#house of solis occasum

[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.” In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[yogurtkags]

❝ HAPPY ACCIDENTS ❞ — kuroo tetsurou

cw. f!reader, fluff, cliche meet cute, strangers to friends to maybe more down the line — wc: 1.3k~

to cheer @nekomacheercaptain , my giftee ♡ for the hq x reader secret santa by @lale-txt

the winter breeze is brutal.

coupled with the featherlight flutters of falling snow, there’s nothing you want more than a mug of hot coffee, hot chocolate, hot anything. not hot enough to scald, not lukewarm, just right — warm to the touch of your hand and a heat that reaches to the depths of your bones and every crevice.

your gloved hands are shoved into the pockets of your coat, hanging heavy on your shoulders with a nice weight akin to a grandmother’s hug. god knows you need one right now, the colder days haven’t been kind to you and just getting yourself up and out of the house is a struggle all on it’s own. maybe some fresh air will do you some good, but it doesn’t feel like it when the snow’s crunching under your feet and soles of your shoes barely find purchase on the pavement as you take slightly faster but cautious steps towards alchemy’s brew.

the soft chime upon stepping in welcomes you with a sweet tune, the warmth that envelops you causing a sigh to slip out. this place was always a cosy visit no matter the season, a little nook that was a pleasant surprise to find and become your regular caffeine pick-me-up spot. you shoot a smile at the young barista working the counter as she greets you, walking over to a small table which is seemingly the only one unoccupied in a quiet corner.

small items prove difficult to handle with gloves on, let alone dollar bills and change as you fumble with your belongings. dusting away flits of white and gently tugging the fabric off your hands finger by finger, you drop them off on the table and turn around only to bump straight into a firm surface, eyes widening at the flash of jet black before you can stop your movements.

“oof—“ “woah watch ou—“

kuroo isn’t having the best day, well morning, the day just started. emails and emails, did i mention emails, bombarding his inbox and gods it’s his day off, do they even see his out of office notice? surely they can read.

it’s cold out and he much prefers the warmth of his apartment but alas, he is driven by a caffeine addiction. corporate norm if you will. he’s been meaning to try out this cafe since he moved here but he’s been so caught up with everything and everywhere in between that it just became a forlorn thought at the back of his mind, months passing and it still remains an untouched pin on his map.

he needs to step out and put his laptop away from his line of sight before he breaks his personal “no work on my off day unless it’s an emergency” rule, why not take the chance?

so he finds himself at the front of the line of alchemy’s brew, slipping the barista change and a polite smile, turning to find a seat while his hands warm up from a delicious hot drink, head in the clouds and lost in thought. maybe things are looking up.

until he completely fails to see ahead of him and collides into a smaller frame.

“i am so sorry!” you and the unfortunate individual that you ran into blurt out simultaneously, minds in sync to the horror of the scene in front of you, marked not by splotches of red, but a rich brown against tan vinyl.

your eyes quickly scan his clothing, letting out a held breath at its unstained appearance. finally bringing your gaze up to his face, the first thing you note is his very tussled hair, it resembles the ruffled feathers of a bird, or maybe more like a black cat that’s just had its coat aggressively petted and you can’t help but let the corner of your lip quirk up in amusement for just a split second before returning to a concerned frown. poor guy just wanted to have a peaceful morning and a hot drink and you probably ruined it.

what looks like a hot chocolate sloshes in the cup in his hands, slowly coming to a still after the sudden movement just a moment ago. what you assume was once full now stands half empty, and you meet his gaze with a wince, mustering up the most genuine apologetic smile you can, hands twiddling in nervousness.

“really, i’m so sorry about that, i should’ve seen where i was going.” you gesture towards his drink, “can i get you another—“

you visit this place regularly enough that you can easily get a new one and having made friends with the barista on shift today. you’d be willing to pay either way, it would be the right thing to do. you just want to move on from this situation as quickly as possible, the stares from the other customers starting to get under your skin.

he’s quick to cut you off with a panicked wave of his hand, “no, no, you don’t have to! you had your back turned to me, you couldn’t have known. if anything it’s my fault really.”

the way his eyes widen and words spill from his lips hurriedly doesn't quell the guilt, and instead makes you double down even more, unable to stop yourself from wanting to make it up to this seemingly sweet soul, lord knows you'd be on the verge of a breakdown if the same thing happened to you. “oh my god please, it’s the least i can do.”

"no, no, no, ok how about this— since we're both alone, or at least i assume you are? correct me if i'm wrong—"

the cafe's unexpectedly pretty busy on this saturday morning, a steady stream of customers and quiet chatter filling the air. there’s something for everyone here no matter the vibe or purpose, a solace standing the in midst of the cold like a crackling fireplace, a sanctuary.

as nice as the place is, you'd think no one in the right frame of mind other than yourself would be willing to get out of their warm bed and come outside in the snow — no one in your circle is at least, and you're certainly not waiting on anyone.

"i am!" you sound almost too chirpy affirming him about that and he thinks you so adorable.

"okay perfect, you can repay me with your company then."

"oka— wait what. are you sure?"

"i promise it's fine, you seem nice and i uh, would like to get to know you! i-if that's what you're comfortable with—" kuroo leaves out the part where you were settling down in the table he was eyeing before this whole thing happened, but he's slightly flustered, usually certain and sure but now thrown into a loop by the pretty girl that crash landed into his day, not that he's complaining. well other than maybe his spilled drink but that’s totally on him.

now that the initial shock is over, meeting his hazel eyes with a smile, you only just notice how pretty they are and compliment the rest of his features well, finally taking note that the man before you is actually very handsome and suddenly you're slightly bashful and even more embarrassed about what just transpired.

thankful that your scarf covers a little bit of your newly flushed demeanor, you nod with a shy smile and eyes averted, "i'd like that."

with a matching grin, he puts his cup down and pulls out a chair for you, and as you try to subtlety squint your eyes to peek at a scribbled name somewhere on his cup, he notices and laughs, a sound you think may be the music to your reddenned ears for the next hour or so. you’re not sure if the colour is still a reflection of the cold or a growing interest in this unnamed man, but who are you kidding, it’s more likely the latter.

“it’s kuroo, well—my name’s kuroo.”

it surprises yourself that as you sit across kuroo, this man that you just accidentally met in the middle of a cafe on a wintry morning, you think that there's nothing more in the moment that you want than to make him laugh again.

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

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

notes. hi~ it’s been a while~ i’m a little rusty, so cheer, i hope you like this and to everyone out there, happy holidays ♡

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

[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

[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]

teach me, teach me

suo hayato; 2,587 words; nsfw, senpai-kink, college!suo, aged up characters, fem! reader, senpai/kouhai dynamic, piv sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, mentions of birth control, simp!suo, internal cumshot, allusions to suo w/ a praise!kink, no "y/n", lapslock

summary: in which ur only a few months older than suo but he won’t stop calling you “senpai”

a/n: u cannot convince me that suo wouldn't lose his mind if u called him a "good boy".

“bet i could teach you a thing or two about girls.”

famous last words — so you think, later, pinned beneath suo, breathless, your fingers curling into your own palms, back arching as he slowly works two fingers in and out of you, his grin loping to one side.

“senpai… does that feel good? you have to tell me — teach me what feels good for you, hm?”

a broken whine works its way out the back of your throat as light fizzles at the edges of your vision. vaguely, you can feel your own hips kicking up as he twists his fingers, thumb circling your clit. if you were any more coherent, you might’ve wondered where he picked this up — the thought of suo casually watching porn for nothing more than pure academic interest doesn’t entirely escape the wild machinations of your mind.

“t-there —! ngh… please —”

“ah… right there? is that it, senpai?” there’s a bright, unassuming smile on his face, but you catch the dark glint that flashes behind his damnably long lashes. there’s a quickness to his breath that wasn’t there five minutes ago and god — has it only been five minutes?

