#im drunk and feeling sinful

[half-dead-writer]

I I'm sorry to be that guy but this man needs to be humiliated he's too cocky for his own good like no way this man ain't into some freaky shit

Bad Dog

Being a CEO is stressful. You're happy to let him blow off some steam, even if it's something... experimental.

character: Gideon Graves / Gordon Goose (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

words: ~3k

reader: gender-neutral / AFAB reader (with a strap-on)

warnings: bottom Gideon, pet-play, humiliation, basically putting Gideon in his place (with some moments of praise and fluff at the end)

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The creak of your bedroom doors opening wasn't a surprise for Gideon. Your figure emerged, covered only by your underwear and a t-shirt that you probably stole from his closet. He liked seeing you wearing his stuff, it filled him with pride to see both of the things he owned at the same time. Calm smirk formed on your lips, he was waiting for you just as you expected - on the floor, no fabric present to cover his bare body, aside from the pretty, red collar adorning his neck. It was custom-made, with the text "Gideon" engrained on the dog-tag hanging near his collar-bone. He spared no expense on something that was supposed to be just for him, why would he?

His eyes followed as you approached, taking a good look at his pathetic position. The hard, wooden floor lightly pained his knees. He should buy a carpet for his bedroom, he thought. A nice, fluffy one, that's easy to clean. Not like it was a worry of his, he probably had a maid to keep the house tidy, you never seen him clean it himself.

"Look at you," you gently played with his black locks while going right past him to sit on the shared, king-sized bed. "Such a pathetic sight to see. At least the collar looks good on you."

"Heel." You commanded, patting your thigh mockingly. Gideon was quick to open his mouth, presumably to hit you with one of his smartass quips, but you were quick to stop him by hardly pulling on the leash, that up until this point was loosely laying on the ground. He would have lost balance and fell right onto the floor if he hadn't quickly supported himself with his hands.

"Nu-uh," you warned, shooting him a glare, "dogs, don't speak." His expression changed, from furrowed eyebrows to almost a challenging stare. He was testing you more than you were testing him.

On the daily, obviously he was the big man that "wore the pants" in the relationship, spoiling you with all kinds of gifts to your heart's desire. You were not about to give back the control you had over him now. Annoyance was not the only thing radiating from him though, as you knew behind those eyes also hid a wave of excitement from the current situation.

"Bark, bark." He decided to play along, sarcastically crossing his arms in defiance. It amused you, but you let it slide.

"See, it ain't so hard, hm?" You taunted, secretly enjoying the effect you had on him. What would others think seeing him like that? On all fours, acting like a mutt. Even though his actions showed resistance, it was all for show. When was Gideon ever easy to deal with?

Your grip on the matching, red leash tightened, just in case he wanted to pull any other tricks on you. You adjusted yourself more comfortably, crossing one leg over the other to pose even more of a dominance presence.

"Lick." Gideon looked as your hand inched closer towards his mouth. Surprisingly, he obeyed. You felt the warm and wet sensation on your fingers, his tongue sent shivers down your spine. It was a slightly ticklish experience, not much different from a real puppy. His cold stare observed as you tried to keep your composure, the threat of a smile invading your lips was not hard to notice. You'd think being in such a compromising position would make it harder for Gideon to act like his usual self, but on the contrary, he was living just to spite you, relishing in the way he could still retain bits of control. Without the need of any words, he was silently taunting you.

You pushed your digits further down his throat, making him choke. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, but he resisted the urge to gag. You backed off your finger, leaving a small string of saliva connected to his lips. Not commenting on the humiliating display you forced him to go though, he silently brushed the leftover spit on his mouth with the back of his hand. You adjusted the glasses that fell on his nose, pushing them in their original place. It caused a small smile to appear on his face for a second, deep down enjoying the break in your acting just to show some affection. Of course, it didn't last long, and the expression was changed to his usual resting bitch-face.

"Good boy," you praised, yet still continued with the game of dominance, wiping your drool-coated fingers onto his cheek. He huffed and squinted in dismay, although did nothing to stop you. You uncrossed your legs, this time shuffling them wide open. He watched you with curiosity, cocking his brow to the sudden change of view. You let the leash rest on the bed, moving your hands down to your underwear. Painstakingly slow, you teased him with each centimeter of your exposed skin. His gaze, intent and lustful, betrayed his impatience with your leisurely pace. After what felt like an hour - which was probably just a minute - you finally got of your undergarment. You felt a pang of embarrassment course thru you after being stared down by Gideon like a hungry wolf. Guess he really did get into the role.

"Lick." Your command made his smirk reappear again, clearly enjoying making you flustered. He knew even though he was the one on the leash, he had the upper hand on you now. Your legs shivered as you felt his eager laps on your most sensitive nerves. Turns out his tongue was not only great for coaxing his potential business-partners. Your grip on his leash loosened, overwhelmed by this man's surprising ability to find your sweet spot so quickly. His hands were gently placed on your thighs and he looked... almost bored. His experience showed clearly with how easy it was for him to make you pant like a dog.

Your peak was almost near it's end, which turned out to be the perfect moment for him to start toying with you. His licks slowed down exponentially, only lightly teasing you with the brushes of his tongue. You groaned, "Gid-Gideon."

He stopped completely, letting you finally exhale the breath you didn't know you were holding. With the cocked eyebrow and a taunting look, he didn't dare to speak, responding only with a brief, "Mm?"

"Use your stupid tongue better," you huffed out in annoyance. He sniggered, his smug expression only widened. Even though he liked seeing you lose your patience, he provided, this time with even more vigor. The sudden intensity of the feeling made you clasp your legs behind his back, drowning him in between your groin. He didn't stop until you were properly seeing stars, and you didn't have time to wonder how did he manage to go without the oxygen during this experience. Your chest moved rapidly as your upper body fell limp on the soft mattress. After a minute of regaining your strength, you supported yourself with your elbows, only to witness Gideon licking his lips with a smirk, calmly adjusting his glasses. The contact with your bare skin left small stains on them, but it didn't compare to the glistening mess that painted his face. Fortunately, he didn't mind.

He awaited for your further instructions patiently while you finally gathered yourself up to the previous sitting position. His shit-eating grin pushed you to utter your words intertwined with taunt. "Well, you did good. Guess it's time for your reward." His curiosity showed in the way he observed you stretch out your leg.

"You may hump my leg. Show what a desperate mutt you are."

Your permission made him stop dead in his tracks for a moment, not expecting you to come up with such a... creative prompt. He merely scoffed, or maybe huffed out, judging by precum beading at his tip due to your suggestion. His former confidence got clouded, only daring to glance at you briefly before wrapping his arms around your thigh. You felt the warmth brush over your shin, again, and again. The act not only made you feel depraved, but you noticed yourself getting fired up again. The long lasting foreplay (that he did not get to experience) before his allowed pleasure made his movements desperate and sloppy. The sight of your boyfriend, the powerful CEO, humping your leg like a parched man urging for water did wonders for your confidence.

Soon enough, the humiliating performance got you disinterested, right when his breaths got even more labored, tightly squeezing your leg, nearing his release. You swiftly tugged on his leash again, forcing him to stare at you with a tired look.

"Enough," you remarked, seeing the ache behind his eyes left you pleased. He discontentedly let go off your leg, now covered in the thin layer of his essence. He didn't even try to hide the disapproval of your command, his panting subsided with an annoyed groan. He was not about to beg, but his eyes betrayed the deep desperation bubbling in him. You leaned over and took his chin into your hand, pointing him look at you. His furrowed brows softened as you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Such a good boy. You know how to listen, hm?" Your praise was laced with a hint of mockery, and you backed away to ruffle his hair. He rolled his eyes, although didn't bother hiding a small smirk that invaded his lips after, indicating his will to continue with the play.

"Come on," you emphasized by patting the mattress, "get on the bed." He listened, crawling over to the exact spot you chose for him. It felt good being in charge for once, with someone obeying your exact orders. Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he suddenly leaned over to whisper in your ear.

"Getting pretty comfortable with bossing me around, are we?" You wanted to wipe off the smug smile off his face, but you bided your time.

You responded with calmness, a smidge of cheekiness shined through your words, "Of course. It's pretty fun." You grabbed him by the collar, gifting him yet another quick peck, this time on the lips. "But I'm gonna make it even more fun."

You swiftly scooted over to the drawer across the end of the room, making Gideon turn his head at the mysterious object you pulled out from it. He watched as you strapped on, the rubber dildo rested neatly between your thighs. He was surprised, how did you manage to smuggle something like that without his knowledge?

"When did you get it?" He stared at you, dumbfounded.

"Surprise," you flashed him your teeth in satisfaction as you got back into your spot, "you can handle it, right?"

"Pf, of course," he scoffed, whipping his head, but not before glancing at the challenging object one more time. Just because he didn't expect it, didn't mean he wasn't up for something new. Or at least, that's what he wanted you to believe. "There's a reason they call me fearless."

His silly high-school nickname served with a prideful look made you roll your eyes, but you couldn't deny his attempt at keeping composure got you endeared.

"I'll be gentle at first, alright?" You still took a moment to make sure you both were on the same page, you watched as his cheeks heated up with a scowl.

"I can handle it," he reiterated.

"Good." You smooched his cheek one last time, grabbing a bottle of lube that awaited you at the bedside table. You were kind enough to grab a pillow, preparing a comfortable place for him to lay down his upper body. "Now, raise your butt."

He did as you requested, falling onto the soft fabric after putting down his glasses somewhere safe. He wasn't used to such open positions, but he didn't object, choosing to mask his lack of familiarity with a facade of an impatient annoyance. "Hurry up."

A surprised whimper fell out of his lips after you gave his bottom a light, reprimanding smack. It was too good of an opportunity to tease him. "Did I allow you to speak?"

He growled in dismay, but with the bed becoming increasingly more messier, you knew he liked the rough treatment. You should have put a towel beforehand, but it was too late for it now.

A generous amount of the lubricant slowly spilled down, making him shudder at the hit of coldness. You heard the groans failing to be muffled by the pillow he laid on. Not wanting to wait any longer, your finger slipped right into him with ease, his shoulders rising at the sudden contact.

"Relax," you gently rubbed his back, keeping your movements relatively slow, "you're doing very good." He wouldn't admit it, but your reassuring tone did let him swat away the leftover tension in him. As he adjusted to the feeling, a calm sigh let you know to speed up the pace. You added a second finger, your knuckles disappearing with each thrust. In a quick moment, a high whine hit your ears. You found his sweet spot. Seemingly, it confused Gideon more than you - did this man really just experience it for the first time in his life? Poor thing.

"...Fuck-" He huffed out, pushing his face into the pillow. You were merciful enough to spare him the reprimand of speaking up.

"Enjoying yourself, hm?" You teased, your hand held a steady rhythm. His only response was a groan in return, causing a smirk to appear on your face. You loved seeing him like that, all of his power given for you to play with. The sounds of his enjoyment filled the whole room. You were glad there weren't any neighbors around to hear them, but you assumed Gideon was even more relieved by that fact, not holding back any of his pathetic whimpers.

After a few minutes, Gideon was already a mess. You felt a bit pitiful seeing the twitches of his untouched dick, but you were not about to give it to him just yet. His disapproval showed with a complaining grunt, feeling empty after you retreated your fingers. He glanced at you, finally opening his eyes and coming back from the pleasant daze.

