#house of solis occasum

[chrollogy]

SILKEN WEB

— chrollo lucilfer x f!reader x hisoka morow

syn: Hisoka’s ‘generosity’ allows Chrollo to fuck you in front of him after he’s seen the way the latter has looked at you. Though, the redhead cannot help but join in on the fun despite being the cuck—he has his ways, he always does.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, porn without plot, cuckolding, voyeurism, threesome, creampie unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f & m), anal (f), masturbation (m), edging, overstimulation, hisoka uses bungee gum, chrollo might be pining over reader, not beta read.

word count: 2.8k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. the fruit of my late night thoughts nod nod. as per poll results, here’s hisoka as the cuck :3

Fantasizing—a children’s pastime, a mere way to escape from one’s gruelling reality but Chrollo Lucilfer would be lying to himself if he deemed he wasn’t immune to it. Oh, he certainly wasn’t without a doubt; the root of all his wildest dreams, and twisted carnal desires was none other than the woman beneath him, all in her serene nakedness—you.

So breathtakingly exquisite—the epitome of beauty. From the lust-clouded gaze that complimented the colour of your eyes all the way to the dulcet tone of your breaths, this was sinful heaven for Chrollo. Sinful not because of the sharp pleasure kissing down his spine but simply because you weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours. Not lovers, not friends, mere acquaintances, and your heart was reserved for none other than a member of the Troupe he led.

But that never stopped Chrollo from fantasizing about you, about this. Ever the observant fighter, it didn’t take long for Hisoka to catch the former’s lingering stares on you—albeit, as blank as a sheet of paper—whenever he paraded you around. One of the biggest telling signs was that Chrollo had never uttered a word regarding your presence whenever you sat there during their meetings despite the other members’ dismay.

Of course, once something piqued Hisoka’s curiosity, he wouldn’t let go until a solid answer was handed to him on a silver platter. It was a short exchange between the two males, a few sharp retorts from Hisoka’s end but nonetheless, it led to this lewd scene. Per the magician’s words, he gave Chrollo permission to do whatever he pleased to you—to fuck, to make love, to get lost in eye-rolling pleasure within your very walls but only if he got to watch everything unfold.

From the intimate act of undressing, and peeling of clothes all the way to a passionate climax that was sure to vex his very bones, Hisoka was to watch it all.

Faint squeaks of the bed frame paired with yours, and Chrollo’s heated gasps filled every corner of the room; his thrusts were deep, and rapid, body intimately flushed against your own which absolutely left no room for coherent words to come out—with the way his cockhead repeatedly prodded your sweet spot, strings of broken whimpers, and low moans were the best you could muster.

Sex wasn’t something you were foreign with but the ungodly rhythm of Chrollo’s hips was enough to make you feel like a virgin again begging for more, more, more, nothing but pleasure engrained inside your mind, clawing, and running after that blissful sensation.

Chrollo was different from Hisoka, he handled you with the utmost gentleness but that didn’t take away the fact that he pounded you oh-so-passionately into the ivory mattress beneath. On the other hand, Hisoka was rough, and animalistic—purely driven by his wild carnal desires. 

Chrollo’s sweat-lined forehead rested against yours, face mere centimetres from your own as your breaths intertwined in a vulgar dance. The hearts of his palms captured your trembling hands in a firm hold, pinning them on either side of your head, and used as leverage to drive his cock deeper into your sopping cunt—as deep as his desires went for you.

He closed his eyes at the feel of your walls clenching around him, jaw tightening as electric pleasure shot up his spine, “F-fuck . .” God, you felt divine, Chrollo truly wanted to keep you to himself. He could treat you so much better than Hisoka—have you reach new heights of pleasure you’ve never experienced before.

Alas, that was out of the picture, Chrollo would have to settle for the mere intimacy of fucking you beneath these ivory covers, the same ones you, and Hisoka retire under after a long, tiring day. The duvet draped loosely across Chrollo’s back, mirroring a broken angel’s wings, and with the eager thrusts of his hips, it slowly slipped downwards. It was hot, and stuffy beneath the weight of the blanket but he’d do anything to keep the lewd intimacy from a pair of prying eyes.

That’s right, Hisoka sat on a chair not too far off the foot of the bed, an unamused expression plastered on his face but the growing tent between his spreaded legs hinted far from unamused.

Sure, the pornographic sounds bouncing off the walls had his cock hardening but Hisoka was deprived. He clicked his tongue, the sharp sound was enough to reel Chrollo out of his pleasured state followed by a stutter in his thrusts. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Chrollo but I said to give me a show, didn’t I?” What was Hisoka supposed to do with your bodies tucked beneath the covers? 

His view was nothing but the top half of Chrollo’s naked back, and the covers moving along with the latter’s thrusts, other than that, it left everything to Hisoka’s imagination. Of course, he wasn’t going to let it be, not after he generously let Chrollo fuck you like this.

With a swift flick of his index finger, the rubbery bright pink aura extended from the tip of his digit all the way to the ivory covers atop Chrollo’s naked back, attaching itself onto the fabric. A smirk crept its way up to Hisoka’s face as he pulled the covers down, exposing the way your naked bodies intimately tangled with one another.

A rather surprised gasp left your lips as the cool air hugged your fervent body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Naturally, this had also caught Chrollo off guard but didn’t let on, instead, the raven haired male responded by drilling his hips at a much faster pace, pulling a string of broken moans from your throat which only fuelled the excitement embedded in Hisoka’s chest.

Light amber eyes fixated where you and Chrollo met, Hisoka intently watched as the former’s cock disappeared, and reappeared between your coated slit—not to mention the light sheen of your essence around Chrollo’s cock, causing it to glimmer beneath the afternoon rays that seeped through the windows. Now, this was what Hisoka wanted to see—you, and Chrollo all in your filthy glory.

The feeling of blood rapidly rushing down to his cock, and the familiar tingle between his legs made Hisoka’s citrine gaze roll back, not to mention the growing delight on his face—it was anything but an innocent look. Lewd, wet sounds that were once muffled beneath the ivory duvet now reached Hisoka’s ears like an unholy melody; the constant skin slapping, the mixture of high, and low moans—the impurity of it all, your lover revelled in it.

Sounds of the redhead’s shameless pornographic moans intertwined with your own, and Chrollo’s as he teased himself through the fabric of his pants. Excitement shocked every part of his body like electricity, rendering him sensitive to anything, and everything—it was the same sensation as the extreme bloodlust he felt whenever he thirsted for battle.

Chrollo quietly clicked his tongue, not bothering to glance back at Hisoka in annoyance. He needed to focus on you. And he did. Without compromising the pace of his hips, Chrollo hooked his fingers beneath the back of your right knee, and deftly slung your whole leg atop his shoulder. The deeper angle of his cock had your back arching, your hands scrambled for his taut biceps to claw, and dig into as he pushed you further, and further into the borders of insanity.

“C-Chrollo! Fuck—right there! Just like that—haah!”

He let out a low groan as your nails marked him up, leaving streaks of bright red on his skin. By the looks of it, he wasn’t going to last much longer with the way your cunt gripped him like a vice. Nonetheless, Chrollo’s pace didn’t let up despite the resistance of your walls, albeit, it had his legs quivering, and breath hitching—god, Hisoka was so fucking lucky to have this, to have you.

Chrollo closed his eyes, and parted his lips to make way for soft pants, he focused his entire body in chasing yours, and his pleasure, basking in the ultimate bliss his body was currently experiencing.

Yes. Yes. Ye—

“She likes—haah! She likes taking it from behind—ngh!” The raven haired male shot his eyes open at the sound of Hisoka’s wanton voice, the concentration he once held faltering just a bit from the sudden noise.

Despite Chrollo’s better judgement, he hauled you into the position like a mere ragdoll, deftly handling your limp body with equal amounts of roughness, and gentleness. Though, your arms violently shook, and gave out as soon as Chrollo re-entered your cunt. With your torso flush against the ivory sheets, your lower half remained in position—easier for him to drive his cock deeper; you swore you could feel him in your throat.

The redhead let out a low chuckle, eager hands messily pulling his pants down to free his hard cock; Hisoka sighed at the lack of restraint, and threw his head back, exposing the length of his neck. 

With the new position, Chrollo returned to the pace he had set earlier, heavy balls slapping against your clit from each hard thrust. Skin against skin burned like a searing blaze but god did it feel amazing, not to mention how it stimulated your sensitive bud in all the right ways.

Chrollo curled over himself to place wet open-mouthed kisses down the length of your spine, moaning low saccharine praises in between. He pushed, and pushed into your sopping cunt until the coil deep in your stomach violently snapped. With a loud moan of his name muffled against the damp sheets, your back arched as you came around Chrollo—muscles taut, and knuckles a shade of ivory while pleasure gnawed at your skin.

Hisoka unabashedly fisted at his cock, one hand focused on pleasuring himself while the other sunk into the plush of the armchair. He matched the pace of his hand to Chrollo’s hips, imagining that it was your cunt instead of his palm, albeit, your velvety walls absolutely compared to nothing. Oh well, he’ll get a taste of you one way or another.

It didn’t take long for Chrollo to follow suit, driving his hips a couple more times before completely pulling out, and blowing his entire load on your bare back. He let out a shameless moan of your name—the loudest one he’s let out. Thick, milky ribbons of Chrollo’s cum unceremoniously painted your skin white, and all he could do was stare at it in a haze while his chest heaved up, and down.

On the other hand, Hisoka gave himself a few more rough pumps before squeezing the base of his leaking cock, lustily letting out a hiss as the pleasure he’d worked so hard for slowly dissipated. He cursed in between rough pants—the hunger for a sweet release just grew tenfold after depriving himself of an orgasm.

Hisoka had something better in mind than cumming on his hand.

“I guess it’s my turn.” Strong, muscular legs slightly quivered with every step taken towards the bed, cock standing proudly against his abdomen. Chrollo only narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, clearly displeased by his sudden initiative.

The former returned a smile, “Oh, don’t get greedy now, Chrollo. I’ll give you two choices—” He held out two long digits. “Either you sit, and watch or join in on the fun.”

Never in a million years would Chrollo even think to engage in a threesome with you, and Hisoka. He didn’t know what bothered him more, the fact that you were the latter’s lover or the fact that he was on the same bed as Hisoka. Nonetheless, here he was balls deep inside your ass, completely unhindered by inhibitions. Hisoka cursed at the feel of your wet cunt, biting his lips at the lewd sound it made as your hot cum coated his cock.

The redhead laid flat on his back, cunt wrapped around him while you straddled his lap which left Chrollo to take care of your backside. Your body remained slumped against Hisoka’s—limp, and quivering as if one wrong move would have you exploding to bits. Could you really blame yourself? Both men stretched you out like it was their sole purpose, it did nothing but put your body under immense pleasure.

You were sandwiched between Hisoka, and Chrollo as though mimicking a mere fly caught in a spider’s silken web, unable to escape. And that usually meant one thing: to wait for one’s impending doom before the ruthless arachnid strikes.

An experimental thrust of their hips had you wailing in pleasure. Having not given enough time to come down from your high, you were still too sensitive—any form of sexual stimulation immediately had your body uncontrollably shaking, and hot tears lining your eyes. Hisoka cupped your jaw with both hands, lifting your face in front of his own before closing the distance; heated, and rough just how he liked it; the redhead didn’t hesitate shoving his tongue past your lips, intimately exploring the inside of your mouth with the wet muscle.

If anything, the messy kiss was enough to distract you from the sudden rough pistoning of their hips—Hisoka gleefully swallowed your wanton moans, and relished at the burning sensation of your nails scratching down his bare chest. The bed creaked under the weight of their merciless thrusts with the headboard atop Hisoka’s head repeatedly banging the wall behind it; these sounds mixed with the lewd melody the three of you produced filled all four corners of the room.

It was funny, anyone would think that a Hisoka, and Chrollo tandem would be a match made in hell; highly volatile once paired together which would result in utter chaos but this—the two moved in perfect unison as though they shared one mind, one ideal. Even only if it was for this moment that they saw one another eye to eye, a wordless union to bring you to another orgasm.

A thin, translucent string of saliva connected your lips to Hisoka’s as he pulled away for a breather, hot breaths mingling with one another as you panted in eachother's face. A sense of pride bloomed across his crimson-marked chest as he watched your lust-filled eyes roll to the back of your head—Hisoka always had a thing for your expressions during sex, it served as fuel to keep going, to keep fucking you.

You looked beautiful bouncing on their cocks, head falling forward while taking their entire length like a champ; the only thing you could really do was grip onto Hisoka’s shoulders, and moan for your dear life. Chrollo couldn’t help but fixate on the way your ass jolted with every thrust, even just the sight of his cock disappearing, and reappearing between the globes of your ass had his head spinning.

It didn’t take long for you to reach yet another orgasm, and this time, it was more intense than the previous one; hot tears ran down your damp cheeks as your body convulsed from pleasure, a drawn out moan of their names combined scratched at your throat. As though he was punched in the gut, Chrollo curled over himself as you clenched around his cock, and attached his lips on your right shoulder, biting down hard at the bare skin.

Hisoka muttered sweet nothings while stroking your hair, amusement filling his tone; you laid there drowning in pleasure while both men remained chasing their own bliss, hips stuttering. It was filthy, and soaking wet where Chrollo, and Hisoka entered you, arousal mixed with your cum messily dripping down the latter’s balls, and onto the sheets beneath.

Chrollo’s digits dug into your skin, he sheathed his cock all the way inside your ass before emptying all his cum inside; he rode out his orgasm by grinding his hips, earning a dainty gasp of his name. Chrollo violently shuddered before releasing your skin from his teeth, he lapped, and kissed at the marks, helping ease the painful sensation he left.

This left Hisoka to firmly plant his feet on the mattress, and thrust upwards which sent your body bouncing once more; short gasps turned into full blown wanton moans as his cockhead repeatedly kissed your sweet spot, bringing your body into overstimulation. Hisoka groaned loudly as the familiar feeling at the pit of his stomach returned, you could tell he was close from the way his fingers gripped your waist with such desperation.

Strings of colourful curses left your lover’s throat as he came inside you, ribbons of his thick essence filling your walls all the way to the brim ‘til it leaked out, and dripped down his balls.

Heavy pants filled the room, the smell of sinful sex hung heavy in the air. The three of you remained still for a moment to catch your breaths but the short time also allowed your minds to clear of lust, and for the whole situation to actually settle in—of what the three of you just did.

Though, it was safe to say that Chrollo wasn’t going to let you escape from his hold any time soon—as though he had you entangled in bands of swathing silk—especially after finally getting a taste of you.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

[grimmweepers]

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: OCT 17TH

— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zhongli x fem!reader | 𝐜𝐰: established relationship but reader finds out his true identity! morax!form, draconic!form mention, human!reader, sex with a god, hair pulling, creampie, nipple play, rough sex, reader wears a nightgown, he calls you 'small in his hands', reader is implied to serve rex lapis, maybe ooc, 2.8k wc 18+ only, MDNI.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

This was completely different from the first time you shared beds with him.

Back then, Zhongli had been soft and gentle, undressing you with such tender care until nothing remained but bare skin and bones. You remembered his warm amber eyes, his featherlight touches, and how he gave so much of himself to you that it left you dizzy and breathless. 

But this was something else entirely. 

It wasn’t that long ago when, to you, he was just a consultant at the Funeral Parlour—a Liyue nobleman who was well-versed in Teyvat’s history. He had been courting you since the last Lantern Rite (perhaps longer if you had paid attention) and you were more than content with the consultant, admiring him just as he was.

Then, after retiring his gnosis—and you still struggled to fully grasp what that meant—he finally confessed.

Overnight, he went from a funeral consultant to Rex Lapis and no matter how many times he explained that he was technically no longer an Archon, it didn’t change the fact that he was still an immortal who had witnessed Liyue from infancy.

And you slept with him!

The memory sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t deny the thrill of realising how the Lord of Rock had practically begged for you to get on top that night. That same feeling returned now as you prepared to sleep with him again. 

You basically asked for it, though. 

When he revealed his identity to you, you had some questions. The first was if he had a real form, to which he replied: I have many.

Then the second question—or rather, request—was to see one of these forms. He was happy to oblige, but you hadn’t expected him to be so… forward.

I’m not being forward, he defended himself, My skin is part of my form. It just so happens that I have to adjust my attire for you to see it properly. 

But he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Zhongli—” His name now felt strange on your lips as you stared, spellbound by his new appearance. You were so captivated that anything could have rolled off your tongue and you wouldn’t have noticed… or cared.

He truly embodied every depiction of Rex Lapis you’ve ever seen.

“Is something the matter?” He asked as if his arms weren’t adorned in glowing geo patterns, as if his physique wasn’t carefully carved by millennia as a leader. He stood over you while you sat on the edge of your bed and you gulped at the vitality in his features. 

He looked larger—more youthful, even.

“What do I—” You hesitated, wondering if your question was foolish. “What do I call you?” 

He cupped your jaw the way he always did, though now with bare hands darkened by power that you could barely comprehend. “You can choose whichever name you like,” he replied. “It doesn’t change who I am to you.” 