“fuck — yes —” you keen, head tossing back into the pillows, the coil in your belly twisting fit to burst. your toes curl, your breath hitches, champagne sparklers flash behind your eyes.

and then —

“mm… senpai… you’re so wet…”

you peer up at him through damp lashes, your body still fizzling with the almost of your now rapidly fading orgasm.

“h-hayato —”

“hm? what is it? have i been doing something wrong?” his voice is level, innocent, even. you bite down on your bottom lip and swallow back the whine threatening to spill from your mouth.

“no, you’re —” your breath hitches as you feel him trail sticky fingers along the insides of your thighs before grinning and pillowing his cheek on your bent knee.

“i’m…?”

“y-you’re doing —” you swallow, watching as he slowly lowers himself down till he’s resting between your legs; you shiver at the heat of his breath on your pulsing clit, “good —”

“yeah? but… good isn’t good enough for me, senpai…” you catch a glimpse of the devious glint in his eyes a second before he dips down and licks a long strip along your cunt; you clench around nothing and moan.

it had started three weeks ago, when suo had overhead kotoha talking about your birthday. and maybe it was the fact that he’d never paused to think about it too hard, but he’d always just assumed that you were his age.

“— want for your birthday this year? it’s soon, right?”

“yeah — but i don’t wanna do anything big this year…” you’d pushed your half-finished omurice around your plate as suo, sitting three seats down from you, pauses and looks up.

“hmmm but it’s not every day that a girl turns 21! i heard in america — it’s a huge deal!”

suo had blinked, cocking his head, his mind spinning into overdrive as he does the math. outside, a light dusting of snow had fallen over the entire city, and beside him, sakura was complaining about getting stuck with “snow patrol”.

even as college students, the work of boufuurin never really ends.

when you get up to leave, suo smiles, “let us know if you need any help with your birthday!”

you turn, frowning slightly, “uhm — sure! i don’t know if i’ll need much help but…”

suo had felt something in his chest kick at the color rising in your cheeks; he’d wondered how pretty you might look blushing properly.

“well, it’s only natural for us kouhai to want to help out, right senpai?”

and he’d gotten his wish — your cheeks flaring the most gorgeous shade of pink as you bite down on your bottom lip. the thing in his chest thuds again, more insistently this time, and he tries not to pay too much attention to another kind of pressure, building just behind his navel as he smiles and watches you leave with hooded eyes.

now, with his mouth latched to your sopping cunt, suo can’t help but groan at the way your thighs quiver on either side of his face. he reaches up to lace his fingers between yours, soothing a thumb over your knuckles in what would be an innocent gesture, before he pulls your hand towards his hair.

“you don’t have to be so gentle with me, senpai — i can take it.”

he grins, licking his lips clean of your sticky juices, feeling a familiar tension coil inside his own belly as he watches you squirm, panting, your skirt hiked up, your panties still hanging around your one ankle, the creamy expanse of your thighs now dotted with tiny blossoming bruises, the evidence of his hungry mouth and diligent fingers.

“hayato…” you say his name like a prayer, and a part of him wonders if he’ll ever be the same after this. or, if it keeps on going like this, if you keep on staring up at him with those dark, watery eyes of yours, calling his name like it’s the only name you might ever want to say again — if you might just ruin him for every other girl out there.

“hm? what is it, senpai?” he tries, fruitlessly, to maintain his calm, to keep his composure. though he knows he’s fighting a losing war; he nearly breaks as he shifts and feels his straining cock skim along your leg.

you lick your lips, and just like that, he knows you have him; your hand hasn’t left his hair, but when you trail it down to cup his cheek, suo feels his mind going blissfully blank.

“ngh — stop teasing —” your voice is broken, in a way that has suo questioning his own sanity.

he lets out a shaky breath, “teasing? i’m just trying to treat you well, senpai —”

“i — i want you.”

“me? i’m right here…” he bends down over you, but he doesn’t expect you to arch up into him, to pull him down for a kiss that can only be called bruising, for your legs to wrap around his waist and pull him down hard enough for his clothed cock to rut against your slick pussy in a way that has him reeling.

“f-fuck —” he lets the word slip just as you reach down far enough to push at his belt.

“i w-want you — here —” you make your intentions plenty clear as you dig a finger passed the waistline of his loose-fitting pants.

suo pauses, his chest heaving, his single eye wide a bit unfocused. he licks his lips and swallows hard.

“are you — do you have something for —” he gestures vaguely towards where the two of you are so damnably close to being connected and you have the gall to sigh and roll your eyes.

“hayato,” you say, your voice firmer and steadier than he’d heard all afternoon, “there’s a thing called birth control.”

suo blinks, and then, he breaks into a soft fit of laughter, “ah… of course. should’ve known senpai would be so well prepared.”

“mm — actually, it’s a free service. the university covers it for anyone who wants to —”

suo groans as he dips down to bury his face in your neck, skimming his teeth along your collarbones.

“senpai… now who’s the one teasing?”

you let out a breathy laugh, “d-didn’t know you’d be so turned on b-by student health services —”

suo takes a deep breath, reveling in the milky smell of your skin, “no… i just love it when you try to stall.”

“s-stall?”

“mhm,” he pulls back, his smile at once devilish and indulgent.

“’m not stalling…”

“sure you are — you were so close —” he lets his voice sink into a deeper, smokier tone, his intonation caressing a lewder implication, so much so that you feel your pussy clench again, a flood of warmth slicking along your folds, “to telling me where exactly you wanted me.”

he ruts down against you and both of you groan out at the friction.

“w-why ask a q-question… you already know the a-answer to?” you say, arching up against him, fingers now threading through his hair, tugging on it just hard enough to make him hiss.

“because senpai — i wanna hear you say it.”

he trails his lips along your neck, sucking a dark, angry hickey into the junction of your shoulder even as you whine.

“fuck — hayato — want you inside me —”

“mm… that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

he pulls back just far enough to mouth at your lips, groaning as he feels your hands fumbling at his belt; he reaches down to help you, shucking his pants and boxers in one and kicking them off his legs a second before your palm meets his throbbing cock.

“mphf — f*-fuck* —” he swears again as you shimmy yourself down, stroking his cock till its head is pushing at your entrance, “s-senpai —”

“hm?”

you run your thumb along his slit and he jerks forward, making a sound just between a groan and a whimper.

“a-ah…” he drops his head into your shoulder, if only to look down at where your hand is still wrapped around him, your thighs spread so tantalizingly wide, your body resting on the tangle of his sheets in this tiny college dorm.

“ha-hayato…” your free hand curls into his hair, pulling him down till his nose grazes yours; there’s a moment’s pause as you look up into his singular eye and he looks down into yours. like this, he can count each and every one of your individual eyelashes.

“are you gonna fuck me or not?” you ask, your voice nothing more than a puff of breath along his lips.

suo hisses, his vision flickering as his mind goes white with heat. he leans down to capture your lips with his, his hand coming up to curl around your wrists as he fucks down into you, groaning as he feels your cunt stretching out around him inch by inch by inch.

“s-senpai… so tight — “

“m-mngh — h-hayato —!”

he loses himself in the feeling of you, in your tightness, in the way he can feel you fluttering around him even as you scrabble at his back with loose, desperate fingers.

he groans, pulling back slightly just to fuck himself back into your heat. and like this, he can see the threads of your mind slowly coming undone until you’re keening, thrashing beneath him, begging and so, so close to incoherence.

