#isn’t satisfied until you’re dripping down his wrist

[evergreen-endo]

chika will take any opportunity to put his fingers inside you

[hoshifighting]

        vernon + food play

— vernon doesn't waste food, and there was whipped cream left over from the strawberry cake your two were baking

WARNINGS: +18, smut, nipple play, food play, fingering, eating strawberries, smut under the cut.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you’ve never been one for patience, and vernon knows it. hell, he’s probably counting on it right now,

given the way he’s watching you, slow as ever, sitting at the edge of the bed while you’re lying there like a damn buffet. two perfect mounds of whipped cream on your nipples, and his eyes haven’t left them since he put them there, a quiet little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it.

“you wanna strawberry?” his voice is soft, teasing, and you narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks heating up even though this isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself spread out for him like this. something about how casual he is, like this is an everyday thing, gets to you every time. the lightest tap of your hand against his shoulder makes him laugh, low and lazy, before he picks up a strawberry, holding it between his lips, waiting for you.

you nod, biting down just as he inches closer. the burst of sweetness hits your tongue, but all you can focus on is the heat of his breath as he leans in closer, licking a trail of whipped cream off your breast like he’s savoring every second of it. “fuck,” you murmur, body tensing under his touch. he’s slow, too slow, the way his tongue swirls around the peak of your nipple, lapping up the cream until there’s nothing left but the warm wetness of his mouth, lips wrapping around your sensitive skin.

"you taste good, baby," he mutters, his fingers tracing light patterns down your stomach, making you squirm. his voice drips with amusement, like he’s enjoying your reactions way too much, knowing exactly what he’s doing. his hand slides lower, fingertips brushing between your thighs, and your breath hitches, hips lifting involuntarily towards his touch.

“vernon,” you groan, impatient as ever, but he just laughs again, his fingers dipping between your folds, finding you soaked and desperate. “i swear to god im already so, if you don’t—” your words cut off with a gasp as he presses a finger inside, slowy, like he’s testing how far he can push you before you lose it.

“relax, babe,” he mumbles, his mouth returning to your chest, licking up the remaining cream, tongue flicking over your nipples until you’re a mess of whimpers beneath him. his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shudder, and you can barely keep still, your legs trembling, his name slipping from your lips repeatedly.

he adds another finger, pumping in and out of you, and your hands fist into the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but it’s no use. the pressure’s building too fast, too strong, and you can feel yourself melting. “fuck, vernon—i’m close.”

“i know,” he says, smug as hell, lips ghosting over your belly now, his fingers working you faster, his other thumb circling your clit in time with each thrust. you’re shaking, thighs clamping around his wrist, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. his eyes lock onto yours, and you love how he holds the gaze as your whole body tenses, and the next thing you know, you’re crying out, back arching off the bed, your orgasm swiping you from your feet, making you squeeze his forearm that continues pumping you.

you’re panting, barely able to catch your breath, and yet he doesn’t let up, his fingers still moving, milking every last drop of your cum until you’re squirming away, too sensitive, too much. but then he leans down, his tongue tracing a line over your belly, licking up the remnants of the whipped cream like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“holy shit,” you breathe, still coming down from the high, your body still shaking.

he smirks, clearly satisfied with himself, and leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “want more whipped cream, or you done?”

“we still have it?” your eyes shine slightly.

“actually no, but i can definitely buy some more down the street.” he raises up, ready to do it if you say yes.

[gojonanami]

DESSERT BEFORE DINNER ☆ SATORU GOJO

☆ summary: satoru can't wait to have you until you get back from the sister school event, so he convinces you to have "dessert" before dinner. ☆ cw: 18+ only, smut, semi-exhibitionism, bathroom sex, fingering( afab!receiving), oral (afab!receiving), jealousy , god complex gojo, reader is a follow sorcerer at jujutsu tech. ☆ wc: 1,230

“Satoru, we can’t-“ your sentence is cut off as he slips another finger into your dripping cunt. 

“Your pussy seems to disagree,” and his lips curl upwards, satisfied with his work, your messy cunt was weeping all over his fingers, “you’re practically sucking me in,” he groans at the nasty wet sounds his fingers made as they slid in and out, “do you want my dick that badly, sweetheart?” 

“Satoru,” you whine, as his fingers drag down your walls teasing you open, as more of your cum drips down his fingers and onto his wrist. He leans over and licks it off, “we don’t have time for you to get in all your teasing,” you’re looking at the locked door to the bathroom, hearing the faint footsteps of people walking by, “someone could find us,” 

It didn’t help that you were in the middle of a dinner event for after the sister school event, where Satoru had plied you with sweet words and wandering touches, away into a not nearly remote enough bathroom. 