You placed your hands on his behind, poking the rubber toy against his entrance. Gideon's body shivered with anticipation - at first, he was on the fence whether he actually wanted to try it, or was it his need of always being in charge. Now that you introduced him the great possibilities, he was more than ready, not hesitating to show you that by lightly pushing his hips into yours. He didn't dare to speak, instead signaling you to hurry up with the impatient groan. It amused you.

The previously applied lubricant let you thrust smoothly into him, grabbing the leash at the same time. His choked moan filled you with satisfaction, and you went back on your previous words of being gentle - since he had shown his eagerness to you, you decided to stop toying with him anymore, fully pressing your whole length inside.

Usually, he would be the one making you writhe in pleasure, forcing embarrassing whimpers that you didn't even know you had in you. Of course, he did let you know about his enjoyment with a few quiet and manly grunts, groans, or light panting, decorated neatly with an array of praises or highly descriptive insults, whenever you two got it on. Due to this, his newly found vocal range had you stunned and yearning to hear them more often.

The slaps against the skin became even louder, on par with his moans that were lightly halted with the collar tightening on his neck with each pull of your hand. Sweat ran down your cheek, your pelvis began to feel pretty exhausted by the fast-pace that remained during the entire duration of the act. Gideon was losing his grip on keeping his composure, letting out even more noises that would probably embarrass him after he got to the post clarity - but for now, he was fully immersed in pure enjoyment, not caring about the humiliating whimpers invading the otherwise quiet walls of your house.

Seeing your boyfriend let loose around you filled you with a certain pleasantness, he always acted so aloof, so composed, high and mighty. You decided to reward this behavior, wrapping your palm around his length, finally giving him the strokes he so craved for. A choked moan informed you he was getting close. Your bodies moved in a rhythm that slowly became uneven, even though your wrist started to cramp, you continued with the steady jerks of your hand.

Not being able to take it much longer, Gideon let out a prolonged whine as you let him ride his high, calming down your thrusts until they eventually stopped. He was too busy regaining his breath to notice you licking off the tips of your fingers, covered in the results of his climax. Another huff fell out of his lips when you swiftly pulled out your strap out, ridding yourself of the contraption and putting it somewhere else. Gideon laid flat on the bed, eyes closed. Looks like you properly exhausted him. You leaned closer, laying yourself on your side to face him, moving the bangs that fell on his face out of the way. He opened up his eyes, looking at you in a tired daze.

"You okay, hun?" You asked, calmly rising the corners of your lips in a sympathetic expression.

"...Yeah." He muttered, almost hesitant, although there was no ill will behind his words. You gathered he sounded kinda... flustered?

Softly, you began to unclip the collar attached to his neck, he brushed over the spot with his hand, now free of the tight feeling around it. Gideon watched as you put it down on the nightstand. "So what did you think about it?"

He exhaled, amusement lightly hanging in the air. "Well, I can't let something I bought go to waste, can I?"

"How about we get you dog ears next time??"

- - -

"Eh... do I really have to wear it?" He asked, looking discontentedly at the collar resting in your palms.

"It was your idea, love," you smirked lightheartedly, gently putting it around his neck. "Now, be a good boy and wait for me in the bedroom, hm?"

[turtlemagnum]

when i was younger and hung out around my uncle a lot more than i do now, i remember whenever he referred to things regarding his native heritage, he always just called it "indian". called himself an indian, called the words he taught us indian, so on. since i was a little kid who didn't know any better, i didn't know that "indian" in the context of indigenous americans was a very broad, frankly bastardized term to paint a vast variety of cultures spanning two whole damn continents with one brush. it only occurred to me as i got much older than i was at the time that there'd be more than one "indian" language, and up until now since i had no idea what tribe(s) he even is i couldn't even begin to know where to look unless i found a download of every goddamn interlingual dictionary available and painstakingly checked every godddamn one for what their word for "thunder" is

the word he taught us meant thunder was hiloha. i didn't even know how to spell it until now, because he only ever said it aloud. literally just a few minutes ago, i decided to ask my grandma (his sister) if we knew what tribe(s) he belonged to. and apparently he's a mix of choctaw and makah. which gave me a lead, which led to me finding a dictionary on libgen, which led to me word searching "thunder" in the choctaw to english dictionary. it's the only word i remember him teaching us, and i'm unsure if he ever tried teaching us others. but it was his dogs name, and he was a damn good boy, so i remembered it clear as day. though, they normally shortened it to "hilo".

so, i guess what came out of this is that i now know a bit more about my uncle's heritage, and where to look for more research. so, if you're gonna have a takeaway from this, i'd appreciate it if you remembered the word "hiloha". it means thunder. and aside from being the name of a very good boy who deserves to be remembered, i think it's even more important to remember the histories, cultures, and of course the languages of all the indigenous folks who came before us and did their damndest to preserve their cultures in spite of it all.

[theinfernalcalypso]

Summoning a demon in my room like I'm sneaking in a boyfriend my parents don't like

[cryptojuice]

take this with a grain of extremely drunk but at this point I'm my journey? now? I'm like literally the idealest person in the world and I think everyone else has something wrong with them

[faaun]

WARNING: The penalty for trespassing on the railway is £1000.

[sugaggukkie]

ID FUCK MIN YOONGI

[4unnyr0se]

❥ call out my name | kei tsukishima

warnings: timeskip! tsukishima, fem! reader, confessions, out of character tsukki (i'm so sorry), slight choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, hickeys, making out, hair pulling, feral/possessive tsukki

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 3.4k

a/n: IM BACK BITCHES WHATS UP?? also this is not proofread in the slightest so buckle up

part two of shameless

❥ song: call out my name - the weekend

Any relationship is complicated, no matter the nature of the relationship. Humans are stupidly complex creatures, after all. First, they want one thing, then another, and another. Humans are greedy, lustful, depraved creatures with desires that are so disgusting that even God himself can’t leave heaven because he is scared of what he has created. And you were ashamed of what you so craved, what you desired. It wasn’t money or power. That’s too simple. And your grades were already so perfect, so you didn’t need that either. No…what you wanted was someone. Someone who you hated with a fiery passion that rivaled the sun. And yet, he lit a fire inside you with even the simplest disapproving glance filled with such mockery.

Kei fucking Tsukishima.

Tsukishima was the one person on Earth that you seriously considered committing a felony over. Every time he flashed that smug little smirk, it only added more gasoline to the pyre of your hatred towards him. He was the worst, and he knew that too. He made no effort to get along with anybody who wasn’t Yamaguchi, bless that sweet boy’s soul. 

And yet, you found yourself in Tsukishima’s dorm room, alone with the bastard, at least three times a week, maybe more. You weren’t proud of it, and you did everything you could to deny it openly. Those hickeys? You just happen to get drunk in a bar and make out with some stranger in their car. Your roommate kept asking where you were most nights, and you told her you went on dates in the library. She wouldn’t check, obviously, because she would never step foot in a library. 

You hated him, but you were addicted to him. Addicted to the way his lips rolled alongside yours in such a sinful dance. Addicted to his molten fingertips sliding under your tight top to grope your breasts from behind as his teeth sank into your neck. Addicted to how his tongue slid across your core, making you feel like you were floating on a cloud as you came undone before him. And especially addicted to how Tsukishima fucked you like you were his, and he was yours. The way his body moved expertly with yours, the way his hands caged your head between them as he fucked you, rolling his hips against yours as his massive cock hit all the right places that made you both see stars.

The worst part was how nice he was after he came. He would pull you into his arms, brush your hair to the side, and kiss your neck. It was such an extreme juxtaposition to how he fucked you. You weren’t entirely sure what part of his personality was just an act. Or, maybe it wasn’t an act. Maybe he genuinely cared for you…yeah, right.

You glanced at the clock on your desk. Almost midnight, great. Your ballpoint pen was clicked off, thrown into the Star Wars mug with the rest of the pens that were dangerously low on ink, accompanied by highlights that ran dry weeks ago. You glanced at yourself in the desk mirror, observing how strained your eyes looked. 

“So much for blue light glasses. These things never fucking work,” you muttered under your breath, pushing them further up against your exhausted face. Your roommate, fast asleep on your dorm's other side, looks unusually peaceful. A strong contrast to how bitchy she was with her other bottle-blonde friends. You looked away, groaning as your head started to throb. Maybe working on a paper for seven hours straight wasn’t the best idea.

Your office chair was pushed aside as you carefully stood up, examining yourself in the larger mirror on your door. Incredibly messy hair, a thin white tank top with a loose strap, and pajama bottoms that were more appropriate for Christmas morning. 

“Not like anyone will see me anyways,” you grabbed your keycard and swiftly opened and closed the door to your room, hissing as the ugly fluorescents that decorated the halls offended your eyesight. Horrible, and you pay all this tuition for shitty lighting.

The water fountain hated you, and you hated it. Although it was responsible for kickstarting your passionate encounters with Tsukishima, maybe it wasn’t so bad. You glanced at your palm, looking at the dinosaur bandaid he had so carefully applied many nights ago. It was amazing that it hadn’t fallen off. 

The water was a relief as it touched your lips—cold, crisp, and hydrating. Water was always best late at night when everyone else was asleep, and the halls were devoid of the ramblings of your dormmates. Peaceful, almost.

“I didn’t expect to see you out of your room until morning.” a familiar voice broke you out of your moment of serenity. Damn.

“Hi, Tsukki,” you sighed, wiping the stray bits of liquid from your lips. “I was working on a paper, and I lost track of time, I guess.”

Tsukishima chuckled. “I’ve been there before, but Tadashi was always there to snap me out of it. I guess your roommate doesn’t have that same level of courtesy, I suppose.” he shoved his pants in his pajama bottoms, SENDAI FROGS VOLLEYBALL TEAM embroidered on the side with green and yellow thread.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hair out of what was left of your messy bun. “Yeah, well, Tadashi is a sweetheart. My roommate is…less than desirable. I’m never doing a random roommate assignment again, that’s for sure.”

Tsukishima took a step forward. “Tadashi is asleep at the library. He’s working on some notes for the Edo period lecture,” he smacked his lips. “Wanna keep me company?”

You blinked, and he was in front of you, tracing your lips with his calloused thumb. “C’mon, you know I like it when you pretend that you hate me and everything that I do.” his hand encircled your waist.

You gasped, quickly adjusting the loose strap on your tank top. “Listen, as much as I would like to have you fucked the shit out of me, I just finished staring at a computer screen for seven hours straight,” you took his thumb away from your lips. “I’m not really in the mood.”

His gaze saddened. Was that a hint of disappointment? “Well, who said we had to fuck?” he smirked, adjusting his glasses.

“Uh, maybe the two-dozen times we’ve fucked since I cut my hand?” you pointed to the fountain.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Keep your voice down, yeah? You might wake up the R.A.” Tsukishima smiled as an angry blush bloomed on your tired face. “How about some coffee instead? My older brother got me a miniature coffee machine before he moved me in. Claims it got him through many sleepless nights.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And why are you being so nice to me?”

He leaned down, his golden eyes boring into yours. “Because sometimes, I’m not a total asshole.”

His side of the room was immaculate, with everything in place. Tadashi’s was messy, as per usual, but it was alright with you. Tsukki’s desk was also impossibly neat, boasting a stack of perfect papers and ballpoint pens that all seemed to work well enough. And the crowning jewel, the mini coffee machine with four different kinds of pods to choose from, how incredibly classy. 