“ha - hah — hayato — m-more — your cock —”

“s-senpai — you gotta tell me — what — you — want — remember?” he punctuates his words with harsh thrusts, reaching down to hoist your legs over his shoulders, pressing you in half as he fucks down into you.

the schlick of his cock ramming into you, the wet slap of skin on skin, the high-pitched squeak you make every time he feels his cock bottoming out inside you, nudging against the one particular spot that has you jerking away from him —

“w-want you t-to cum —” you’re a babbling mess beneath him now, your eyes squeezing shut, your body soft and pliant as he manipulates you into a better position.

“a-ah — senpai — you’re not b-being fair —” suo pants, digging his fingers into your thighs as he folds you nearly in half, your knees almost kissing your shoulders as you keen, eyes rolling back into your head at the slight shift in angle as he continues to pound into you.

the walls of the tiny dorm room reverberate with the sound of your desperate cries, and suo spares a moment to wonder if he might get reported for this.

“wanna — wanna feel you c-cum —” your voice lilts up as he lets out another wanton groan, leaning down to mouth at your exposed tits, bouncing with the force of his thrusts. he grunts as he tugs your shirts open wider, popping off one of your buttons in the process.

“senpai — senpai — t-tell me — am — do i feel good?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate, but he hears the imploring edge to his voice as you keen, nodding fervently, tugging at his hair, your expression fucked out, your eyes so dazed.

“so g-good — hayato — please, wanna feel you cum — wanna be full —”

and that’s all it takes for the coil in his stomach to twist and burst. he ruts forward, clamping down on his lips as he feel his orgasm ram into him with the force and speed of a runaway train. a second later, he feels you clench down around him, your walls fluttering as you hit your own climax, and vaguely, he finds himself thankful that at least he’d made you cum too.

he fights not to collapse on top of you, rolling to one side, his arm looping around your waist to pull you into him.

he takes a deep breath, and then another, trying to gather himself. you roll onto him, squeaking as you feel his softening cock threaten to slip out of you, but a second later, you’re perched over his hips, your thighs straddling his sides.

“mm… still not satisfied, senpai?” he asks, a bit breathless, his chest heaving, his bangs sticking to his forehead as he stares lovingly up at the shape of you, your hands steadying yourself on his shoulders.

“i am…” you say, grinning lazily down at him as you slowly lay down, pressing your cheek to his chest, “just… like the feeling of you inside me.”

suo bites back a thick moan as he feels his dick kick, even after all that, the way you say those words so casually has him reaching up to tug at your hair.

“you… really weren’t kidding when you said you’d teach me a thing or two, hm?”

you giggle, pillowing your chin on his chest as you stare up at him.

“dunno what you mean.”

he scoffs, brushing a few strands of hair from your forehead, “it’s not nice to tease…”

you lick your lips; suo gasps as he feels you squeeze down around him, his sensitive cock hardening again despite himself.

“like i said,” you trace an idle finger up the length of his neck before pushing yourself back up to swirl your hips around his now rapidly hardening cock, “i don’t know what you mean — i think you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific.”

suo lets a whine snake out from inside his throat, dropping his head back into the sweat-soaked sheets, his palms coming to rest on the round of your hips.

“sen-senpai… go easy on me… please?”

“not a chance,” you say, “now be a good boy and take it.”

suo moans, long and loud and unabashed. your voice rings out in his head like a curse or an incantation and he feels his body go rigid at your words — good boy.

and it’s all he can do to keep from cumming on the spot.

---

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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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[mothletters]

pairing: smoker x reader; prompt: 11. overstimulation

contains: established relationship, fellatio, handjob, overstimulation, tiny bit of ass play, some foot stuff, ball fondling, sub-ish smoker, he cums in his pants once, he also cries a little, some aftercare, fem reader (wears heels and a skirt/dress), smoking mention (it's SMOKER, duh!); wc: 1.8k

minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact!

it was nighttime on the g-5 battleship, the nightwatch’s voices still rumbling along. darkness shrouded the ship with just a small light from smoker’s office peeking underneath the heavy door. it was quiet, eerily so. silent.

but if someone would press their ear against smoker’s thick wooden office door, you would hear hushed voices and a subdued schlick, schlick, schlick.

from what, you ask?

well, from smoker’s thick cock in your hand, the previous load covering your fingers that were dwarfed by the large man in front of you.

his voice was hoarse, and not just from the copious amounts of cigars he was smoking. “p-please,” he whispered, “i can’t. ‘s too much!”

he was writhing in your hold, the seastone cuffs in full effect and weakening him. if it weren't for those, he would easily overpower you.

“you’re,” he gasped, squirming as your thumb pressed against the underside of his flushed tip, “you’re gon' – ngh – gonna regret this.”

“hey, you asked me to help you relax,” you mused, slightly tightening your grip around his length. the wet sounds had your thighs clenching, your own slick covering the inside of your stocking-covered thighs.

you leaned forward, your heels digging into your bottom, giving his swollen tip a few kitten licks.

to think that it started so tame. he called you after another successful raid on a captured village, the pirates bound and gagged on the bottom of the ship. he sounded stressed, talking through gritted teeth, asking you to see him in his office after dinner. you knew that he needed some stress relief, have you at his mercy. your lover imagined more of a massage to loosen his tense muscles. or maybe have you do all the work and ride him into oblivion.

what he didn't imagine when he walked into his office was you sitting on his large desk scattered with paperwork, revealing yourself underneath your already skimpy skirt. you weren't wearing any underwear, your slick threatening to drip down onto his reports. his mouth watered, spit dampening the filter of his cigars. he was ready to get on his knees to bury his face between your thighs until you were begging for him to fuck you but you tutted. pointing to his chair, you gave him a smirk while watching him trot over, the corners of his mouth pulling into a disdainful frown.

“don't make that face, love. i’ll make you feel good. don't you trust me?” you taunted, jumping from his desk and stepping behind him. the clank of your heels was muffled by the carpet as your hands slid under his jacket, slipping the heavy fabric off. his responsibilities were to be set aside, at least for now.

you kneaded his burly shoulders, relishing in the satisfied groans of your lover, ignoring the sting in your eyes from the smoke. he threw his head back, his eyes closing in relief. your hands worked around smoker’s shoulders, the back of his neck, even his chest a little before sliding down his arms innocently.

only when he heard a faint click and his body turned to jelly, smoker realized what predicament he was in. he tried to fight against the cuffs but even his strong frame was no match to the seastone cuffs around his wrists.

“w-what. . . is this?” he panted, looking at you circling his office chair to sit on his desk again. you crossed your legs, a quiet hum leaving your lips.

“i want you to relax, my dearest. you've worked so hard today and it got me all hot and bothered and i wanna show my appreciation for all your hard work,” you mused. your heel-clad foot started hiking up his thigh, your eyes zeroing in on his groin, where his barely concealed cock started twitching pathetically. you knew he was already leaking, a wet patch forming in his underwear.

even if he wouldn't admit it out loud but he loved when you were more dominant, loved relinquishing his power to you.

the ball of your foot reached his length, slowly applying pressure and he let out a delicious deep groan. his teeth were leaving indents on his cigars, jaw threatening to close and bite them clean through. you leaned forward to pluck them out of his mouth, partly because you didn't want him to swallow the tobacco but also to hear those beautiful wanton noises only you could coerce out of this hunk of a man.

his hips had a mind of their own, grinding weakly against your shoe and shamelessly using the friction to get himself off. his moans turned to whimpers, his hazy eyes on you as you watched him chase his orgasm with a wicked smile. he didn't know that this was only the beginning of your devious plan to help him wind down.

it didn't take all too long before his logical brain turned to mush from the slightly shameful pleasure he was feeling from only your high heeled shoe. the heel was pressing against his full balls so deliciously. it was only a matter of a few more thrusts that he made a complete mess in his underwear. a guttural groan left smoker’s chapped lips, his hips slowing down to ride out his high.