Your mouth went dry. It was frightening how much more irresistible he seemed like this.

“Morax,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

His brows lifted slightly, but he stayed silent.

“Morax,” you repeated, louder this time. You knew calling him ‘Rex Lapis’ would have been more respectful, more appropriate, but after seeing him in this divine form, with barely a towel wrapped around his waist, you knew that respect had already been thrown out the window. You would ask to be forgiven but what difference would it make if the god you pleaded to stood right before you in compromised garment?

“Interesting choice,” he chuckled as he pressed his thumb to your lips, “Now, lie still and let me enjoy what belongs to me.”

Those words sank in like branding on your skin—what belongs to me.

He was slow with you at first, hovering over you as you lay back. The silk of your nightgown clung to every curve of your body which left little to the imagination and Zhongli was so engrossed with his view, that the lust in his eyes made something inside you stir. You had to look away, your arms instinctively moving to shield your flushed expression.

After all, it wasn’t every day that you found yourself at the mercy of a man so many prayed to.

Gently, he pulled your arm away, “Why do you turn from me, my love?” He tilted his head, studying you like prey, but the tenderness in his voice reminded you that the ghost of your sweet Zhongli was still there, lingering beneath this form. 

“Are you regretting your curiosity?”

“I guess… seeing you this way makes me a little… shy,” you said, though you didn’t believe your own answer.

Before you could say more, his mouth was on yours, fierce and reassuring. It took the air right out of your lungs. You barely had time to recover before he started trailing softer kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. 

“Shy?” he repeated against your skin, “After all we’ve done, you’re still shy?” He slid his hand up your sides, tangling his fingers between the fine silk. “You may be skilled at keeping secrets but not from me. Tell me the truth, my sweet.” 

You opened your mouth to respond but you couldn’t stop your back from arching at his touch, which was very much an invitation for him to tear off the delicate fabric from your body. When he did, it left your chest exposed to his hungry gaze, earning him a small gasp and a deep ache pooling between your legs. 

“You’re so small in my hands,” he mused, fingers tightening around your throat for a brief moment. "And yet… you offer yourself so willingly."

You had offered yourself to a god.

You had offered yourself to a god.

“Do you understand what you’re doing?”

A shudder tore through you as he took both breasts into his hands and sunk his teeth between them, leaving you little marks made from canines you had never seen before. When you suddenly felt his hard bulge pressing against your core, you realised the towel around his waist had already been discarded. How could you even respond to him?

“This excites you, doesn’t it?” He murmured into the crook of your neck, grinding against you. He didn’t give you a chance to speak when he pried your legs open with one knee. “Have I ever told you how intoxicating you smell when you’re like this?” 

Harder than before, he bit into your neck and you found your fingers tugging on his hair.

“You can… smell me—?”

“I can sense you,” he corrected, “And I know exactly what you want from me." You could certainly tell he was pleased with himself yet instead of pushing you away, it only drew you in further.

With a single motion, you hooked your finger around the pin holding his ponytail in place, and pulled—freeing his hair so it cascaded down over his toned muscles.

He looked perfect. Divine. It was your way of confirming what he already knew—that you wanted this, wanted him.

Zhongli’s eyes glowed in the dim light and there was no mistaking the godly aura of Morax residing in him. The air seemed heavier under the weight of his presence. You were suffocating.

A deep growl elicited from his chest as he pushed the tip of his cock against your underwear, teasing your entrance. You whimpered at the way he bullied you, desperately pulling him in for another feverish kiss to satisfy at least one need.

This one was hungrier, messier. His groan vibrated through your mouth as his carbon-black hand slid back to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. 

Each twist and flick of his tongue felt like a silent demand: Give in. Yield.

In this state, a picture cleared. Zhongli's hands were everywhere—tangled in your hair, between the valley of your breasts, dipping into the areas you ached the most. This side of him was primal, gluttonous, and possessive. Every touch felt forbidden—blasphemous, even. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say you weren’t enjoying every sinful second of it.

Finally, Zhongli parted from the kiss, his breath heavy as his eyes stayed locked with yours. For once, he allowed himself to make you completely at his will. 

The head of his cock pressed harder against your entrance, the flimsy barrier of your silk underwear doing little to dull the intensity of his lust. He was desperate to feel the warmth inside you. You were already soaked, and he knew it—he could feel it, smell it, and it drove him wild.

“My dear,” he said, sound impatient now, “you know I admire you, right?”

“I do,” you replied too quickly.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to be mistaken.”

“What do you mea—”

Before you could finish, he pulled your underwear to the side and let his cock glide against your folds. Your hips moved with him, coating his shaft with your wetness, and that was enough for him to forget about taking it slow. Groaning, he shoved his blunt tip inside you and it left your thighs trembling. Your body felt like it was on fire, jerking back as his length stretched you out, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly, “Oh my—” you gasped.

Had it been that long since you last did this, or was this form accompanied by godly… benefits?

With his head thrown back in sheer pleasure, he let out a throaty grunt, almost salivating at the way your walls pulsed around him—like your body had been made just for him. Somehow, sex felt even better in this form and it had him feral enough to hold the sides of your hips, fingers digging into your flesh to anchor himself between your legs. “That’s it,” he growled, “Take every inch.” 

He started thrusting—hard—the sound of skin meeting skin echoed off the walls. Your breasts bounced in rhythm, and he was so entranced by the sight he could cum on the spot. Every second, he was ripping moan after moan out of you as he fucked you into the mattress. 

“Morax,” you called out, your voice shaking while he pumped in and out of you relentlessly, “So… good. I want more…” You ran your hands across his chest, feeling the quickening of his breath. His face shifted into a predatory look and you realised that he was losing himself as much as you.

“Then come here,” he groaned through gritted teeth, spoken exactly like someone who had never been defiled.

He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead, he flipped you to your stomach, left your ass in the air and your legs hanging off the bed—your toes barely even touching the floor.

You braced yourself for his unyielding pace, but he surprised you with a tender kiss on your shoulder, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

The unexpected affection made your heart swell so you wiggled against his crotch, inviting him for more. He chuckled, almost pityingly, knowing full well what he was about to do next.

You couldn’t even catch your breath before he pushed back inside you, hissing as he indulged in your warmth. You swore you were well-behaved but somehow this felt like a punishment. He, who was so deceptively gentle a moment ago, found your hair and tugged it into his fist, drawing a sharp yelp from your lips.

Once he started moving at the same unforgivable pace, each thrust forced his name out of your mouth. “M-Morax— Mor–ax,” you were barely coherent and it riled him up the more you said it. It surely wasn’t the first time hearing someone call him that but in this context, he wasn’t going to make it his last—especially if it was you.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice resonant, like the rumbling of the earth itself. 

“Y-Yes…”

Although, you weren’t sure what you expected when you asked to see his form but you knew what you were receiving now was the primal strength of something foreign to you.

His heavy cock stretched you so deliciously, filling you so completely that every nerve in your body screamed with pleasure. You clawed at the sheets as you creamed rings around his base and the wooden bedframe groaned with each erratic thrust.

His movements were undeniably getting sloppier and his breaths came in short, guttural huffs. “Feel- how- deep I am inside- you?” he rasped, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. “You’re taking it so well.” You couldn’t see it but you heard a grin dancing behind his voice as he pushed deeper.

Your feet were lifting off the ground with each thrust, leaving your ass stinging from the relentless pounding. When you felt his free hand snake around to cup your breast, fingers squeezing your sensitive nipple, you practically melted. “Thank you… Ple—,” you whined, the only words you could really manage.

But that was enough for him.

Zhongli’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled, forcing your head back while his other hand dug into the soft flesh of your breast. The pain mixed with pleasure sent your vision into a blur of white. It shouldn’t feel this good but you could feel your orgasm coming despite being nothing but a ragdoll in his powerful hands. 

His body trembled as he chased his release, each thrust growing more urgent as he drove into your G-spot. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body until finally, your climax hit like a tidal wave. Letting go of your hair, you collapsed against the mattress. It was too much so it left you biting into the sheets, a cry ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with each spasm. “I-I’m—ahhh—cumming!”

“Just like that,” he groaned while your body tightened, savouring the way your body responded to every thrust. He was unable to think about anything else aside from the feeling of your muscle clenching and pulsating, “So tight—keep going. You’re perfect like this.”

With one final snap of his hips, you felt him pulse between your walls, his balls tightening as he emptied deep inside you. Thick ropes of hot milky cum filled you, his cock twitching as he buried himself to the hilt. Your name rolled off his lips in a low, drawn-out grunt that was raw and animalistic, a sound that made you delirious enough to go another round just to hear it again. 

Even after he finished, he stayed pressed against you, fucking his cum back into you with lazy, satisfied strokes, filling you over and over until there was nothing left to give. 

“I’m… full,” you whispered shakily, still feeling every inch of him inside you.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Yes and no. If getting tossed around meant you were fine, then sure.

"I'm okay," you breathed.

"Good girl."

When he finally pulled out, you went completely limp, rolling onto your back while a thin layer of sweat left your skin glowing.

You could feel Zhongli doing the same, his body mirroring yours as you both lay there, chests heaving, struggling to catch your breaths. After a moment, you turned to face him, both of you blinking at each other under the light.

“This… wasn’t what I meant when I said show me one of your forms,” you managed to say. 

“Are you complaining?” 

You let out a soft sigh as you stared up at the ceiling. Even after all this, he hadn’t lost his sarcastic sense of humor. “No,” you admitted, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks. “It’s just that… well, I think I might’ve enjoyed you—the real you—a little more than I expected. A little more than what’s appropriate, perhaps.”

You couldn’t help but dance around the memory of all the offerings you’d given Rex Lapis throughout your life. Was this his gift in return?

“Oh? Pray tell, what is it that you enjoyed so much?”

You hesitated but the way he looked at you made it impossible not to answer. 

 “I liked… the way you moved…" you felt slightly embarrassed to continue but he nodded for you to go on, "You were rougher on me, but it made me want more…”

While you spoke, you noticed subtle changes in him. His pupils began narrowing into thin slits, and his golden irises seemed to glow with an ethereal light. The sharpness of his fangs became more pronounced, peeking between his lips. His fingers, which had been tracing circles on your arm, now felt a little sharper, almost claw-like.

“And… your strength,” you gulped as you watched his transformation. “It was… overwhelming. I couldn’t resist it but I didn't want to. I felt safe.”

A low, rumbling growl emanated from his chest, his hand sliding possessively to your waist. It made your stomach flip.

“If that’s the case,” his voice was deeper now, almost a purr as his newly revealed tail coiled around your thigh. He leaned closer, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. 

“Why are you trembling?”

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers: @/astrumaur

[yogurtkags]

❝ 8:37AM ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw. gn!reader, fluff, depictions of makeup/skincare application, established relationship, pet names (baby), soft boy kags | wc: 260

masterlist

tobio is mesmerised.

it’s a sight that he tries to make time to see everyday, and he does often, but it doesn’t fail to fill him up with a rush of warmth like a breeze tickling his cheek on a windy day, caressing the pale skin and leaving a lingering touch in it’s wake.

every swipe, pat, spritz, you name it, is done in precision like you’ve memorised every step and motion to heart even though you’re barely coherent at times — he can’t help but associate the connection to how he plays volleyball. he knows it’s a little different, obviously, but the concept is there.

you often catch glimpses of him through the mirror, looking at you with the softest look in his eyes. you’re the person of his dreams, how could he not? sometimes he comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder, not before pressing a chaste kiss to your skin and sleepily nuzzling in your neck like a drowsy kitten just awoken from slumber.

“hey baby, you okay?” you gently ask with a smile, pausing your movements to lean your head against his.

he only hums in response, murmuring barely above a whisper, that you’re so beautiful.

with the early morning sunlight trickling in through gaps in the blinds, your eyes shut with an amused huff, tilting your head slightly to plant your lips against his temple in a featherlight touch. in the pale golden glow, you shine, and tobio thinks that in quiet moments like this, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

gen taglist. open (link to form) @wyrcan @urslytherin

tobio nation ♡ @hiraethwa @shouyuus @mcdonaldsnumberone

networks. @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum

notes. your honour i love this man

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[sleepynoons]

LOVERS' OATH BY CHEN YU-PENG – diluc ragnvindr (genshin) x afab!f!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – smut word count – ~2,400 warnings – unprotected sex, fingering, thigh riding, riding, pussy job, creampies, multiple orgasms, husband/wife kink, praise kink, biting, squirting, lingerie, allusions to marathon sex synopsis – your wedding with diluc was a small, intimate event, just between the two of you, the officiant, close friends, and a few notable business partners. and you're glad, because you have more than enough energy to make the most out of your first night together as a married couple.

It’s funny how your roles are reversed. You’re the more forward one compared to Diluc, but as you’re stepping out of the shower and drying yourself, you keep fumbling and dropping your towel. It takes you thrice as long to put on your robe, and it’s almost impossible for your trembling fingers to tie the silk belt into a presentable bow. Diluc, on the other hand, is sitting on the edge of the bed as he awaits you, eyes closed, palms clasped together over his knees. For once, he feels more collected and prepared. Largely due to your allure, he tends to lose his mind whenever he’s in bed with you, but this time, his determination’s only growing with every passing second, and he intends to see his goal through.

Before you step out of the bathroom, you bounce on the balls of your feet, a weak attempt to shake out some of your jitters. Of course, you delight in your excitement as well. It’s riveting to spend a planned, dedicated, uninterrupted night with your lover, and even more so, when he’s also now your husband. It’s just another title, only one amongst his already large collection of nicknames you’ve given him, but to you, it’s a new label that brings a sense of finality, that he’s to be yours, and you’re to be his, for the rest of your lives, fates forever intertwined.

At the thought, you push yourself out of the bathroom. With a soft smile, Diluc stands and meets you halfway, reaching out to grasp your forearms when they’re within reach. He ends up pulling you in so that you’re pressed against him, and you sigh and sink into his touch so you can envelope yourself with his warmth and scent.

“How was your bath, Mrs. Ragnvindr?” His voice’s only slightly louder than a grumble, and you shiver as you feel his breath against the shell of your ear.

“Very pleasant, Mr. Ragnvindr.” You ghost your lips over the underside of his jaw, leaving a soft kiss when you reach the point of his chin. You feel his arms tense at your motions, fingers curling into the fabric of your robe, before he pulls away, one hand still holding yours, to lead you to bed.

“I’m glad we kept the celebrations to a minimum,” you whisper, though you’re not sure why. It’s only the two of you in the entirety of the mansion right now, yet perhaps it’s because you have faith that Diluc already knows your thoughts and sentiments without you needing to articulate them.

As you thought, Diluc hums in agreement while he helps you sit on his lap, hands falling to rest at the curve of your hips. This position’s dangerous, you think. The robe, made of silk, lace, and traces of chiffon, is thin, and with Diluc wearing his own of the same materials, there’s very little separating your bare bodies. You run the tips of your fingertips up his chest before curling them around the back of his neck. With a gentle tug, you guide his head to tilt upwards, before you slot your lips together.

The kiss is both incredibly soft and positively searing. Diluc’s arms have moved up to wrap around themselves around your back, embracing you so tightly that you’re pressed against each other, chest to chest. It’s a dance that you both know by heart – after all, it’s something you choreographed together. When you part your lips, he surges forward, teasing you with quick licks to the roof of your mouth. When he breaks for air, you suckle on his bottom lip with full intent on leaving bruises in your wake. It goes back and forth, giving more when the other cannot, begging for more when the other’s about to pull away, forgoing the need to breathe because that’s a lesser need when also given the option to taste and kiss and never part from each other.

Your fingers are wrapped in his hair, the strands tugging thickly around your joints, as if his body is tethering you to him in as many ways as it can. Your other hand caresses his cheek, and you notice his skin’s burning, heat traveling through where his skin converges with your fingertips and melds you to him. It’s a little embarrassing, but the thought of Diluc’s blush prompts you to notice the heat pooling in your lower stomach and between your thighs, and you can’t help but let your hips jolt forward, rubbing yourself against smooth silk and toned thigh.

You pitch a moan into Diluc’s mouth, and he swallows it with another lap and dive of his tongue. He shifts you around so that you’re sitting on the peak of one of his thighs, and he grasps at your waist to help guide you as you begin to roll your body back and forth. You  open your eyes for a split second, to find that your lover’s already looking at you, possibly having done so this whole time. You whine, and the corners of his eyes crease, faint traces of joyful crow’s feet evident. In the back of your head, a longing to grow old with him appears, and you hold onto him even tighter in response.

With every rock of your body forward, your front meets Diluc’s hard cock. Your hole leaks simply at the sight of it, and you can’t help but whine whenever his shaft skims your skin. It’s tantalizing, the way that one moment you two are completely up against each other with no room for even air and then, suddenly, the next moment, you’re separating but the brief coolness of the separation only further entices the both of you.

Over time, Diluc helps you go faster and faster. Your whines gradually transform into desperate cries, which he all dutifully devours and savors, and always at the right moment, he pushes you down onto his leg more forcefully to apply delicious pressure against your clit. At this point, with all of the movement, it’s difficult to continue making out, so whenever you’re rolling back, you give Diluc a perfect view of your body’s needy shaking and swiveling.

