sex-crazed as he is.

there is a nonstop background noise of his tail thumping and sweeping against the bed. satoru’s wags haven’t let up since you gave your first yes, and only grow stronger with each new whimpered plea you yield to. they pick up with the pace of his thrusts, a beat to harmonize with the sinful song of his desperate whimpers right before gojo reaches another high—he lets loose a muffled cry into your chest, still pathetically humping your leg like a lovesick mutt as he gushes yet another pool of cum to coat your thighs and panties. after that, his wags ease up to a slow, easygoing thud, now overpowered by the raspy heaves of air he sucks into his lungs.

and it’s the same song and dance every time. satoru takes a few minutes to catch his breath, and then he’s ready for another round. from the corner of your eye, you notice those teary blues have locked on to you. he tests the waters, gradually rutting against you again, mouthing at your breasts to see if you’ll tell him ‘that’s enough, ‘toru’. he is pleased when the words never come, and his actions only grow bolder the longer you let it go on; he licks at your jawline, down your neck before placing a few nips here and there. tweaks your sore nipples between his thumb and index, plunging his dick harder and faster along your thigh for another repeat of the last few hours.

with each daring action over the course of the night, satoru has dragged you a little closer towards the edge with him. first it was pushing your top up, next, it was taking off your shorts. then, it was a bold move of pawing at your clothed pussy, which almost turned into his hand in your panties if you hadn’t pinched his ear and told him no. though, he could just as easily get you to let him anyway if he asks in that very sweet voice of his, the one he always uses when he longs for something from you.

“can I take off your panties?”, satoru finally asks, tilting his head to stare you right in the face.

you won’t meet his eye, and he knows you won’t. because both of you know if you do, he will quickly shred that last bit of self-control at the tips of your fingers. a single bat of his lashes and you’ll be nodding your head, raising your hips so he can tear away your underwear. and then it will only be a matter of time before satoru’s pinning you down to stuff his cock in your walls as deep as you can take. it’s all he wants, all he craves. but as long as you avoid looking into his alluring eyes, you may hold off satoru and his contagious desires for just a little longer.

tagz: @blkkizzat @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @rosso-seta @sapphireandange @starlightanyaaa @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie @neptuneblue @staryukis ( HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN LOGANNNNNN😼😼‼️‼️💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵)

[sinkuna]

Nanami Kento always takes care of you when he comes home from work, gripping your waist and hauling you effortlessly onto his desk like you weigh nothing. The way his fingers press into your soft thighs sends the most wonderful chill along your spine, goosebumps rising in their wake before he flips up your skirt around your waist, loving the sight of how wet you are already.

Nanami Kento, who always looks at you with tender eyes as he asks, "were you thinking of me while I was away?" before sliding two fingers through your slick folds, "you’re absolutely soaked for me." and slowly sinks down to his knees in front of you so he can bury his face between your thighs. 

Nanami Kento, who takes his time with you, treating you like the most precious thing he's ever held, "You're so beautiful," he whispers against your inner thigh, his warm breath making that pretty head of yours dizzy. His lips brushing against your skin in feather light kisses, working their way higher with careful attention. Each touch worshipful, making your heart flutter in your chest.

Nanami Kento, who when he finally reaches your center, like always, he pauses to place that sweet greeting, a gentle kiss that makes your toes curl every time. And with a simple smirk, he can never resist giving one of your delicate folds a playful nip, drawing out those sweet noises he adores so much, “so sweet, just like honey bread.” he murmurs against your slick wet heat, his tongue delving in between your wet lips, lapping up your juices and humming at the taste. His blonde locks, once neatly slicked back now fall around his face tickling your inner thighs. 

Nanami Kento, who’s dress shirt strains against his biceps as he holds you spread open, completely at his mercy, forcing you to take every devastating lick and suck, "you can take it." Your hands scrabble desperately against the polished wood as he alternates between fucking you with his tongue and sucking on your now swollen clit. The dual assault causing literal hearts to form in your eyes as your lower belly starts to tighten.

Nanami Kento, whose tongue wriggles inside you with practiced skill, mapping every inch of your velvety walls. He always explores you thoroughly, committing each and every detail of you to memory- the way you clench around his tongue, how your thighs quiver when he hits that perfect spot, the little gasps and whimpers that fall from your lips, and how your nails leave traces of this evening on his desk.

Nanami Kento, who finally sends you over the edge. Your back arching off the desk as you squirt hard against his mouth, clear juices gush all over his tongue and dribbling down his chin. The love of your life, who is right there with you, lapping up every drop, "That taste," he whispers, "I'll be thinking about it all day tomorrow at work. Counting the hours until i can have you again." The sight of you, spread wide, flushed, and panting on his desk has his cock rock hard, but he ignores his own need, his only concern being you, his lovely little wife. So he doesn't stop, instead he just groans before diving back in, determined to wring another orgasm from your oversensitive body.

You thrash and writhe as he continues his sweet torture, until your vision starts to blur as another peak builds rapidly, "Gonna make you cum until you pass out on my tongue," he promises before flicking your clit between his teeth. And when you cum again on his lips, he still persists, your body feeling as if it's floating away as consciousness starts to slip. Only when your legs go completely limp does he finally pull back, his chin and lips glistening with your abundant release. His chuckle the last thing you hear before passing out, utterly destroyed by your husband’s, Nanami Kento's masterful tongue.

[gojosprettyprincess]

Every morning Kento would wake up half an hour before you did, clad in nothing but his white sweatpants hanging low by his hips and cozy socks before he brushes his teeth and quietly makes his way downstairs to the kitchen so he can prepare a delicious breakfast for when you wake up.

The fresh aroma of brewing coffee fills the kitchen as the sun begins to rise, he makes sure to sprinkle the right amount of cinnamon on your French toast, knowing how much you love it because it gaved it more flavor. A heartwarming smile spreads across his chiseled face when he hears your soft footsteps slowly padding down the hallway, making your way to the kitchen.

You walk into the kitchen and sat down on the island stool. Still rubbing sleep away from your tired eyes before he turns around to sets down two steaming mugs of coffee in front of you. “Mornin’ darling, How was your sleep?” he greets you in a saccharine tone and places a soft, affectionate kiss on your forehead. A familiar warmth spreads through his chest at the sight of you. Your hair is all tousled and messy with your pretty eyes still laced with sleep. He always thought you look so cute when you woke up, After all these years of being married, his mind still can't process how someone could look so beautiful as soon as they woke up. It was crazy to him.

"Good morninggg, Kento" You grumbled with a smile as the yummy smell of coffee filled your nostrils, effectively chasing away the remnants of sleep. "And my sleep was goood, how was yours baby?" you asked in a sing-song tone as he delicately placed a plate of your French toast in front of you. Kento was the best at making French toast, you always dreaded the days when he'd have to leave and go on business trips because no matter what, you just could get yours to taste like his— he’s a classic chef.

"Yeah? Well I'm happy to hear that sweetheart. I was a bit worried that I tired you out too much after last night" he replied with an impish smirk, purposely alluding to last night's antics to tease you.

Oh that sly fucking man.