once he was still again, his chest still heaving and a beautiful flush spreading across his skin, you slowly made your way onto your knees. your hands slid up his thighs and he let out a weak smile. “not done yet, huh?” he panted, trying to compose himself.

you grinned, saliva gathering in your mouth at the prospect of what's hidden underneath his pants and underwear. “never,” you murmured, nuzzling your face into his groin and eliciting a quiet moan out of the man above you. “told you i wanna show my appreciation and help you truly relax.”

hooking your fingers underneath the waistbands, you pulled down his garments in one go. gasping at his flushed, half hard cock that slapped his abdomen and left a trail of cum in its wake. your hand immediately latched onto it, giving it a few tentative strokes as you watched smoker bite his lip with a whimper. his hips bucked weakly, his pubes glinting with his spend.

you raised your eyebrows, silently asking to continue and your lover just gave an enthusiastic nod, not wanting to miss out on all the pleasure you were to give him. and so here you were.

his mind started to become fuzzy as your hand picked up its pace, the remnants of his previous orgasm acting as lube. his hips gyrated, not knowing whether to run from the pleasure or towards it. the sounds coming from both his groin and his mouth were filthy, expletives leaving his lips as white hot pleasure coursed through his veins. smoker was cumming faster than he could part his lips to speak, hot ropes of cum covering your fingers.

“oh my, smoker, couldn't even warn me first?” you teased, sticking out your tongue to attempt cleaning up his mess. the burly man above you just let out a weak moan, eyes hazy as he watched you engulf his tip, flushed an angry red. “f-fuuuck," he whined, fighting against his restraints to no avail.

you circled your tongue around his engorged tip, feeling the drips of his pre-cum coat your tastebuds. your other hand reached up to gently cup his sensitive balls, applying soft pressure as you felt them tighten. his leaking cock twitched in your mouth, his noises picking up in frequency. telltale signs that smoker was about to cum again.

he thrashed in your hold, his muscles weak from the seastone confining him. he couldn't defend himself from the onslaught of pleasure even if he tried. it was borderline painful, tears started pricking in his eyes that he quickly blinked away. you had never pushed him to this point before but he couldn't deny that he loved it.

you hollowed your cheeks around him, the saliva dripping from your mouth acting as lube for your hand. the hand that was fondling his balls slid down between his cheeks unnoticed, his hips bucking up into your face. “fuck, fuck – i can’t,” he exclaimed, head whipping left and right with his eyes screwed shut.

you hummed around him, encouraging him with your tongue pressing into his slit. using your spit and his cum as lubricant, you gently circled your finger around his puckered hole, slowly sliding it in. he was too fucked out to even notice that you were pushing his own boundaries. that was, until he let out a shout that was probably heard by all of his marines. the pad of your finger gently pressed upward against his (until now) untouched prostate.

that was the final straw for him and he orgasmed, although weakly compared to the other ones. tensing up, you stimulated him until he started kicking his legs and begged for you to give him a break.

you slowly pulled out your finger, let his cock go with a lewd ‘pop’ and made sure he watched you with his hazy eyes as you swallowed his seed. his spent cock twitched pathetically while his chest heaved and tears were drying on his cheeks.

“fully relaxed now, admiral?” you grinned as he nodded weakly, leaning over to take some tissues out of the drawer. (he kept them there for late nights when he was working on ‘paperwork’.) you gently cleaned off his now soft dick, his balls and lower abdomen, getting a fresh tissue to wipe your face.

he panted heavily, blinking away the fresh tears that were forming. smoker, the big buff scary admiral, was crying at your hands. you slowly got up, your legs wobbly and feet numb. you fished the key out of your jacket and undid his cuffs.

your lover stretched his wrists, his body still reeling from the mindblowing orgasms paired with the cuffs. his chest was still heaving and you sat on his lap, gently wiping his face with the tissues. “thank you,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck and leaving a trail of sweet kisses. you replied, “anytime,” before letting out a squeal as smoker hooked his arm under your legs and stood up. his legs were still weak and wobbly, you were scared you were gonna topple over.

but smoker, in all his muscular glory, stood strong, grinned proudly and threw you over his shoulder. lighting a new cigar and taking a deep inhale, he shrouded the room in fresh smoke, covering the stench of sex.

“told ya y’r gonna regret it.”

a/n: first post, yippie!!! very excited to start this new venture :3

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[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 asked.

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.

[yogurtkags]

❝ DELICATE ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw: gn!reader, fluff, depictions of eczema/skin issues, insecurity, hurt/comfort, established relationship, extremely self-indulgent | wc: 507

it’s so itchy.

the sensation of your nails dragging against the bumpy and dry flaking skin scratching an itch like no other, the satisfaction of peeling a scab so great until it stings. and bleeds. and then all of a sudden showering hurts—

“i can hear you scratching.” tobio calls out from the kitchen as he walks out with a tall glass of water and a bowl of berries, setting it down on the coffee table and sinking down on the plush couch next to you.

your hand pauses in it's movements for barely a minute before going back to it's bad habit, words dragging out in a whine when you hear him let out a tch in disapproval, "i can't help it."

“i know, but you gotta stop it.” he chides, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together, thumb rubbing soothing circles to distract you and effectively put a stop to your scratching. "picking at it isn't going to make it better."

hands still clasped together, he leans off to the side and blindly pats around the side table, feeling around for the small tube of healing ointment sitting in the black ceramic cat trinket dish (obviously you picked it out, saying it looked just like him).

coming back to you, he wraps his arm around your frame and pulls you closer, squeezing a pea sized amount of ointment on his fingertip and gently spreading it across your broken skin, raw and red from your incessant assault. it’s your fault really for letting it get this bad, but you hiss at the sting anyway, never quite getting used to the burn no matter how many times this has happened.

it’s always been something you struggle with, not just the itch but also accepting the way the patches looked. it’s ugly, and discoloured, the splotches unsightly, and seeing it in the mirror everyday comes with a matching frown. exposing the affected skin doesn’t come easy for you, avoiding it as much as possible and hiding it behind a layer of fabric where you can, but some materials make it itch even more, feeling helpless and insecure as you bare it to the world.

“almost done.” he mumbles, catching you stare off dejectedly from the corner of his eye.

tobio doesn’t need to pay a penny for your thoughts to know you’re feeling down about it again, your silence says a lot. you’ve been together long enough that he can mostly tell what you’re thinking from just your body language and facial expressions, you’ve always been an open book and wore your heart on your sleeve around him after all. he learned to pick up on your cues and subtleties with time, the same way you’ve slowly softened his edges.

a lingering kiss to your temple leads you out of the dense forest of your thoughts like a light in the darkness, his fingers gently holding your chin up to look into his softened, doting eyes.

“i love every part of you.”

and don’t you forget it.

gen taglist. open (send an ask / comment to be added!) @wyrcan networks. @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum

notes. the self insert is inserting, i literally had a mini flare up and was scratching at my ezcema while writing this

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

[chrollogy]

EPISODE 2: CHOCOLATE GONE WRONG

neuvillette x f!reader

NNN ‘24 masterlist | Next Episode

DETAILS: Neuvillette finds himself itching to break the sacred rule of No Nut November after naïvely indulging in aphrodisiac-laced chocolates gifted by Sigewinne—a popular craze among young Fontanian adults.

DURATION: 5.3k

CONTENT ADVISORY: explicit smut, mdni, porn without plot, p in v, creampie, neuvi has two cocks + emphasis on his draconic features, use of aphrodisiacs (neuvillette), neuvi uses his cane as a makeshift leg spreader bar, pet names (ma/mon chérie, ma belle, (my) love), not beta read

DIRECTOR’S NOTES: divider: cafekitsune. round 2! also i’m not quite sure i will get the next two fics out in time (or if i’m getting them out at all) but i will try my best T_T. your lil moon is having a rough patch rn so yeah but nonetheless enjoy!