“I never took you for someone who drank anything except dark roast,” you said, picking up a coffee pod with caramel decals on the label. “Did your brother get you these as well?”

Tsukishima shook his head. “No, Tadashi did. He got mad because he claimed I’m missing out on a full coffee experience, whatever that means,” he sighed, sitting in his desk chair. “Honestly, I’ll never understand him. He’s so positive all the time, it’s strange.”

You took a seat on his neatly made bed. “Well, one of you two has to be. There’s always a grumpier one in a duo, especially roommates.”

“Are you the grumpy one in your dorm?” he placed a mug under the coffee dispenser. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you smiled, admiring how Tsukishima looked in his dorm's dim, warm light. The fairy lights on Tadashi’s side of the room subtly illuminated his face, softening Tsukishima’s sharp facial features. “But, you’re even more grumpy than I am. I’ve never seen you genuinely smile.”

Tsukishima placed the coffee pod in the machine and closed it. “I can smile without being sarcastic, you know.”

The whirring of the coffee machine filled the awkward silence as he sat down on his bed next to you, his lithe fingers dancing over your knuckles. “You just don’t see me smile.”

“Well, when do you smile?”

Tsukshima licked his lower lip. “After we fuck. When you’re in my arms, and I’m brushing your hair. You can’t see because you’re facing away from me, but I smile.”

Your heart stung at those words. Why was he being vulnerable with you, and now of all times? His hand intertwined with yours, his gorgeous golden eyes not daring to make contact. “I told myself that if I ever grew feelings, I would cut this off right away,” he sighed, staring at his slippers. “But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It would be torture for me, even though you hate my guts.”

Wait a damn minute. “Tsukki, is this a confession? You’re confessing to me, and I look like this? Oh, god.” you stifled a chuckle.

“Shut up and let me talk!” his cheeks boasted an angry blush. “I like spending time with you, even with your bratty attitude. When we kissed for the first time, it was like…it was like I finally reached the end of a long road. I sound so stupid, I can’t believe I’m being…soft.” he placed his hand in his palms, muttering curses into them.

You smiled and moved closer, pulling his face out of his hands. “Tsukki, do you have a crush on me?” you tilted his chin to face yours. “Because I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have a crush on you.”

He bit his lip. “Really? You aren’t being a smartass right now?”

“Really.” your face matched his red hue, offering him a genuine smile that he craved so desperately. 

“Fuck, come here,” Tsukishima pulled you flush against his chest, cupping your face as he slowly kissed your bitten lips. His hands secured themselves around your hips, massaging the exposed skin between your tank top and pajama bottoms. You sighed into the kiss, admiring how soft and gentle he was being with you. 

He slowly pushed you down so your head was almost hanging off the foot of his bed, his rough hands sliding up and down your waist. Your arms locked around his neck, tugging at the loose blonde baby hairs at the base. After what seemed like ages, Tsukishima reluctantly pulled away, resting his burning face between your neck and shoulder.

“Somebody’s embarrassed,” you teased, lightly massaging his back. Fuck, had his back muscles gotten stronger since the last time you saw each other?

“I’m not embarrassed,” he groaned into your neck, placing feather-light kisses along your jugular. “Love confessions are stupid, that’s all.”

“So why did you confess to me, hm?” you pecked his cheek.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Because I don’t think I could live with myself if you started seeing someone else. Or even worse, someone that I knew. You,” he squeezed your arm. “You belong with me, isn’t it obvious?”

So fucking adorable. “So, why won’t you look me in the eyes and say it?”

He peeled himself from your neck and pressed his forehead against yours, doing exactly as you told. He observed how beautiful your eyes were, how they reflected off of the fairy lights. Fuck, you were a goddess. 

“You’re so stupidly beautiful, fuck,” he pressed his lips against yours once again, more passionate than before. Your legs wrapped around his waist, securing his position as his teeth nipped at your lower lip, groaning as you raked your hands through his golden curls. “So pretty.”

Tsukishima’s hands grasped your wrists, pinning them above your head on the plush mattress. Breaking the kiss, his molten lips trailed down to the sensitive spot above your collarbone, suckling harshly. His hips roll into yours, his erection prominent under his sweatpants.

You groan into the kiss, opening your mouth for his tongue to explore as your mouths sinfully dance together lazily. Tsukishima’s lithe fingers leave your wrists and grasp at your breast, silently cursing the bra you wore. 

He reluctantly breaks the kiss. “Fucking take it off. Let me see you.” he groans, flinging his shirt across the room without hesitation. 

Your hands slide under your shirt, slowly removing it as your face bores a confused expression. “You’re just gonna call me a slut for being so easy, aren’t you?” your voice is barely a whisper as your gentle hands unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to spring free.

Tsukishima feels his breath hitch in his throat. He’s going to die, and it’s all your damn fault for being so fucking sexy. 

“Not tonight, love,” he whispers against your clavicle, his thumb rolling over your pert nipple. “Tonight,” his tongue dances around your areola. “I’m gonna show you how much I like you, you stupidly pretty girl.”

Your fingers dance in his hair as he shamelessly sucks on your breasts, alternating between massaging them and kissing them, leaving no breast unattended for too long. Your thighs wrap around his waist, pushing his erection closer to your clothed core.

“Tsukki-” he cuts you off with a harsh kiss.

“Kei,” his hoarse voice groans, fidgeting with the hem of your pajama bottoms. “Call me Kei. Fucking scream it, let the whole damn hall know who’s making you feel so good.” 

His finger glides across your soaked cunt, dipping inside with ease as your sweet, candied moans fill his ears like an opera. His fingers work fast, not even bothering to slide your panties to the side as your voice spikes octave by octave.

“Say my fucking name,” Tsukishima demands, his thumb rolling over your sensitive clit. “Say my fucking name like a good little girl, and then I’ll make you see stars.” his erection is painful inside his sweatpants, precum staining the boxers underneath. 

“K-Kei! Oh, fuck, I’m so fucking close!” you cry out, your hands tugging on his hair like a feral animal as his fingers continue working their way to your precious orgasm. His teeth, sharp as a vampire, nip and suck at your neck, leaving a blooming pattern of black and purple hickeys on your delicate skin, marking you as his until they eventually fade away. But he’ll just keep giving you another hickey, and then another, until everyone on the entire fucking campus knows who you belong to.

Just as you were teetering on the edge of release, he pulls his fingers out of your sobbing pussy and licks them, not breaking eye contact with you once. “So fucking good,” he groans. His hands pull down your bottoms along with your panties, leaving them dangling around your ankle as you lay beneath him, naked and unsatisfied.

“Kei, what the fuck? I was so fucking close!” you complain, lightly shoving his chest. “What’s your deal, man?”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond. Instead, he shoves apart your thighs and wraps them around his head, bending you in half. His chapped lips trail delicate kisses inside of your thighs, nipping at the apex before his tongue licks a teasingly slow stripe on your core.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh, groping your tits as his tongue begins to lap up and down, occasionally sucking on your clit.

“Can’t fucking get enough of you, oh my god,” Tsukishima groans, sending vibrations throughout your pussy. “You taste like nectar, love.”

Love. That was the first time he ever called you something affectionate. Something other than degrading you and making you feel lesser than he was.

“Kei,” you breathe, feeling the familiar sensation of your stomach coil tightening up. “I think I’m gonna-”

“Cum.” he commands. “Cum on my face like a good girl,” he whispers, mouth covered in your slick as he suckles on your throbbing clit one final time, sending you over the edge and into an ocean of euphoria.

Your back arches into the pillows behind you as you ride out your orgasm, Tsukishima licking up every last drop of your release with vigor to rival a man starved. Finally, he allows your legs to rest back on the mattress, wiping your cum off his face.

“That was amazing,” you reach your arms out to cuddle him, thinking it’s all over.

“We aren’t done yet,” Tsukishima takes off the rest of his clothes, his painfully hard erection slapping against his tone stomach, precum drooling down the tip. “What, did you think you got to cum just because I was feeling generous?” his voice is laced with sarcasm.

“Well, yeah-” he interrupts you yet again.

“You’re wrong, love,” his forehead connects with yours, golden eyes staring into your own, the plain lust and desire for you swirling within. 

His filthy mouth parts open. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that the thought of another man will make you sick.”

Tsukishima aligns his cock with your entrance, slapping his throbbing tip on your clit a few times. “Beg for me to fuck you, pretty girl,” he commands, not even bothering to reach for the box of condoms next to the bed.

You bite your lip. “Please, Kei,” your voice is shy. “Please, fuck me. I want you so badly, please,” your small hands wrap around his neck. “Show me how badly you want me, Kei.”

As his name leaves your lips like dripping honey, something inside of him snaps. Tsukishima plants his hands on either side of your face, shoving his cock inside of your soaked core without giving you time to adjust. His expert hips start to roughly piston in and out of you, shaking your body and the bed altogether. 

“Holy fuck!” you sob, your hands quickly migrating to his back, nails scratching hard against his muscles. “Kei, too much! Oh fuck, too rough!” you beg and plead, your cries falling on deaf ears as Tsukishima is lost in a frenzy of lust. Lust for you, lust for your body, lust for your brain, lust for everything that could make you you. He was secretly and disgustingly obsessed with you. The thought of another man touching what was so obviously his drove him insane. Why not just take what was his?

“Fucking take it, you’re so fucking beautiful when you take my cock,” he roars into your ear, his hand wrapping itself around your throat for a gentle squeeze. “You’re all fucking mine, aren’t you, love?” his cock is ruthlessly fucking your poor pussy, his balls slapping against your ass as he hits that one spot that makes you see stars.

“A-All yours, Kei! I’m all yours. There’s no one else!” you sob, wrapping your legs around his slender waist once more so he can fuck you impossibly deeper. 

His mouth contorts into a wicked smile, glasses falling off his sculpted features and onto the floor to be forgotten about. “That’s right. Oh, I fucking love it when you’re smart.” his hand presses against your belly. “You can feel me in here, can’t you, love?” he harshly thrusts.

“Kei!” you shriek, your nails making crescent-shaped indents in his skin. “I-I’m gonna fucking cum, Kei! Fuck, make me cum!” tears swell in the corner of your eyes as that familiar coil sensation fills your gut once more. 

“Hold it. I’m, fuck, I’m so fucking close. Cum with me, yeah, my love? Cum with me like the good girl I know you are.” his voice becomes shrill as he feels his own release approach him, slotting your lips with his as both of your climaxes approach at the same time.

“Fuck, cumming. I’m, oh yeah, cumming-” his cock twitches inside of your ruined cunt, spilling his white hot seed into your womb as you release all over his member, coating it in your slick that he loves so dearly. 

The room stays silent as Tsukishima collapses into your chest, giving each one of your tits a chaste kiss. “Fuck…I got too carried away, didn’t I?” his golden eyes land on the faintest of hand marks around your bruised neck. “I’m…I’m so sorry, love.”

Your delicate hand cups his face, kissing his nose. “It’s okay, Kei. I got what you meant.”

Tsukishima becomes shy again. “Yeah, of course you did. You’re smart like that, smart girl.” he rolls over and pulls you into his chest, pressing a lingering kiss on your sweaty forehead. “...sorry about now using a condom.”