A faint blush appears on your cheeks at the reminder of the very lewd and steamy night you and Kento had.

You tried to hide your embarrassment by taking a big bite of the perfectly cooked French toast, the sweet and cinnamon-y flavor tickled your taste buds as you hummed in approval of the taste. "It's 6:30 in the morning Kento" you playfully responded to his awfully obvious jest in the early hour, your voice slightly muffled as you chewed. Kento chuckled, leaning back against the kitchen counter, holding his mug of coffee and taking tiny sips as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"Can you blame me though? You're too adorable when you get all flustered", he said amusingly, You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your lips. He always had a way of making you feel both shy and aroused at the same time even if it was early in the fucking morning.

Twt art :3

[emmyrosee]

“You know, my food is really good.”

“Good, didn’t ask.”

Sukuna doesnt take your bait as he continues to shovel his food into his mouth next to you, cheeks puffed out adorably while his brows are furrowed in focus. He’s always been a voracious beast when he eats, like a dog protective of its bowl.

Your food is… okay. It’s not seasoned enough, nor spicy enough to rave about, and it’s not cooked the way you’d assumed, and the only problem with all of this is that Sukuna told you that you wouldn’t like it. You didn’t believe him, you love plenty of food.

But his food looks delicious. Yours? Not so much.

You nudge him softly, earning you a glare, “you should really try it, I think you’ll like it.”

“Don’t need to, got mine,” he says, scowling before licking a bit of sauce off of his finger. Your mouth salivates at the juicy, roasted veggies in his chopsticks, and you look down dejectedly at yours.

You sigh and dig at your food, trying to form a bite that could potentially change this whole experience around, but the food looks unsightly to you, and you wince at the idea of taking another one.

You roll your shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for him. Then, you turn to him and innocently bat your lashes, “sukuna?”

“No.”

“Can I have a bite of yours?”

“I fucking knew it,” he snaps, light-knuckling his chopsticks. He turns to face you, venom in his eyes, “what did I tell you? Remind me. Enlighten me, please.”

You offer him a small smile and shrug, “I wanted to try it…”

“Yeah and look where it got you,” he snarls. “You hate your food, don’t you?” Now, you frown softly and nod. He grits his teeth and after a beat of silence, grabs the styrofoam container from in front of you, sliding it to himself. He then takes his own and passes it to you, seething the whole time.

Your heart flutters at the idea of him giving you his food, but you can’t fight the small bit of guilt that claws at you, and you look down at the new plate before looking back at him. “I love you.”

“Wouldn’t’ve fucking switched if I didn’t love you back,” he hisses, scooping up some of your former food into his chopsticks and working it into his mouth where he chews in thought. “This is fucking gross.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Here- take your food, I’ll eat at home-“

“Eat that, or I swear to everything unholy I’ll make you,” he warns, taking a wad of vegetables into his chopsticks to pile into his mouth. You nod and slowly start to eat, but at the flavor explosion in your mouth, you start to eat faster and faster, humming happily as your stomach gets fuller and fuller. Every now and again, when you turn to look at Sukuna to ensure he’s eating, he’s looking out of the corner of his eye before darting his gaze away to make sure you’re doing the same thing.

You hum happily and rest your head on his shoulder, the hustle and bustle of the food court being droned out as you focus on time with your man.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” you say happily, looping one of your arms through his bent elbow on the table. “I don’t care what people say about you.”

He shakes his head as he swallows his bite, “yeah yeah yeah, I’m the best. What can I say-“ he freezes.

He whips his head towards you, brows furrowed in the center of his forehead, “who the fuck is saying I’m not?”

You fall into a fit of giggles as he continues to look offended, and with your lunches almost complete, you can’t find it in yourself to get up and carry on with your day.

Not when you’re so content to stay like this with him, for as long as he’ll let you.

“You’re a nuisance, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about playing truth or dare with seijoh 4 and then getting dared to kiss mattsun right there in front of them all mmmhmmm you know he would love that shit – there's a permanent smirk glued to his lips as you climb onto his lap, his hands tugging on the material of your shirt to pull you flush to him. he's so fucking cocky and it gets so messy so fast but it's not like any of the other boys are gonna tell you to stop either. their eyes are low and their pupils grow bigger with every passing second, their throats dry as they watch you swap saliva with the dark-haired man. they can hear everything over the soft music that's playing in the background and it's so hard not to focus on the way you're starting to grind back and forth on mattsun's lap.

your fingers play with the unruly hairs on his nape while his dig into your plush skin and as you're getting more and more into it, mattsun's ego blooms. his one hand moves to the back of your head to deepen the kiss even further and as he does so, his eyes flick open and he's met with the filthy gazes of his three best friends. he hums proudly into your mouth at the sight of a blushing makki, who's hand is resting suspiciously close to his lap, a seemingly spiraling iwaizumi, who's trying his best not to look at what's happening before him but is failing so miserably that it's almost funny, and an overly keen oikawa, who's sat there with his lip caught between his teeth. they're all red in the face and mattsun thinks it's adorable really, how worked up you always get the poor guys.

they all want a taste, they all want to feel but for the time being, this little show the both of you are putting on will have to suffice. mattsun tugs on the waistband of your jeans and iwaizumi has to force down a groan as his eyes land on your ass. the lewd thoughts flood his mind and he feels awful – you're one of his closest friends and this is how he thinks of you? how you even feel if you found out.. would you be mad? would you be disgusted?

while he's fighting with the demons in his head, makki and oikawa are doing just about the same. makki's zoned in on the way your chests keep rubbing together and he can't stop imagining about how good it'd feel to have you rubbing up against him like that. and oikawa's busy listening to the sounds. not a single gasp or mewl goes unnoticed in his ears as he tries to memorize them as best as he can with the intention of going home and humping his pillow to the heavenly melody that's your needy whines until he's crying tears of pleasure.

so when he hears you whisper into mattsun's mouth, his cock twitches in his slacks.

"are they still watching?"

you don't think they're overstepping, you don't think that the men you've grown so close with over the years are disgusting perverts for getting off on the sight of you making out with one of them – you want them to watch. you're the one that's getting off on it, you're the one with all the power. oikawa realizes that no matter how much mattsun wants to act like he's the one that's making this happen, he's probably rock hard, too. he's no better than his friends, he's just glad that he's the one that gets to actually kiss you. but there's a reason for that aswell – neither makki and iwaizumi wouldn't've been able to handle it and well oikawa himself...

his and mattsun's eyes meet once more across the dark room and he knows his playing right into your hand. of course, he's going to figure out what you're doing – that's exactly what you want. he's the next person to fall, he's the next you're going to pull in.

pulling your lips from mattsun's, you grin to yourself as you watch him chase after you for another second. but then you're craning your neck to glance at oikawa over your shoulder; you let your eyes drop to his crotch before flicking back up again, reveling in the way he turns another shade darker. he refuses to look away though – he's gladly stepping into the trap you've set for all of them, and so when you curl your finger at him, beckoning him closer like some siren, he's quick to spring up on his feet and make his way over, leaving makki and iwaizumi staring at his back in bewilderment.

still sat on mattsun's lap with his hands on your body, you lean back enough just to give oikawa the room to inch closer. you reach for his face and pull his lips down onto yours with mattsun right there, just a breath away. he's sweeter than your last kiss and you can't wait to let them all know how they taste later.

you can't wait to have them all. one by one.