But the strongest sorcerer looks far too unconcerned, with his shit eating grin, as he slips his fingers from you, leaving you empty only for a moment, “thank you for the meal,” he smiles cheekily, before his mouth is lapping at your lips, and he’s not bothering to be gentle or quiet, messily slurping at your pussy and clit, “you’re practically gushing,” he remarks, and you can feel his smirk against your skin, “not that I’m complaining,” he presses one last kiss to your puffy clit. 

“Satoru,” you’re whining now, as he does his belt, buckle clacking as he does, making you lean against the sink, his hands spreading you for him to look at, “hurry up and-“ 

And he slips into you in one movement, splitting you open, as you barely stop yourself from your head hitting the mirror, instinctively covering your mouth to hold back your moans — but Satoru isn’t having any of that. 

He pins your hands with one hand, stopping his movements, “Not having you hold back your beautiful sounds now, can I baby? I want to hear just how good I’m making you feel,” he’s kissing your neck, as he rolls his hips into harshly, making your walls tighten around him, “gotta make sure all those men out there that were ogling you know who you belong to,”

“Is this all because you’re jealous?” You almost laugh, but he rolls his hips into you again, ripping a moan from your mouth. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this,” he grunts, his thrusts nearly pistoning in and out of you, “walking around in this sundress that shows enough but nothing at all, you knew what it did to me, and you wanted to end up here under me,” and he’s pulling out to flip you around so you can see yourself in the bathroom mirror, “look at you, so pliant under my touch,” 

And then you hear voices outside the bathroom trying to turn the knob, and he slows for a moment, hearing men’s laughter, he starts to roll his hips, “Fuck-“ you yelp, as he seems to fuck you impossibly harder, “Satoru,” you hiss. 

“Let them hear how good I fuck my baby,” he grins in the mirror, and it makes you grow tighter, and it doesn’t escape his notice, “fuck, you trying to keep this dick inside you, sweetheart? I know it’s good, but I’ll fuck you anytime, you don’t have to keep it,” and you moan his name, “that’s it, keep fucking moaning my name, make them wish that they can see you like this,” and he’s cupping your chin, forcing you to see yourself fucked out, his dick going in and out of you, all spread out, mouth partially open, “maybe I’ll fuck you out there, let them see what they can never have, eat you out as my dinner course and dessert,” 

“Satoru,” you groan, as his hand slips down to your neck, squeezing lightly, as your pleasure begins to climb, the thought of people hearing you slipping further and further away, “more, please,” 

He laughs, almost melodically, “and my innocent girl wants more? After asking me to stop,” and he hums in mock contemplation, “maybe we should stop,” and he starts to slow just as you’re starting to approach your peak, “go back to the party,” 

“T-toru, please,” and he’s pulling out, teasing you with his tip, letting his pre-cum drag and mix against with your cum, “please I need you,” 

“Do you?” He kisses your neck, his teeth grazing against your pulse, “you can get any of those men out there to please you, can't you?” 

And you’re shaking your head, “No I need you, just you, no one would compare,” you’re almost blathering, until he captures your lips again. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” and he’s almost slipping into you again, his tip parting your sloppy folds, as you gasp.

“I’m yours, just yours, please I need you, Satoru—“ you’re nearly begging, pleading for him to fuck you, and you moan as he thrusts you again, splitting you open as he does, “Satoru, my god,” 

“You don’t have to call me god, baby, just Satoru is fine,” and you can’t even roll your eyes, too lost in the pleasure he’s giving you. 

“Close - ‘m close,” you manage, before he’s catching your lips in a sloppy kiss, his fingers slipping down to your clit, “fuck—“ 

“Come for me baby, I need you to scream my name,” and you do as he says, coming hard and fast, slick around his dick only makes him fuck you harder through your orgasm, “come on my perfect girl I need one more from you,” 

“‘Toru,” you don’t get a break as your orgasm just starts to build into another, as his balls slap against you, as he sinks into you deeper and deeper. 

“Fuck, can’t wait to cum in this cunt, made me for me and only me,” he’s groaning, “can’t wait to walk out of this bathroom, you dripping with my cum inside you, sticky and wet, and fucked out, gonna fuck it inside you again in the car ride home, and then have you suck out the rest of my cock,” his hips begin to stutter as you crest once again, about to cum, “gonna cum baby,” 

And you do as he does, fucking you through his orgasm, beginning to slow. He lingers inside you as you two come down from your high, and soon he’s kissing you, your lips, your neck, your collarbone, “My good fucking girl,” he purrs, as he eases out of you, and he groans, watching his cum slip out of you as it does, fucked out, his dick covered in your slick. 