Diluc’s not one to be very vocal in bed, but even he can’t stop the praises that spill out of his mouth when he sees you in such a state, losing yourself and all your bearings. In between pants and huffs, he groans, “So, so beautiful, my love. So good, so soft. Yeah, that’s right, keep going, you’re incredible.”

Throwing your head back, you give Diluc full reign over your body, and he takes over generously. He glides you over the absolute wet mess you’ve made on his thigh, angling you so that the stimulation against your clit is never-ending. From the corner of your eye, you admire the way his arms, thick with muscle, decorated in proud battle scars, flex and bulge, and you’ve never felt so content with giving yourself entirely to another person. The knot in your stomach builds so smoothly, and finally, when you’re about to reach your high, Diluc times it perfectly so that you release when you’re chest to chest, lip to lip, cock to stomach with him again.

Your body quakes so dramatically that it even surprises you. Hands flying to his shoulders, your eyes roll back as Diluc works you through your climax, tongue lolling against yours, fingernails digging deeply into your sides, thigh flexing against your orgasming core. You can’t even make a noise because you feel so up high, mind uncomprehending and unable to express even a noise to demonstrate your pleasure.

It’s only when Diluc releases you that, by sheer instinct, you take a deep gulp of air, and come back to.

Then, you make eye contact with each other. You only have time to utter a single “You’re the who’s incredible,” before the two of you collide back together.

You tap at Diluc’s chest, a sign for him to lie down, and he brings you with him. In this position, his cock’s nestled between your legs, rubbing against your still throbbing core. You break away, fast enough so that Diluc can’t pull you back in – and he grunts at that –, and sit up straight. With your hands placed on his chest, also chiseled and toned and covered with small red hairs, you resume rolling your hips, making extra effort to ensure that the head of his cock always catches against your folds and gaping hole. Every time his tip hits, Diluc sucks in a breath with narrowed eyes, doing all he can to smother his need to just put him inside of you.

You look down and admire the mixture of your essences. The shine of your wetness, combined with the glossy white of his pre-cum, are smeared everywhere, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this aroused before. However, your admiration causes your focus to shift, and in that split second, due to your carelessness, Diluc’s cock enters inside of you.

It’s completely unexpected. As if Pandora’s Box has been opened, you sink down onto his thick cock, and with every inch you take of him, you feel breaths being punched out of your body. You aren’t stretched out, so it’s hard to take all of his cock in. Noticing the slight crease in your brow, Diluc lifts you off, before filling you back up with two of his fingers. You sigh out of relief, but you quickly find yourself breaking down into a moaning mess only moments later as Diluc works you open with his fingers, an expert in identifying and curling into your favorite spots. Just within a few minutes, Diluc can fit two more fingers into you, and continues prodding all four inside of you until you’re a drooling, cumming mess. He watches in awe as your hole clenches tightly around him, release trickling down to his wrists.

“My love,” he mumbles, reverence and adoration overflowing in his tone. He takes a moment to simply admire your face, tears escaping down your face, nose sniffling, mouth parted and releasing shallow breaths. He then catches the look in your eyes, and although it’s clear you’re a little winded from having climaxed twice already, there’s also an obvious burning desire for more.

After all, you haven’t gotten to the best part yet.

You return to your original position, but this time, you’re not just rubbing yourself against him. Taking his heavy, leaking cock, you tap the head against your clit a few times before taking the entire thing into your hole. This time, he goes in much more smoothly, and you both, quite delirious at this point, moan at the heat and intimacy. You grind and bounce, and the room soon fills with dirty, dirty sounds of your wet skin smacking against his, your ass smacking against his balls, your hole taking in more and more of his dick.

As much as Diluc loves it whenever you take charge and pleasure him, though, he’s still at least sound enough in mind to remember his objective. Even though this marriage is for the both of you, you were the one who made it all happen. You were the one who proposed to him, planned the wedding, entertained the guests, so that he could continue his duties without interruption. It’s only natural, then, that it’s his turn now to show you how grateful he is, to prove to you that’s he more dedicated and committed to you than you can ever imagine.

As your rhythm shakes, partially because your thighs are growing a little weary, mostly because your mind’s too clouded with pleasure to properly coordinate, Diluc seizes the opportunity to grab you by the waist. You almost scream at the sensation of Diluc’s hips thrusting up into you, as his hands force you down with all their might. A yelping mess, you collapse on top of him, and let him reach deeper and deeper inside of you. And it feels so much better, hotter, than before because, for the first time, he’s not using a condom, and suddenly, you’re starting to babble total nonsense.

“Come in me! Diluc! I-I n-need your cum, please! Inside! Ah!”

Diluc’s mind completely blanks. Thus, with no capacity to withhold himself, he bites down onto your shoulder and cums. With his release filling you up, pumping you full with long, sticky ropes, you quickly follow, reaching your third high of the night.

However, unlike the previous times when Diluc gave you brief moments to catch your breath, you find yourself being repositioned so that your back’s against the bed, with your lover hovering over you.

“Again,” he grits, as he nudges your legs apart with his knees. Within seconds, he’s sinking back into you, and your mouth opens to release a noiseless scream. At the unbelievably lewd expression on your face, Diluc growls, the sound so unfettered and wild, carnal in his hopeless and uncontainable desire for your heat and tightness.

He rests his forehead on yours as he begins to thrust.

“Who am I?” he grunts, between heavy breaths.

You don’t understand at first, so entranced at the feeling of being so full. “Huh?” you weakly offer.

“Who am I?” he repeats. This time, he punctuates each word of his question with a blunt shove of his cock inside of you.

“M-my husband!” you cry.

“Good,” he rasps, “and you’re my wife. My wife. Mine for the rest of my life.”

You realize, then, that you never even thought about your new title as Diluc’s wife. Many have already been referring to you as Mrs. Ragnvindr, but for Diluc to call you his own wife? 

Clinging onto his back and shoulders, you moan and cry and scream with every one of Diluc’s movements. “Yes, I’m y-your wife! O-oh! I love you s-so much, Diluc!”

Both of you think you’re seeing the heavens. Diluc can barely mumble his “I love you more” in response, before, with a few frantic pumps of his cock, you both cum together.

It doesn’t end there. After all, it’s your wedding night. Diluc continues to take you over and over again until early in the morning, and you more than oblige, receiving his love with open arms and unconditional trust, while trying to give tenfold of it to him in return.

He’s yours, and you’re his, for the rest of your lives, fates forever intertwined.

winter event masterlist

[sunnie-angel]

week 4 (oct. 25) | size kink

✮⋆˙ some other love

jason's tried forever and it's never worked out, but the pretty thing that runs one of his community centres is just so earnest in her desire for him that maybe he can have this. (part of the older, jaded jason au)

tags: f!reader, older jason, age gap, size kink, vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, kid as a petname, unprotected sex

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

The first time Jason Todd takes you home for anything stronger than a nightcap, it catches you off guard. Not that you knew that was what he was asking you up to his loft for. No, you had thought that like every other week before it, you would sit on his sinfully comfortable couch with a glass of whatever he was drinking this time and go over the week’s reports in a tone that would just edge on flirtatious that he would smilingly deflect.

What had really happened was this: halfway through the numbers on how the community centre was doing, Jason had put down his glass, reached over to take your own tumbler from you and set it on the solid wood coffee table. He had helped you to stand, papers sliding off your lap and into a hazardous pile on the floor. Pulled you to him so that all you could do was look up at him, close enough to see the way time was creasing her way across the corners of his eyes and threading across his temples. Jason had cupped your face in one large hand, impossibly soft as he dragged a thumb across your cheek.

“You work so hard for me, don’t you,” he had asked, only it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Dumb with desire, you had only been able to manage a miniscule nod, fearful that anything else would shatter this moment like glass. Your lips had parted with anticipation as he continued to stare down at you, considering in a way his gaze never had been before. Subconsciously rocking up on your toes, trying to draw yourself as close as he would allow, that had seemed to decide things for him. At 8:37 PM on a Friday evening, Jason Todd kisses you for the first time.

Kissing him is like coming home to a memory you’d long forgotten. It’s almost chaste, sweet in its brevity. He’s gentle, palm softly steering you to a better angle so that he can meet the soft plush of your mouth with his own. Jason’s other hand rests low on the curve of your back, touch burning through the thin polyester of your blouse. Warmth and care emanate through your whole body, honey in your veins. With a sigh he pulls back, rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Only if you want to sweetheart,” he murmurs, like he isn’t offering you what you’ve wanted since the day your mistook him, your sort of boss, for an intruder.

“Please,” you plead and you can’t even articulate what it is that you’re begging for. He must understand because he takes you gently by the hand and leads you to the one room you’ve never been allowed entry to.

His room is inviting, bookshelves covering every available wall and decorated in soft warm tones. The bedside table is messy, but otherwise it’s surprisingly clean and organized. It’s his bed that holds your attention though, so large you could get lost in it. That reminder of what you’re here for, after months of hoping, pools saliva in your mouth and sends weakness to your knees. Turning back to Jason, you realize he’s already far ahead of you, clothes dropping into the hamper.

With unsteady fingers you scrabble for the buttons of your blouse, frustrated by their reluctance to obey. Large hands brush yours out of the way, methodically undoing each button for you in silence. Face to face like this, there is no where to hide from his attention as he undresses you, observes you. It should be ridiculous – him fully naked and you the one still clothed – but it isn’t. Instead you just feel small, doll-like. It’s easier to focus on his hands, track their progress down your front, than it is to meet his gaze. Jason pulls the shirt from your body without brushing even a whisper of skin and every inch of you aches for his touch. He undoes your pants, slides them down for you and your palm burns from where he lets you steady yourself against his shoulder to step out of them.

Standing there in the warm glow of the lamplight in your granny panties and oldest bra, you feel uncomfortably exposed. You are not unaware that you are only the latest in a line of women that have been through this bedroom before and you are possessed by the inane urge to cover yourself. To not give him any reason to compare you and find you lacking in someway. Jason must pick up on your hesitance, presses kisses across your hip bones and tummy to distract you as he pulls your panties down. Kisses his way up your whole body to mouth at your breast through your cotton bra until you are panting and desperate to feel his slick mouth against your skin. He licks into your mouth as the clasps of your bra come undone, falls to the floor somewhere you are to busy to take notice of.

Jason walks you back onto the mattress. Like this, propped up on your elbows with Jason looming over you, you are forcibly reminded of his size, a fact that you thought you had grown used to tuning out. Strong, wide shoulders carry his weight easily and though he’s a little soft around the middle from the creature comforts of life, the strength and muscle of him is still evident. Caged beneath him, soft underbelly exposed, he kisses you and you know that if anyone were to look in on this scene now, the only body they would see is his.

He kisses you and you can feel the hot, heavy weight of him against your hip. Without looking you fumble for him, barely manage to close your fist around the head, fingers stretched wide. He groans into your mouth and you can tell from that one touch alone that he’s bigger than anything you’ve taken inside of you before.

“I don’t– I don’t know if it’ll fit,” you confess, eyes wide. 

“Jus’ need to get you ready first,” he tells you, already sliding a hand between you.

The first of his fingers breaches you and your mouth drops open in a soundless gasp. He’s big, so much bigger than your own fingers. You can feel your walls clinging to each knuckle as he slowly works it in deeper. He crooks it inside of you, goes hunting for the spot that feels like you’ve touched a live wire, then resolutely ignores it.

“It’s easier if you don’t come first, otherwise you’ll be too sensitive,” he apologizes.

Jason finger fucks you methodically, spending as much time massaging your entrance as he does inside of it, getting you used to the sensation of being filled. He watches you, your body, learns to read it’s cues and then plays them expertly. A large, warm hand slides up the side of your ribs to rest just below the swell of your breast until you are keenly aware of neglected they are. Slowly you get accustomed to the feel of him inside you, start to work your hips down to meet his movements.

He smiles down at you, a proud private thing, and asks “Think you can take another?”

You nod and then stiffen, body tight as a bowstring at the feeling of two fingers – only in to the first knuckle – filling you up. It’s a different kind of stretch, just this side of uncomfortable as he works the two of them in deeper. Gets you used to the size of them before slowly scissoring them apart, working you open in your most intimate of spaces. Jason has you gasping around his fingers and still you know that they don’t come close to the size of the cock hanging red between his thighs.

A third finger prods at your hole and you gasp, reach down to grasp Jason’s wrist before he can work it in alongside the others. Fine tremors run up and down your thighs as you stare up at him, a deer caught in the headlights. Jason looks back down at you placidly, content to wait until you’ve worked through your hesitation. Slowly you peel your fingers away from his wrist, certain that if you don’t throw yourself into this now the fear will stop you entirely.

He rewards you as much as distracts you with a kiss. Long and lingering, it makes everything but the solid weight of him melt away so that you barely feel the third finger as it enters your cunt. Jason mouths down the line of your throat and you arch up into him, desperate for more of him. Everywhere he touches your skin lights up on fire. His mouth closes around the bud of your breast just as he starts to finger fuck you in earnest and you keen. It’s too much, too full, to big but at the same time your carefully neglected clit is throbbing. He starts to tug at the rim of your hole and you don’t know if you want to fuck your hips back down on his hand for more or try and escape the stretch.

Seemingly satisfied with how ready you are, Jason lets your tit fall from his mouth as he withdraws his fingers, leaving you to clench down around the sudden emptiness. Hands under your arms suddenly reposition you on the bed, your limbs arranged to his liking. Jason slides his cock through your folds letting them slick him up for what’s coming next. They makes a lewd wet sound as he parts them, thighs already sticky. You swallow. Hard. He feels impossibly large like this, pressed up against your cunt not even trying to enter you yet, blood hot and firm.

One hand on your hip, Jason slowly guides the head of his cock to your entrance and presses forward. Even with all of the prep, the bulbous head won’t fit and he has to bully your cunt into letting him in. Grunts in your ear with the effort of forcing his cock inside of you. You gasp like you’ve been punched in the gut when the thick head of his cock pops through that first ring of muscle, scrabble and twitch like you’re trying to get away from the all consuming pressure of it. Quicker than you can see, Jason’s got a hand around the base of your throat and he uses that grip to pull you back onto his dick.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he gentles you. “M’gonna go real slow for this part. You just gotta relax f’me.”

You whine and shudder as your body gets used to the intrusion, clutch at the wrist pinning you down by the throat just for something to anchor you. Bit by bit Jason feeds more of his cock into you, taking his time with splitting you in two. Not even half way in and he so big you can barely breathe around the weight of him in your gut. Sparks run up and down your skin and you know now why he wouldn’t let you come before because of this. Only a few inches of dick inside and already you’re shaking apart at the seams, mind hazy with how your body is accommodating the impossible girth of him, rim stretched tight around him. Punched out little moans and whimpers fall from your mouth without thought, too consumed with the way he’s prying you open.

He’s nearly in, just an inch or so to go, when he stops, hits a part of you so sensitive it hurts. Your eyes screw tight from the burn of it and you struggle to remember what air is.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay kid, just breathe,” he tells you, holding himself completely still. His hand leaves the base of his dick to smooth up the side of your thigh, rests as a comforting weight on your hip. Sweat prickles at your scalp and between your shoulder blades. “In and out, just like that.”

You hiccup, squirming under his hold, cunt aching but he leaves you no where to hide.

“Almost there, you’re doin’ so good kid. Jus’ need to remember to breathe a little, that’s all.”

Careful not to move inside of you, he leans down and kisses between your eyes. Drag his nose down the side of your cheek and lets out an exaggerated exhale, gets you to try and mimic it with him. Slowly you convince your breathing to even out, deep inhales and long slow exhales that coax your muscles to loosen up. Your knees loosen their death grip from around Jason’s hips and breath by breath the burning pain of the stretch starts to recede.

“You ready now?” he asks and you nod.

Jason holds your gaze – pins you down with his own more like – as he slowly fucks the rest of him into you. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, that he’ll tear you in two if he gives you any more, his hips meet yours. He’s in, in so deep you swear it’s not your cervix he’s pushing up on but your diaphragm, your lungs, your throat. Tremors run down your legs as you gasp and twitch around the complete invasion of your body. You can already tell from the ache in your hips that you’ll feel this tomorrow but that’s a hazy far off worry.

Jason looks down at the pretty thing in his bed, so young they were probably born the year he should have graduated high school, and marvels at how well she takes him. Shifts the hand at her throat to thumb over the soft line of her jaw in wonder. How sweet she is to give him this gift of her trust. How hard she works to give him this, to open up around him. He leans to kiss her, a reward for doing so well, and swallows her hiccuping gasps at the way it changes the position of him inside her. Her warm wet walls clench down around him and Jason breaths heavily through his nose at the feeling of how tight she is.