[no-144444]

mistake- l.hamilton

summary: lewis fucks up

pairing: dad! lewis hamilton x fem! mom! wife! reader

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“I’m home!” Lewis called into the house as he shut the door behind him. The patter of small feet down the stairs made his heart beat a little bit faster as the smile on his face widened. It had been a pretty shitty weekend, just hoping to stay in the points wasn’t what a 7 time World Champion should’ve been doing. He should be at the front, where Charles was. So he made his decision. 

“Hey baby,” you smiled, watching as your toddlers hugged his legs, both begging for ‘uppies’ as he greeted them animatedly. Archie and Milo, your 5 year old twin boys, Anna, your 4 year old, and Harry, your 3 year old, all grabbing for him as Riley, your 2 year old, was half-asleep in your arms. 

He smiled as he saw you, and leant down to the kids, greeting all of them with a hug and a kiss, then standing up and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Hey baby.”

He pressed a soft kiss to Riley’s head, gently stirring her out of her sort-of sleep. 

The 7 of you enjoyed dinner, Lewis put the kids to bed while you showered, and met you in your bedroom after what felt like the longest day ever. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind as you brushed your teeth in the mirror. You smiled. 

“You alright baby?” you asked, finishing up. 

He sighed. It was as good a time as ever, he guessed. “It’s been a shitty season,” he lay on the bed, holding you close to him. “I got an offer.”

You blinked. “From who?”

“RedBull,” he admitted. 

“Wow,” you nodded, clearly a little shocked. “RedBull.”

“I might take it,” he admitted. Your jaw dropped. “I want the 8th. I want it so badly Y/n-”

“What about your promise?” you questioned. “You’re nearly 42 Lewis, and you have 5 fucking children and a wife at home who wait for you every single weekend. I know you want all the glory of being the greatest of all time, but will that really be enough for you?” You were exhausted by his ambition. “You’re already the greatest of all time Lewis, one more championship isn’t going to change that.”

“I know I can do it though,” he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. 

“But can RedBull?” you scoffed. “They’ve been fucking Lawson over for a whole year now. What makes you think you’ll be any different?”

He sighed. “Baby, I can’t stay with Ferrari for 10 years when we’re not winning races.”

“They are. Charles is. You’re not,” you scoffed, knowing how mean your words were. “I can’t keep fucking doing this. I can’t just be this perfect housewife. I need more than that. I had a fucking career before this, and you promised me it wouldn’t be put in on the backburner, yet it has been since Milo and Archie were born. You swore to me that you’d be finished when you were 40. You’re almost 42. I’ll never regret having our children, I adore them, but I do regret ever believing you when you said you’d support me.”

Your words cut him like a knife. He felt like shit. He’d done it again, fucking everything up with you. 

“Baby, I’m sor-”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean Lewis,” you scoffed. He opened his mouth to say something, but as if it were planned perfectly, Riley started crying, and you got up to tend to her. He sat back against the bedframe and sighed. 

What was he going to do?

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

------------------------------

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"i feel kinda ugly" ft. the monster trio!

in which the biggest dumbasses in the whole of sea comfort you when you fall prey to your shitty thoughts ft. luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader set-up: you happened to utter out what you thought of yourself and these men are here to prove you wrong. (kind of a serious set of headcanons, but ill try being funny when i can) warnings: nsfw; somnophilia if you squint, oral f!receiving and m!recieving, boobjob, creampie; MDNI (thankyou very much)

luffy:

my fav little gremlin's in town ^^

- "i feel kinda ugly" you had muttered it under your breath, words dissolving into the chilly night air. you were laying on your shared bed, staring up at the uneventful ceiling as he snored lightly next to you. - he was supposed to be asleep, atleast that's what you had thought (how can you expect him to stay up after eating like 500kg of meat??) - but he stirs awake almost instantly, turning his head to look at your face. he stifles a yawn, mumbling through a half-lidded gaze, "why would you say that?" - "why would i say what?" you smile, waving it off as if it had just been a wayward thought - but lord knows the amount of nights you've tossed and turned, thinking about all the ways you were incompetent for this man who lay in front of you. you weren't pretty like nami or robin, you weren't quick-witted like them, god, what did he see in you? - "who said you were ugly?" his face is scrunched up, the crease b/w his eyebrows deepening "luffy let it g-" "no. who said it?" his violent undertone doesn't go unnoticed, as if he's threatening to take care of whoever made you miserable - you don't have the heart to tell him it's yourself. you convinced yourself you weren't pretty enough. - and so, you stay silent - but his arms are pulling you impossibly close. closer and closer till your chest is pressed flushed against his and you're staring at him confused - "luf-" "that's bullshit." there's conviction in his words that make a dull warmth cascade over your face and neck. - he is pressing his forehead against yours, hands gripping onto you tightly as if letting his grip loosen means he loses this argument. "you're beautiful. you're smart and kind and beautiful." - at this point, youre about to cry - but he inhales deeply, then says "not to mention you smell like a fruit. thats tasty." - yeah the tears dried up. they fucked off and went to sahara desert. - youre currently fighting off a smile because what the actual fuck prompted this man to say that??? and more importantly what fruit do you smell like? "what fruit do i smell like?" "mhm" he's deep in thought, "tangerines" "luffy everyone smells like tangerine. it's because of nami's tangerine trees." he shrugged, "still pretty tasty" - and now youre kissing his adorably stupid face. your fingers tug on the hair on his nape lightly and he whines into the kiss, sucking on your bottom lip as he does so - "you're so pretty" and so he's kissing your neck, nibbling and grazing lazily - two seconds later, he fell asleep. - like actually fell asleep. his mouth is on your neck, open mouthed and half-nibbling and he's snoring through it all. (i mean, what did you expect from someone who had eaten 500kg of meat??) - issokay though cause the second he wakes up, his fingers are hiking one of your legs over his hip. the same fingers then slip inside the loose folds of your shorts, playing with your pretty pussy till you stir awake, moaning his name - you're the one being toyed with and he's the one whispering and whining like he's gonna explode "does that feel good, ngh-" a grin, "god... fuck, cum for me, pretty" - he continues till your velvety walls are spasming against his fast-paced fingers and your teeth are sinking into his shoulder, muffling shrieks this early in the morning - "you're gorgeous" he whispers through a grin - you choose to believe him

zoro:

myhusband ^^

- this was the last thing you wanted. truly. - zoro had just stepped out of the shower with nothing but a towel losely tied around his waist (this was after he had succesfully ignored you and trained for like an eternity) - water droplets clung onto his broad figure, slowly trailing downwards as they glided over every ridge and scar - you probably should have pulled him onto the bed with you, straddled his hips and asked him to stop ignoring you to go spend time with his swords - you probably should have. - instead, you lay stomach-down on your bed, your head softly cradled beneath your arms and against the pillow - "what's up with you?" he asks, unfazed to your tactics "nothing" you mumble half-heartedly he gave you a double over, "you sure? you're sulking more than usual" "i-" you sigh, "i just idk... i just feel kinda ugly?" - this motherfucker laughs, "yeah i mean you kinda are" - he didn't know you were serious. he didn't know till you were softly crying against the linen sheets, your body shivering against your own cries and staggered breaths - "yn?" there's panic in his voice, "yn, baby, are you crying?! fUCK IM SORRY!" - he didn't know you were serious. i mean how wAS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW?! HE THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING DRAMATIC FOR NO REASON LIKE ALWAYS - "hey" you've never heard the swordsman speak so softly as he does now. he's pulling you up softly, placing you in his lap almost mechanically, "yn, baby-" - he lets you sob into his chest for as long as you need to, his fingers are rubbing gentle patterns into your back, arms and waist. - once you've calm down, his hand tips your face lightly towards him. he silently wipes the tears away. - he doesn't say anything and somehow his silence brings more comfort than his words could. - "don't think stupid shit" his palm is resting on your face, pouring warmth across the stretch of your cheek, "you're gorgeous." "but you said im ugly" you lean into his touch "i also said i will return back nami's loans with full interest" a small smile tugs on his lips, "sometimes even i say stupid shit" "so, you don't think i'm ugly?" - his response comes in the way of leaning in and kissing you, one hand on your cheek as the other kneads your waist. - he's laying you down, hovering over you easily and pressing hot kisses to your neck and jawline. sucking, biting till you can feel bruises blossoming across your skin. his knee presses against your core, blinding you with delicious jolts " his agile fingers are hiking up your skirt, letting it pool around your waist, "let me show you how pretty you are, baby" - so, he's pulling your panties with his teeth, he's licking a clean stripe on your inner thigh, kissing and bruising the sensitive skin "and you're dripping wet already? want me to fuck you that bad, eh?" - he's running his tongue over your clit, tracing figures as he alternates between your drooling hole and the bundle of nerves - and so obviously you're now cumming on his face, letting your juices coat his lips, thighs shaking as he gives you kitten licks to help you ride your orgasm - he looks up at you; your hairline damp with sweat, eyes closed in bliss, a warm hue of red sprinkled across your face, your chest rising and falling with each labored breath "i've never seen someone prettier" he declares from between the plush of your thighs, smiling up at you like it was the first time he had truly seen you - you choose to believe him

sanji:

mhm, a fine specimen ^^

- you don't keep secrets from sanji. - or more like you physically cannot. - this man is your greatest cheerleader, there's no way you can hide something from him no matter how squeamish it makes you to say out loud - so after noticing your off behaviour the entire evening and pestering you for twenty minutes after dinner, he had successfully got you to say what you were thinking out loud "sweetheart, darling, the apple of my eye. what is wrong?" you shake your head again, "nothing." "yn, my love, 'fess up" - he said it so sweetly you had to fess up. there was no choice. - "i just feel a bit bad about myself today" "bad? how so?" "i just... just feel kinda ugly" - he looks like he's going into cardiac arrest (he probably is) cause there's no way you, his girlfriend, literally the prettiest girl in all four seas just said that out loud - honestly, i can just see this man tearing up and blaming himself "is it me, mon chéri? did i do something wrong?" tears are clinging on dangerously onto his lasheline "what?! no!" "i am sorry. i love you so much. i must have said something wrong because you're so gorgeous, so earth-shatteringly beautiful-" - honestly you had to calm this bitch down first, explaining to him that he was perfect in every way he can be, it's probably just your own fault - but he refuses to accept it as your fault. - this man, this beautiful, amazing man has to now cling onto you and pepper kisses onto you face like there's no tomorrow. like everytime you try to speak, he wont let you cause he needs to ramble about how absolutely gorgeous you are - he spoke for so long that you are now convinced that to the world you may not be the prettiest woman alive but to this blonde man (with a great ass), you mean everything - his kisses blended into soft whispers and whimpers as you forced him to rest against the headboard and straddled his hips - you can feel his poking erection through his dress slacks as you kiss him senseless with only one goal in mind, to let him know he did nothing wrong - you nudge his slacks downwards till his cock hits you lightly in your face - your lips encircle his tip, sucking on it lightly as your hand moves up and down his length, languid and slow "yn~" his voice is a choked whisper, "you- are killing me. faster, please darling." - now you're catching his dick between your tits, massaging his length with the softness of your breasts as your tongue laps up at his tip, licking any pre-cum that escapes him "fuck fuck fuck fu-" his moans are an incoherent ramble, "i'm gon' cum, fuck you feel- so ngh- good" - he comes on your tits and face and almost releases again when he sees you scoop up the sticky fluid from the corner of your lips and lick it away - looking at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes, "yn, you are the most gorgeous woman i have seen." - you choose to believe him

a/n: honestly cannot thank you guys for how much you'be blown up these posts in the past few days, so here, have a little treat m.list

[rueclfer]

Touya x reader on a pumpkin picking date but Rei made them bring little Shoto along since he wanted to get a pumpkin too !!! Reader adores kids but Touya's just embarrassed and annoyed

🫐

so touya dressed as a scarecrow to a pumpkin patch (duh yn's idea) and all the moms whispering to each other abt how hot he looks mhm many many thoughts

be nice (or not) // touya todoroki

touya's burning glare was unavoidable no matter where you darted your eyes.

shouto had his arms lazily wrapped around your waist and head leaned against your chest in content as you three were being driven off to the pumpkin patch in the hayride along with several other families and couples chattering among themselves.

"the hay is poking my ass." touya dryly states, releasing a heavy sigh as he squirms to fix his position.

"that's a bad word, nii-san." shouto shushes him, lightly kicking his feet towards touya, but not quite being able to reach.

"you're right, shou, that IS a bad word. nii-san needs to watch his language, right?" you look down at the young child residing in your lap.

"mhm." shouto voices in agreement, sticking his tongue out at touya.

touya presses his lips together, and leans forward. he slowly inches towards shouto's face, causing the boy to push further back into you with fear.

"cover your ears." he whispers, laying his palms flat on his knees.

shouto tightens his grip around your waist and looks up at you, in which you nod your head in assurance.

he slaps his hands over his ears, and keeps his gaze on the passing scenery to avoid reading touya's lips- expecting profanities to escape his mouth the moment he wouldn't be able to hear anymore.

oh how you wished you could do the same.

"why the fuck would you agree on bringing the brat with us?" touya scolds.

"because your mom asked? and i love your mom? and i love shouto?" you furrow your eyebrows in annoyance. "you got a problem with that?"

"i do. you're annoying." he huffs. "unbelievably annoying."

"be nice to him, or else i'll shove a pumpkin up your fucking ass."

"wow and i was the one that needed to watch my language?" he peers around the cart. "be nice to me and maybe i'll return the favor." he smirks.

you silently flip touya off behind shouto's head as he leans back onto the hay-bale, crossing a leg over his knee with a taunting grin still plastered to his face.

shouto sees touya relax and releases his hands from his ears.