“What was that?”

“Shut up and go to sleep, dummy.”

“Okay, cutie.”

“And don’t call me that!”

[kosije]

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel x fem!afab reader. smut. all smut. miguel tries to exercise restraint. spoiler alert: he fails. sins in silk extra <3

duke!miguel o'hara: who enjoys taking you in the most compromising of places.

he'll fuck you in the garden, behind the tall bushes of flowers taunting you on how loud you're getting.

"oh princess, i don't think it would fool anyone if they heard the flowers calling my name. if you can't bite your tongue, even the k-kingdom next door will hear of this."

"heavens," he groans. "i bet you'd like that, huh? want everyone to know how you have the best fucking cunt, yeah?" he all but moans into the back of your neck. "too bad it's all for me."

he'll excuse himself from the table just to eat you out inside the kitchen storage room, away from your father, his colleagues, and the cooks.

messily making out with your puffy pussy, moaning into your mound when your hand pulls on his hair. "m' baby needs 't don't she?" he slurs like a drunk man. his large hands wrap around, digging into the meat of your thighs only to pull himself in deeper. you're having trouble keeping your voice down, but thankfully the kitchen is a mess of noise and masks your low mewls and his groans completely.

he sneaks back to the table while you to your chambers, but you don't miss his cheeky "oh, im afraid i've already eaten dessert."

his favorite place, however, is the place he took you for the first time. he takes his time in those moments. working you up, till you almost break, then taking you apart only to put you back together over and over again.

slowly licks up your neck, with your legs fold in front of you, he pistons himself in and out of you. your antsy hands drop from your thighs to his back, up to his neck, and down into the sheets, crying out at how deep he fucks you—at how much you can see how he's been needing you. how he's been missing you.

it's in the way he kisses and worships your body, the way he whimpers whenever he's inside you, how he looks at you, even while around so many people at your father's party. how big they got when they saw you, how wrinkled the sides were when he smiled. in the way he holds you after he's fucked you—tight and warm. how he nuzzles into your neck, kissing your shoulder, completely flush to you.

but you're no better. calling out for him whenever you touch yourself, wearing his favorite color every time he comes around, with matching panties. how you wrap your hands over his arms, kissing the meat of them. how you hide little gifts, sonnets you've worked, sweets you've baked, intimates you've worn. and the way when he writes you back, "thanking you," you feel like you could die.

it's easy to secretly write about him. gush to yourself about your scandalous love with "mr. frown," you write for hours. tuck them safely into the hole inside your closet that you made when you were younger. you write all the days you don't see him, and when you do you always have to mention something from them.

"i wish time would stop when we are together, so we can see what forever feels like."

"i need you more and more every time we part. you take a piece of me with you i desperately need back. that spins and leaps inside of you when you see him again.

"if only you'd stay tonight, then my room wouldn't feel so empty."

when you tell him this, with that sparkly look in your eyes, he pauses. looking you over.

"it won't be good for us, princess."

"why is that?"

"i won't—i won't be able to control myself, just not safe for us."

"you don't know that," you all but plead. "you have to at least be curious, of what can happen if we try?"

he understands what you're referring to because those same thoughts bounce around his mind whenever he's alone, missing you. those pestering "what if's," that keep him up, keep him wondering. the ones that eat at his resolve.

so even though it's risky, and is no good for him at all, he sinks back into your bed. kisses the back of your neck, nosing your baby hairs, and whispers a weak, "i can never say no to you"

and for a night, you two don't have to spend it missing something.

[yumeboshi]

hi yume congrats on your follower event, you deserve each one !! <3 can i please order a dragonfruit champagne sundae HEHE 🧚🏻‍♀️

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、@justblades .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚DRAGONFRUIT CHAMPAGNE SUNDAE：sends you right into ‘paradise’!

𐙚 dish desc。．a drunk date gone unexpectedly wrong?

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。smutty, drunk, engaged in Sunday and not yet with blade, im sorry if you were disappointed dhil was not here because of the dragon label (I really can’t write him well lolol i hope I compensated with blade & chicken boy) MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。sunday and blade

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY

A FANCY dinner in the Reverie’s most expensive restaurant is nothing but a part of SUNDAY’s “casual date” plan.

he’s a refined man, and a gentleman at that- he knows all the right things to do to swoon you. he knows how to make you flush, he knows just exactly when you expected a kiss from him. and of course, he knows what to say to make you fall over yourself, as if he has the entire script of your dialogue in his hands. things like this are so easy for him to do, and his plans always work out because of how expertly he steers you around.

unfortunately, a possibility he did not foresee was this— a drunk you, wasted and tipsy and giggling at his ‘funny chicken wings—‘ all the while carelessly leaning into him and basically being so difficult. it was difficult for him to restrain the heat that slowly pulses through his entire body when you sloppily say daring things your shy self won’t ever dare say when sober.

“sweetheart, please— we’re in a public area.” he gently tells you at first, trying to recover you back to your original state— although it’s just futile attempts of him trying to make you sit upright and not leaning into his chest because it makes him hot and hard to breathe.

“no we’re noooot, people aren’t around….” you slur, batting your eyes up at him sleepily with an attractive little smile lit up by the dim candles. and lord, he feels tricked. he feels like he’s lost to you for some reason- the way your sleepy gaze and your soft voice pulls on his restraints deceptively gently like a siren’s call- he’s glad the area is dim and people aren’t around, because the head of the oak family not knowing what to do with his evident blush across his face would give away how little control he actually has over himself.

“don’t do that,” he reprimands you. his eyes are blazing with a dark flame that’s far too intense for you to take in-

but your sluggish brain does not register anything- you only giggle and swat his arm that’s warningly on your own. “or else what?” you hiccup with a grin.

lavish silver plates clatter and fall to the ground rhythmically with your loud gasps when sunday’s cock thrusts violently into you once more, a lewd slap echoing across the embarrassingly empty restaurant— chest pressed firmly against your table while you hold onto the smooth sides to barely hang on. “—s-slow down,” you’d plead to him- helplessly dangling to the silky tablecloth, to no avail, since it slips out of your grasps easily when he pounds into you with dangerous speed.

“oh? you seemed keen to tease me earlier. are you already sober, angel?” he slows to talk to you in condescension, but when you try to tell him that the alcohol made you do that— he only picks up the pace, escalating your words into incoherent pleas of release-

“saying such dirty little words in a lovely restaurant. do I have to fuck in some manners into your pretty head?” with another violent thrust and a groan, he drags himself out against your slit to coat it with wet fluids that trickle down your sides to spill all over the table.

yes, he thinks it’s deceptive, the way your pussy struggles to take in his load, the way you mewl and squeal his name for more, drunk and needy— the way your ass moves so lewdly with the rhythm of his thrusts, skin trembling. this is sin, he knows, but you are just too beautiful for him to stop. maybe he will have to feed you more purposeful alcohol when you’re sober again, because fuck, how could you be even more obscenely seductive in this state?

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE

BLADE doesn’t know how to react— because his only recent alcohol experience is when he occasionally joined kafka for wine- and the woman showed no signs of being drunk at all.

but when he sees you- subdued to a giggling tipsy mess, his mind draws a blank. What was he supposed to do? he calls your name out briefly, then realized you were too busy burying yourself in his arms like a cat, smiling dreamily at him while telling him his eyes look so pretty today.

he doesn’t like the way his chest tightens up when you say that. he doesn’t like the way he feels so out of control as if the mara is actually taking him over- guiding his hands to tighten around your waist, possessive touches that make you squeal.

“stop that,” he mutters, indirectly at you and at himself.

“stop what, bladie?” you ask with a playful kiss on his jaw, which visibly tightens. “oh come on, don’t be so uptight. didn’t you plan this date?” you continue to trip over your words and droop all over his arms like pudding so bad that blade had to press your back against him so you won’t tip over.

he did plan the home date, just by Kafka’s constant teasing. she’d told him that wine was the perfect idea, that they would be able to have a “heartfelt one on one conversation.” he thought that part meant you would be able to be coherent but unfortunately no, now you’re drunk and illogical and basically his entire plan to talk to you seriously about engagement just went downhill.

“we have to talk,” he says directly, although his voice comes out so weird, as if it’s being strangled. the weird heat in his body spreads violently when you turn around to face him with a little lovely smile, eyelashes drooping, hands so sneakily fiddling with the hem of his belt.

“what could you possibly want to talk about right n—ngh!”

your sentence goes unfinished, and the next thing you know, your face is pressed flat against the cushion couch. you can’t see anything at all, but you hear hasty movements and a belt clanking to the floor, and suddenly his cold hands are right on you, veiny fingers tracing the outline of your puffy clit before hooking up the strap of fabric with a finger to tear it easily.

when you continue to beg him for an answer, he shuts you up with his thick cock that wedges its way into your gummy walls, stretching you all so suddenly to make you gasp into the pillows.

“b-blade,” you whine, “-s’ too big.”

“ill make it fit,” he says simply, but the primal groan beneath it lets you know he’s not going to stop until he fits it in.

he buries into you at a cruelly fast pace, too lost in his own euphoria to hear you whimper and sob how much it’s hurting. aeons, why is he doing this just now? the way you clench around him draws out a lengthy groan, leaning against the table to calm himself down from such an arousing sight of glistening moisture soaking his cock nicely.

the cold air tickling your ass disperses quickly with his animalistic thrusts that give you burning heat, fucking out your constant whimpers and squeals that you’re going to cum, and he lets you cum, hastily pounding himself in to relieve the bothersome blistering arousal that spurts all over your walls to paint them his.

now he knows that kafka fucking did plan this out, but he’s not angry. in fact, he is almost thankful she set him up, because good lord, he knows he won’t ever be satisfied until your holes are stuffed full with his cum.

[panthrology]

WE MISS YOU ! ★ SATOSUGU

suguru thinks it cant hurt to show his dear boyfriend what he's been missin'.

★cw: satosugu x reader, filming, sending stuffz (all consensual, so don't fret), lil bit of anal stuff - it's not so serious, squirting, dirty talk, this is set in season 1 except suguru n satoru made up n didn't die because im gonna be on an angst vibe l8r, reader, toru and sugu are dating yupp. if you can't already tell, this is not proofread ☠️🙏🏽

being in a poly relationship with satosugu is basically the epitome of spontaneity. you have to essentially teach yourself to expect the unexpected.

the unexpected being suguru coming home before satoru from a mission late into the night and suddenly getting the urge to play with your pretty pussy.

he's got your legs spread wide and panties pulled to the side, dark lashes fluttering down at your swollen cunt.

his expression is nothing drastic, but simply seeing his lips part as each glob of slick dribbles out of your hole has you wriggling in excitement. he's mesmerised.