You’re not used to the emptiness before his fingers begin collecting his cum and pushing it back inside you, “Toru,” you whine, as he slips two fingers in with ease, and he’s grinning. 

“Just a moment sweetheart, just got to make sure it stays in there,” and he slips out just as he pulls your underwear back into place, and he’s helping to clean you up, pressing a kiss to your thigh, as you look down at him, leaning your back against the sink now, a dangerous glint in his eyes, “I have to make good on that promise, now don’t I?”

☆ a/n: so this just emerged from my mind after watching the first few episodes of season 2 and starting to read the manga. gojo would absolutely love to do something like this. though he def prefers having you in private :)

[slowd1ving]

[FANTASMAS] SNIPPET ゜・BLADE NSFW

clawing the walls pt.2

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

“Care— careful,” you breathe unsteadily as he lines himself up, sinking his sharp teeth into your shoulder lightly. “You wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression that you actually like me now.”

And there’s something vulnerable in your tone: a small self-deprecation. He tries ignoring it. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, grasping your warm hand in his own calloused, frigid one. “Wouldn’t want that.”

But his tone is insincere, and he thinks you can tell. 

Somehow. 

Somehow. 

Maybe it’s futile to believe you understand him, yet your piercing eyes and annoyed glare as you look at him are always surface-level: angry but still not resolving to actually move out. You were the one who figured out his intentions from the beginning—irritating you until you simply left—while the other roommates just shivered and slammed the door behind them. 

You stayed. 

He’s been kissing you over and over and over—and he kisses you again now as he slowly sinks into the tight heat of your hole. Fuck. Perhaps if his head was clearer, he’d think about the implications of kissing you in particular when he hasn’t touched lips with anyone else for years. 

He whines lowly as he pushes in deeper. You’re so damn warm—so gorgeous like this: palms splayed against his shoulders, expression all hazy and fucked-out, lips so inviting he has to put his mouth on yours yet again. 

“Fuck,” you hiss into his lips as he bottoms out. It takes all his self-restraint to not cum immediately, adjusting to just how good you feel. 

You cant your hips so you’re rocking back onto him with a satisfied hum. The motion wrangles a moan out of him, but he desperately grips your waist with his strong fingers so you quit moving. 

“Hold on,” he slurs, rubbing small circles on the flesh with his thumbs. He’s throbbing, teeth caught on his lips to keep his mind clear. Shit. To be so close already makes him feel like a virgin again: sensitive at the slightest touch. You seem to be so damn full of surprises. 

“What, surprised it feels like this?” You sound amused, and he looks at you irritably. 

“Yeah,” he leans down and practically moans into your ear, rolling his hips against your plush ass. You shiver slightly, and his lips split wide in a mocking grin at the effect the sound had. 

“You feel so good,” he whines, deliberately dragging out the noise. “Taste so good too.”

“Mmh–” you cover your mouth as he begins moving properly now—yet still so teasingly slow. 

He catches your wrist with a firm hand, gripping it tightly against the bed so he can hear you properly.

“What’s wrong? Surprised—hah—it feels like this?” He throws your words back at you, but it’s not like he’s doing much better. It’s taking everything within him to not just fill you up: letting his cum drip out of you while he stuffs it back in. The thought darkens his red face even further. 

You don’t answer. It’s only natural that he moves agonisingly slow—probing for an answer while his fingers busy themselves by wrapping around your weeping cock, achingly rubbing from shaft to base with a sticky shick-shick noise. 

“I gave you an answer,” he mocks, ignoring the tightness in his stomach when gazing at your teary eyes. So pretty. 

Wordlessly, your free hand that isn’t pinned by Blade trails from his scalp to his nape—and you pull him into you so your lips meet his, scorchingly so. 

“Ngh–” he groans into the kiss, practically feeling his climax build up. He forces it down—too preoccupied in filling you up at the right time, not now. 

“Aeons,” he mutters as he pulls away, and there’s a grin on your lips he wants to wipe off. 

“Does that count?”

He lost this time, but the sight is worth it. 

With a greedy pang of his heart, he pulls his pelvis back until just his shaft remains hooked in your walls—your eyes widen, and this time it’s his turn to smile. 

He slams back in, and the long moan you let out is almost angelic. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you sob out as he drills into you over and over; tacky skin meets tacky skin with a perverted plap-plap, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so euphoric. 