"what did you guys talk about?" he looks up at you with his teddy bear eyes and signature toothy grin.

"just about how nii-san is going to make today so much fun for you!" you smile, pressing your cheek against the top of his head. "isn't that right, touy?"

"yup." he gritted his teeth. "so much fun."

-

"are you sure you want this one?" touya asks for the third time, motioning towards the large disfigured pumpkin which could have been triple the size of shouto's head. "super sure?"

"yes!" shouto exclaims, bouncing on the hay-bale in joy, crunching the needles beneath his feet. "i want that one!"

you and touya send each other weary glances. along with your own pumpkins, you wondered how you would be able to get this behemoth back home.

"aww, is this your kid's first time picking out a pumpkin?" a passing by worker asked.

"he's not-" touya starts.

"-yes it is!" you beam, "he's been waiting for this all month, right hun?"

"right." touya deadpans, a light blush dusting over his cheeks. "he's ambitious. 'course he picks the biggest and ugliest one."

"he's just like his mom! loves the ugly rotten ones." you huff out a chuckle, ruffling shouto's hair and shooting a brief glare towards touya.

"well!" the worker darts their eyes between you three, unaffected by the thick line of tension between you and touya. "we have wheelbarrows available at the front! in the meantime, you can pay at the stand and we'll keep these here for you until you're ready to leave and take these to your cars."

once the worker leaves you three, touya sends you one last death stricken glare before heading towards the stand to pay out.

the last time someone had mistaken you and touya as shouto's parents was when you two picked him up from school. the parents cooed to you about how polite "your boy" was from what the other kids had told them and praised you on your parenting.

of course you leaned into it, taking in all of the compliments with a bright smile and cheerful thanks.

touya on the other hand hated the attention, but wouldn't dare cross you. he'd idly nod and agree while you conversed with the other parents, letting you enjoy your 5 minutes of parenthood.

"can i go in the bouncy castle?" shouto tugs on your sleeve, pointing towards the crowd of kids rushing in and out of the inflatable structure. "nii-san, can i?"

"yeah, go." he huffs, shoving his hands in his pockets, following shouto's direction as he runs towards the other kids.

"what are you so pouty about?" you tease, hooking an arm around touya's elbow. "you don't wanna play house with me?"

"you're coddling the wrong todoroki today." he mumbles, leaning away from your puckering lips.

"you jealous of your baby brother?"

"as if." he rolls his eyes. "i could not give less of a fuck if you love my kid brother more than your own boyfriend. not a single fuck. why would i?"

"okay. good." you playfully shrug. "because i think your kid brother loves me more than you too."

touya quickly tosses a glance over his shoulder towards the bouncy castle, keeping tabs on shouto as he runs around with the others.

this could've been it. with the shortness, dry responses, and glares he had been sending your way since the morning, you were sure he was thinking of all the ways he could shut you up for the rest of the day.

you loved toying with his short fuse- it was pure entertainment for you. how can you bother touya today? how many inside jokes can you make with his siblings before he starts throwing a fit? how long can he go on with this "nonchalant" facade of his?

"if you want me to fucking die on the spot right now, then just say so." he wraps an arm around behind your neck and pulls you into him, hanging his head into the crook of your neck. "otherwise, stop being an asshole." he mumbles.

this was new- defeat.

"i know, i'm so mean to hurt my poor baby's feelings." you choke back a laugh.

you run your hand up and down touya's back, occasionally landing a comforting pat in between his shoulder blades.

he groans into your neck and pulls away, hands firmly gripping both of your shoulders.

"enough of that baby bullshit unless you really want me to put a baby in you." he lowly says.

and there it was- the attitude, and the venom that you had been looking for all day.

"don't threaten me with a good time, babe." you look up at him through your lashes. "not like i've been waiting or anything."

you leaned into the teasing. if there was one thing you had touya beat at, it was the push and pull of trying to get the other to break under the relentless flirting, and shameless vulgarities.

he returned your sultry eyes with a smirk. a hand on your shoulder made its way up to the side of your neck, thumb caressing the tender flesh beneath your jaw. he pulls you into him. his lips inching closer and closer to your own.

you felt your stomach twisting and your breathing stop. you silently pray that this feeling never goes away- this effect touya had on you.

he stops.

"you're sick and twisted," the hot breath of his words brushing against your parted lips. "and will be dealt with when we get home."

his hand continues upwards. he endearingly pinch the soft flesh of your cheeks between his index finger and thumb before walking off- the soft crunches of the browned leaves under his foot marking every step as he leaves you in the midst of the crowd of parents by yourself.

"shouto!" touya calls out, waving his arm to catch the boy's attention. "let's go. gotta grab the pumpkins, mom and dad got things to do later."

he peers over his shoulder at you with a lopsided smile, clearly amused by your giddy response. both you and shouto run up to touya and latching onto an arm.

"so, going back to that baby-making thing?" you lean up and whisper against the shell of his ear.

"later. and i won't be nice about it."

-

touya tag: @moonchild701 @kaldurahms-lover @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 (hi touya tags idk if u just wanted to be tagged in the smaus or touya-everything so lmk if its just smaus!! <3 ily)

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Parties were NOT Simon Riley's cup of tea. Not only did they drain his social battery, but he was the type of man that much preferred the comfort of a good book and his bed over that of social interaction.

But today was New Year’s Eve, and not only had Soap practically threatened him to come, you would be there. Seeing you would make attending the shitty party worth it. Seeing you always made anything worth it.

Simon walked into the mess hall, his heart racing slightly as he realized just how many people were here. All of the soldiers still on duty were gathered, eating, drinking, joking. Just the sheer amount of chaos that was ensuing made Simon want to run back to his room.

Until he saw you.

He found you watching TV, nursing on some concoction of drink, a languid smile on your lips as you saw him approach.

“Sergeant.” Simon nodded in your direction as he came to stand by you, thankful you couldn’t see the crimson forming in his cheeks.

“Lieutenant.” You smiled up at him, before letting your eyes fall back to the TV in front of you. "Surprised to see you here tonight."

Simon grunted in reply, his eyes scanning the crowded mess hall, finding his Scottish friend laughing with a group of recruits. "Johnny forced me. Plus, the company isn't so bad."

You turned your face slightly, a blush reaching your cheeks at his admission. "Glad to know my company is suitable for you."

You both stood watching the party for a while as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. This was one of the things Simon adored about you. You never forced him to talk, which frankly, made him all the more eager to do so with you.

“Y/N-.” He began, but Johnny had cut him off with a tap of his glass.

"Alright everyone, begin the count down! It’s ten seconds to midnight!” Johnny called out, grabbing everyone's attention, prompting nearly everyone in the mess hall began to shout out the countdown.

"Ten!"

You couldn't help but look over at your lieutenant, your breath hitching slightly as you saw he was already looking at you, his soft brown eyes softening as they locked on you.

All of the noise in the background, the cheers, the conversations, the sound of the TV, all vanished in that moment. The only thing mattering to you was the way that Simon Riley was looking at you.

"Nine!"