“so wet..” he's so quiet you almost missed him—that, and the rough pad of his thumb finding its way on your clit, pressing down on it just to hear you mewl.

steadily, he sinks his middle finger inside, adding his ring finger shortly after.

the intrusion of his thick fingers has you keening, widening your knees for him as you lean your head back against the cool pillow.

he catches the sound immediately, hooded eyes flitting to your face and holding eye contact for seconds. you've never been able to look suguru in his eyes for very long, his natural bedroom eyes never fail to stir the pot of sin in your stomach.

suguru keeps the talking on a minimum tonight, too focused on the way your walls suck him in like you don't wanna let him go. he licks his lips and eases them deeper, adopting a moderately slow yet dizzying rhythm as he buries himself down to the last knuckle in your sopping cunt. his brows furrow with intrigue when you whine, watching the way you heave your chest to catch the air that's constantly being pushed out your lungs.

you look down between your spread thighs to see his two fingers stuffed inside, glistening in your sticky cream.

the filthy sight makes suguru exhale shakily, leaning his head forward to take a closer look. you cringe while he practically inspects your pussy, biting your lip to quieten a moan that flows from your throat when he begins picking up the pace. he's scissors your walls open for him and the sloppy squelches coupled with your whines makes suguru feel light.

the sorcerer pulls away to ground himself for a moment, sliding his fingers out of you and pops the wet digits in his mouth, leaving you feeling empty.

he grunts at your taste, taking long sucks and sighing when he lets them go.

seconds go by before he touches you again, and the feeling of not being filled by something itches your entire being. however; before you can even protest, suguru lets something slip that as your eyes widening.

“i wanna show satoru.”

it was both a statement and a question, looking at your face for any signs of distaste or discomfort. when he gets nothing but silent shock from you, he asks again. “can i, sweetheart?”

truth be told, the three of you have made mini movies before, only when shitfaced drunk.

but if you truly disliked them, you would've deleted them from your secured album long ago.

it has you thinking, fidgeting your pedicured toes in excitement. props to suguru, he might've just unlocked a new kink.

“yeah, yeah. let's show ‘toru,” you agree with shortened breath, nodding your head. a cat-like grin stretches on his lips and he reaches for his phone on the bedside table, your heart hammers in excitement as the phone unlocks with an audible click. the idea of showing your other lover the nastiness that you were up to while he's on a late night mission thrilled you.

once suguru has the camera app open and set to video, his amber eyes flicker to yours a final time to make sure you're completely okay with it. his green light is your subtle nod with your bottom lip between your teeth and he presses the red button.

suguru speaks up, wasting absolutely no time with his voice low, “look what you're missin’ out on ‘toru.” he lowers his free hand down to part your pussy lips with his index and middle finger—the milky white webs sticking on your puffed folds. he curses. “we miss you baby.”

he angles the phone a tad bit closer when he slips his fingers back inside, your hot walls spasming around him and he groans. “she's so tight ‘n wet. look at how much she loves it when I stuff her.” he sighs, resuming his rhythm of deep finger fucking your creamy cunt open. “you like havin’ our fingers stretchin’ you out, don't you?” his thumb is back on your clit, gliding along the skin in steady circles.

you feel good, lips parted as whines escape from your throat. his nasty words and being put on display has your lips twitching upwards. “uh huh—i love it suguru..”

he smiles endearingly as you babble, quickening the pace of his fingers before they tilt upwards, the tips of his fingers rub up on that cushiony spot. his dick throbs when you moan, the sound to slutty and raw. his amber orbs observe the way your hips raise off the bed and thighs quake, continuing his abuse on your g-spot. his admiration for how responsive you are took the spotlight tonight, his jaw remaining slacked like he forgot how to close it. “tell satoru how you're feeling, sweetheart.”

your words slur clumsily, white hot pleasure clouding all reason in your brain. “oooh, feels s'fucking good, ‘toru..right there—” you wail, reaching around your legs to grip the back of your thighs to keep yourself from falling apart too quickly.

it seems that your boyfriend before you had other plans though, because he speeds up his circles on your clit, coaxing more slick to drip from your cunt with every push and pull of his broad digits.

yet when a thought flashes through his mind, he pulls his fingers out with a swift motion, your now empty hole gaping slightly as you whine in frustration. with heavy breath, suguru slides his thumb along the trail of your milky slick that pools down to your ass and presses the pad of his thumb against the puckered hole.

a choked sob echoes from you when you feel the tip of his thumb breaching past your rim for a couple of seconds, zooming the camera in on the way both of your messy holes tense and squeeze at his actions. “oh my god…?!” you squeak, sounding almost devoid of oxygen due how bad you were caught off guard.

you're so far gone, the sheer shock of him messing with your asshole has your skin firing. satoru likes to toy with it when he takes you from behind but never went past the ring of muscle.through your glassy eyes, you can see sugur watching your face with a devilish grin with his phone in hand. that nasty fuck.

he retracts his thumb as quickly as he put it in, ring and middle finger pushing into your pussy again and ramming them in and out of your hole. the overwhelming stimulation brings your lost orgasm back to the pit of your belly, squealing with a lazy hand over your mouth and hot tears streaming down your face. it's intense, legs bouncing, gasping for air, curling your fingers into the sheets—

you're squirting before you can warn suguru, the fierce gush of your fluids drench his black sweats and slightly on his phone that he holds, jerking his own head back in surprise. you feel like your head’s been shoved underwater, the sounds of your pussy squelching muffled as your teary eyes roll all the way back in mind numbing pleasure.

“shiiit, look at that,” suguru coos as he watches you spritz all over him with amazed eyes. he uses a thumb to wipe his back camera, watching the video clear up a bit as you continue to cum, cum cum. “so nasty, can't help but squirt all over me.”

he finds himself addicted to the sight—drool seeping past your lips, legs hiked up in the air hair all messed up—he just fucking moans. he wants to see more. suguru juts his wrist back and forth, and practically pounds your pussy with his fingers and palm. “c'mon, c'mon..gimme another. show ‘toru how messy that sweet cunt is.”

the overstimulation burns through the pleasure, gripping his wrist with deathening grip as you squirm on the now wet bedsheets.

“fuckk, fuuuuck! i feel it, ‘toru!” you rasp, legs spread so wide, such a sinful image on his phone and suguru chuckles

“hear that? she misses you baby. c’mon pretty, show us how you cum,” he encourages, taking delight in the way you still momentarily as your cunt squelches louder, louder.

the second wave of your orgasm hits you like three trucks—crying and sobbing while suguru records you squirting on his fingers and the bed for the second time tonight, hypnotised praises falling from his lips.

when he pulls his fingers out he brings his phone forward, making sure to showcase your wet thighs and the thick cream that drips down to your ass and spreads your thighs. “jesus..y’did so well honey.” the sorcerer murmurs, taking his gentle palm and rubbing it on the expanse of your soft tummy, watching you shake and come down from your ridiculously intense orgasm.

you're barely even conscious as you hear his phone chime and watch suguru tap away on his phone through blurry eyes. he sets his phone aside and through your post nut haze, you can just about hear the buzz of your phone.

hopefully, satoru will like his little we miss you present.

BONUS.

Satoru wipes the sweat from his brow as he prepares to slip his blindfold back on, fiddling with the black elastic fabric around his head. The chilling bite of the night air prickles against his neck as he watches the remains of a curse disintegrate into nothingness. With a gentle sigh, he tucks his hands back into his pocket, feeling around for his mobile. His tall frame leans against the nearby brick wall and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his messenger chats to find Ijichi’s number for a ride back home. but through one free eye, he clicks on a notification.

3 new messages from suguboo 😮‍💨, sweetness 🩷, you.

God, he really needed to think of a name for that group chat.

suguboo 😮‍💨: ① video 01:47 AM suguboo 😮‍💨: miss you hon ☺️ next time you'll know not to piss yaga off and make him send you on a long ass mission when you could've done it in broad daylight. 01:47 AM suguboo 😮‍💨: love you, get home safe. 01:48 AM

And as Satoru clicked onto the video he felt his cock swell so fast, his mouth parted while he watched suguru finger and play with you. he felt so perverted, yet so lucky for having two lovers who'd send him something so lewd. he exhaled heavily as he tilted his head up to the sky, bringing a large hand to massage the bulge beneath his dark blue slacks.

you reacted “🤤” to suguboo 😮‍💨 opened.

typing..

you: you guys are TRYING to kill me. 02:25 AM

★ authors note: poly satosugu has been in my mind for a while and i fear that this just the beginning. i wanted to be done w this earlier but wtv ENJOY!

© NEPTNSZN 2024 ★ please do NOT copy, repost or modify my pieces, apply credit when necessary.

[redr0sewrites]

SITTING ON ADAMS FACE HC’S? God I’m telling you that man eats pussy like it’s his last meal, HES GOOD AND HE KNOWS IT.

YESSSSS ANON UR LITERALLY ME I JUST KNOW HE EATS GOOD, TRUST

🥀Cw: smut, oral sex (reader recieving), facesitting, afab!reader

🥀minors dni

there is no way that adam has not tried every position under the sun, and he has absolutely tried facesitting before. there is not a doubt in my mind that this man eats puss good, and he would fucking LOVE the opportunity to have you sit on his face

absolutely brags about his oral skills to the point where you almost don't believe he's as good as he claims. so, of course, you tell adam to prove it. to your shock, its adam who offers for you to sit on his face

adam is a strong man, he wants you to SIT on your throne. he wants all of your weight on him, no matter your size he can take it. he has a firm hold on your thighs, he genuinely wants to be smothered by your aching cunt as he eats you out

i def hc that adam eats pussy very sloppily- not in the sense that it doesn't feel good, no, but in the sense that it feels too good. he wants you to squirt, by the end of the night he needs you to be whimpering as he wears your thighs like earmuffs

not even joking it's actually almost disgustingly hot how messy he is when he eats you out. cum will be covering his entire face and lips, he's actually so addicted to eating you out its insane and he loooves your taste. he doesn't need to breathe, he just needs to keep fucking you silly and holding you down against his face as his tongue works wonders against your aching clit

adam definitely gets hard from eating you out and has came untouched before while your sitting on his face. in his defense, you're just too undeniable to resist! honestly though, its the hottest thing in the world to watch his hips jerk upwards, humping up against nothing as he groans beneath you, absolutely drunk of your pussy

he adores 69'ing as well, the added stimulation of you sucking his cock while he eats you out? fuck, he's reached heaven again and absolutely cums in your mouth or sprays over your chest

his moans send vibrations against your cunt and only makes the entire situation 10x more pleasurable for you

honestly facesitting pretty much becomes a typical part of u and adams foreplay

"c'mon babes, i want ya t' sit," adam murmured, his large hands gripping into the soft flesh of your thigh. "none 'f that hovering shit, i can take ya," his hot breath fanned over your aching cunt as your knuckles gripped the headboard. "are you sure?" you ask shakily, his thumb running soothing circles on your thigh as you clit pulses with need. fuck, you wanted to just sit, but what if you hurt him? what if you were too heavy?

"course im sure," adam rasps, licking a stripe through your folds. "fuuuck baby, y'need to sit on my face, or i'm gonna pull you down myself." your face flushes at his warning, and you slowly lower yourself until your perched on his face. his tongue circles your clit, sucking and slurping with noises so lewd that your head begins to spin. it wasn't just the embarrassment of the entire situation that made your head fuzzy, no, it was the mind blowing pleasure you were receiving from adams skilled tongue.

a sudden jerk of adams' hips below you makes you shiver, and you realize he's grinding up into thin air. his cock is already hard, and a low groan vibrates against your cunt. adam does something especially sinful with his tongue and you let out a wanton moan, thighs shaking with pleasure. "c'mon hon, give it t'me" adam groans, his voice muffled by your needy cunt. your juices spill over his face, and precum pearls at the tip of his cock. his tongue swirls around your aching pearl before traveling back down to your slit, paying special attention to your folds and making you whimper.

your hips rock against his face as you start to chase your own orgasm. one of your hands travels down to grab a fistful of his hair, his firm hands assisting you in grinding against his face. the tip of his nose keeps brushing against your pulsing clit, and you can feel yourself reaching the edge. adam lets out a moan, and with one last roll of your hips, your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. adam helps you ride out your high as your cum spurts, coating his face. he doesn't hesitate to swallow it all as he milks you dry, you entire body shaking from the mind blowing orgasm.