God this is probably a mistake. But she’s here now, warm and solid in his bed and Jason can’t pretend to regret it now. Tomorrow maybe, when he has to deal with the fact that technically she’s one of the Hood’s many employees. Has to watch that spark of desire in her burn itself out over the coming weeks now that he’s indulged her. Her attention had been flattering, in an abstractly distant kind of way, but he’ll miss it when its gone. Young things, he thinks wryly, always so impatient for the good part that they never learn how to make the anticipation last. She moans as Jason palms at her belly, presses down like he can feel the burning length of him inside of her. Gets her tighter, tenser around him as slick pours out of her. He kisses her through it, nips at the line of her throat and sucks bruises into her clavicles until her breathing stops coming out so rabbit quick.

“Move,” you beg, voice high and plaintive. You paw clumsily at his back, his hips, desperate to feed the hunger growing in your belly now that you can think past the sheer stretch of him.

“Don’t worry kid, gonna give you everythin’ you need,” Jason says and then he fucking moves.

please just assume that this jason also has no boundaries and knows you're on birth control bc he did a full background check on you the first time you looked up at him with adoring eyes

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ WILDEST FANTASIES ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. you are irresistible and a source of temptation, especially in his imagination.

CHARACTERS. oikawa tooru, hanamaki takahiro, matsukawa issei, iwaizumi hajime

CONTENT. f!reader. canon-compliant, post-timeskip (2021). smut. 1.8k wc. rewrite of wildest fantasies at my old nsfw blue lock group blog @/bllk-after-dark, moved to haikyuu for an age-appropriate cast. reader is in a relationship with all except makki. seijoh 4 imagine how they would fuck reader. other warnings vary for each section and will be listed there instead because uh, it’s a lot.

VERA. sorry, the power of horny took over. i never read the manga, so i went with the seijoh 4 as the scenarios suit them the most. i struggled with makki and mattsun, so they may seem ooc. i guess I'm celebrating kinktober with this fic lol.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. OIKAWA TOORU

breeding kink, creampie, edging, fingering, jealousy (toward a teammate and kageyama), marking

mine is written on your skin with invisible ink. oikawa fumes at a player from his team talking to you, seemingly enjoying his company when he sees you laughing. he doesn’t experience rage often, but it can get worse when the infamous “king of the court” from the opponent team strikes up a conversation with you.

“what’s with the silent treatment, tooru?” the drive to the hotel is tense, and he treats you like a ghost. he also feels similar, for different reasons. when the two of you arrive at your room, he pins you down on the door with arms above your head and cunt on his knee. lust clouds his eyes as his tongue battles against yours and teeth nips at your throat, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake. 

“craving attention from him, out of all people when i’m here? i’m hurt.” you gasp at the friction of his knee on your cunt. his fingers slip inside, pumping them agonizingly slow as punishment. “think he can fuck you like this? hah, want everyone and that brat to know you’re mine.”

to prolong this type of behavior, you decide to instill delicious images in his head. “oh, how are you gonna show me off then? you’ve already done the hickeys. but what about a ring on my finger? or your cum out of me? or perhaps, a baby in me?”

oikawa pulls his fingers out when you’re nearing an orgasm. the impulse to buy a ring with his salary and propose you live, fuck you in the locker rooms to mark you with his cum, and knock you up so that guy can mind his damn business. he spends the entire night ramming his cock in you to make sure it takes.

“there you are! i had to ask one of your teammates where you were, but he’s so nice that i lost track.” oikawa is back at the court, dazed from his daydreaming. you didn’t notice him blanking out as you’re busy geeking out about his plays. “watching a match live was so exciting! i finally got to see your sets up close. one of the guys from the other team was your underclassman, right? i think he’s good too!”

he shuts you up with a kiss, and the audience reacts in a domino effect. the cameras pan to the two of you; his fans freak out that he is actually taken, and his teammates — as well as him — are in pure disbelief. you wonder why he did that. he looks proud of himself so you say nothing. “there. now the whole world knows.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO

begging, mutual masturbation, nipple play, phone sex, thoughts of oral sex (f!receiving), toxic relationships (with reader’s ex)

relief washes over him hearing that you broke up with ex over the phone. hanamaki never liked them to begin with, nor does he understand what you see in them. being the good friend he is, he remains civil, painfully. though it’s not as painful as suppressing his sinful thoughts about you squirming under touch, however.

“hey, makki. can you do me a favor?” he loves your voice. you saying his name is his greatest weakness. though it’ll be better to have you moan it in his ears when he rails you into a begging mess. now he feels guilty for harboring these feelings as he promised to only play as the ‘good friend’. but promises break eventually. “can you make me forget about them?”

the lines of friendship blur into indescribable tension. you express your frustration over lack of spice in your sex life, rambling about how badly you want to be fucked on someone’s mouth. the cries of your breasts and clit aching to be touched makes his cock to strain in his pants. sex isn’t a topic you confide in with your friends, but it does not matter now. you called him to forget after all.

“to tell you the truth, you’re driving me crazy,” he sighs with his head on the board while he pumps his length. labored breaths and whimpers are heard on your end. “what if i tell you i’m jerking off to you now, wishing i was inside that pretty pussy of yours? and what about you, wishing my mouth is there too and on your pretty tits to claim what has been mine in the first place?”

“i’m yours, always yours!” your whines turn into squeals, which has him cum on his hand. his body slumps over the edge of his bed, catching his breath alongside you. if you’re here, he would leave more proof that you are forever his with your ex nonexistent in your world. yet it’s all white noise. the entire time he has been spacing out, so you were waiting for an eternity for him to say something.

“hello? earth to makki?” hanamaki realizes the dried stickiness on his hand from his cum. he has been mindlessly jacking off to your voice. “i asked if you could do me a favor but i’d rather stop by your place to cool off. is it okay if i come over?”

“yeah. see you.” you thank him before hanging up. hanamaki tosses his phone away, contemplating what he has done. never, ever will he do this again and vows to not speak on it. all he can do is to maintain his role to comfort you through your breakup. he will do whatever it takes to prove he is indeed the better choice. there will be the day where you’re his for the taking.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MATSUKAWA ISSEI

body worship, lap dance, lingerie, riding, sex toys (vibrator), strip tease, voyeurism

speechless is his reaction to you clad in lace lingerie. matsukawa develops a strong urge to impale you on his cock that is strained in his pants, just like how his arms are at the sides of his seat. for now he can only ogle at your body, a temptation for him to give into his desires, along with your alluring expressions.

the lingerie surprise tips him over the edge. he follows your fingers trail from your breasts to your clit, agonized by the drag of one of them along the lips back and forth. he grips his seat so hard he could feel the bones of his hands break. oh how he wants you so badly, but being the menace you are, you insist to stay patient until the end of your performance.

“not yet. keep your eyes on me.” you lift his chain to face you, with your mouth ghosting over his. how can he also enjoy the sight when you are torturing him with the sway of your hips, the flex of your thighs, and the bra straps hanging off your shoulders? and when you grind on his bulge with a vibrator in you which is your source of pleasure instead?

he finds himself matching your rhythm with an arm around your waist and the other cradling your head, kissing you as if his life depends on it. as clothes fly left and right, he yanks out your vibrator coated with your slick and finally plunges you onto him, having you seated for his show. how the tables have turned. now you’re the one being tortured, pounded with quick upward thrusts from him.

“now for the grand finale.” despite your protests to slow down, he wants to relish your body which is contorting in pleasure through the mirrors. a multitude of thrusts later, he reaches his climax and feels you clench, making sure you didn’t miss a single drop. it’s a shame that time goes by fast, because he sure wants to see your body arch for him over and over again.

“you know, it’s rude to stare without saying anything.” loud noises flood his ears. matsukawa is at the mall with you to help you buy new clothes to spice up your wardrobe. though when you mean by ‘spice up’, he does not expect to see you in lace lingerie at the fitting rooms. “so, uh… what do you think?”

matsukawa thinks that you may have a hidden agenda to seduce him, or just trying out the lingerie for fun. he marvels at how it suits your body, making you nervous. an idea pops into his head and whispers into the shell of your ear. “hm, not sure. why don’t you buy and put it on tonight for me so i can see it better?”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. IWAIZUMI HAJIME

aftercare, consent, insecurities, loss of virginity, missionary, petnames (baby), praise

sorry is your automatic reply when iwaizumi hints at wanting sex. you’re a virgin, so thoughts of being unable to satisfy someone experienced are rooted into your head. on the contrary, it’s a massive turn on. since it is your first time, he wants to make it extra special. he’s more excited than he should be so he tries to tone it down to not scare you.

you stare at him like a lost puppy as your partner reaches for your face. he smirks at how entranced you are when his fingers glide to your chin and then over your lips. he kisses you hard that you’re out of breath and pushes you to the bed. you begin to breathe normally again as he takes off his shirt, making his heart flutter, knowing that his body is for your eyes only.

“you can keep going,” you tell him when he checks up on you. with the slight encouragement of his hand drawing circles on your skin, you take off your shirt as well so he can explore more of your body. the two of you eventually strip yourselves bare while devouring each other with tongue and spit.

“squeeze if you want to stop.” your hand is intertwined with his, getting ready to signal for the sake of your safety. he penetrates you slowly, cock buried to the hilt inside, blabbering about how you’re taking him so well and swearing he’ll cum sooner than expected. the pitch of your moans is rising higher and higher. you hate how your sounds it seems by crashing your lips on his, but it tells him that he has done his job right.

“shit, baby. you’re absolutely perfect for me. how is this possible— agh,” iwaizumi hisses as he spills inside you. you’re now exhausted, sensitive from the caresses on your curves and kisses on your hands. this is what he would like to happen, however the next time he blinks, you’re lying beside him fully clothed.

“haji? you’re not saying anything.” you avert your gaze from his. you’re ashamed of literally pushing him away, believing that he’ll take offense judging from his silence. “i didn’t mean to do that. it happened so fast that i freaked out. can we start over and… start a little bit slower?”

“sure. let’s take things a little bit slower.” iwaizumi kisses your forehead to reassure you that you haven’t done anything wrong. somehow you’ve become bold, initiating the kiss and sneaking your hands under his shirt unconsciously. you retract from the sudden move, but he gestures to you to keep going. he’s so weak for you; he’ll do anything to make you happy.

[pparadiselost]

appetite.

von lycaon x fem reader von lycaon is thoroughly dedicated when it comes to serving his lady. warning(s): nsfw, edging, squirting, slightly possessive von lycaon minors do not interact.

“my lady…,” a deep voice rumbles from between your legs, and a strong force pushes on each of your thighs to keep them from snapping shut, “you’ll make my job very difficult if you don’t cooperate with me.”

if you had even half of your mind still with you, you might have done something about everything happening to you. but there’s only so much of your sanity you can cling to, especially when there’s a handsome wolf on his knees in front of you. his tongue laps greedily at your exposed cunt, the rough texture making your legs tremble uncontrollably as he spreads his love all across your drooling slit and up to your throbbing clit. 

“‘m sorry-!” you choke out, your blown out mind scrambling to form some kind of half-baked apology. “it’s too good- so intense…”

you can see him barely bite back a well-deserved smile of satisfaction at your breathless praise, and his eyebrow quirks slightly. he hums, not bothering to give you a proper response, before his paws are clutching at the meat of your thighs again. you barely stuff down a deep breath through your mouth before he’s making out with your pussy again. your fingers curl helplessly around the table’s edge that von lycaon has you perched on, wrapped completely around his finger as he eats you out like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

you might as well be. he might be well-trained and a gentleman, but he’s still a wolf with an appetite for pretty things like you. and you look like you're having the time of your life too—your eyes are glossy with hazy pleasure, and your body’s already threatening to fall apart at the seams. it’s a job well done for von lycaon, and he likes it. he likes knowing how easily he’s getting you to crumble under his touch and just from his tongue too.

he breathes deeply against your cunt, and a moan gurgles from the back of your throat as he circles your hole. the tip of his tongue presses into you, breaking past the tight ring of muscle. your juices spread against the inside of his mouth, filling his senses with nothing but you. had he been any sloppier of a man, just your scent might have been enough to overwhelm him, but the need to pleasure you and do his duty as he should takes priority in his mind.

he thrusts his tongue slowly into you, making sure to drag the rough texture of the broad of it against your fluttering walls. you throw your head back as your walls clamp down on him, your insides twitching against the intrusion. heat shoots through you like a bullet, and it gnaws on every part of you from inside out. von lycaon has your body playing in the palm of his hand like a puppet, and you’re left at his mercy as he keeps you spread out for his perusal.

he swirls his tongue inside of you, pumping the muscle in and out, expertly imitating the motions of penetrative sex. he’s already reaching so deep inside of you, completely dominating your inner walls. it feels so good, and it’s so hot; your mind feels so hazy and cloudy as you try to make heads or tails of all the sensations flooding through you. hot flashes press against your stomach, your climax threatening to mount every part of you. 

“von lycaon!” you mewl out, toes curling as he repeatedly fucks his tongue into you. the wet sounds of him going down on you reverberate against your ears, and your gut coils in on itself. “ohhhhhhh fuck- fuck, you’re so deep inside me… fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum…!”

you shudder when he yanks his tongue out of you in one fell swoop, only to swirl it around your clit provocatively. despite how gentle and sympathetic he is in his mannerisms, the way he touches you is almost like he’s trying to tease you, like he finds some kind of twisted satisfaction in seeing the way you respond to him. he’s awfully perceptive, and his eyes narrow slightly as he looks up at you.

“such profanities…,” he breathes. your breathing stalls when his tongue laps at his lips. strands of your arousal coat his snout, and you can see his throat visibly bob as he swallows your wetness down. he hums again, the sound akin to that of a happy purr. “and in your sweet voice too. you’ll break my heart, my lady.”

his voice is hushed, deep, and it makes your stomach lurch with need. “‘m sorry- please, i can’t think… felt so good inside me, your tongue felt good inside me.”

“ah?” he nears you again. “would you mind indulging me for a second then? which do you prefer? when i do this-?”

-he leans close to your pussy, and you moan out his name as his tongue delves inside of you again. his tongue swirls around your insides, and he toys with your arousal. you’re practically leaking on his tongue, struggling against his tight grip on your thighs as you desperately buck your hips into his mouth. he’s stretching you out on his tongue again, fucking deep into you and leaving you breathless and crying out. 

just when you’re starting to get used to having him buried inside of you again, he pulls away from you with an affectionately wolf-like smile on his handsome face. “-or when i do this?”

you blink up numbly at him before he latches onto your clit. you grit your teeth together, clenching your jaw as he flicks the tip of his tongue over your swollen nub. he keeps attacking your clit without a moment for you to regain your stream of consciousness, plunging you relentlessly into another cycle of heat and electricity clawing at your skin. your senses are working overtime to keep up with the way he stimulates your clit. his sharp teeth ghosts over your engorged bud, only to soothe it over with a sticky kiss and pressing it fully against the broad of his tongue.

there’s a second pulse building dangerously inside of your gut, the tightness welling up and feeling as if it’s going to suffocate you from the inside out. you’re really not going to last too long with him teasing you like this, alternating his technique as if he isn’t doing this just to watch you fall apart on his long tongue. he’s so attentive, so keen and sharp-witted, and everything he does is to ensure nothing but the utmost pleasure to you.

“i-i don’t know-,” you slur out, your brain hazing over. he hums against your cunt, alternating quickly between showering your clit with attention versus stretching you out on his tongue. it’s too much to keep up with, feeling him attacking your g-spot inside of you to torturing your sensitive bud, and you’re shaking under his touch. “von lycaon, i can’t take it- can’t take much more, it’s too much!”

“my, such an impatient lady… is it so wrong of me to want to take my time with you?” he swallows down more of your slick, sighing blissfully as if he can’t get enough of your taste. he really can’t, not when he’s enjoying the sight in front of him this much. a pristinely pretty girl, reduced to a thoughtless trembling mess, all because he decided to have a taste? all of this was more of a reward to the wolf than it was duty, but your pleasure always came before everything else.

“you’re edging me-,” you gasp out as if he’s hurting you. “you’re going to edge me.”

“and you’re going to take it for me. won’t you be good for me?” he’s messing with the pulsing inside of your stomach. every time your walls twitched just too much or your voice got too panicked, he’d slow his pace down, and you’d be left to helplessly bury your fingers into his fur and try to grind down more of your glistening cunt against his mouth. it’s unfair that he can do this to you without batting an eye, but you can’t do anything other than to cry out. 

your begging is such a delightfully melodic sound to the starved wolf, but it falls on deaf ears. he’s intent on making you feel good, but you’re going to have to abide by his rhythm.

“oh fuck- wanna cum- please- don’t tease me like this…!” you’re crying and squirming, and the whole thing just feels so good. you’re melting away like nothing under his touches, and your whole body’s being consumed and eaten from the inside out by the stiflingly hot pleasure. he expertly swirls his tongue against you the way you like it best only to pull away when you need it most, and the satisfied glimmer in his narrowed eyes tells you everything you need to know without a single word from him.