For Neuvillette, the month of November was nothing significant to say the least—his job continued, overseeing trials, sorting out documents, meeting with important people, and more workload now that Lady Furina had stepped down from archon hood; so, when you had come into his office one day, talking about how a certain trend spread like fire across Teyvat, Neuvillette was rather intrigued.

It had a weird name—No Nut November—and couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea based on the name alone. He remembered how you explained to him Fontanians, and people of other nations were to engage in No Nut November which was to participate in sexual abstinence.

Naturally, the idea was all bizarre to him—not because he thought he couldn’t do it but more so the fact that it was natural for humans to engage in intercourse, same goes for his kind as well. Neuvillette couldn’t see the significance of such a trend, and why humans were participating but who was he to deny your proposal of a challenge? After all, there was no harm involved, he figured it would help him understand human customs a little better despite the it’s strangeness in nature.

Situated behind his desk, Neuvillette let out a deep sigh, letting the papers in his hand fall onto the wooden desk beneath before rubbing his temples. 

“Stressed, Monsieur?” A familiar, teasing voice sliced through the suffocating silence of the Iudex’s office. Neuvillette looked up from his desk, greeted by a friendly figure. The former was too focused on the case materials before him that he hadn’t realised the presence of another, “Wriothesley. I’m rather surprised to see you.”

The raven-haired male was clad in his usual attire, heavy obsidian boots sounding with each step taken against the carpeted floors.

“Ah, you’re not the only one.” Wriothesley chuckled, recalling his encounter with Sedene just mere seconds ago, who looked like she had just seen a ghost. Before Neuvillette could inquire about the sudden visit, the former beat him to it,

“Don’t worry, I won’t take up much of your time. I’m here because Sigewinne had given me an errand to run. She got these for you.” Taking a couple steps closer to Neuvillette’s desk, Wriothesley placed a small box atop the case papers. Carefully wrapped in an ivory satin ribbon, the azure container was adorned with intricate designs in gold that shone beneath the afternoon sun, neatly decorated chocolates peeked from the plastic window of the lid.

The Chief Justice subtly raised his brows in amusement, he wasn’t one to indulge in chocolate nor was he a sweet tooth but nonetheless, he appreciated Sigewinne’s thoughtful gesture.

“That is very kind, please thank her for me.”

Watching the way Neuvillette’s expression morphed into a naïve smile, Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest, “Say, Monsieur, have you heard of the craze among young Fontanian adults right now?” He most likely already knew the Iudex’s answer to the question but what was life without a little teasing?

With how the popular sweet has been making rounds across Fontaine, it would be near impossible for anyone to be clueless about it but at the end of the day, Neuvillette was Neuvillette, probably the busiest man in all of Fontaine which is why Sigewinne had to intervene with the chocolates. The head nurse didn’t have to physically see the Iudex to tell how much he’s been overworking himself nor was a simple order from her was going to stop him.

So, what better way to disguise a remedy with something simple? Basically akin to administering medication to a pet concealed as a tasty treat

Sexual intercourse was the fastest—and best—way to relieve him of his stress. Sigewinne hoped for the Iudex to pardon her complete brazenness but he was as stubborn as a rock, and took her orders about resting rather lightly.

Naturally, Neuvillette shook his head with a light chuckle, a tinge of interest seeping its way into his skin, “I believe I’ve heard her talk about it but the details must have slipped my mind.” A subtle blush blanketed the Chief Justice’s pale cheeks at the mention of his lover, you. Wriothesley’s lips stretched into a teasing smile—one which the former paid no attention to.

 “Well, would you ever try an aphrodisiac?” At Neuvillette’s baffled expression, the younger male bit the inside of his cheeks, biting back a hearty laugh. 

“An aphrodisiac, you say? Substances that—” “That increases one’s libido, yes.” Wriothesley cut him off, tease practically dripping from his tone. Neuvillette was a man capable of many things, an esteemed individual once he’s in court but when it came to much simpler matters, the Chief Justice was nothing but clueless, especially regarding human customs that are a bit harder to wrap one’s head around.

“I’m afraid I have no such time for trivial things.”

The Iudex shook his head once more, this time dismissively waving a gloved hand at his friend. He cleared his throat, the blush on his cheeks deepening into a crimson hue—Neuvillette wasn’t going to say it out loud, especially not in front of Wriothesley but he deemed himself more than capable of maintaining his sexual desires and performances, you were enough proof.

Wriothesley left it at that, his friend may just end up as red as a tomato if he prodded around the topic any further. Needless to say, amusement filled him to the brim, “Alright. It was nice chatting with you Monsieur. I believe Sigewinne also left a small note there—”

The latter looked down at the box. Indeed, there was a small piece of paper neatly folded and tucked beneath the ivory ribbon.

“—do heed her letter.” With that, Wriothesley dipped his chin, sauntering over to the double doors.

Reaching for the handle, the Duke stopped in his tracks, he looked over his shoulder, icy cerulean gaze full of mischief, “Oh, and I hope you two enjoy—the chocolates, I mean.” With that, he left the office, leaving Neuvillette to his thoughts.

The day went by rather quickly, the azure skies turning into golden hues of oranges and yellows as the sun bid farewell to its people, disappearing below the horizon. The chocolates from Sigewinne remained untouched on the corner of Neuvillette’s desk, it watched as stars decorated the night sky; though, as the Chief Justice retired for the evening, he grabbed the box of sweets before heading out.

Neuvillette figured he’d share them with you at home.

Greeted with silent darkness, he was suddenly reminded of your words this morning at breakfast: ‘Oh, I have work dinner later, my love; so, I won’t be eating here. We’re celebrating a company milestone.’ Conveniently enough, Neuvillette had already eaten at his office before leaving so he won’t have the pleasure of sitting across an empty seat at the dining table.

Getting ready for the chilly night ahead, Neuvillette changed into his evening attire after taking a warm bath, he donned silken azure pyjamas paired with a fluffy ivory robe. His silver strands cascaded down the length of his spine, the cerulean bow, and golden hair clips he usually wore were neatly tucked away inside his jewellery box.

Situated on the love seat, Neuvillette casually flipped through case documents inside a brown paper folder. The fireplace across him was ablazed with hues of oranges and reds, casting a citrine glow upon the dimly lit living room. As flames danced atop dry wood, the dulcet sound of classical music poured from the record player, filling the space with its tunes.

After minutes of skimming and scanning the documents, he reached for the box of sweets next to his lap, taking time to read Sigewinne’s carefully written note:

Monsieur Neuvillette, I’ve acquired these sweets for you, and her! I figured these would help you loosen up a little so please do not shy away from consuming as much as you want. Make sure to share them with her as well. Enjoy!

Love, Sigewinne

A warm smile spread across Neuvillette’s face, and despite his better judgement of waiting for you to come home and indulge in the taste of chocolate together, he figured one piece wouldn’t hurt to try alone, right?

With the moon high up in the obsidian night sky, you walked down the cobblestone footpath that led closer to yours and Neuvillette’s shared space, the evening breeze gently caressing the apple of your cheeks. Work dinner had just concluded at Hotel Debord which housed a lovely singer who put on a dazzling performance.

By now, the streets of the Court of Fontaine were more deserted as people retired to their homes for the night, shop owners here and there packed away their respective signage, their stores devoid of any customers.

With each step leading closer to home, you soon found yourself in front of your home, keys jingling between your fingers as you unlocked the front door. From the entrance hallway, warm hues greeted you like an embrace, hinting at the ablazed fireplace in the living room.

“My love? I’m home.” You called out to Neuvillette while skilfully removing your shoes, and neatly placed them beside his own.