Your many years alongside him began to swirl in your head, all the long missions, the close calls, all those times he risked his life for you, and you for him. All those times he'd let you in to see the man behind the mask, the man that was Simon Riley.

Your feelings for him had only grown in all the time you'd been alongside him, and you found yourself utterly and completely in love with your superior.

"Eight!"

Simon took a step closer to you, his eyes remaining as stoic as ever as they stayed locked on yours. You always hated how you could never tell what he was thinking, could never read what he was feeling by his looking in his eyes.

God, what you would give to be able to know what was going on in that gorgeous head of his right now.

If only you fucking knew.

"Seven!"

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as his he now stood almost chest to chest with you, his frame towering over yours as he looked down at you. You blinked a few times, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. "Hi."

"Hi." He replied, his tone quieter than usual. His hands began to shake slightly as he slowly began to move one of them toward the base of his balaclava.

"Six!"

You watched as he pulled his mask up, revealing a handsome jaw, lined with stubble. His lips were littered with scars, and you couldn't help but stare at them. From what little you could see of his face, you realized just how fucking pretty he was. As if there was any doubt.

"S-Simon." You breathed out, the intensity of his gaze sending a heat coursing throughout the entirety of your body. You couldn’t help yourself, you let your hand grip lightly at his arm, prompting him to chuckle softly.

"Five!"

Simon leaned toward you, his finger lightly touching your chin as he tilted your face up towards his. You found yourself leaning up toward him, your heels leaving the ground slightly.

His touch was so gentle against your chin despite the rough texture of his fingers, and it took everything in you not to moan at the tenderness of his touch.

"Four!"

“You want this?” He asked, his voice holding a nervousness you’d never been on the receiving end of before. “With me?”

All you could do was nod up at him, not trusting yourself to speak. You don't think you'd ever been this nervous in your life, your mouth running dry in anticipation.

"Three!"

This was it, wasn’t it? After all these years, after all those long nights, those deep talks, those longing glances… was this really about to happen?

"Two!"

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you felt his breath on your mouth, his lips being just a hair away from your own. You could hear him inhale sharply, and watched as his eyes darted toward your mouth.

"One!"

It was as if time stopped when his lips finally met yours. They slotted against yours so effortlessly, almost as if they were made to be kissed by you.

After years of loving Simon Riley, he was finally, finally kissing you. And it was everything you could ever have hoped it would be.

He pulled away a moment later, the smile on his lips now reaching his beautiful brown eyes. “Happy New Year, sergeant.”

A Happy New Year indeed.

[plussizeficchick]

Am I Living an Illusion? | Suguru/Kenjaku x Chubby! Reader

Summary; You’re not so sure your boyfriend is who he says he is anymore.

Warnings; smut (cunnilingus, P in V) imposter! au? cockwarming (mentioned) (loosely based on the song “runaway runaway” by Mars Argo)

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

You tried to ignore it at first. The way he didn’t have that slight limp in his walk. How he started adding cream to his coffee instead of just black. The way he suddenly started treating you.

Suguru had always been a frigid lover. He never allowed you to get too close. In fact, you often wondered if you were even in a relationship in the first place. He never held your hand, hardly cuddled with you, and talking to him was like pulling teeth. The only shred of adoration he showed you was when his hands grabbed at the fat of your thighs to fuck into you.

That’s why you know whatever is in front of you, is not your Suguru.

Because your Suguru would never hold you the way this one does, like you’re his reason for breathing, like you’re a goddess among men and he’s trying to keep you for himself. He would never talk to you like this one does, voice so soft and gentle, almost like a whisper. He would never look at you like this one, like you hung the Sun, Moon and all the stars.

And he especially wouldn't plan an elaborate dinner for Valentine's Day.

— —

“I just want to spoil you, sweetheart. I feel we’ve grown apart these last few weeks.” He murmurs in your ear. You’d been trying to come to terms with your feelings for whatever is inhabiting your boyfriend, thus causing a bit of separation.

Anytime you both were in the same room, you made an excuse to leave. It was a bit immature, sure, but you didn’t know how to cope with what you were feeling. Something clearly wasn’t right with your boyfriend, but he was also beginning to act exactly how you’ve been wanting. You weren’t sure what to do, however, after mentioning in passing how much you wanted to participate in the holiday, you didn’t really have much of an excuse to get out of this.

“I- I don’t know, Sugu. It’s been a while.” You deflect. “Didn’t you say you’ve always wanted to do something on this day? I know I’ve been dismissive before, but I want to make up for that now.” He turns you to face him, thumb caressing the softness of your cheek. It’s moments like this that remind you he’s not who he used to be, that he’s something entirely different.

“Suguru” on the other hand was struggling to hold himself back from just wiping everything off the table taking you right there.

How? How did his host go this long without fucking you?

If it was up to him, you’d never leave his cock, reduced to nothing but a cock-drunk cumdump that warms his dick.

Not to say that was a bad thing. He just wants to ravish you, run his tongue along your curves and grip your supple flesh. Sink his teeth into your pouty lips and just take everything you have to offer.

You feel your cheeks heat up under his stare, the intensity in which he’s looking at you causing wetness to pool in your panties. “Well, yes. But I just think-” He shushes your thoughts by pressing a brief peck to your lips. “Ah, ah, ah,” He tuts, moving to pick up a chocolate covered strawberry and putting the delicacy to your lips. “No thinking today, just… feeling.” He says and if you weren’t paying attention, you’d miss the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Your clit pulses at his words, so you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Without breaking eye contact, you lean down slightly and take a bite of delicious fruit in his hand. “Suguru” feels his cock twitch at the sight of the red juice dripping down your chin. He can’t help himself when he reaches out to wipe the juice, sucking the same finger into his mouth, savoring the taste of you.

And you can’t help yourself when you finally reach out and press a searing kiss to his lips, the taste of the strawberry and each other dancing on each of your tongues.

He pulls you into his lap without breaking the kiss, hands immediately finding purchase on your soft waist. He groans at the feel of you grinding down on his clothed cock, desperate for some sort of friction.

He takes pity on you and lifts you up with ease, the action causing you to squeal in surprise, arms wrapping around his neck to anchor yourself. “Do you really think I’d let you get hurt, sweet thing?” He asks earnestly, an almost hurt expression on his face. But it’s quickly wiped away as his hands run up and down your body. “With me around, you’ll never be hurt again.” It was said with such finality that you had no choice but to believe him.

He carries you to your shared bedroom, once cold now full of love. He carefully lays you on your silk sheets, taking his time to undress you, almost like a present for himself.

“Suguru” can hardly contain his appreciation for the sight before him. You were quite literally everything he was looking for in a partner, and he couldn’t believe his luck when he picked a host that had exactly what he needed.

With that thought in mind, he rids himself of his clothes, eager to make a mess of you. “You’re so pretty, baby. You look so good laid out for me like this.” He sighs, running his hands up and down your thighs. You try to squeeze them tight to prevent him from catching sight of your wetness but it’s fruitless; he can practically taste you on his tongue.

He manages to pry your legs apart, the sight of your sticky folds enough to make a grown man weep. He doesn’t hold himself back anymore, immediately diving into your soaked cunt.

You gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue laving over the bundle of nerves as you grind into his face. “That’s it, baby. Use me. Use me to get off, you deserve it.” And you know what? You fucking do.

So you do as he says, pressing his face further into your pussy as you get off on his mouth. He’s moaning into you, hands grabbing at whatever he can as you whine and gasp at the overwhelming feeling.

It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming, cunt spasming around his tongue as he uses it to fuck you through your orgasm, your body twitching at the intensity of it.

He presses one final kiss to your clit before pulling away slightly, hands rubbing comforting circles into your skin. He leans up to your face, pressing a deep kiss to your lips before pulling away to look at the softness in your eyes.

“Ready for more?” He asks, pressing sweet pecks to your chubby cheeks. You’re coherent enough to nod in the affirmative, and that’s all “Suguru” needs to get to work, running his hard dick through your soaked folds to lube himself up.

The glide into your cunt is easy, the head of his cock nearly nudging your cervix with every thrust.

He’s beating your poor pussy up, dick slamming into your g-spot and he’s not faring any better. Your moans and the squelch of your pussy is music to his ears, and the way your cunt clenches every time he makes a particularly deep thrust has a shiver running down his spine.

As he nears his orgasm, he realizes he has to feel you cum on his cock. It’s a must.

He reaches up and pinches each of your nipples, licking into your mouth when you open it to moan for him. “Cum for me. Cum on my fucking cock.” He demands, slamming into you in quick succession. All it takes is one, two, three more thrusts and you're spilling all over his cock, drenching him in your release. It’s not long before he’s right behind you, holding you flush against him as he spills his seed deep in your womb.

You’re panting against each other, holding each other as you catch your breaths. It’s a few minutes before “Suguru” pulls away and leaves the room and you’re worried things will go back to the way they were before. But then he comes back with a wet cloth, a bowl of the chocolate strawberries and a bottle of water. He hands you the fruit and water, before running the wet towel through your soaked folds, careful of your sensitivity.

Once he’s finished he tosses the towel onto his nightstand to be dealt with later, then pulling you flush against him as he feeds you more of the strawberries. You sigh in content as you let yourself be cared for.

Once you’ve finished the fruit and drank a good portion of the water, “Suguru” hugs you close to him once again, your back against his front, as he rubs his hand over your plump tummy. You think about this. About the intimacy he provides, the safety you feel with him.

“I know you’re not what you once were Suguru,” You start, and you feel him stiffen behind you. You place your hand over his, intertwining your fingers. “But I don’t care.”

He breathes out.

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @cherries-c0la @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon @c0pkiller

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 stein

synopsis: while you're laughing at the stories told to you by some rando at the bar, zoro can't help but be affected by the green-eyed monster. nami and robin try to quell his worries... but things take a turn for the worst when the man puts his hands on you.

cw: lots of fluff, comfort, (justifiably) crazy boyfriend zoro, possessive zoro, needy zoro, he is once again down bad for reader, reader is super pretty.

a/n: if my man doesn't act like this I DON'T WANT HIM. link to the outfit I was envisioning if you want it x

As the man next to you donned a smug grin, the vein in Zoro's forehead bulged, his fingers tightening around the handle of his stein with a near bruising grip as you let out yet another silvery laugh, tickled by the "hilarious" story.

He was about two seconds away from breaking the bastard's face.

The swordsman's usual indifferent expression was swapped with one of severe annoyance, his chest burning with the violent urge to maim as you threw your head back with a small snort, your hands coming up to clutch your stomach.

He impatiently drummed his fingers against the table, brows endlessly furrowing downward at the scene in front of him.

He leaves for two goddamn seconds...

'...and suddenly everyone on this island's a fuckin' comedian.'

To say he was displeased would be a grave understatement.

He was downright pissed.

Only a few moments ago you both were yukking it up at the bar, drinking the place dry as you reminisced on the crew's most recent adventure, regaling each other with stories from your respective fights and showing off new scars acquired.

But he left for two fucking seconds to take a leak, and all of a sudden everyone decided to come out the woodwork, pulling up to your spot at the bar like vultures on the hunt.

Had he not rested his hand on your hip as you walked in?

Had he not toyed with the strings of your shirt as you talked?

Had he not kissed you on the cheek before he left for the fucking bathroom?

What part of his demonstration was unclear?

You were his girl.

His woman.

His partner-in-crime.

So why the fuck was he sitting on the sidelines while some no-name, smooth-talking bastard tried to put the moves on you?

"Because I'm not gonna let you go on some jealous rampage while everyone's trying to have a good time," Nami stated, simply, her thumb pointing toward Luffy, Usopp, Chopper, Franky, and Brook, who were dancing next to the jukebox. "We've been through enough this week... the last thing we need is a bar fight."

Zoro scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned away from the woman, taking a rough swig of beer before his gaze instinctively drifted back to you, his expression almost akin to that of a neglected child.

Robin softly smiled, amused by his adorable display.

She never took the swordsman for the possessive type...

"Is there something about her interacting with another man that bothers you?" she asked, curious, as she rested her cheek in her palm. "Do you think she would oblige his advances?"

Nami gasped, offended on your behalf.

"Zoro! (y/n) would never!" she defended, turning to him sharply. "That girl never shuts up about you. In fact, you're probably what she's over there gabbing about."

The swordsman glanced back in your direction, watching as you happily talked away, the man resting his arm against the bartop and leaning into you.

He didn't even try to look like he was paying attention...

Zoro grit his teeth, brows furrowing.

"I don't think the bastard gives a damn..." he seethed, staring daggers at the man.

"You keep on glaring like that and you're gonna pop a blood vessel..."

Robin's calculated eye scanned over Zoro's expression once again, learning a new piece of information.

"So it's the man specifically that's causing all this worry," she mused.

"The man?" Nami cocked a brow, rolling her eyes when she realized the swordsman was now glaring even harder. "C'mon, Zoro, don't you trust (y/n)? You know she would never let anything happen—"

"I know she wouldn't," he stated, curtly, not taking his eyes away from the sleaze-ball. "It's him I don't trust."

Zoro watched as you paused your conversation, turning to ask the bartender for another drink, the man next to you taking the opportunity to let his gaze wander.

Slowly, his eyes trailed up your body, gliding over your smooth legs and your exposed torso to reach your chest, staring shamelessly at your tits.

They sat perfectly in the tight, tiny soccer crop-top Nami loaned you, the flesh of your legs accentuated by the equally small shorts, as well as your matching, chunky boots.

His thoughts were loud, Zoro reading his mind just off the expression on his face.

Crrkt!

The swordsman didn't like it one bit.

"Zoro!" Nami exclaimed, eyes wide as she looked at him, incredulously. "We're gonna have to pay for that!"

The swordsman looked down at his hand to see that in his silent anger, not only had he broken the handle off his stein, but he'd snapped the handle in half.

"Nami-swan! Robin-dear! How are my lovely ladies doing?!" Sanji twirled his way over, donning a large smile and a lovesick look.