"did you just squirt?" adam smirks, gasping for breath as you pull away to lay down beside him. "did you just come? i didn't even touch you~" you retort, your voice falsely sweet. adam scowls, and you giggle, moving to straddle him again. you grind your cunt against his aching cock, and he lets out a strained groan. "you up for round two, or has the original dick already given up?" large hands come to rest on your waist and adam smirks up at you with his usual gloating nature. "im just getting started sugar tits~"

this is not the fic that got deleted (that fic is some vox hcs im currently rewriting) but this is just some fun hcs ab one of my favs to make me feel better after the literal hell that was today 😭😭😭 anyways yall hope u enjoyed!!!! i actually need to write more for adam, especially smut this is not a drill.

[ratskcoreddie]

the only thing on my mind right now is steve harrington being pussy drunk, filth under the cut 18+

this cant end.

your laying flat on your tummy, one of your knees is bent at your side so you can prop your ass up high for the man behind you. steve is fucking you slow and steady. his palm is flat on your ankle, fingers curling around it and squeezing every few seconds to bring himself back to earth. steve slows and pulls out, till only half of him remains inside of you. delaying the release of his impending orgasm. you’ve both been like this for an hour. him pulling out halfway and cock warming you to feel every twitch you supply him. he waits until he catches his breath. then he can’t fight it anymore and his hips jerk, causing him to sink back in. he burrows himself to the hilt.

“oh fucckk”, he groans. “th- this.. fucking pussy is perfect for me.. baby”. steve’s abdomen flexes. “you’re.. you’re gonna make me c— cum… soon m’promise.. ill give it to you”.

you feel every ridge of his length. the curve of his cock is so delicious. it’s been hitting that one spot only he can reach over and over making you delirious. you’re already so desperate and needy to be filled with one of his loads. you’ve been begging for it under him. the promise of it coming soon fuels your desire. he squeezes your ankle tighter.

“i— i love this cunt.. im gonna fill you up“ he hisses, “shit.. i w… i just wanna stay like this. fuck. oh fucck… for a little bit longer”.

he wont shut up. each of his praises he moans working down to your core and soaking him perfectly. he can’t take his eyes off of the slick coat your leaving all over him. wet, sloppy, messy, sticky, dirty. and sinful. the sight almost makes him lose it. you pulse around him and he drives deeper into you. you feel every single movement and your third orgasm is hurling towards you. faster than his first. you understand his issue. you could stay like this forever too. under him, where you belong. but the satisfaction of feeling your core snap around him again blinds you with a white light. he pulls out. you suck him back in. steve groans while he takes a slow drag out.

“im.. im so close”, you whimper. steve growls “bab.. baby hold it.. god, please. ju- just.. i wanna stay inside a little longer. you’re so pretty like this. shit. you’re gripping me baby..”.

he tries to argue, knowing that if he feels you cum around him he’d topple over his ledge. this cant end. he wont let it end. he squeezes your ankle tighter and completely stills. only giving you half of him. steve throws his head back when you let out a whine that sounds raspy. your throat being destroyed from his earlier abuse. you thrash under him. having enough of the slow push and pull of him. it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t mean to be a tease. he was just so enamored with the feeling of you that he was completely unaware that he’s been edging you of your releases for his own selfishness.

you throw you ass back onto him taking all of him. before he can pull away your speeding up your hips. desperately moving them up and down on his length. the motion send his hurdling over you. instantly digging himself deeper and letting you work against him to control the pace you need to achieve your end.

“oh. fuck! fuckk!” he cries.

he’s whining and trying to stay still to allow you to keep your tempo and hold himself back at the same time. this can’t end. your body is meeting his without permission. steve reaches down to grab your hips and lets you do the work for him. you move methodically while he grips onto your skin for desperation. this can’t end. his whole body shutters and you feel him twitch inside you. before you feel his release filling you up, his mouth is letting you know what’s to come.

“baby.. ple..please” he whimpers, trying to go back to how it was before, but when he feels your body tense up for him.. he’s a goner.

“i— fuck! babybabybaby ..i’m cumming!”

all good things must come to an end.

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Dumb Lucifer Scenario Dump

Here are just a bunch of like random scenarios that popped into my head; usually when I was half asleep or hadn't slept for several days. Im not going to do anything with these beyond this post so if someone wants to like turn these into a short story or comic, feel free. Just link back and give me credit for the idea please ~<3 Id love to see what you make!!

Contents/WARNINGS: Heavy drinking; allusions to Lucifer being outcasted everywhere; potential sad ending on third one; Alastor casually breaking hearts; Lucifer needs therapy or meds or something Actual brainrot below the cut. Not beta read we die like men -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Who Needs Magic Anyway? ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(Little bit of context; this idea came about because I was talking to @writteninlunarlight-years about the whole 'there is only one bed trope thing)

Lucifer and reader are both drinking together. They both get so plastered that the reader cant go home on their own and Lucifer cant make a decent portal. (The portals keep fizzing out, going to the wrong places.... Point is he cant do it right atm).

So Lucifer offers to have the reader stay with him for the night. Even in their drunkin state, the reader side-eyes Lucifer at his offer and the guy just keeps digging his hole deeper Saying stuff like:

Lucifer: I-I meant we can sleep together as friends. Reader: *blinks* Lucifer: WAIT-

Lucifer even offers to make you one of those stupid pillow walls in between you two if your really that uncomfortable. What a gentleman

Anyway, you both eventually end up in his bedroom and Lucifer changes into duck pajamas (because of course thats what he has. what else would the guy have really). Then you both look at each other awkwardly as you both realize you… don't exactly have anything comfortable to sleep in.

Lucifer quickly says that its fine! He will just magic you up some pjs! Easy! Well. The problem is when he does this, his alcohol infused brain defaulted the entire concept of sleepwear to mean 'Lucifer’s sleepwear.' So when he zaps you, you end up with a perfectly matching set of ducky nightshirt and pants to Lucifer’s very own.

Lucifer immediately wants to die.

Bonus: This entire thing has now made me headcanon that Lucifer cannot control his magic when he is drunk

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Playing the Hero ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

NOTE: I used a spider here, but really it can be any bug. Or whatever you want. I just did a spider because fuck spiders, and the idea of Lucifer cowering at a mini Angel Dust was very funny to me

Its late at night and as usual Lucifer cannot sleep. Lucifer is suddenly disturbed however, by the reader in their adorable pajamas. They are looking around nervously, with their hands hidden in their sleeves.

The man is immediately ready to do anything they ask cause they are just so darn cute.

The reader sheepishly asks him if he can kill a giant spider that has decided to make itself at home in their room. Lucifer, ever the sin of pride, (and maaayyybe wanting to impress them a little), excitedly says that of course he can! Completely pushing away the fact that, he too, is afraid of spiders.

They both go to the reader's room and as soon as Lucifer sees the spider he panics a little. (”Oh god, that is actually a big spider.”, ”Why are its legs so long??”)

Wanting to play the hero but also not wanting to go anywhere near the accursed thing, Lucifer thinks itll be a great idea to just- zap it.

Well, the thing is Lucifer’s hands are very shaky at the moment, due to a combination of having all the reader's attention on him and the fear of holyshitspider. So when he tries to zap the thing he completely fucking misses like an idiot.

The spider goes flying toward the two of them, resulting in both of them bursting out of the room screaming bloody murder and waking up the rest of the hotel.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Don't Overthink It ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(Again, inspired by @writteninlunarlight-years specifically her post about Making Flower Crowns for the Hazbin Men. This prompt takes place during Valentines Day, but you can easily modify it to be during a different holiday. Can be platonic or romantic.

Valentines Day comes around, and you decide to gift one to the infamous King of Hell. Because youll be sending it anonymously, you decide to go all out. You get him a super nice duck themed gift, handwrite him a card, as well as get him a stunning bouquet.

What you didn't anticipate however, was Lucifer completely losing it when he receives the gift. Apparently its been decades/centuries since he last received a Valentine, let alone one as nice as the one you gave him.

He was the King of Hell after all. You assumed he got a million Valentines automatically because of his position. I mean, Alastor got piles of them so why WOULDNT the King of Hell?

Because of its anonymous nature, Lucifer's ever romantic heart gets obsessed with the Valentine. You love bombed the poor guy on complete accident. Lucifer starts trying to do his own little 'investigations' to figure out who made it for him, like comparing different handwritings to the one on the card and such. Lucifer even starts daydreaming about who it could be and imagining what they are like.

(if its romantic) Your afraid to tell him you did it because you don't want to complicate your friendship with Charlie. A part of you also feels guilty that you somehow managed to put yourself on such a high pedestal in Lucifer's eyes when... your just you.

(if its platonic) You don't want to break Lucifer's heart and tell him that you just wanted to do something nice. You feel guilty for getting his hopes up for something/someone that doesn't exist.

BONUS: At some point in the story, the reader walks by a trashcan/dumpster full of Valentines meant for Alastor that he clearly just trashed right away. Alastor hates Valentines day because everyone wont. Stop. BUGGING. HIM.

[hellsburners]

pain and suffering

summary: to which criminals run from the shadows, and the shadows run home to you. pairing: frank castle x male reader x matt murdock word count: 4k warnings: 18+ warning, unprotected s3x, dom!mattfrank, bottom!reader, double pen3tration, blowj0bs, mentions of violence a/n: i got this request like a whole month ago and im sorry to anon it took me a while to think of this

masterlist | more matt murdock

gif credit for frank & matt

The night air looms over Hell’s Kitchen. A normal person might hear the honking of cars and the loud chitchat of people in the street, but to a man like Daredevil, he hears everything. He hears Sally from down the street, crying as her husband comes home drunk, or Dominic, stealing another purse to pay for his brother’s medical bills. The city is not just a cluster of sounds for a man like the Devil, it’s a war cry. His city needs help, so he braces for the jump, a leap into the battlefield.

To him, pain and suffering is a saint. The pain of every hit, every jab, and every punch. To Matt Murdock, the pain of getting hit is like lashing for every sin he’s made. He is the fist of God, the guardian angel of the Kitchen, his suffering is the price for the safety of his people. So to him, yes, pain and suffering is the saint that guides him, the adrenaline to jump, to fight, to stand back up and fight again because he knows if he doesn’t, worse men will. 

He sits wounded on top of a building, the hanging laundry hiding him from plain sight. He pants, blood gushing from his lower rib. But then he smells it: gunpowder. The sound of clanking metal and rubber boots walking closer to him. He knows that smell, the smell of danger, the smell of bad news, the smell of The Punisher.

“They hit ya’ pretty bad tonight Red,” his rough voice roared across the building. He smells of blood, not his blood, but the blood of at least thirty other men. 

“I don’t need your help, Frank,” Matt said, wincing as he tried to stand. 