“tell me then,” he whispers after what feels like an eternity of being edged and brought to the brink, over and over again only to be met with crushing disappointment. your womb pulses almost painfully inside of you with how much your climax has been built up to be denied, empty and tight and so sensitive to even the smallest of touches from the wolf. he kisses your clit chastely, the touch sticky and so pure despite the absolutely obscenity before him. “who was it that took care of you tonight? who was it that held you so dearly and worshiped you? who was it that made you feel so good that you let go of all of your pride as a dear patron of victoria housekeeping?”

it’s shallow, he knows that, but the possessive part inside of him that loves seeing you reduced to this sniffling mess of skin and bones, captive to everything he has to give you, revels in your fall. your voice is so weak and hoarse, yet the desperation that drips from him only makes him want to push you until you break.

but no, von lycaon is a gentleman with a purpose. he’s kind, only if it means you’ll come crawling right back to him. maybe it’s like a master plan, but he likes to think of it as a form of love.

you blink through the tears clumping up at your waterline, hot and threatening to fall onto your unmarred face. you don’t need to be told twice: the firm edge to the wolf’s voice is enough to cling to. “it’s you- it’s always you! please, von lycaon, i can’t take this anymore…! let me cum, let me cum, please! you’re the only one that makes me feel good- you’re all i need-”

your senseless, sex-drunk babbling has his heart feeling warm. he likes it when you tug impatiently at the fur on his head, the gray hairs like in between against your knuckles. he thinks there isn’t a more perfect lady for him to serve, and he’s sure to come running at a moment’s notice if you need someone to quell your loneliness again. he’s a devoted servant, a compassionate gentleman, and an unforgiving lover.

“good, good,” he purrs, and you shudder when his tongue laps at your drenched and abused hole. “i had faith that you would remember, but i want to make sure you would never forget. after all, i am your dedicated personal attendant, aren’t i? i want nothing but the best for my lady, and that means being the one at your side closer than anyone else. surely you understand?”

“yes- yes, of course- all yours, von lycaon!” you nod feverishly. heat blooms in your core like a repeated strain, and you groan. he’s at it again, rubbing circles into your clit with his deft fingers and fucking you out on his tongue. your insides keep rubbing up against him, clamping down on the wet muscle as if they’re starved of any and all stimulation, dragging your poor battered body back to the precipice like you’re addicted fiend you can’t seem to get enough.  

it doesn’t take much for you to fall apart. you’re already so sensitive, wound up and ready for him like a pretty doll hidden inside of a music box, the perfect vision of ecstasy for von lycaon’s hungry eyes. you cum all over his mouth with a strangled cry, and his big fingers keep pressing and circling your clit. you’re not just cumming for him: you can feel something warm and wet gush from between your thighs, but all you can register is just how good it feels for the heat and the tightness in your stomach to finally, finally release.

you can’t fully form any coherent words, only broken sobs and cries. pleasure consumes you wholly, enveloping you like a starved monster. you’re only vaguely aware that you squirted all over his face because something feels different. your body feels lighter, happier, like there’s cotton stuffed in your ears and something akin to an otherworldly bliss makes your limbs feel like they’ve turned into dust. you’re melting away as von lycaon drinks up the sight of your fucked out face, obscured with mind-blowing pleasure all because of something he did. 

your thighs are drenched, and so is the lower half of his face. he eats up your juices like he had been without question this entire time, but knowing that he made you feel so good that you ended up squirting makes you taste different in his mouth. there’s a sticky sweetness that clings to the inside of his mouth, and while he might have had his fill for now, the wolf knows that he’s going to be craving that taste again very soon. your legs shake uncontrollably around his head, and you’re practically collapsed against the table. you look almost happy with your eyes glossed over and sweat beading like pearls on your forehead. 

it’s a job well done for him. he takes just a breath’s amount of time to admire his handiwork, just how easily he can make your body succumb to him with some practice and patience. it’s good knowledge, knowledge that he’s bound to keep tucked away somewhere deep inside of his heart.

but his task is far from over. he’s going to clean you up and wish you a good night before disappearing, the line between love and duty a thin but far one. if it’s any consolation to him though, he knows that you’ll call victoria housekeeping within a few weeks again, with that pitifully lonely tinge to your voice as you politely request him to come keep you company for a little while. and each time, he’s going to show up at your door with a disarmingly saccharine smile. it’s a song and dance that has no end, but if this is the best way for him to get closer to his beloved lady, then von lycaon can learn to enjoy it as much as you do.

you’re always the first to give in, and with time, the wolf is sure that’ll remain true in the long run.

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to these vetted gofundmes to help families!

[revasserium]

loving you was red

sylus; 4,627 words; fluff, banter, no "y/n", mild spoilers for sylus's main storyline, subtle but not so subtle flirting, nicknames (kitten, little crow), kinda enemies to lovers

summary: the beginning of everything, all in shades of red

a/n: this was supposed to be fun lil drabble; alas, that's not what it turned out to be, but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. i had fun with the banter in this one u__u

001. fire and brimstone

The city below is a shatter of broken stars, and from up this high, none of it seems real. You cannot reconcile the sight of all those scattered, pinpoints of light with the lives you know shine behind them. You cannot imagine sitting in your living room, scrolling through your news-feed, waiting for the water to boil for late night ramen.

“Trouble sleeping?”

You congratulate yourself on not wincing, on keeping perfectly still.

Sylus joins you by the window, his arms looped lazily in front of his chest, his dark silk robe falling open to reveal his chest. You keep your eyes resolutely on the technicolored skyline.

“Yeah,” you say, feigning a yawn, “just something about being held captive against my will that just… messes with my circadian rhythm, y’know?”

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through him, low enough to make you shiver.

“Don’t tell a girl like you still needs someone to sing her to sleep.” He’s teasing. You know he is, and yet you can’t keep the heat from clawing up the back of your neck. You scowl, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

“What gives you that idea?” you ask, still in your flailing attempt to seem calm, seem collected.

"Nothing in particular… just… the twins found a shocking number of plushies in your room so —”

"You had them go through my stuff?” you round on him, glaring, your fingers clenched into fists.

Sylus shrugs, peering at you out the corner of his eye, an amused grin ticking at his mouth.

“Feisty little kitten, aren’t you? Though for what it’s worth — they didn’t find much on how your Evol works.”

You huff, turning back to the floor to ceiling windows, knitting your arms tightly across your chest.

“You heard the shopkeeper — we have to — to…” you trail off, the words caught in the back of your throat like peach pits, hard and large and impossible to stomach. You flush, biting down on your lips.

“To what, hm?” Sylus sounds amused, and it’s this more than anything that spurs you onwards.

You turn to glare at him, “To not hate each other!”

Sylus cocks a single, arched brow.

“So, do you?”

You blink, feeling the ever-present heat prickling into your cheeks as you stare resolutely at the skyline outside. From this distance, Linkon City could be any other city, with it’s towering skyscrapers and twinkling lights.

“Do I what?” you ask, your voice softer as you try to pinpoint the exact location of where you used to live.

“Hate me.”

You turn; in the dimness, all you can see of Sylus is his firebrand eyes and his stone-cut features. The dark curve of his mouth and the sharp jut of his nose. When he turns to meet your gaze, you can barely stifle your gasp — his eyes are so red, so deep and strange.

“Brimstone…” you say, without really thinking about it.

Confusion flickers across his vulturine features.

“Hm?”

You lick your lips, feeling the dryness that had since collected there.

“Brimstone,” you say again, shaking your head and averting your eyes, only for Sylus to catch your chin in his fingers and force you to look back at him, to be swallowed up by his gaze, “it’s… something from… the ancient religions. It’s — back when they believed in gods and monsters, people would use the word brimstone to signify divine wrath…”

His finger slacken on your chin and you let your head fall as he takes half a step away.

He lets out a mirthless laugh, his eyes faraway as he stares out at Linkon City, laid out before his feet.

“I can’t say I know much about gods, but… monsters?”

You swallow, feeling the imprint of his fingers on your skin.

He turns back to look at you, his gaze soft, but no less startling. You feel an unnamable fire frisson up your spine and skitter back down again.

“Monsters are very, very real,” he leans in, closing gap between your body and his, till he has you nearly caged against the cool glass of the penthouse windows. He shifts to brush away a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with too-gentle fingers. His next words are whispered, his voice in a register so low it almost sounds like the shadow of sound — he leans in, his lips brushing by your cheek till you can feel the heat of his breath right next to your ear —

“And they look just like you and me.”

002. lipstick

“So at the auction —”

“Just do as I say, and you’ll get what you want.”

You narrow your eyes in the mirror, staring at the reflection of Sylus fastening a pair of ornate silver cufflinks to his impeccably tailored suit.

“Give me one reason to trust you,” you say.

Sylus looks up, a hand still on his cuffs as he meets your gaze in the mirror, unflinching.

“Since when have I ever asked you to trust me?”

Over on the dresser, Mephisto lets out a soft caw that sounds almost mocking. You swirl to glare at him and he has the decency to flap his mechanical wings, shuffling until he’s hidden from view behind Sylus’s shadow.

Sylus laughs, “Alright — settle down, little crow.”

You frown, “Little crow? What happened to kitten?”

Sylus shrugs, “Changed my mind. Figured little crow fits you a bit better. You know — loud, defiant…” he smirks as his voice trails off.

You don’t try to hide your consternation, “Often associated with murder?”

Behind him, Mephisto lets out an indignant ca-caw.

You try to sidestep Sylus, only to find yourself trapped against the mirror by his strong arms. He grins down at you, his canines flashing over his lower lip as he cocks his head.

“Like I said, fits better, no?” he asks.

You stare up at him, trying to make out what he’s thinking behind those firelight eyes of his.

“Let me go — I still need to finish my makeup,” you say, pressing a palm to his chest. You try not to think about the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch, or the heat of his skin, even through all these layers of clothing.

“What else is there?” he asks, his eyes flickering over your features; you shiver, feeling the weight of his gaze as it sweeps over your face like a sudden flare of heat, “you look pretty finished to me.”

You lick your lips, and feel a strange, savage satisfaction at the tick of his eyes down to your mouth, at the way his pupils dilate, at how they track the slow progress of your tongue as it laves across your bottom lip before disappearing back into your mouth.

“Lipstick,” you say, trying not to sound too smug.

Sylus puffs out a laugh before reaching over to the low dressing table and grabbing a tube of lipstick. He uncaps it with a finger, and twists out the color without once breaking your gaze. Vaguely, you feel your stomach tense, and you ponder the unfairness of this one, single act — how could he look so stupidly attractive doing all this when he’s got you trapped here? Like some sort of exotic songbird in a golden cage.

“T-that’s not the color I wanted —” you say, but even to your own ears, you don’t sound convincing.

Sylus’s smile slackens into a lopsided smirk as he tilts your chin up to press the cream of the lipstick to your lips, dragging it delicately across one way, then back the other.

“Press your lips,” he says, his voice softer and gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You do, feeling a stifling thump-thump-thump rise up to beat against the back of your throat as his eyes flick down to watch you.

“Mm… as I thought, this color looks great on you,” he says, pulling back to admire his handiwork.

You feel the air rush back into your lungs in a single, searing breath, caught between the urge to brace your arms against your knees and heave, or to drag your hand across your mouth to rid yourself of the lipstick.

You do neither though, because at that moment, the twins call from outside the door —

“Auction’s about to start!” says Luke.

“Hope you’re both ready!” says Kieran.

Sylus straightens, capping the lipstick with a sharp click. You force yourself to calm down, to focus on your breathing — four counts in, seven counts out.

“Are you ready?” Sylus asks, his tone once more whiskey-smooth and just as potent.

You roll back your shoulders and give a quick nod, speaking to yourself just as much as you’re speaking to him —

“Sure. Let’s get this over with.”

003. blood and roses

There’s blood on your hands and blood on the pavement. The world shimmers around you in wildfire and smoke.

“… so… so much blood…”

“You can’t die here —” Sylus’s voice cuts through the memory like a struck chord, resonating inside you till it’s the only thing you can hear, “that life you owe me? It’s not your time to pay it back yet!”

You reach for him, and the moment you feel your palms connect, a bead of heat pulses out from the center of your clasping hands. Your skin is slick with sweat and blood, but his hand beneath you is oddly cool and smooth.

The charred ashes of the beaten Wanderer fall around you like flakes of misbegotten snow; you wave your free hand to keep the pieces from falling into your eyes. A river of light seeps from the Deepspace Tunnel into the center of your chest, glowing brighter and brighter until it coalesces into a familiar gem-like shape.

It comes to a rest between your fingers seconds before it cracks, the light flickering once along the seam before going out.

“It — the Aether Core —!”

“It’s power is yours now. Why’re you so surprised?” Sylus doesn’t let go of your hand, but realizing this, you pull away first, and he makes no move to stop you.

“D-did you know?” you ask, unable to keep the accusation from seeping into your voice.

“Does it make a difference?”

You clamp down hard on your bottom lip, weighing the answers. It isn’t until you reach up to absently card your hand through your hair that you notice — your wrist and his, linked together by a tangible string of red, pulsing power.

You gasp, “W-what —?”

“Tch.”

You wave your wrist, watching as Sylus’s hand follows the movement. Your cheeks darken as he looks away, sighing audibly.

“If you planned this —!” but your words are cut short by a sudden wave of vertigo — the world spins around you and for a second, all you can see is the pinwheeling stars above you, the bright, pulsating edges of the Deepspace Tunnel, and then — everything fades to a sweet, merciful darkness.

You wake up to the smell of roses, and a warm body next to yours. Groaning, you try to shield your eyes from the light filtering through the massive windows.

It takes you a second to orient yourself, and to realize why your wrist seems so heavy as you try to lift a hand and rub at your eyes.

“Looks like you’re up early, though Mephisto still has you beat.”

You blink blearily up at Sylus, sitting next to you in bed, his back propped up on a fortress of pillows, a tablet in one hand, the other still linked to your wrist, half-raised to your face.

You squeak, ducking down to hide beneath the covers, hurriedly wiping at your eyes and your mouth, a mix of horror and embarrassment mounting in your stomach as you realized you must have been drooling in your sleep.

“What did you do to me?!” you demand, pulling back the covers when you’re somewhat certain that you don’t still have drool-marks at the corners of your mouth.

Sylus, for his part, looks only mildly ruffled by your sudden stint back to wakefulness. He takes his time setting down the tablet with his free hand and picking up the steaming mug of black coffee.

“You fainted,” he says, as if that explains everything, “after the resonance worked. Though it makes sense you would — after finally getting the Aether Core and all —”

“No! I mean —” you gesture desperately between you, the pristine linen sheets twisting around you both like waves on a white-sand beach, “how did I — we — get here? Who changed me?” you ask, your cheeks flaring up even as Sylus sips at his coffee, seemingly content to watch you sputter yourself dry.

“Really? After all that, the first question you have is who changed your clothes?” Sylus asks, a distinct tone of mockery clear in his every word.

“Shut up! You know what I mean!”

“Do I? I don’t think I do — you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” He grins, all splitting lips and too-white teeth. You stare, dumbfounded at his nonchalant expression before huffing and slumping back into your own pile of pillows. You blink, throwing up your free hand to shield yourself from the too-bright light of sunrise, shining straight into your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sylus taps a few buttons on his tablet and the windows darken, filtering out the harsh morning light, leaving the pair of you in a dim, yet luminous shadow.

“I just —” you cut yourself off before you can ask yet another mundane question, and finally, after a few minutes of mulling over what exactly it is you want to ask, you settle on, “what now?”

Sylus shrugs, casting his eyes back down at his tablet, setting his half-drunk cup of coffee on the bedside table.

“Now, we do whatever we want. You have your Aether Core and I have mine,” he lifts up his wrist, shaking yours in the process, “and we try to figure out how to manage this.”

“And if we don’t?” you ask dryly.

Sylus chuckles, “Then, we figure out a way to live with it.”

You roll your eyes involuntarily, “Ugh. Of all the people to be stuck to…” you mutter to yourself. And though you’d said it quiet enough for it to be an afterthought, both of you knew Sylus had been too close not to hear.

He scoffs, pulling you close, tipping you off balance so that you topple face-first into his chest.

“Wake up, little crow,” he says, his tone caught halfway between mocking and maleficence, twisting your face till you’re forced to stare out of the window at the dulled-out skyline below.

“You think you’re so great, being a Hunter and getting rid of Wanderers,” he says, a sharp venom seeping into his words as he speaks, and slowly, he punches a button the tablet that makes the windows un-tint themselves.

You watch as the sunrise bleeds itself dry over Linkon City, the harsh, morning light slicking the entire city in a vapid, orange glow.

“The brighter the light, the darker the shadow — do you really think that just because you and your little Hunter friends are out there killing Wanderers and saving the world, that there isn’t the a need for people like us?” Sylus pushes you away from him. It’s not a harsh move, but it’s not exactly gentle either.

And again, you can’t help feeling the imprint of his fingers, almost as if burned into your skin as your rub at your jaw.

It’s when you turn to glare at him that you meet his gaze and find him staring at you with a look that’s much more haunting than ghost. Much more longing than loathe.

“Well… you’re one of us now. And newsflash, little crow — sometimes, the world just doesn’t want to be saved.”

You let his words sit with you, like river stones, hard and smooth, feeling them sink slowly down the length of your throat to settle somewhere in the wide basin on your stomach. You avert your eyes, and it’s only then that you notice the bouquet of flowers sitting on your bedside table.