Met with silence, you figured he either must be occupied with something or must have fallen asleep while waiting for your return. You sauntered over to the end of the entrance hallway, making your way to the living room, and as you got closer, melodic sounds engulfed your senses—you recognized it, Neuvillette’s favourite classical music.

Turning the corner, you were greeted with a rather interesting sight, a wave of concern washing over you,  “Neuvi—Are you okay?”

Seated on the love seat was Neuvillette, his left elbow propped on its arm rest, face hiding behind his hand. A deep crimson blush painted his handsome face, intensified by the reds and oranges that the fireplace emitted. He sat there looking flustered, chest heaving up and down as he took heavy breaths. Drinking in the view, you noticed documents sprawled across the empty space next to him but what really caught your eye was the intricately designed box resting on his right thigh.

The box had its lid intact yet the loose ivory ribbon draped over his thigh hinted he had previously opened it. Upon closer inspection, you realised it's familiar packaging, a co-worker had shown it to you the other day, telling you how her and her boyfriend have been dying to try the popular chocolates—chocolates laced with a potent aphrodisiac. 

Your gaze made its way back to Neuvillette—who was still breathing heavily on the love seat—now noticing the prominent tent beneath his silken pants, the azure fabric was flimsy and delicate which left little to your imagination. Pushing away the impure thoughts that snaked its way into your mind, you kneeled before your lover with a concerned expression,

“My love, who gave these to you?”

Knowing Neuvillette, he most likely consumed the chocolates without knowing its true contents simply because he wasn’t aware of the trivial things that humans indulged themselves in.

He let out a pained groan, shaky and vulnerable as he shifted in his seat, “Forgive me, ma chérie. This is improper of me.” With trembling hands, Neuvillette covered his throbbing groin, completely embarrassed that you had to see him in such a state. Truth be told, he didn’t know what came over him—a chocolate or two was all he had, and the next thing he knew, his skin burned like a thousand suns as blood rushed down, down, down to his cock.

The very core of Neuvillette’s body churned with desire—carnal desire—and as each second passed, each tick of the ivory wall clock, the uncomfortable yearn between his legs grew. A light sheen of sweat coated his feverish forehead, as though he was experiencing a fever, and whatever this was, it heightened all five of his senses.

From your voice sounding like it dripped with pure honey, all the way to the saccharine scent of your body, Neuvillette was driven mad with lust. It didn’t help how you kneeled before him, and gently caressed his thigh, a poor attempt of comfort because it brought nothing but waves of icy shudders down the length of his spine. Sensitive. His body was completely sensitive to any external stimuli, and if you rubbed his leg any further, he might just come undone.

An embarrassing thought.

Neuvillette was pathetically needy. How preposterous, the high esteemed Iudex of Fontaine reduced to nothing but a lust-driven man eager to shove his aching cock deep in your velvety walls. The subtle buck of his hips against the thick air; the way he swallowed breathless whimpers at your touch; the violent throbbing between his legs, he was beyond irredeemable.

With another grunt, Neuvillette panted out, “Sigewinne gifted them. Wriothesley had delivered it to my office this afternoon.”

Truth be told, you weren’t surprised. At all.

Standing up from your spot, you walked over to the wall phone. You tried your best to ignore the dainty whimper that fell from Neuvillette’s lips as your warm touch left his thigh, you also tried to ignore how his body involuntarily sought you out—trembling hands reaching to chase your gentle hold.

With glassy eyes, Neuvillette watched as you deftly dialled on the phone, he couldn’t help but trace your breathtaking figure, from the square of your shoulders all the way to the curves and dips of your legs. Oh, the things he’d do to spread them open, and inhale your sweet essence like a mad man. Neuvillette could practically taste your honey on his tongue, its velvety texture sliding down his throat.

Another groan escaped your lover at the thought of eating you out, his cock rubbed against the fabric of his underwear as it shamelessly twitched beneath his pants.

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d be calling given the . . . circumstances.” Of course Wriothesley knew. Pure tease dripped from his honeyed voice, most likely paired with a smug smile, and an icy, taunting gaze.

“Why would you give him that?!” 

A chuckle from the other end of the line, “First of all, I just delivered the present. Our head nurse here bought it. She’s helping Monsieur Neuvillette out.”

You huffed, trying to make sense of Sigewinne’s motives, “By what? Feeding him chocolates with a potent substance?” You’ve always adored how Sigewinne cared for her loved ones, especially Neuvillette—whatever one’s deal was, she was always willing to help out in her own unique way. But this . . giving him such a substance without any warning felt like foul play, and not only was Neuvillette receiving the short end of the stick, you were as well.

You weren’t naïve, aphrodisiacs only wore off after one has reached their satisfaction through sexual means, like quenching one’s thirst. 

“You’re making it sound like we gave him drugs.” “It is drugs, Wriothesley!”

Before you could say anything else, gentle, yearning arms wrapped around your front, caressing your stomach which ultimately caught you off guard. Neuvillette. Nuzzling into the junction of your neck just beneath the telephone against your ear, he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive spot, soft smacks of his lips loud enough for Wriothesley to pick up.

You bit back a moan, free hand coming up to rest on the wall to support your weight. Neuvillette’s kisses had your legs trembling, it left prominent goosebumps in its wake as he trailed further down to your shoulder blades.

“Hm. Looks like it's time for me to go. Pass on my best wishes to Monsieur Neuvillette.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

“My apologies, ma chérie. I just—I need you.” Neuvillette sighed, hot breath ghosting over your bare skin, akin to a gentle caress coaxing you into the borders of lust, like a lone finger protruding from the darkness, beckoning you to its endless, sinful void.

“Love—mhm!” You let out a yelp, his hands finding comfort on the curve of your hips, keeping them still as he slotted his clothed cock between your ass. Neuvillette grinded into you, unshameful and devoid of any decorum. Placing the telephone back on the wall, your nails dug into the hearts of your palms, just the feel of his hard cock had you embarrassingly wet already.

Neuvillette was different from this, despite his sexual urges, he was never forward with you, he took his time—sensual and sincere, treating you like the finest piece of gold to ever exist. But saying you weren’t enjoying his brazenness would be a complete lie. Seeing a different side to your lover put you in a rather sensitive state, almost like a virgin bedded for the first time.

Something primal had awoken deep inside his core, and the only way to handle it was to satiate his carnal thirst.

Nonetheless, you tried to get your point across, “Neuvi . . What you’re experiencing is the effect of an aphrodisiac from those chocolates Sigewinne gave you.”

Your words fell deaf on his pointed ears, instead, Neuvillette mumbled some of his own, “I’m sorry . . Ma belle, I promised you about that challenge but it seems I cannot fight my urges any longer.” Another shaky sigh left his rosy lips.

Challenge? Oh.

Oh.

Even in his lust-driven state, Neuvillette was still thinking about the No Nut November challenge you had proposed earlier this month.

“I’m a man of my word but I need you, my love. Let me break the rules just this once, please?” Pure desperation coated every word that came out of his mouth. It was thick like honey, and melted on your skin like snow. God, at this point the stupid challenge wasn’t even on your mind anymore, not when he desperately humped your ass like an animal in heat—quick, little ruts of his hips that soothed the ache a bit better.

Who were you to deny your lover?

The transition from the living room to the shared bedroom was a blur—everything was hasty; desperate hands exploring each other’s bodies; lips sealed together in a rough, passionate kiss; a trail of clothes messily discarded on the floor leading up to the room. Everything Neuvillette did had you on your toes, completely breathless while trying to mirror his hurried actions.

Normally, Neuvillette would bask in your serene glory, peeling clothes off from your body layer by layer, and decorating your exposed skin with butterfly kisses. He’d gently stroke your hair, slender fingers weaving through the strands as he takes in your bare beauty.

Now, his tongue swiftly explored your mouth—lengthy and thick—something he has never done before. It dizzied you.