“I doubt that,” he was closer to Matt, he took the rear end of his rifle and pressed it to Matt’s wound, he cried out in pain. “See?”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

“That’s your problem, Red. You’re so self-righteous. You’re out here bleeding yourself to death thinking God sent you here on earth to be his punchin’ bag,'' he puts the rifle down, the metal butt hitting the floor. “You think your God can miraculously heal your wounds? The Devil ain’t no saint.” 

“And you’re any better?” Matt spat. “You wear that skull on your chest and you think that gives you the license to be a killer?” he licks his dried-up lips, the wounds weighing on him. “You’re a beast, Frank. A wild creature with no self-control, bloodthirsty, and—and inhumane.”

Frank was right, but Matt’s pride would never take any help from Frank Castle, he’s a murderer, a cold-blooded killer, and men like him have no place roaming the streets of New York. Matt tries to walk away from Frank, he could feel the blood drip into his waist, his head dizzy. Before he could even reach a meter away from Frank he feels the pull of the earth and drops into the cement floor, out cold. 

“Dumbass,” Frank spat.

—

To Frank Castle, pain and suffering is a weapon. 

Pain is the bullet to the head of a wife beater, a pedophile, a human trafficker, and any other demented fuck that helps in spreading crime in his city. He sniffs in the scent, it’s nauseating, the smell of garbage and piss, the smell of dead bodies piled in a heap for the cops to find. The blood pooled on his boots, painting them red. He reloads the gun, pulling on the lever that locks the bullet in the barrel, ready for the trigger. 

“Please, man. I have a wife and two kids,” the bald man begged. His shirt was soaked in blood, a bullet grazed his hip. He walks backward achingly, his back hitting the wall. “Fuck, man I swear I don't know anything ‘bout this! ”the man kneels in front of Frank, his hands together like he’s praying. 

Pain is the bullet that ends all suffering. 

Bang!

The man falls on the concrete, blood dripping out of his skull. Frank wipes the blood splatter on his face with his sleeve. He takes the pistol and slides it into the holster on his thigh. He grabs the man’s sleeve and pulls him into the heap. No loose ends. 

Frank takes his rifle and leaves. Taking the rooftops so the cops won’t see him. His body is sore, but it was never a hindrance. He sees a red blur across the building. The Devil himself, running from a bunch of men. Frank notices the Devil walking strangely, a hand on his left to cover a bleeding wound. 

He takes the sniper rifle and aims it at the four men searching for the masked vigilante. He reloads the rifle, and one by one the men drop dead. The Devil was clueless as to where the bullets came from. He walks over to the wounded man, lumped over the side of a rooftop wincing in pain. 

Frank had always admired the Devil’s determination, always standing back up after a fight, the line he wouldn’t cross, it amused Frank in a way. He liked to toy with it, always putting the red vigilante in positions where his moral code is tested. 

You know you’re one bad day away from becoming like me. 

Frank once told him, and he guessed it wasn’t true. Despite how hard the world hit him, he never crossed that line. That’s why when the Devil ended up face down on the concrete floor he took his body into his shoulder. Carrying his body to the only place he knew would understand the situation. To the person that knew the creed of pain and suffering. 

He stands in front of the wooden door, the door was locked. Not his first instinct to knock, because he knew he would always be let in. He knocked on the door, no answer. He knocked louder, banging on the door, the sounds echoing throughout the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, people will hear you,” you said, answering the door. 

— 

To you, pain and suffering is a curse. The curse that binds people to hospital beds for years, slowly rotting into the sheets as more and more medicine gets pumped into their veins. The curse that brings people into the emergency room, stabbed my knives, with broken knees, amputated fingers, and gunshot wounds through bone and muscle. 

You earn money from pain and suffering. Doctor’s fees from people you know can’t even afford it. You always wanted to give them pro-bono, but you weren't loaded like that. That’s why when injured vigilantes were involved, everyone in the New York underground knew your number. 

You had known people like Maya Lopez, Misty Knight, Ben Reilly, Ty Johnson, and Tandy Bowen alongside other masked heroes. That’s why when The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen arrived at your door four months ago you didn’t second guess your decision to help him. To you, helping these people would absolve you of being complicit in the suffering of innocent people in the hospital. 

“Got your number from Spider-man, hope you don’t mind,” he said, sprawled on your kitchen table covered in blood. His muscular body contracted from the pain as you sewed his wounds shut. You never truly cared about forming connections with your clients, it was more of a get-patched-up-and-leave type of way. 

He would often flirt with you whenever he came by, his dimples forming under his mask whenever he smiled or laughed. “Don’t worry Doc’ I’m a big boy,” he said, smiling at you. The smile quickly faded when you dug into his skin to retrieve the bullets on his bicep, a groan leaving his lips. You tried not to think about it, but he's pretty cute. 

On one night, a man banged on your door, you rushed to meet a shadow drenched in blood as if it was raining blood from the sky, a white skull on his chest. His hoarse voice groaned as you took him into your kitchen. Multiple bullet wounds, and gashes on his chest, in your personal opinion a person with that many injuries would've ended up on the morgue. 

“Did you fall into a meat grinder? What the hell,” you said. You tried your best to patch him up but he needed some blood transfusions. 

“Check the bag,” he groaned. Inside were bags of blood from the hospital, all type O, what the fuck. 

He stayed in your house for two nights, you checked his vitals every hour to make sure he was still alive. This hasn’t happened before, you’ve never had a client that was on the brink of death. It was always some minor injury, but this man managed to wake up and stand after two days to leave. 

You found a bundle of one hundred dollar bills in your mailbox the next day. 

—

“Bring him to the couch,” you said. You took Matt’s body as Frank carried his legs, you took his limp body into the sofa, a deep wound on the torso, an easy fix for you at this point. It has been months since you first met the two men in your apartment. You’ve spent multiple nights helping them, in your apartment, or Matt’s, or Frank’s bunker. You were technically associated with them to the point that you know their real names. 

“The emergency kit is on the kitchen counter.” 

“Got it Doc,” Frank saluted, removing his trench coat and his bulletproof vest, his muscular form bulging through his black shirt. They reeked of blood, you could taste the iron on your tongue. 

Matt’s eyes fluttered, his head turning to the sound of your voice. “Hey,” he said, groaning through the pain. You cut his undershirt open, the wound gushing out blood. You took some gauze to soak the viscous liquid, making sure the clotting starts. 

“Sit your ass down, Red,” Frank ordered. You managed to sew the wound shut, you gave Matt some pain relievers as his eyes fell back into sleep. You let him rest for a bit, covering him in a fleece blanket. You walked towards Frank, a few cuts on his arms, he was already in the middle of sewing some of them before you helped. “Don’t worry about me, it’s nothin’”

“Make sure you don’t die in my kitchen this time,” you said, walking to the kitchen sink to rinse your bloodied hands. You opened your refrigerator to grab a drink. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Frank nods.

You took a cold beer from your fridge, the metal caps clanking on the floor. You handed him the bottle, he took a big swig like he was thirsty for water, some liquid falling from the corner of his lips. He sat on a wooden chair, legs spread, the hem of his shirt raising a bit to show a peak of his abdomen. 

Matt soon woke up. Much to your disagreement, taking a beer of his own. He took a seat in your dining area, topless with bandages around his torso. The three of you are looking at each other around the table. “So–what happened tonight?” you asked. 

Matt’s frown was deadset. Frank taking gulps of his second bottle of beer. You were taking sips of your bottle, looking at the heated tension between the two. It was annoyingly anxiety-inducing. “You know, I don’t know what’s the point of talking to you two—I’m a physician, not a therapist.” 

“You need to stay away from him,” Matt said, his lips a straight line. “He’s a dangerous person with nothing good going on for his pathetic life.”

“Boohoo! Little catholic boy here feels entitled about being god’s little bitch,” Frank spat. “Is that what you think bitch boy?”

“See? He’s an immature old fuck that thinks the world’s answer to violence is guns and bullets,” Matt said, downing his beer.

“He’s just using his lawyer bullshit on you,” Frank said.

You rolled your eyes, it’s always like this, them bickering. You downed the beer, the bitter taste running through your tongue. You set it down with a loud clunk. The two men halted their bickering. 

“I’m not taking sides but I think both of you are annoying cry babies that should just kiss and make out!” the two men frowned their brows. “You bicker like an old couple—the two of you need to suck it up because, at the end of the day, the two of you leave a trail of blood in this city that I clean!” you shouted.“You know how many people end up in the emergency room thanks to you two, I don’t even keep count of them anymore.”

Matt called for your name, to apologize or something, but you took another bottle of beer and gulped on the bubbly drink. Instead of talking you took his lips to yours, the bitter taste of his mouth shared with yours. His hands come to your neck, fingers wrapping around the flesh as his tongue meets yours. You smell his clean shampoo mixing with the alcohol, he smelled like a man who took hygiene seriously.

You pull back to walk towards Frank, bending down to kiss him, pressing on his shoulder with your hands to guide you. The bitter taste of both of your mouths intoxicates you. He grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling you in more. He smelled of cheap soap and gunpowder. You pulled away to catch them frozen, feet glued to the floor, aghast.

“See,” you rubbed your hands. “Not hard at all.” 

Frank was biting his lip chuckling, his fingers massaging his lip. He pulled you to his lap, kissing you harder, his hands falling to your ass. Your hands run through his dark hair, his stubble pricking your face. You moaned from the contact, Matt’s enhanced senses making the sound echo in his head. He hesitated but his groin turned to the noises you made. Frank’s lips fall to your neck, nibbling on the skin eliciting more lewd noises from you. 

“See this red?” he said. “This little slut likes it.”

“Play with his ear, he likes it,” Matt ordered. Frank hadn’t known that.

“He also likes it when I do this,” he pinches your nipples, and you shudder from the slight pain. The two men didn’t know that you had experiences of having sex with them on different occasions. “So you’re a little whore huh, you do this to all of your clients?”

“No—,” you gasped. “Just you two.”

Matt chuckled. Frank had set you on his lap so that you were facing Matt, his hands playing with both of your nipples as he left purple hickeys all over your neck. Matt had knelt in front of you palming your growing erection. The ache in your groin grows from the lack of release. Tonight these men offer you more pain and suffering but in ways that elicit nothing but pleasure. 

He takes your trousers off leaving you with nothing but your shirt, finally something to ease the pain. Matt stood to open his pants, his thick cock standing tall, the hairs neatly trimmed. “Take his dick inside your mouth,” Frank whispered, while he stretched your legs open so his fingers could tease your hole. He took his fingers to your mouth making it wet.

Matt’s hands ran through your hair, his tip teasing your swollen lips. As you took his length into your mouth, Frank's finger entered your hole curling inside drawing out muffled sounds from your mouth. You were quickly bent over by Frank, his head in between your ass cheeks licking and fingering your hole, while your head was bobbing up and down on Matt’s cock. 

Frank smacked your ass so hard it left a red print as he continued to toy with your rear. Matt groaned as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Frank pulled you back with your hair, popping Matt’s cock out with a string of saliva. It was painful the way they carried you, but in some sick twist of events, it turned you on even more. 

“My turn,” Frank said, as he takes your mouth to his sex, you engulf his thick uncut cock, your nose hitting his unkempt hair taking in his scent. Matt bent down to toy with your hole, curling and stretching two fingers inside you stimulating your prostate. You were turning your lips as you sucked on Frank’s cock, a hoarse groan leaving his mouth as he grabbed onto your hair tightly. 