“What are the roses for?” you ask, reaching out your free hand to run a thumb along a single, velvet petal. It comes off at your touch, and you watch it fall against the unmarred white marble of the table top.

“A little present,” Sylus says, waving you away, “a thank you - for a job well done last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone, “it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“You did,” Sylus says, “you could’ve killed me. And you didn’t.

“I could still kill you now,” you say, though there’s no conviction in your voice at all. Instead, you reach out to tug at another dark red petal. It comes off just as easily as the one before.

“You could. But you haven’t. And don’t you think that warrants a reward?”

004. dawn

“I’ve never hated you, you know.”

You frown, squinting against the early-morning light.

It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself waking up next to him, and you think it won’t be the last. You flip onto your side to face him, feeling a familiar rush of heat crest into your chest as you come nearly nose to nose with him.

Sylus barely even flinches, cocking an eyebrow before reaching out to tug a stray piece of hair from your face.

“What?” you ask, even though you know full well what he’d said. So maybe, you just wanted to hear it again — is that so terrible?

“Hn,” Sylus grins, rolling onto his back to cast his eyes up at the ceiling, “I said you’re getting drool on my pillows.”

You squeak, fumbling to wipe at your face before the realization hits, and you jerk up, pouting.

“That’s not what you said!”

“Then you did hear,” Sylus casts you an amused glance.

You lick your lips, the soft cotton of sleep still muffling the world such that everything except him feels strangely out of focus.

“I — I heard… a word here and there —”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

You scowl, whipping around to pin him with a stare, “Where I come from, that’s not a bad thing.”

Sylus’s eyes tick towards you, his expression amused as he appraises you, and not for the first time, you feel yourself go warm beneath the solar-storm fixation of his attention. Like this, you can feel the air between you blistering, as oil to a lit fuse, as his eyes travel over the planes of your face, the curve of your shoulder, the thin silk strap that had since slipped to cling to your upper arm.

“No? I suppose not,” he concedes, pushing himself up, reaching over the bedside table to push at a small button on the far side. Somewhere else in the penthouse, you can hear an alarm bell ring.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing.

“Coffee,” he answers, and you fall silent again, turning your face away from him to look back at the heartbreak city, carved in shadows against dawn’s liquid light. It’d only been — what — a week? A bit more? And yet you can’t bring yourself to see the city the same.

Nothing has changed — not really.

But everything’s different, you think, as the door on the far side of the bedroom cracks open and Luke peers in with a smug smile and two steaming cups of coffee.

“Black for the boss, and milk and sugar and all the trimmings for the little crow.”

Sylus tsks, a frown digging itself into the space between his eyebrows, his eyes flashing as he takes the two cups. Luke, to his credit, jerks back, dancing out of Sylus’s reach.

“Ah — sorry, sorry — didn’t know that was a special nickname,” he says, making a show of stooping to apologize, though neither of you miss the jesting crow beneath his voice.

“Out.” Sylus orders, and Luke doesn’t waste time scurrying from the room, cackling beneath his breath like a gleeful child.

You take your cup from his hand and give it a dainty sip, adjusting yourself against the pile of pillows.

“What? I thought that nickname was your idea.”

“It is,” Sylus says, relaxing back. The tether between your wrists sits slack and nearly invisible on the sheets between you. He stares down at the dark liquid surface of his own cup before turning to smirk at you, “doesn’t mean it was meant to be shared.”

You clamp down on another wash of heat, threatening your cheeks as you sink a bit deeper into the luxurious bedding. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to sleep on sheets this nice again once you figure out how to break the tether between you and you’re finally allowed to go home.

“Why say it where other people can hear if you didn’t want them to pick it up?” you shoot back, determined to get the last say, at least in this.

Sylus sets down his cup, cocking his head to look at you, “It’s not a joke if there’s no one around to hear the punchline.”

You level him with a glare, “Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem if I’m just your captor, right?”

You open your mouth to retort, only to find your voice stolen by the sight of him, kissed gold by the rising sun. You’ve never been one to obsess over beauty but even you can’t pretend to be unaffected.

Like this, he looks hewn from marble, a statue at the loving hands of a besotted sculptor — a lazy god rendered into silk and stone. He is smooth skin and burning eyes and a jawline that might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. There’s a base carnality in the way he looks at you (and looks at you) — his gaze so penetrating that somehow, you don’t think you’ve ever been seen this way before.

There’s a damnable elegance to him, even as his lips twitch up into a tell-tale smirk.

“What?” he asks, leaning forward just an inch, but the distance feels exaggerated by your closeness, such that suddenly, you’ve got to lean back to look into his face. He licks his own lips languorously, and you feel your chest tighten on a torque, caught in the turn of his smile.

“Kitten got your tongue?” he asks.

You shake yourself, shifting back slightly, “You’re mixing your metaphors,” you say, trying to keep your eyes from straying back to his face.

“They’re my metaphors to do with as I wish. So. Aren’t you going to answer?”

“Answer what?”

“What you think you heard me say, right before you woke up.”

You cup your palms around your coffee mug, feeling its heat seep steadily into your skin. There’s a familiar tingle at the tips of your ears and you know you’re already blushing.

Stupid coffee, you think, trying hard to school your expression into a frown, stupid Sylus, you add to yourself, taking a long sip and biting back your sigh of relief at the mundane magic of caffeine and sugar.

“Does it matter what I think?” you sidestep the question.

Sylus doesn’t miss a beat, “If it didn’t, would I have asked?”

The torniquet in your chest twists tight enough to make your stomach flip as well. You chew on your bottom lip, mulling over your answer.

“I never hated you…” you say, finally, your voice barely more than a whisper or a breath. And even as the words fall from you like so many rose petals, you’re unsure if you’re repeating his words back at him or making an admission of your own.

Sylus only shifts back to his side of the bed, leaning against his pile of pillows. Your wrists sit atop the sheets, inches apart, and yet you can’t deny the dull pull of gravity between you, as if something beneath your skin is itching to be close to his.

You turn to face him, twisting your fingers in your lap.

The quiet softens around you both, settling until you let out another long breath.

“So…” you drag out the word as Sylus glances up at you, expectant. His eyes flicker with the fire of the rising dawn behind you, and in them, you can see the shadow of yourself, painted in darkness against the light.

“What’s for breakfast?” you ask.

Sylus chuckles, his head listing sideways as he studies you.

“Whatever you’d like.”

“Hm…” you make a show of swinging your legs out of the bed, shivering slightly as your feet come into contact with the cool marble floors, “are there pancakes?”

Sylus stretches his arms over his head, letting out a soft groan that evokes something inside you that you’d rather not examine at the moment. You keep yourself turned resolutely away from him even as you hear the distinct sounds of him getting out of bed as well.

“No, but there can be — you only need ask.”

“Fine, I want pancakes,” you say, finally turning around, only to find him standing right behind you, his silk robe discarded on the floor by the bed, his chest broad and entirely bare. Your breath catches in your throat as he cocks an eyebrow.

“Is that asking?”

You crinkle your nose, forcing air back into your lungs.

“Okay, okay — can we have pancakes?”

Amusement dances behind his eyes as he bends over you, propping a hand casually on the dresser behind you to limit your movements.

“And the magic word?”

You narrow your eyes, “Nevermind!”

“Mm — wrong. Two more tries.”

You try to duck under his arm but he catches you easily, spinning you back around to face him, nearly sweeping Mephisto from his perch on the dresser. The crow lets out an offended caw and flaps off towards the far end of the room, coming to a disgruntled rest on the back of a satin loveseat.

“Let me go!”

“Wrong again — last chance.”

You sink your nails into the skin of his forearm, trying not to think of the taut muscles corded there. He doesn’t even wince, though for a second, the tether between your wrists flares up like a fanned flame.

“Fine! Please!”

Sylus straightens with a satisfied smirk, turning around to make for the bedroom door. Your chest is heaving, and the sudden space between you make your head spin. You blink at his retreating form, and it isn’t till he reaches the door that he turns to glance at you over his shoulder.

“Hope you like raspberry jam.”

You level your breathing and hurry to catch up, clutching your own sleeping robe tighter around your chest as you fall into step next to him.

“I thought you didn’t like sweet things.”

He opens the door and steps aside for you to walk through first.

“I never said it was for me.”

---

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[oceanreveuse]

𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝗲𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲.

◟fem!reader, NOT CANON AU, think of this as like... an evil, meaner version of neuvillette! that means yes, it'll be ooc by canon!neuv standards fyi, massively nsfw, dacryphilia, dragon man w a lot of stamina, two dick neuvi, overstimulation, breeding, neuvillette with forked tongue, penetration, dom!neuvillette, sub!reader, petnames (angel, darling, sweetheart), momentary praise (good girl), very short but it was just a thought - not proofread. ◟anastasia's footnote : this was spawned by a conversation with yukari earlier so this is how i'm spending my halloween evening; yet again, this is not canon!au neuvillette. it's like alternate universe. shadow realm. the evil akasha possessed haitham. that type!!

another long, slow thrust into your tight heat and this man has just about lost it. the two of you had been at this for hours, perhaps for longer than your fragile human body could withstand but he was at the point of caring less. NEUVILLETTE was certain you'd take everything he gave you, pushing you to the limits just for a little more of his seed, just for your womb to be filled to the brim with hot, sticky substance as if it was your lifeline. you had a safe word, you was very good at tapping out too so the dragon was past showing any concern.

you were so good for him, so obedient and willing to take his dick - or dicks, depending on the day. sometimes filling one hole up was simply not enough for him, perhaps his day as the iudex of fontaine had truly pissed him off. white hair drapes over his shoulders, brushing against your bare skin that's sticky and hot to touch, red streaks giving you some semblance of colour in the dim lit room. he had to run out of stamina eventually, right?

"n-neuv," you choke out, wanton moans and the lewd slap of skin drowning out your attempts at coherent sentences, "please!"

the dragon raises a brow, briefly amused at your apparent need to beg him. beg him for what? for relief, for a moment of recovery, for more potent seed, for a change of position? all the options and neuvillette was reeling at the imagery it gave him. a smirk tugs at those pale lips, hovering just above your neck as he inhales your scent so deep, fangs bared at the thought of just biting down on your skin. it's oh so tempting, he digs his fingertips into the plush skin of your hips just to gain some semblance of restraint.

"what is it, angel?" neuvillette chuckles, deep red eyes lifting to admire the glossy affect in your tears - what's this? tears threatening to drip down your cheeks and merge with the drool on your chin and jaw from laying on your back for so long? "enjoying being such a good darling for me that much tonight?"

the whimper you release is drowned out by neuvillette's low growl, the tip of his second cock bumping against your sensitive clit as it slides through your soaked folds with every sharp thrust he delivers, determined to finish you both again - and soon. the tears are on the verge of spilling, a black forked tongue licking at neuvillette's lips like a parched man.

finally, one falls down your cheek, rolling a path along your skin that his eyes narrow in on almost instantly. he knows you're too fucked out to acknowledge it, to even notice anything past his hips drilling into your wet cunt and his heavy balls slapping against your ass. neuvillette leans forward, almost pressing your body in half. he grunts as you squeal, blown out eyes blink blearily up at him with that damn innocent look.

he's so close to blowing another load into you, pumping you full of cum and ensuring you're bred, round and full for the sake of his legacy as the iudex but first... your eyes are squeezed shut, not expecting the rough slither that trails from your jaw up to your cheekbone, licking up a salty tear.

"fuck," he breathes, his nose bumping yours briefly as he swaps sides, his tongue wet as it follows the path of your tears that just keep flowing as a result of overstimulation, "you taste so much better than i thought you would, sweetheart."

there's a wicked grin on his face, his fair skin glinting with sweat in the candlelight. neuvillette's hot breath fans over your face, your little sniffles and whimpers almost matching the rhythm of his cock bullying your sweet hole and neuvillette bares his fangs once more, "i think it's time to reward you one last time for being a good girl, don't you think?"

© oceanreveuse 2024 | reblogs appreciated | do not repost, steal, translate, etc. on any social media platform & do not feed to ai.

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MORE, MORE, MORE

— mammon x f!reader

syn: One orgasm is never enough for Mammon, he’s greedy for it. Well, he’s the Avatar of Greed after all. He lives up to the name, of course, proudly so.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, unprotected sex, implied multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cervix fucking, demon fucking, implied cum eating, pet names (my sweetheart, my treasure, my darling) divider: cafekitsune.

word count: 1.2k

notes: this is a repost from my deactivated acc + now cross-posted on my ao3 !

“Ma—ah fuck. . ! M-Mammon, can’t—ngh!” “Aah shit. . ! Just one more f’me, my sweetheart.” Mammon let out a heated gasp, his rosy lips parted before burying his face in the junction of your neck—soft breaths ghosting over the sensitive skin of your sweaty neck. Your vision was met with his snowy strands that your fingers dug into, occasionally tugging at the roots, and earning groans from Mammon as he ploughs into your cunt.

‘Just one more’ you knew that was nothing but a blatant lie, especially coming from the greediest demon himself—it was never just one more when it came to sex, sometimes Mammon would go to the extent where both of you were as overstimulated as you could get; silent screams as pleasure took over your bodies, the coil deep in your stomach snapping oh so deliciously that it was almost painful, his balls emptying the last bit of load he has after all the rounds.

Your head spun, the corners of your teary vision slowly filled with dark spots that disappeared as quickly as they formed. You’ve already came twice around his cock, and you’ve lost count of how many times Mammon brought you to your orgasm with his tongue and fingers, so your body was already sensitive to any kind of touch.

You could feel your legs trembling as Mammon pushed and pulled his hard cock over and over again, the way your walls clamped around his shaft, allowing you to feel every ridge of it. It was sticky, damp, and stuffy.

The mixture of your’s and his cum dripped out of your sopping cunt and down to the mattress, creating loud, wet noises that bounced around the walls of his room. Mammon’s heavy balls slapped against your sweaty skin, making a sticky mess down where the two of you connected.

His king-sized bed squeaked with each desperate thrust of his hips, the headboard repeatedly hitting the wall as if it was locked in a rhythmic curse.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Mammon was sure his brothers could hear the deafening thuds of his headboard but he couldn’t care less. Another strained groaned left his throat as you scratched your nails down his bare muscled back, hands running through an evident bump on it—his wings were starting to come out. His horns were also becoming visible, the ebony spirals emerging from his snowy hair.

Mammon growled as he felt himself shift into his demon form due to the immense pleasure that washed over his whole body. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, causing pleasurable pain to shoot up to your neck as his canines grew in size.

“Aah. . Mammon . . !” “Haah! T-that’s it, my treasure. . Moan for me.”

Mammon lifted his head from your neck, an evident deep crimson blush spread on his cheeks as he met your gaze—his pupils were blown with lust, eyes also teary from the never-ending pleasure. Fuck, you could stare at his eyes all day; the way his blue irises faded into a golden yellow at the bottom, like the ocean meeting the citrine sky as the sun dips below the horizon.

Before you could close your eyes shut from the way Mammon’s blunt tip repeatedly hit your cervix, you noticed a faint flapping sound over the ringing of your ears—something slicing through the damp atmosphere of the room and blowing hot air. It didn’t take you long to notice the full-grown pair of wings on his back, flapping with every eager thrust of his hips—it’s bat-like structure proudly stretching out to reveal it’s entire length.

The white markings across his tanned torso were now evident too, Mammon was in his full demon form. It was always like this with him whenever he reached overstimulation, the immense pleasure his body held was too much that it often resorted to him unintentionally transforming.

His wings moved in synched with his hard thrusts, allowing him to pound harder and reach deeper into you. Mammon threw his head back, a heated gasp leaving his lips as he felt your walls tighten around him. A small, desperate cry of your name hung in the thick air before he buried his face near your ear once again.

Mammon let out shallow pants, incoherent sentences going straight to your left ear; he managed to stutter out a praise, his voice shaky, and breathless from all the fucking he’s doing. The sweet praise went straight to your cunt, and that was all it took for you reach yet another orgasm.

This time, it was significantly more intense than the previous ones mammon had given you. Your whole body trembled as the coil in the pit of your stomach snapped for the nth time that night, face contorting in raw bliss as your lips parted in a silent scream.

Mammon didn’t even have to look at your face to know what you looked like as you came, he’s got in engrained in his mind—the way your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head, swollen lips parted, brows tightly knitted together and tears rolling down your warm cheeks.

The thought of your erotic expression brought mammon to another climax shortly after you. His muscles turned taut, wings stilling in a stretch as he sheathed his cock deep inside you before cumming. He moaned into your sweaty skin, a string of curses leaving his throat as waves of pleasure fully consumed him.

The two of you fell into a unison, filling the room with nothing but lewd sounds as your bodies jolted from the after shocks of a mind blowing orgasm. Mammon held you tight—his bare chest flush against your own—to keep himself grounded from the immense pleasure.

You didn’t know how he was still able to cum inside you with such volume, given how many times he’s orgasmed already—Mammon filled your cunt to the brim, swearing under his breath as a squelching noise came from your cunt, his seed seeping out and dripping down to his balls and the mattress.