You landed on the foot of the plush mattress with a soft gasp as Neuvillette pulled away. Breathless and flustered, you stared up at him through your lashes, soft pants escaping your kissed lips. The sight before him made his cock twitch. How your hair was splayed around your head, mimicking a soft halo, a divine being greater than he.

Neuvillette discarded the last two pieces of clothing—pants and underwear—in one fell swoop, and what came into view undoubtedly had you clenching around nothing. Standing proud and heavy at the base of his abdomen were his cocks, both painted in a deep vermillion hue, and generously leaking pre-cum. The sticky pearlescent substance coated his bulbous tips, it glistened beneath the moonlight, beckoning you to wrap your lips around them, and have a feast.

This wasn’t the first time you saw Neuvillette naked nor were you not aware of his kind but it always brought you shock every time, not to mention the faint cerulean scales the underside of his cocks boasted, it was also his sensitive spot.

Stepping out from the puddle of fabric around his ankles, Neuvillette did the same to your undergarments, mindlessly tossing them elsewhere in the room. A low growl sounded from his chest as he pried your legs apart, his deft hands guided them to bend at the knees while resting the soles of your feet on the edge of the mattress, putting your glistening cunt on full display.

In less than a heartbeat, Neuvillette was on his knees, his eager tongue lapping along the length of your slit, your arousal pooled at the tip of his tongue like sinful honey, the divine taste of your cunt prompting another shameless growl from your lover. He repeated the movement a couple of times, each lick reaching closer and closer to your sensitive clit, and when he finally reached it with his hardened tongue, you let out a surprised gasp.

“Neuvillette!”

Shocks of electrifying pleasure kissed its way up your spine as Neuvillette tongued at your swollen bud—tight, fast circles, up and down, side to side, he toyed with you like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Your hands immediately flew to his ivory tresses due to his ministrations, it was almost like playing a game of tug of war, indecisively pushing and pulling his, unsure if you wanted more or if you wanted him to stop and slow down.

Lewd, wet smacks of Neuvillette’s tongue mixed with his low growls filled the room, allowing you to bask in the sounds of pleasure your lover unabashedly made. Almost akin to a vicious beast swallowing down its prey.

As your back arched off the mattress, and the grip on Neuvillette’s hair tightening, he pulled away, earning a rather disappointed whine to fall from your lips. Sweet arousal abundantly coated his lips and chin, bringing warmth to your cheeks. No one in the room dared to say it but this was the first time your cunt got embarrassingly wet, not that Neuvillette was inadequate in bed per se but you were wetter than usual, and you were confident that he had also noticed.

The glow of his lilac eyes and cerulean feelers were proof enough.

Standing up to his feet, Neuvillette languidly stroked the cock that sat beneath the other one, an immodest gaze raking over your sopping cunt, and how it shamelessly dripped with sticky arousal enough to soil the ivory sheets beneath.

“Are you ready, ma chérie?” Neuvillette’s lilac stare captured you in a haze, absentmindedly nodding at his words as though you were rendered speechless.

He slowly rubbed the tip of his bottom cock before pushing it past your soaked folds, it eagerly swallowed him in—a loud, shameless squelch filling your ears as he stretched you open further. Your toes curled at the sensation, hips immediately bucking into him as you moaned his name. The stretch was a pleasurable burn, one that had you rolling your eyes back, and digging your nails onto the sheets a little harder. Neuvillette was able to easily slip into you, courtesy of the plentiful slick that coated your velvety walls.

Neuvillette stilled as he bottomed out, quick, short pants falling from his rosy lips. God, you always took him so, so well, he could never get enough of the feeling of warmth wrapped around his cock. You took this time to get used to the stretch, your muscles relaxing to lessen the resistance he felt. Neuvillette filled you up so well you could almost feel him in your stomach—a thought that had you clenching around him.

One, two, three seconds later, Neuvillette slowly pulled back, letting out a shaky breath at the pleasurable sensation. And with only his cock head inside you, he took no time to slam all the way inside. You moaned, hands flying to his bare shoulders, immediately marking his pale skin with crimson stripes. Neuvillette unabashedly keened at the clench of your cunt around him, knees buckling as you gripped his cock like a vice, making it harder for him to move in and out.

“Haah! Mhm! Neuvi—right there, my love!” Colourful moans and whimpers urged Neuvillette on, dragging him further and further to the state of insanity. “You feel divine, ma belle . .” The words came out as a choked sob—pathetic and dainty. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead paired with a deep crimson blush that painted his cheeks, if anything, Neuvillette looked absolutely ethereal in this state despite how out of it the aphrodisiacs made him.

Not only were his cocks extra sensitive to touch but he could also perfectly smell the scent of your sex that lingered in the air. That sweet, sinful aroma he knew oh so well.

It made his head spin.

He tried holding back, he really did but your dulcet moans stroked his growing ego, and the feel of your sopping cunt deliciously sliding against him, the last thread of sanity that held him snapped.

Violently.

As if he saw nothing but bright hues of ruby, Neuvillette picked up his pace, long thrusts quickly turning into short ones as he mercilessly pistoned his hips over and over again, allowing his cock head to reach your sweet spot. Your fingers raked down the length of his spine—leaving violent ribbons of red in its wake—stopping right at the dimples of his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you dug onto the pale skin there. Neuvillette wasn’t the only one on the brink of insanity with how the underside of his other cock furiously rubbed at your swollen clit with each thrust, it rested at the hood of your cunt, thick and heavy.

“S-so good! It feels so good—ngh!” The thrust of his hips felt amazing, too amazing to the point where your body started to reject them. Your body entered fight or flight mode, parted knees instinctively closing together which only allowed an inconvenient amount of room for Neuvillette to move with.

Upon noticing the change, he slowed down, sweaty palms resting on either knee, “My love—haah . . Open up for me, would you?” Winded and weak, Neuvillette attempted to pry your knees apart to no avail considering his mushy state.

“Too much, mon chérie . . I—I can’t.” Neuvillette shook his head at your words before pulling out, leaving you confused and empty. From the mattress, you watched as he sauntered over to his side of the bed, grabbing a lengthy, obsidian object that rested against his nightstand. Before a question could even formulate in your mind, he returned to his spot in the blink of an eye; though, this time, with something in his hand.

A cane—his cane. The same one he used during court proceedings, in that context, it was deemed a sacred symbolism of his authority as the Iudex of Fontaine.

To use it in such a setting would be borderline blasphemy.

Hovering over your trembling body, Neuvillette placed chaste kisses on each knee, “Do you trust me, my dear?” Was that even a question? Of course you did. He wouldn’t harm you and you believed that completely.

With a soft touch, Neuvillette was able to easily pry your knees apart, the scent of your cunt once again filling his senses. He wordlessly slotted the obsidian cane beneath your knees, its surface cool against your feverish skin, you shuddered at the contrast in temperature. Neuvillette pushed down on the shaft of the cane, bringing your knees closer to your chest—you also noticed how it kept your legs still, meaning you had no option to close them.

You whimpered at the slight burn the position invited, especially with the cane pressing down on your soft skin. And once again, Neuvillette sheathed his cock inside your cunt before setting the same merciless pace. Only this time, you wouldn’t be able to deny him.

“Neuvi! Neuvi! Neuvi—aah! Fuck—mhm!” You held on to the ivory sheets above your head for your dear life as Neuvillette roughly pistoned his hips. With each relentless thrust given, your body jolted further up the mattress, breasts bouncing in full display for your lover to drink in. Oh, how he adored the way your naked body moved and reacted to him, so plush and pliant.

Sharp hisses from the bed frame interlaced with the pornographic sounds of your moans, creating a lewd melody for the moon to witness, a sinful song only for the darkness of the night to hear—full of heat and passion.