Matt stroked your cock as he moaned, eating you out with his wet tongue and playing with the rim of your hole. Frank took control of your mouth, fucking into it like you’re his sex toy, his cocking hitting the roof of your mouth at a constant speed. Frank could feel his climax coming so he pulls out leaving you a wet mess next to Matt. 

“Can I fuck you?” Matt asked. You nod, taking them into your bedroom. 

Frank undressed and took a seat on the small sofa chair in the corner of the room, stroking his hard cock. You were on all fours on the bed, facing Frank. His eyes glued to you as he stroked. Matt lubes your hole before slowly pressing his cock into your hole. You gasped as he sheathed into you. Frank smirked, this turned him on even more, his large arms contracting as he stroked his cock.

Matt started to fuck you slowly, his hips slapping your ass. He started to let out guttural moans, his hips becoming rigid as he gripped onto your waist, his nails digging into your skin. He bends down to kiss your neck, rutting into you, his hard thrusts ramming into you. “I’m close,” he moaned. He jerks your cock to the point that you yelp out, cum shooting out of your cock as he continues to jerk his hips before he emptied inside you, a deep groan leaving his lips as his cum fills you. You two collapsed on the bed, his body weight on top of you. 

“Move over Red,” Frank said, looming over you as Matt moves over before Frank mounts you. Matt’s cum formed a slippery lube that made Frank’s cock ease its way as it thrusts. Your body was still weak from your high. He grabs onto your hair as he ruts into you, continuing his hard pace against your body. “You like that?” he said, stroking your sore cock back to hardness. 

“Ye–yes, fuck,” you moaned. 

Matt was at the edge of the bed, soothing your hair as he peppered kisses all over your face. The bed creaked as Frank humped you, veins popping across his arms as his grip on you tightened, you’re sure it would leave marks. He pulled out, leaving you to gasp from the sudden lack of fullness. He sits back on the headboard of your bed, legs sprawled as he gestures for you to ride him. You mount yourself on his hardness, sitting on his thick and hairy thighs. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, his erection coming back from the sight of you two. 

“Take it like a good boy,” Frank praises. You hold onto his chest as you feel the hardness enter you, some of Matt’s cum leaking out. You take Frank’s lips, you now realize how abrasive his stubble was. You move your hips around and around, Frank lets out curses here and there. He pulls your head back, littering your neck with more marks, his fingers find your nipples, teasing them to draw out more moans from you.

Franks sees Matt on the side, his hard already leaking precum just from watching you take Frank’s cock. He calls for Matt to come to you two, to join back in. You feel Matt’s fingertips on your skin, your body is now so filled with stimulation, his mere touch driving you wild. You feel his erection on your back, his lips attached to your shoulders. He takes his leaking cock and presses into your hole, the size alongside Frank’s was a tight fit, your breathing quickens from all the pressure. The two men made sure to guide you and praise you as you take both of their lengths. 

You cry out from the sensation. Frank takes your lips to stifle your cries, tears fall from your eyes as your tongues touch, and Matt inches to join your kiss. The three of you kiss into the pain, The two men slowly moving inside you. The pressure was so intense but the arousal overcame, your sex was so hard, leaking so much into Frank’s abdomen. They start to thrust, Matt could feel his sensitive frenulum rub on Frank’s, it made his eyes roll back, his senses overflowing. 

All of you reeked of sex, the sounds of slapping skin and wet tongues fighting for dominance against the grunts and moans. The constant rocking was making the bed hit the wall, the mattress moved as if there were an earthquake. You were all covered in sweat, hair sticking onto skin, Hands gripping the wooden headboard, fingertips roaming skin, and tongues lashing on each other. 

Everything felt like a blur to you, you were being rocked back and forth like a playground swing, your core sore from the fucking, and there were pairs of hands all over you touching your most sensitive spots. You could feel the climax, creeping into your body tingling your coccyx to the highest peak of your spine. You felt their erratic thrusts, Frank was a groaning mess under you, his neck all red and his face flushed. Matt was a noisy mess on your ear, cursing and calling your name like a prayer, his arm wrapped around your waist as he fucked. 

You were at your peak, arousal overflowed from your body into theirs. Their cum filling into you. You all yelped out in pleasure as you rode your highs. Frank dug his hands into your thighs as Matt hid his forehead on your shoulder, rutting their fill into you. The next few minutes came to you in flashing lights, like fireworks spraying colored lights all over the room. 

You woke up the next day to two heavy bodies at your sides. Matt’s arms around your waist with your head resting on Frank’s chest. All of you reeked of sweat and cum. As you turned you saw Matt’s eyes flutter, his long lashes flicking as his golden eyes beamed under the sunlight. 

“Sorry about last night,” he whispered. 

“Why? I had fun,” you said, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. 

“You sure?” he said, as he rubbed his thumbs on your cheeks. 

“Pretty sore but nothing a pain reliever won’t fix,” you said. 

“I guess you’re right, making out fixes everything,” Frank said, his voice deeper. He joins you and Matt, pressing kisses all over your shoulders. Matt takes this as a sign to kiss you all over your neck, their hands snaking all over your body. “What’s good for breakfast around here?” Frank said in between kisses.

“There’s a good diner across the street,” Matt said, leaving soothing kisses on the marks they left on your neck. Your body was so sore and painful, but these men made sure to make it up to you. You woke up last night to them cleaning you up, Matt wiping you with a damp cloth and Frank rummaging through your closet to grab something for you to wear. Despite their rough lifestyles, they made sure you were taken care of. Maybe a little less pain and suffering next time though. 

“But first,” you said, pulling away from them.” Shower.” 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[cyxnidx]

LET ME ADORN YOU !

character: pantalone

genre: smut

warnings: body worship, that one thing where people compare you to a god..? i cant remember what its called ims orru

a/n: i adore the idea of Pantalone adoring us like omfgsjdhehhe (its been a long day so any mistakes pleass ignkre, i may or may not be borderline drunk rn)

"oh, dear." you heard your husbands voice, his tone breathy as you felt his gloved hands glide across your body. "i'd like to touch you, but.." he sighed, eyes meeting yours. "i feel even that would be a sin."

his eyes trail down your body once again. "i've done a lot in my lifetime, all without a second thought, or even no thought at all. however, when it comes to you.." he trails off. "..you; you make me want to stop for a moment. to contemplate my current decision - any next decision concerning you."

pantalone admired you deeply. not only for the fact that you were one of the few to catch his genuine attention, or to even make him stop for a moment, to stop his world from spinning, but also because your body mesmerized him.

almost to the point of obsession.

"i feel a bit odd saying this, almost like it's something dottore would say, but.." he paused for a moment. "..i feel it'd be only right of me to ask permission. to purify myself before doing such a thing - i feel it'd be necessary." he states. "i feel that even my gloves shouldn't be able to touch such a delicate surface such as your skin."

you bring your hands to his face, kissing his forehead softly. moving from his face and down to his hands, you removed his gloves and place his now bare hands ontop of you. "there's not a need for such a thing."

a smile began to etch itself onto pantalones face. a smile you recognized, yet still so vague you couldn't determine the true meaning behind it - was he manic, or was he mad?

"so divine.." he runs his cold hands along your side, kissing your forehead softly. "..such a blessing, you are." he moves down to your cheeks, jawline and collarbone whilst his hands mess with the hems of your waist band of your bottoms.

lightly, he grabs at your thighs, waist and hips. he moves to kiss what seems to be every inch of skin in the surrounding areas. "god, i love you." he'd mumble against your skin. "i adore you.. i adorn every inch of skin on your body, i have a desire to relish in your presence forever, for as long as my heart beats."

occasionally biting, he'd move to your chest and lick at your nipples for a moment before continuing his small kisses against your plush skin. "so perfect, so delicious.." he kisses your lips, eyes fluttering closed as he does so.

"a god must've sculpted you.." he tells you, moving toward your ears, whispering in a honey smooth voice. "and instead of being a bit selfish with you, unlike myself, he decided to gift me with you." he nibbles on the cartilage lightly. "..and i'm glad he did."

his fingers diligently pull your bottoms down all together while his lips dance with yours, a groan coming from his mouth when he feels even more of your warmth that was hidden under your clothes.

"goodness, darling." he almost pouts. "tell me, why haven't i began taking your clothes off quicker.."

[batfamtv]

“i’m a man now”

ethan landry x fem!reader (reader in her 20s)

warnings: age gap (ethan is 18, reader is in her 20s), power dynamics, mommy kink, no sex

a/n: based on this tiktok that awakened something in me

—

ethan usually hangs out at your place now, ever since you moved out he would just invite himself over. he even has some clothes there, and his parents trust you so much that they would even let you know that he’s coming over. so when you get home to find quinn, tara, chad, and mindy there on ethan’s birthday, along boxes of pizza and several cans of beer, you’re not too surprised. of course he was gonna celebrate it here, and you have to apologize to him too because the game console you ordered for him isn’t arriving today.

sam is hurriedly pulling them out now, turning to you with an exasperated smile. “hey y/n,” she greets, “just taking these kids home.”

“drive safe!” you wave at them as you lock the door behind you, now thinking about how you’re sure you’re gonna take care of your own drunk little ethan. you find him seated on the couch, his temple resting on his fist as he leans on the side of it, watching you.

“had a fun party?” you ask, plopping down next to him.

he doesn’t say anything, just smiles at you. he leans closer, and you know that he’ll start to get all cuddly, like he always is whenever he’s drunk.

but before you can process it, you feel his lips on yours. they’re soft and inexperienced, but when you don’t move, ethan moves closer and kisses you more, now getting your lips to open against him. you hear him groan, feeling your lips wet from his saliva.

“ethan,” you pull away from him, still in shock. this boy just…kissed you. the same one you babysat all those years ago. if you remember even further back, you also remember playing with him before you hit your teenage years.

he smiles at you dreamily, licking his lips, “i’ve wanted to do that since i was 13.” he gaze moves to your lips, and before he can dive back in, you stand up.

“no,” you tell him, “you’re drunk. get some rest and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

strong hands grab your waist, making you stand between his thighs. the look ethan gives you is almost sinful…lustful. he’s so tall and even in this position, with you standing in front of him, he only needs to tilt his head back a little. “i didn’t drink anything,” he whispers. hot, heavy breaths making your nipples pebbles underneath your shirt. his hands now fly to your tits, groping them.

“fuck,” you close your eyes, trying not to moan as his thumbs graze your nipples.

“fuck,” ethan inhales, pupils dilated that his eyes almost look completely black, before he stands up and grabs you into a kiss.

your surprised gasp gives him the opportunity to slide his tongue inside.

ethan moans when his tongue touches yours, flicking around your mouth desperately. he ruts his hardened cock against your stomach, and you moan at the feel of his jeans and his bulge against you. knowing that he’s so tall his cock is grinding against your tummy.

he slips his hands under your shirt, moaning into your mouth when he feels your tits. he breaks away from you.

“i wanna suck on your tits, momma,” ethan whispers, “will you let me suck on your titties?”

your hand cups his bulge, and he whimpers into your mouth.

“let’s go to the bedroom,” you tell him, “and you can suck on my tits all your like.”

his cock twitches against your hand and he pulls you towards the bedroom.

—

ik im gonna get flamed for this hence why i used this account i havent opened in forever lol