He gave a few shallow thrusts to ride out both your orgasms before pulling out, a whine coming from you and Mammon at the loss of contact—he watched as your hole dripped with his and your cum, biting down at his bottom lip.

How filthy.

“I’m far from being done with you. .” Mammon breathlessly laughed as he saw your eyes fluttering shut. You opened your lids to see that he’s made his way down to the apex of your legs, where all the mess was.

“Mhm, I’m going to suck this out of you.”

He gave an experimental lick at your sensitive cunt, causing you to instinctively attempt to close your legs. Mammon held your legs apart and gave you a smirk before diving in—your hands flew to his spiralled horns, gripping them for your dear life as he shoved his tongue inside you.

“Just can’t get enough of you, my darlin’..” Mammon whispered against your skin. “Mhm—aah! Y’so greedy, M-Mammon.” you moaned. He couldn’t help but snicker at your response, a sense of pride swelling in his chest at the choice of your words.

“Now, I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

[grimmweepers]

— ★ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when being assigned a joint research project with a very attractive haravatat student proves to be more distracting than you ever anticipated

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: akademiya!student alhaitham x akademiya!student reader, afab!reader, established relationship (early stages), secret relationship, sex in the desert, flirting, playful banter, casual nudity, no preparation, rough fucking, multiple positions, creampie, not proofread. obv they are adults. 2.1k wc MDNI. 18+ ONLY. | masterlist

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The heat had already taken hold of you this morning.

Even before you opened your eyes, the desert sun had crept into the makeshift tent, meandered across your skin, and clung to the bedding beneath you. Outside, you could hear the wind humming in a lulling rhythm but the air inside was still heavy—scented faintly of canvas, sand, and Alhaitham.

Officially, this trip was sanctioned by the Akademiya to catalog ruins and decipher inscriptions long buried in the dunes. Your joint project culminated in months of preparation but between your academic pursuits, you and Alhaitham fell into the trap of proximity, lured by the temptation of wandering eyes and coy smiles exchanged over the rim of coffee cups. 

Long nights spent under oil lamps became less about studying and more about the rush it gave you when your knees brushed beneath low tables. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on reading when Alhaitham sat so close that his scent clouded you entirely. 

Wandering eyes turned to coy smiles turned to lingering touches turned to… well. 

Such distractions would be frowned upon by the Akademiya, yes, but how could you resist when Alhaitham treated you like you were the most fascinating discovery he had ever encountered? You both agreed on discretion to save yourself from the mortification of other scholars and seniors. They didn’t need to know about his sweet confession and the many other things you both got up to when nothing but the stars could witness you. 

So unofficially—this trip was the perfect excuse to stay tangled together despite the sweltering heat. 

You blinked against the wedge of sunlight, rolling over to a very bare Alhaitham sprawled beside you, one arm tucked lazily behind his head, the other resting just centimetres from your waist. 

“Morning,” his voice was thick with sleep but when your eyes met, you saw that his expression was immensely not.

“What’s got you so focused?” you said groggily, propping yourself on your elbow as you faced him. “Already thinking about all the hard work waiting for us today?”

Your clothes were still discarded from the night before, sitting in a crumpled heap near the corner of your bedroll. Perhaps the events of last night were why he was looking at you with that slanted smile. 

“Do you always think about work the moment you open your eyes?” he replied, tracing small circles on you. 

“Someone has to keep us on task,” you shot back, raising a brow.

“I didn’t realise I was sharing a tent with a Matra.”

Of the 20 languages he knew, the same mouth rendered him incapable of completing this project in a timely manner—what should have been done two days ago was instead spent with his tongue on your skin. 

Not that you had many complaints.

“Mm,” he added. “And here I thought mornings were for recharging, not nagging.” 

“For someone who implores efficiency in all things,” you said, poking his nose, “You spend a suspicious amount of time lying around. Observing me isn’t going to help your thesis.”

“Observing you is a worthwhile distraction actually,” his hand began to slip onto the bare curve of your hip, “In fact, I think you’re my most compelling subject.”

“I would pay you sacks of mora to include that in your report,” you retorted, clicking your tongue with false annoyance, but you were too focused on something else to actually care.

“I’ll pass,” he tipped his chin at you, “Instead of mora, another thorough exploration should suffice.”

“You’re avoiding work.”

“I prefer to think of it as redefining priorities.”

“Oh? And what’s at the top of that list now, Mr. Alhaitham?” You felt wrapped in warmth but you weren’t sure if it was from the desert or his fingers settling between your thighs.

“Must you know?” He pressed his body against you, “It seems to me you don’t think we can afford to delay.”

Suddenly, the tent felt smaller, and something familiar coiled low in your belly. You let out a soft sigh, shifting closer to him, “Enough.” 

The word felt hollow, even to your own ears.

He not only decided he wanted a repeat of last night (and the night before) but also the right to brag about passing with flying colours even when he was buried inside you during the most crucial part of the research. 

It became a cycle—he apologised for keeping you distracted and you forgave him by moaning his name. 

Never one to be so sexually inclined but now he understood why men sculpted monuments to their obsessions, why poets spilled ink in worship of carnal desires. Lust was not a sin because it was tempted, but because it was consumed. However, the way Alhaitham consumed you was completely intentional. 

You were no different from his books. He spread you open, studied you, and read every inch of you all the same.  

“I personally think we have plenty of time,” he leaned forward, slowly grazing his lips across your neck before kissing your pulse point. “Trust me.”

And trust him you did.

The world outside was quickly forgotten after he turned you on your back. Your words died in your throat as he hovered above you, capturing you in a careful kiss that tasted of salt and skin. 

There was plenty of time in the way his fingers coveted pleasure out of you. 

There was plenty of time in the way he mapped your jaw, your neck, and your collarbone with love bites. Like you were something so desirable to him.

Beads of sweat rolled down your temple as the tip of his cock shallowly pressed your entrance. Your mouth fell open—the friction was maddening, and every inch of you clung to him. Even when his lips ghosted the swell of your chest, he was lucky your skin was there to swallow his quiet grunts each time his hips moved against your tight hole. 

“Patience,” he said when you instinctively arched your back, though his own breathing was uneven. Already, his hair was tousled and damp from the heat of your bodies mingling and you felt his length throbbing on your thigh. He was so hard, you couldn’t help but wonder if the one who actually needed patience was him. 

You couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Speak for yourself,” you said, swiveling your hip upwards. A groan left his lips so quickly you saw a blush spread across his cheeks. “You’re barely holding it together.”

He grumbled in response. “You find joy in others’ misery.”

“Not at all.”

Although, your teasing wasn’t for naught. Alhaitham wasn’t exactly famous for bedding women so seeing you stripped of everything that made you prim and proper left him craving you that much more. “You should take it as a compliment that I—”

“So I’m the problem?” you laughed under him to mask the flutter in your stomach. 

“Precisely.” You were glad he remained obstinate even when he so lewdly towered over you. “You’re in such a hurry this morning. If you want to be reckless, I won’t be blamed for the consequences.”

Then a strategic purse of lips followed suit, “I thought you enjoyed my patience.”

Patience. That damned word again.

Screw patience. Whatever consequence he was referring to was burning away any semblance of patience you might have had left. Thus far, he had taken his time with you but he had only taken his time with you. If he could be more crude, you wanted to see it—feel it. 

“Alhaitham,” his entire name rolled off your tongue. Quick and demanding. Your tone only fueled the fire in his seafoam eyes. “Stop talking.”

The end of your words dissolved into a gasp as he thrust into you, hard and sudden, stretching you with a fervor you hadn’t felt before. 

His muscles flexed while you dragged your nails down his spine, closing your legs around him for even an ounce of stability. The rhythm he set was already so relentless that his hands gripped your thighs, pulling them higher around his waist to drive himself deeper, and the change in angle made all sound catch in your throat.

“Haitham—!” a cry rippled from how hips were snapping against yours with a pace that was anything but patient. He had accepted your unspoken challenge so quickly, that nothing would have prepared you. 

Your head swam.

The wet, sloppy slaps of skin meeting skin filled the tent, blending in with your jagged moans and his lower grunts. No part of his brain wasn’t thinking about how soaked you already were, how you welcomed him so easily before he slipped—no—pushed it in. 

His hair clung to his forehead, every movement felt tight and addictive. When he leaned down, his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “Is this fast enough for you?”

You could only whimper in response, feeling your toes curl as his hoarse voice and your own pleasure consumed you. 

He shifted, pulling you onto your side and hooking your leg over his shoulder. The new position sent another shockwave through you, and your priceless whines filled the small space as he drove into you over and over again.

The heat of the tent seemed endless, but so did the hunger between you. Alhaitham’s pace never truly slowed—each time your whines softened, each time you thought the storm of his touch subsided, he just tossed you into a new position, kindling the fire all over again. 

“I want to hear you,” he growled while his chest was flushed against your back. Reaching to lift your leg so his heavy cock could invade you deeper, you tried to muffle your moans into the bedding. But he grabbed your chin, tilting you to look at him, “Head up.” He half-chuckled, “You were so mouthy before. What happened to that?” 

Before you could answer—or think—he shifted again, this time unsteadily pulling you onto his lap. Your knees dug into the bedding but at that point, holding yourself upright proved difficult. His hands gripped your waist, guiding you to ride him as his mouth leisurely latched onto the peak of your breast. The combination left you shuddering, clinging to his shoulders as his fingers pressed bruises into your hips. 

“Did you know,” he slurred against your skin, “that you’re terrible and incredible?” His praise made your cheeks burn but terrible? Terrible was the way he fucking you so hard you could barely roll your hips. 

“Y-You might want to refresh yourself,” you chewed your bottom lip from yet another hard thrust, “On the meaning of ‘terrible.’” You could feel the remnants of your previous orgasms dripping down on him, “Because that’s you.”

Time blurred. You lost count of the positions, of the way he had you on all fours only to have you back in his arms moments later, of how many times you greedily begged for more. Every touch was electric; if only you could clutch him closer. The noises were shameless and the scent of filthy sex and sweat was nothing shy of erotic. 

When he pinned you beneath him again, you felt him stiffen. Every inch that sunk into you felt more desperate and even the way he called your name sounded huskier. You could have sworn the tent walls were ruffling in sync from his losing control. 

Your lips parted in a silent scream and with a final throb around his cock and a deep drawn-out groan in your ear, he released inside you for the first time. Your body drew out his pleasure as his forehead pressed against your shoulder. His laboured breathing told you everything about the ecstasy he was experiencing, like his body and brain were struggling to stay connected. Finally, he pulled out, trembling and sensitive, and collapsed beside you who was still panting. 

Ultimately you got what you wanted: unfiltered crude sex with your insufferably hot research partner. Your pulse ran wild.

A hazy silence settled, broken only by his stroking your hand to check if you were okay. Part of him wondered if he went a bit too far which you wordlessly answered by rubbing him back. He held you, and like last night (and the night before), you lay glistening and tangled together in the aftermath. 

It was a perfect system, a hopeless, delirious cycle.

“Well,” he said as he returned to tracing circles on you, “I think that concludes this morning’s exploration.”

You rolled your eyes, still dizzy and breathless, “Do you think the Akademiya will accept that as your final thesis?”

His lips quirked into a rare, little grin. “Hard to say. Who knows which of the sages might secretly be perverts?” 

“Alhaitham,” you groaned, swatting weakly at his chest. 

But then his arms tightened around you. And you didn’t mind. You didn’t protest. You believed you might have even loved being clad in nothing, lying in a cramped, too-warm tent that reeked in the musk of what transpired.

There was, as he said, plenty of time to finish the project. And if this was part of the process, you weren’t in any hurry.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

a/n: idk if i love or hate this but it’s so hot where i am rn and the only thing i can do to distract myself from perishing from the heat is to pretend i’m here!!!

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[yogurtkags]

❝ STRAWBERRY KISSES ❞ — hinata shoyo (18+)

cw: MDNI, f!reader, post-timeskip!shoyo, fluff but alludes to smut (non-explicitly), established relationship, aftercare, non-sexual showing together, suggestive | wc: 1.2k

there is nothing more secure and anchored than being loved by hinata shoyo

masterlist

if there’s one thing that shoyo loves, it’s the sight of you laying beneath him breathless and spent, soft and pliant atop plush white sheets, the strands of your hair tangled between his fingers earlier now fanned out like a halo. you’re a little slice of heaven on earth, his angel.

the dazed, love drunk look on your face in post-coital bliss never gets old, and he lets his eyes trail over your features and sweat-slicked skin, needless to commit to memory — he already knows every part of you like the back of his hand, basking in a beauty that’s uniquely yours, and only his to see.

the faint light from outside seeping through gaps in the blinds highlights his tanned cheeks in its airbrushed pink, and you can’t help but bring a hand up for a featherlight touch, grazing the smooth plains with a small, tired, but no less genuine smile and affection swirling in your eyes. he's only gotten more handsome as he got older, past his awkward fumbling teenage years and now with a newfound confidence since returning from brazil, he glows with happiness, self-assurance and in this moment, simply love.

you always thought he looked attractive on the court, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and hair disheveled, and it rings true even now in bed with you.

the hand cupping his cheek snakes around the back of his neck, gently guiding him down to meet your lips in a delicate, unhurried exchange. he readjusts his position from above you, taking some weight off with a quiet grunt and settling next to you, taking you into his arms again, lips still connected through it all. his calloused hands caress your sides and pull you in by your waist, craving once again the closeness of skin on skin as you melt against his sturdy frame.

it’s warm, sticky and sweaty, but in the moment, neither of you can be bothered to care, chasing the warmth of connection and each other as your bodies tangle above the sheets.

what little that’s left of your strawberry lip balm leaves a lingering taste on his tongue and he can't help but go in for seconds, addicted to your lips and the burst of sweetness that follows. it's like biting into the ripe juicy fruit, just one is never enough.

it’s slow, gentle and tender, pacing unurgent and languid as your locked lips dance a well versed number, every movement familiar and effortless, like a choreography perfected over time and practice, and a graceful melody leaving you wanting more.

inevitably pulling apart for air, shoyo rests his forehead against yours, not before gently blowing the strands of hair sticking to your skin and feeling the walls around his heart crumble for the nth time at your airy giggle, the sound akin to a cupid’s arrow, shooting right through to his soul.

“you okay, princess?” he whispers lowly, and with your nod, your eyes flutter shut in content and the comfort of his embrace, “you’re so damned cute, so pretty like this.”

basking in the afterglow, you nuzzle your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, hand resting against his bare, damp chest and feeling the thrum of his heartbeat pulse against your palm. it's steady and sure, stable and constant, much like the nature of his love — he is the embodiment of passion and excitement, but there is nothing more secure and anchored than being loved by hinata shoyo.

“you wanna stay here for a little longer, or shall i run the bath?” he softly mumbles against your temple, hands gently tracing shapes into the small of your back. you faintly make out the outline of a heart gliding across the dips and curves and can’t help the smile that graces your lips, feeling a matching one pressing into the side of your head.

“mmm a bath does sound nice right now…” you trail off, lips murmuring against his neck and voice clouded with drowsiness.

he huffs in amusement, your breath tickles as he slowly sits up with you still in his faithful hold. picking you up with ease, you’re light as a feather to him, he walks to the bathroom and plants you on the counter to sit while he prepares, your legs dangling and swinging back and forth.

you take the time to admire the broad expanse of his back. he’s grown quite a bit since his years in high school, once small and lean, now sculpted and defined by muscles that speak of his discipline and hard work. his short life in brazil and current pro-league training did wonders for his physique — he’s faster, stronger, in more ways than one if your soreness has anything to go by.

this is a far cry from the first time you slept together, but the tender loving care after never gets old. shoyo may slack on doing the dishes or laundry from time to time, but never in a million years when it comes to you. he’s precise and methodical in his movements, he’s done this countless of times before after all, but he never lets himself get too familiar — being able to love on you is a privilege he will never let himself forget.

the water soon stops running and he stretches his hand out, helping you down the counter and keeping you steady on your feet as you step into the tub, "careful, i got you."

he follows suit, settling behind you and you happily lean back against his chest, his hand resting on your tummy and rubbing soothing circles under the water. it’s a peaceful and comfortable quiet, the only sounds being soft breaths and the water shallowly rippling with his ministrations.

“sore?” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, barely above a whisper and causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin.

you hum in response, resting your head on his shoulder as you sink even further into his frame, the warmth of the water and his body enveloping you in a little bubble, safe and comforting. keep this up and you could fall asleep right here and now.

he takes advantage of his current position behind you to litter your neck with kisses, occasionally nipping and sucking at the supple skin. “mm don’t start something you can’t finish, sho.” you say this, yet you’re still leaning into his sensual touches and tilting your head to give him more access, sleepily whimpering his name so prettily, dripping with honey.

your pliancy and the lack of resistance on your part spurs on another wave of desire in him and he takes it as a cue to continue, painting the untouched spots of empty canvas and leaving faint purple bruises in it’s wake as a mark and declaration of his love. you're always so trusting, so receptive of him. only for him.

you may not be able to see the shit-eating grin on his face but you can sure as hell hear it in his voice and feel it as his chuckle vibrates against your pulse, sending shivers down your spine.