“Does—ngh! Does it feel good, my love? Will you give in to the—haah! To the pleasure I’m giving you?” Neuvillette curled over himself, tresses of ivory cascading down to cage your face as he leaned closer to you. Despite the blur of your vision, you noticed the faint azure scales that decorated the side of his neck along with his pupils becoming more animalistic.

Neuvillette’s draconic features only ever made itself known during his heat; so, this came as a genuine surprise to you. Not that you were really complaining.

His hand remained on his cane while the other found comfort on your hip, subtly guiding your body onto him to meet each thrust. Neuvillette met your gaze through a glossy stare, you watched as beads of crystalline-like tears formed on the corners of his eyes, eventually rolling down his reddened cheeks. The sight before you was beyond divine, it wasn’t every day one would see the Chief Justice in such a poor state, his usual expressionless face painted with a colourful expression.

One that unmistakably screamed how lost he was in pleasure: rosy lips parted to let out soft whimpers, brows tightly knitted together, creating a deep crease between his brows.

“Are you close ma chérie? Mhm—aah! Come with me?” Neuvillette breathed out. It took all of his will power to hold himself up, and keep his hips moving due to immense pleasure weighing on his body like a great burden. The feeling had him trembling to his very bones, like a yellow autumn leaf braving the evening winds, and no matter how much his brain screamed at him to stop, he didn’t.

The pleasure would be too great of a loss if Neuvillette stopped now; so, he kept going—pounding, rutting, and grinding into you as he chased both your impending orgasms.

You nodded vigorously, throat too dry from all that panting to choke out any coherent words. The burn of the position you maintained mixed with Neuvillette’s cocks stimulating your cunt sent you into a painful yet pleasurable overdrive.

Without a second thought, you hastily placed your hands between your bodies, blindly seeking out Neuvillette’s other cock, and wrapping your fingers around it. To the best of your ability, you vigorously pumped his shaft, matching your strokes with his thrusts.

Neuvillette shuddered, releasing a loud moan into the damp air. After a few more quick thrusts, he stilled deep inside you, sealing his lips with yours as you both reached your climax, eagerly swallowing one another’s lewd moans. Your back arched off the mattress, toes curling, and fingers digging into Neuvillette’s skin as you violently came, the feel of his thick, hot cum painting your plush walls white had your hips bucking into him, begging for more.

Embarrassingly enough, Neuvillette came a lot. Not only inside you—to the point where it spilled out of your cunt and onto the sheets below—but also on you. The cock you’ve been stroking spurted thick ribbons of cum on your abdomen, abundantly covering your skin in his essence. He looked at the filthy art that decorated your skin, colourful curses enough to make Fontainians gasp in shock filled his mind.

How beautiful you were marked by him.

“Did I hurt you in any way?” He asked, slowly peeling himself away from you. Neuvillette made sure to quickly remove his cane from under your knees, placing it flat on the floor before tending to you. He kissed your sweaty forehead, and pulled your bodies up the mattress with your head atop the fluffy pillows.

“Not at all but I have to say, I was reaaally looking forward to completing the challenge, mon chérie.” You joked, letting out a breathless laugh.

Neuvillette blushed, suddenly remembering how he readily accepted the proposal of your challenge . . What was it again? No Nut November?

“Another year is to be expected, I am determined we will overcome the challenge.” And you were looking forward to that. Very much so. You just hoped he wouldn’t consume another aphrodisiac-laced sweet in the coming year so the both of you could actually complete the challenge.

Well, at least you concluded that Neuvillette and aphrodisiacs weren’t such a bad match, right?

Looks like you had a certain head nurse to thank. —

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© chrollogy 2024 | don’t plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[grimmweepers]

— ☆ contents: sfw, dad!sukuna handling the morning routine with your girls while you're away, fem!reader, vague hair descriptors for your babies (mention of messy hair and braids), maybe a little ooc, 0.8k wc | masterlist

"Please do our hair, Papa!"

And just like that, their adorable cheeks and flashy grins worked their magic, turning the rare morning without you into a delightful little circus.

It was honestly a travesty, a cosmic joke of the highest order that Sukuna—a man of men, built like he was meant to father sons upon sons—had been blessed with two daughters. And not just any daughters but two miniature versions of you.

You used to get so stressed leaving him alone with them but as they grew into their little personalities, you realised it wasn’t the girls you needed to worry about—it was him.

Sukuna stood in front of the mirror, holding a comb in his hand like it was a foreign weapon, and your youngest, who was perched on a stool in front of him, frowned when she saw that after all his awkward attempts, her hair was still a wild mess.

"Mama doesn't do it like this," she said matter-of-factly. All of four years old but already an expert in hair etiquette, apparently.

He sighed, glancing at her in the mirror with a look of defeat. “Well, guess what? Mama’s not here,” he gruffed, although his mouth twitched upward in amusement, "So you’ve gotta deal with me.”

She pouted as she crossed her little arms, scrunching her nose while giving him the tiniest glare. Sukuna chuckled at the sight. She looked just like you.

“But Mama doesn’t hurt me,” accusatory eyes pierced into her father as if the tugs at her scalp were intentional.

He stopped, deadpan, like he was facing the toughest opponent of his life. “You think I’m trying to hurt you on purpose?” He pointed at the comb, “This thing’s got a mind of its own.”

Your eldest daughter, who had been lounging on the futon and flipping through a picture book, piped up with a smirk, “Mama says you need to be gentle, Papa.”

“Gentle?” he muttered under his breath. She heard him regardless and nodded back at him.

Another dramatic exhale left his lips. He started again, much slower this time, painstakingly working the brush through his daughter’s hair. “Alright, princess, by the time I’m done, you’ll look so pretty, Mama's gonna be jealous. She might even eat you.”

The youngest giggled at that, wiggling in her stool as Sukuna brushed through the last tangle without any major casualties. As he tied off the braid with a ribbon, he stepped back, standing tall with his hands on his hips, impressed with his own work. “There,” he said with more confidence than he probably should, “Nailed it.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, still skeptical but he could see the admiration she was trying to hide, “It’s… okay,” she declared her final verdict. She was acting like it wasn’t the best job though her tone said otherwise.

Meanwhile, your eldest, still on the futon, didn’t miss a beat. “Mama would’ve done it faster.”

Of course, they adore you. Everyone did. But when you weren't around, Sukuna—who could wipe out an entire army with a single swipe and set whole villages aflame—found himself outmatched by a hair comb and two pint-sized versions of the love of his life. It’s no wonder you were able to tame the girls.

But he caught your eldest sliding a thumbs up from behind her book, her way of saying—It looks good, Papa.

And he thinks maybe he’s doing alright. Although, if you were here you would’ve probably swooped in and rescued him long ago whilst being heavily amused by his struggle. Of the two of you, it wasn't difficult to figure out who was more gentle and patient. He swore you could do motherhood in your sleep and he already knew you would tease him later about this.

“You’re thinking about Mama, aren’t you?” Your eldest asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, catching him off guard.

“What makes you say that?” He blinked at her. That slyness? Maybe she took after him more than he'd realised.

She shrugged with all the wisdom of a seven year old who’s already figured out her father. “You always get that look on your face when you’re missing her.”

Sukuna shook his head, “Well, your Mama makes this look easy.” He went back to inspecting his youngest’s head knowing deep down it was far from the flawless work you would’ve done, “Okay, princess. You’re good to go.” She beamed at him and hopped off the stool, happily oblivious to the way the ribbon had already started slipping.

As soon as she scampered off to grab her stuffed bear, he turned his attention to his eldest again, who was quirking her eyebrow and looking every bit like you.

“Listen, kid. Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” he pointed at the stool while giving her a playful glare, “Your turn.”

a/n: holding all of your hands during these trying times. this has been sitting in my draft since august so im glad it's finally out huehue

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

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[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.”