Though, all that changed once he got a look at Zoro.

"Huh? What crawled up your ass, mosshead?"

Robin smiled, "A man at the bar seems to have taken a liking to (y/n)."

Curious, the cook turned to the scene, brows immediately furrowing at the man's body language, and heart aching for your innocent, engaged expression.

"What the—?" he spat, almost disbelieving of the man's audacity. "Is he fuckin' serious?"

Nami's brows raised with confusion, and she took a look at the man again, but found nothing off about him.

"I don't get it," she stated, shrugging her shoulders. "He looks perfectly nice to me."

"You don't know men," Zoro and Sanji answered in perfect unison, voices dripping with venom.

Just then, your tone raised, expression sharpening into a glare as you stared the man down.

Everyone's attention snapped to you, Zoro shooting up from his seat almost immediately.

"Hold on there, tiger," Sanji rested a hand on his shoulder, taking a drag of his cigarette. "(y/n) can handle herself."

Abruptly, you stood from your seat, the man across from you seeming to become irritated by the words coming out of your mouth, meeting you with just as much aggression.

It looked like you both were arguing.

"What happened?" Nami asked, concerned. "They were talking just fine a moment ago."

"This doesn't look good," Robin stated, seriously.

"You watch your mouth when you're talking about my captain, you bastard! You don't know shit!" you barked, calling the attention of everyone in the bar.

"Captain?! You're a fuckin' pirate?!" he exclaimed, surprised.

"Of course," Nami dropped her head on the table, letting out a small groan.

"Yeah, I'm a pirate! And you're a bad-breath havin' ass piece of bounty hunter shit! What gives you the right to talk like that about others when you look the way you do?!"

The entire bar burst into uproarious laughter at your retort, going wild as the man looked around with shame, their cackles punctuating the embarrassing scene.

The boys in the corner were completely floored, Luffy practically rolling around on the ground.

Nami, Robin, and Sanji couldn't help but let out a few of their own snickers, muffling it by covering theirs mouths or taking a sip of their drinks.

Zoro was practically beaming with pride, a cocky smirk stretching across his lips as an angry expression began to grow on the man's face

'Atta girl.'

But, suddenly, all of that changed once a biker from behind you stood up.

In a flash, he looped his arms under your armpits, holding you in place as the man launched forward and sucker punched you in the face.

The entire Strawhat crew was moving before he could even pull his fist away.

Now... Zoro played about a lot of things.

His life—daily.

His money—on the regular.

His liver—every damn day of the week.

But there were three crucial things he did not play about.

His crew.

His captain.

And, secretly at the top...

You.

So it was safe to say that he went absolutely fucking berserk the moment that man put his hands on you.

And, to save you all the gory details—which, believe me, they are gory—I'll leave the scene at this...

Luffy, Sanji, Usopp, Franky, Chopper, and Brook had to actually, physically pry Zoro off of the man to keep the swordsman from murdering him with his bare hands.

Back on the Sunny, Zoro sat on a bed in the infirmary, quietly watching as you rummaged around for some bandages for his raw knuckles.

The rest of the crew was still on the island, assisting Chopper as he cleaned up the bio-hazard your swordsman left behind on the bar floor.

According to the doctor's prognosis, it would be a miracle if the bounty hunter was ever able to eat solid food again.

Grabbing the first aid kit out the cabinet, you walked back over to your boyfriend, the man shifting in his seat to open up his lap for you, which you instantly obliged.

Settling on top of him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, using his shoulders to steady yourself before you got to work.

"Are you alright?" he asked with a slight rumble as you carefully took his left hand in yours, using a rag and a nearby bowl of water to wash off the foreign blood.

His eyes were trained on the dark bruise that sat right on your cheekbone, the memory of the man punching you in the face already rekindling the flames of anger burning in his chest.

He got off too easy...

"I am... thanks to you," you noticed, attempting to quell his rising fury. "Swoopin' in to my rescue like a knight. I felt like a real princess, y'know?"

He let out a small chuckle at your joke, his free hand coming up to rest on your hip.

Though, he was still concerned, the faint smile on his lips staying there for only a moment before it was gone, as if it was never there.

"And to answer your question, it hurt about as much as a punch could," you answered, already able to see the question forming in his mind. "He wasn't incredibly strong, so the most it did was wake me up a little."

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes at the memory.

"And it's a good thing it did because I was two seconds away from throwing myself out the window if I had to talk to him any longer."

Zoro suddenly raised a brow, confused.

"I thought you two were getting along?" he asked as you dipped the bloody rag in a bowl of water. "You seemed eager to talk to him."

"Fuck no," you scoffed, incredulously. "It was the complete opposite. Talking to him was like watching paint dry; but, I had to put on a good show if I wanted him and his bounty hunter gang to pay for a couple of our rounds. "

Twisting the rag, you rang out the dirty water, moving on to clean his right hand.

"He wouldn't shut up about himself, and he wouldn't stop giving me weird looks when he thought I wasn't paying attention."

"So what set you off?" Zoro asked, intrigued. "What did he say?"

Your brows furrowed, your mouth biting back a curse word or two as you recalled.

"He saw Luffy's wanted poster behind the bar, and with the alcohol loosening him up a bit, he got to talking," you explained, pissed all over again. "He said the world would've been better off if Luffy had died at Marineford, right next to his weak-ass, bastard brother."

Zoro's eye widened, your reaction now perfectly understandable.

He would've done the same, if not worse.

Finishing up with the rag, you tossed it in the sink, moving to wrap his hands with the bandages.

"But it looks like he won't be speaking for a while now," you lightly joked. "So I'll suck it up and let it go."

Pausing for a moment, you hand rose to cup his cheek, the man leaning into your touch as you rested your forehead against his, placing a soft peck on his nose.

"But thank you," you smiled, looking into his eyes lovingly. "You were a real hero today, despite what the others may say."

Allowing himself to finally relax, his shoulders sank, and he leaned further into you, content with having you in his arms.

His silence spoke volumes, and you couldn't help the lovesick grin that managed to find it's way to your face.

God, you loved this man.

And, even though others may find you crazy for it, you couldn't help but be incredibly aroused as you recalled the way Zoro sprang into action, beating your attacker to a bloody pulp without hesitation.

"Y'know..." you started, cheekily, the man raising a brow at your sudden change in expression. "You're hot when you're jealous."

The comment took him by surprise, but as he checked your darkened eyes for confirmation, he could tell you were one-hundred percent serious.

"Oh, am I, now?" he smirked, teasingly, shifting his grip on your waist to flip you both over and pin you to the bed.

You let out a happy squeal as he pressed his lips against yours, your body melting into him instantly.

As you relished the feeling of his strong hands gliding across your skin—the same hands that nearly beat a man to death only moments earlier—you couldn't help the warm flutter reverberating through your stomach.

You kissed him back with just as much fervor, if not more, allowing him to use his position to get the angle on you and deepen the kiss.

Zoro had made it abundantly clear that you were the last person in the world to mess with, and as rumors of what happened on the island spread like wildfire, one fact became as certain as stone...

If you like your life... don't flirt with (p/n) (y/n).