“are you challenging me, meu amor?”

taglist. open (link to form) @koton @shouyuus tagging you two as promised ♡

networks. @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum

notes. writing this made me feel things... also crazy how i started this draft in SEPTEMBER jfc

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[sleepynoons]

megumi x afab!f!reader (characters aged up), nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: unprotected sex, marathon sex, angry sex, slight degradation, senpai kink, slight subspace + dubcon, asphyxiation/choking just to be safe

notes: lmk if i missed any tags. anyway, had a megumi thought, and i had to write it out. reader is a little bimbo-coded, but really, i simply believe she's just too focused on fighting to notice her panties are showing and tights just feel too restrictive at times yk. anyway, this was truly just me writing with my clit, so don't take megumi's characterization too seriously.

megumi can’t believe the sight in front of him.

he’s imagined this hundreds – no, thousands – actually, millions – of times in his head, and even then, now that it’s finally happening, you’re more pliant and submissive and quiet than he had expected.

usually, you’re so energetic. always giggling at your phone or bantering with other sorcerers or humming under your breath, you’re so expressive, and you make sure your presence is known, intentionally or not.

and you’re especially relentless with him. since way back in high school, whenever he was in your view, you would race after him and give him the tightest hugs that would have him gasping for air. you would knock on his door in the middle of the night, just to drop off some extra snacks you bought at the convenience store. now, you blow up his phones with ridiculous memes and nonsensical drunk text messages, and he’s often supervising you after exhausting missions to make sure you don’t fall asleep in the bathtub.

but those aren’t his biggest concerns with your behavior. really, it’s that, for someone so strong and with such relentless stamina, you’re so… clumsy.

sometimes, you swing your sword so hard that you lose your own balance. he finds new bruises and cuts blooming across your knees and arms all the time. your butter fingers never cease to drop your water bottle, often spilling it on your white uniform and forcing him to give you his jacket so you can cover yourself up. there’s also the countless times where you’ve forgotten to wear tights underneath your skirt, inevitably flashing yourself… and the fact that he’s seen you only in a bath towel way too many times than he should, especially for someone who’s not dating you…

don’t you understand the uncomfortable position you’re putting him in?

well, tonight was his last straw. in the late afternoon, the two of you finally returned from a week-long mission. the mission was based in okinawa, so he was forced to share a hotel room with you (he’s still cursing the higher-ups for being so stingy). at least there were separate beds, but for all six nights, he had to restrain himself from brushing his fingers against your sleeping face. and as soon as the two of you got back, you invited him over to your place so the two of you could drink together in celebration of wrapping up.

no drinks have been touched. in fact, you didn’t even get the opportunity to enter your kitchen.

as soon as the two of you took off your shoes, he grabbed you by the shoulders to hold you still before dropping down to his knees in front of you.

“kick me if you don’t want this,” he said, looking straight at you.

you only gasped in delight before nodding enthusiastically.

since then, the two of you have been going at it for hours now.

at first, you reacted like he thought you would. loud, sultry moans, dramatic expressions, flailing arms and legs. but now that it’s been – three? four? – rounds, he’s shocked to see you acting quite the opposite.

with his forearms propped to each side of your head, he thrusts into you slowly. it’s hard for him to move when your legs are wrapped around his waist, forcing him close to you, but the slight friction that he can manage has you uttering soft sighs. you’re staring wide-eyed at him with a small, drowsy smile. your hands are holding onto the front of his t-shirt, and you seem to be drinking in the sight of his own flushed face and his abs peeking through.

“senpai, where’d all that energy go?” he asks.

you shake your head, before rubbing your cheek against his hand. you look so content, having his cock inside you, your lips kissed swollen, your tights utterly destroyed.

and at the thought, megumi’s angry again.

he sits up on his knees and adjusts your legs so that he’s holding them up in front of him. now that he’s not restricted, he’s slamming himself into you, hard, fast, without hesitation. you squeak, hands flying to dig your nails into your bedsheet.

he snarls, “at least wear a pair of shorts when you’re sleeping in the same room with someone else.”

you shake your head again and whine. “it’s not comfortable!”

he pulls completely out, before sheathing himself fully again. you finally let out a louder groan.

“i don’t fucking care if it’s uncomfortable - don’t do that shit around me.”

he knows he’s losing you a little, so he doesn’t even wait for a response. he’s broiling with frustration and annoyance, and nothing can stop him.

megumi rants. “i know you don’t even see me as an option, so you think you can do whatever you want around me. but think about my feelings, too. please. have you ever thought about how i’d react, seeing you prance around in nothing but your panties and a thin t-shirt? or your short skirt and sheer tights? would you still dress like that if you were on a mission with any other guy?”

he’s fucking you so hard now, hugging your legs to his chest and using all of his force when he rams his hips into your ass. you’ve fallen silent, again, but not because you want to. your tongue’s lolling out, eyes unfocused, fists unclenching – you’re experiencing the best orgasm of your life.

megumi doesn’t like that. he needs you to listen to what he’s saying. he needs you to understand that, regardless of whether or not you reciprocate his love, he’s teaching you an invaluable lesson, one that you should never forget.

so he turns you over, shoves his dick back into you, and locks an arm under your neck to hold you up.

he growls into your ear, “are you listening to me?”

you’re whimpering and sniffling and gasping, all while holding onto his arms for dear life.

“senpai,” he calls again, sternly, tightening his arms around you a little.

you’re really not able to think, but the tone of his voice forces you to look at him. megumi’s never looked so serious, so furious before, and you feel yourself gush at the observation.

“senpai, you can’t be tightening up like that,” he grits, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “i’m not your boyfriend, so you can’t keep holding onto my dick like this.”

you whine. you wriggle your hips, trying to take him in even deeper even though it’s not possible.

“what, senpai?”

delirious, you mumble, “wanna be your girlfriend. want you to be my boyfriend.”

all that anger – gone. just like that.

megumi knows he ought to be stricter with you, truly discipline you now that he knows you want him like he wants you, but maybe, just maybe, he’s also a little clumsy when it comes to you.

even though he should still be upset, he can’t be bothered to because you’re so sweet, so kind, so accepting. he’s been giving it to you all night, dishing out small punishments and overstimulating you relentlessly, yet you’ve been just taking it all willingly.

yes, he should be more guarded, consider the possibility that you’re just saying those words in the moment or some other rational thought, but he’s clumsy when it comes to you.

clearly, megumi’s losing it.

he flips you over again, grabs you by the face, and smooshes your lips together. teeth scraping, tongues sliding, the kiss is so messy and filthy, and you’re screaming into it when he slides his cock back into you at the same time. you’re going limp – from the intensity of the kiss or the lack of air, it doesn’t matter –, and megumi’s barely pushing through.

he doesn’t stop – doesn’t allow himself to – because he’s trying to give you the best loving of your life. 

“you’re always driving me insane,” he groans.

you clench so tightly at those words, heart overflowing with joy and pleasure, and megumi has no choice but to let go. he’s filling you up again, but this time, he’s giving all that’s left of him – his cum, love, sanity – to you.

[sunnie-angel]

week 3 (oct. 18) | period sex

✮⋆˙bon appétit (2.2k)

jason's a vampire, you're on your period, and, well a man's gotta eat

tags: f!reader, vamp jason, established relationship, period sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blood drinking, blood as lube, slight size kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: for @luvrodite my darling, this would not exist without your encouragement

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason Todd is on you the second you walk through the door, pharmacy bag dropping from your hands in surprise. The door’s barely shut behind you before he’s crowding you up against it, cold night air still lingering on your skin, his nose buried in your neck. His lips part along your collarbone and you roll your eyes at the pinprick of fangs already descending from his gums.

“I smell blood,” he rumbles. “Are you hurt?”

With a sigh you dig your now empty hand into the thick mess of his hair and pull him off of your throat. His pupils have already started to narrow into slits, catlike.

“No, and if you’d stop thinking with your fangs for a hot second you’d realize it’s because of my period.” Reaching down for the bag you’d just let go of, you gasp as another cramp spikes through your lower belly and claws up your back. “Right, you can get the bag because you made me drop it. I’m going to find my heat pack in the kitchen.”

Jason’s already waiting for you by the time you hobble into the kitchen, slow and regrettably human. Under your breath you curse his unnatural speed but he hears you anyway and grins. He’s already put your heat pack in the microwave so there’s nothing to do but gratefully take the painkillers he’s fished out of the bag for you and wait. His stomach grumbles.

“Nope,” you declare. “Not happening tonight. I’m losing enough blood as it is, you aren’t getting your hands on any more.”

“Please, baby? ‘M starving over here,” Jason pouts. He’s suddenly behind you, arms around your midriff. He lets out a huff of air right over your jugular, goosebumps rising across your skin. Usually, that would be enough to have you caving, knees weak and and panties wet, begging for his bite. Tonight, you push his face away with annoyance.

“Go get some synth blood from you maker or something. Isn’t she always offering to hook you up with a supply? I’m off the menu tonight, so put those–” you tap at his upper lip, right over where his fangs have descended “–away.”

The microwave beeps, giving you an excuse to slip from his grasp. You moan at the warmth as you shove it down the front of your clothing, the heat already making the cramps reside a little.

“Talia’s out of town and you know nothin’ tastes anywhere near as good as you do,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You want to scream at his perfect dumb face with its stupid puppy eyes.

“Jason. I’ve got a waterfall of blood in my underwear – which is stained by the way because none of the PATH toilets had any pads in any of their dispensers – my back hurts, my stomach hurts, my boobs are pain central, and my ankles are sore for some ungodly reason. I’m not adding “mauled by a hungry vampire” to the list of reasons why I’m destroying my liver with painkillers.”

You know you’re probably being bitchier about it than you normally would be to turn him down, but you’ve just had the day from hell. First your period had started on your morning commute to work. Then the pad you had been counting on to be in your purse hadn’t been there, a casualty of Tamara two desks over last week. There’d only been a single pill left in the bottle of painkillers you kept at your desk, and you’d been so run off your feet with work that you hadn’t had a chance to run out for more. You’re tired and sore, absolutely ready to face plant into bed.

“I don’t gotta bite, you know,” Jason says slowly.

“What,” you retort flatly, already done with this conversation.

“Well if you’re already bleeding. I don’t hafta bite you.” He smirks at you like he’s solved all of your problems. Slowly, your face starts to heat up as you put together what he’s implying.

“You don’t– what. You wanna...” you splutter, unable to string the thought together.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he prowls towards you, predatory glint in his eye “let me put my mouth to good use. I promise I won’t bite.” He’s got you backed against the countertop, balancing on your tip toes. The faux marble is firm beneath your scrabbling fingertips as you let out a squeak. He traces the apple of your cheek with a deceptively gentle finger. “Besides, you always feel so nice and relaxed after you come. Might make those cramps better.”

Cotton mouthed, you swallow down your desire but you can tell from the lopsided grin that Jason can already smell it on you.

“Ye-ah, okay.” You nod and bite your lip. “But if you make my cramps worse, I reserve the right to knee you in the head.”

Jason’s got you undressed and flat on your back on the bed in under 15 seconds in what has to be a new personal record. He’d even managed to put a towel down and reposition the heating pack right over your womb between breaths. Somewhere in the trip between the kitchen and the bedroom Jason had lost his shirt and you’re reminded again of just how badly he can make your mouth water, staring at the broad expanse of muscle covered in a thin layer of fat. He looks down at your bare, bleeding cunt and you swear you see a hint of something cold and predatory tinge his desire.

You reach out to him feeling oddly vulnerable, the rabbit kicking in the jaws of the wolf. He smiles at you, and despite the narrowed slit of his pupils you feel the warmth leech back into the room. Gently, he lowers himself down to cover your body with his. Kisses and laps at your open mouth, careful not to nick you with his fangs. Jason smooths a broad palm along the side of your ribcage until it settles on the plush curve of your hip. Slowly, he starts to kiss at your jaw and throat, purposefully avoiding the lush temptation of your carotid.

When Jason takes your aching breast into the wet heat of his mouth for the first time that night, you gasp and arch your back. Your hips strain with nowhere to go against the rock solid weight of his body. He’s gentler than he usually is, keeps his promise not to bite by laving at the bud of your nipple with the flat of his tongue. Kisses and sucks at the aching flesh until you are mewling from oversensitivity, now wet with more than just blood. He barely reacts to you clawing at his back, nails leaving raw red lines that heal over in an instant.

“Too much too muchtoomuchtoomuch,” you babble, body leaden with a different type of ache.

He pulls off your breast with an audible pop, a thin line of spit connecting his lips to the wet mess he’s made of your tits. Jason smiles as he peppers kisses down your belly, still careful not to jostle the heat pack from it’s place. He licks and kisses at each thigh before placing them onto his shoulders, sucking hard enough to leave bruises in your wake. You start to roll your eyes at him for his obsession with getting as close to your blood as possible when the scrape of teeth across the thin skin has you trying to strangle him with your thighs.

“No biting,” you gasp out, the curve of your spine pushing your breasts into the air.

“No biting,” he says, humouring you.

Jason hands close around your hips and drags you down to meet him. He licks a broad stripe right across your dripping cunt, obliterating any indignant thoughts in your head. Sucks a kiss to your clit that has you grabbing for his hair, desperate to keep his face right there. Your hips struggle to move but the coiled strength in his palms traps you right where he wants you. He’s enjoying this, you can tell from the way he’s playing you like a finely tuned instrument. Alternates long slow licks with taps and flicks of his tongue just to watch you dissolving into a whining and desperate creature.

You’re wet, so wet you can feel it dripping down to the cleft of your ass. Jason slurps – slurps! – up the mixture of your blood and arousal, traces it straight back to the source until he’s sucking right over your entrance. The tip of his tongue traces your cunt before plunging in and you moan, body tensing up at the intrusion. Trying to arch up into him, Jason slams your hips back down onto the mattress, the heating pad sliding somewhere off to the side of your hip.

“C’mon baby, gotta stay still so I can finish my dinner,” he purrs, not even bothering to look up from the blood drooling between your legs.

Arousal and embarrassment flare through you, lighting you up and burning through your cheeks as he goes back to eating you out. The spread of his fangs pinning your hole wide open as he thrusts the slick muscle of his tongue back into you. Uses it to curl into you wickedly until you moan high and reedy in your throat, aching for more. A thick finger prods at your entrance, alternates thrusting in with his tongue, forcing you to clench down around the intrusion. You can do nothing but lay there and take it, as he fucks you on his fingers and tongue. There’s no  escape from him and his questing mouth, pinned down as you are.

Your thighs start to shake when he curls a second finger into you, scissors his fingers wide to make it easier to drink you down. Spreads you open and fucks back in as deep as his hand will go. Hooks those fingers into the soft spongy part of your gut that has you seeing stars and pushes as he sucks on your clit again.

“Right there, Jay,” you whine, fighting for breath as your tummy screws up tight. “Please.”

Jason keeps hitting that spot with his fingers with unerring accuracy, hammering away as he laves over your clit. It’s the barest hint of teeth dragging across it that sends you burning over the edge, vision whiting out at the corners when you come. Chest heaving as you try to breath through it, body turning to jelly, your cramps are long forgotten in the flood of endorphins.

Jason grins from between your thighs, chin red with your blood and sticky with your slick. Leans over to show you the mess you’ve made of his hand, the sticky strings that still cling, connecting it to your twitching cunt. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he licks it all up, moans at the taste of you and ruts his dick into the bed.

“You taste so good, honey–" you whine at the praise “–just had to have a little taste. And I was good wasn’t I, didn’t even bite to get it, so I think I deserve a little dessert too.”

You nod too fucked out and relaxed to move, body nearly one with the bed as your aching muscles melt. He grins, predatory again, and oh you should have seen this coming. Something about wetting his throat with blood always has Jason desperate to get his dick wet too.

Jason slowly feeds his cock into you, smile still stained red. Moves one of your legs to hook around his waist while he carefully keeps the other one pinned over his shoulder as he folds you in two. He’s big. He’s always big but in this position you can feel every inch of him, can practically taste your hips giving way as he makes space for himself inside of you. Jason sets a pace that has you shaking under him, eyes wide as he steals the air from your lungs with each deep thrust. Filthy, wet squelching noises stream from your cunt as he fucks it sloppy, driven feral by the scent of blood in the air.

He coos at your wide eyes and slack-jawed expression as you clench tighter and tighter around him. Bends his head to mouth at your neglected breasts and smear them bloody. Jason minds his teeth as he laps and suckles at your tits in a crude approximation of what he just did to your clit. All the while his thrusts speed up, jolt you up the bed as he starts to jackhammer. You wail as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your quivering walls. Jason works a hand between you and all it takes is the slightest pressure to set off the chain reaction in you again.

Smug, Jason rolls off to lie beside you, head propped on his hand to watch you gasp and twitch like a gutted fish. He reaches down between your thighs and runs a finger through the mess there, causes you to shiver. Jason licks your combined spend off his finger and sighs with satisfaction. Starts to rub the warm mixture of blood, cum and slick into the skin over your womb in idle patterns.

“You know, you tasted good before, but I think I like you best when you taste like me.”