He can feel it on his face: an adoring, almost fanatic look hazing his once-clear red eyes. 

And still I’d wait, Styx cradling me in its miasma.

He wants you.

[dwellinginsilence]

Just my favorite screenshot of this guy. 🔞Under the line is my version of Sebastian's NSFW Alphabet. MDNI🔞 divider by @cafekitsune

❤️‍🩹A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) His main concern is you, especially when he’s been particularly rough and needy. He gets you water and makes sure you drink it. He massages your shoulders and back, rubs lotion into your wrists (or wherever there may be some kind of rope burn).  After that, if you’re not too sleepy, he’ll prepare a bath for you where he cleans you. When it’s time for sleep, he wraps you in a warm blanket, curls up next to you, and plays with your hair until you fall asleep, refusing to sleep until you do. The entire time he presses soft kisses to anywhere he can reach and praises you for doing so well. 

👤B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) His favorite part of his body is his hands. They’ve always been sensitive since he plays music. Since they’re so sensitive, touching, even the simplest of ways, stimulates him (not just sexually). He loves touching you everywhere, all the time, and constantly has his hands in your hair.  If asked, he’d tell people he loves your hips. They’re wide and soft and he loves digging his fingers into your flesh when he mounts you. They also bring out a possessive desire to get you pregnant (whether or not you both want children). In reality, his favorite part of your body is the sweet spot between your neck and shoulder. Every time he hugs you, he automatically buries his nose in that spot. He can smell your scent strongest there and feel your pulse which brings him peace. He also loves your eyes because you can’t hide your feelings and he loves your lips because…and your hands…he could go on and on and on….

💦C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He loves making you cum and he strives for multiple orgasms every time and isn’t satisfied until you’ve cum at least twice. Making you squirt is his favorite even if it doesn’t happen nearly often enough, it makes him feral.  Cumming inside you is his favorite, although he won’t turn down anything. He gets off on watching his cum leak from you. It shows he owns you (but you own him just as much and he’s the first to admit it)-which connects to his…

🤐D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) After he cums inside you and gets his fill of watching it drip out, he likes going down on you. Tasting himself on your sex is the ultimate show of his ownership of you. 

🔢E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He doesn’t have much experience before you, at most a couple make out sessions with some clumsy fondling. He remembers how much his father doted on his mother and promised himself he wouldn’t have sex with someone until he felt like that.  With that being said, he listened to older boys talk and eavesdropped on girls whispering in the corners and read not only anatomy books but romance novels, so he doesn’t have practical knowledge but he uses what he’s gathered and listens to you. 

🧘🏻‍♀️F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) It’s a hard choice because he loves watching your face when you come undone, but he’d have to say doggy style. The depth he reaches, the way he can hold your hips for leverage, how hard he can pound into you, and the sounds you make…it all makes for a very heady combination. 

🃏G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Sebastian’s greatest joy is seeing you laugh and smile, besides he’s naturally mischievous, so as serious as sex is because he’s serious about you, he likes having fun, not to mention he loves the way your body tightens around him when you laugh while he’s inside you. 

💈H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Groomed neatly, not completely shaved. The idea of a razor so close makes him uneasy.  On you, he doesn’t care. He wants you comfortable and he’s infatuated no matter what. 

❤️‍🔥I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) His greatest concern in everything is you. Regardless of his playful nature, you’re his love so he always makes sure you’re comfortable and never does anything too harshly. Even when he is rough, he leaves little kisses where he can reach and praises you.  As far as other times, he’s a toucher. It’s his love language and he really likes to show you his love. Between cuddles, nuzzles, hand holding, and (his favorite) big hugs he’s always being physically intimate.

✊🏻J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Before he found you, it was something he did regularly, usually not imagining anyone specific, but the general shape and feel. He’s a Victorian man, respecting women has been pounded into him. Besides, he has a sister, and he’d be most displeased to know someone thought of her that way so he can’t bring himself to do that. Until he meets you because no matter how hard he tries to think of anything else, you’re there, always. Once you become intimate, he rarely does it unless you’re watching because he’s much rather be inside you. 

⛓️K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He doesn’t embarrass easily but it takes him a while to share his kinks and fantasies with you. Being a Victorian man, he feels like anything other than utmost respect isn’t loving to you. But he has a dark side, even if he tries to hide it. So when you confide you like how it hurts when he holds your hips too tight when he loses control and you wonder how it might feel for him to spank you, he loosens the strings on his own secrets.  He never wants to harm you, but breath play fascinates him and he thinks he’d like both of you to try it. Whether or not he likes it, if you do then he’ll keep doing it.  He likes tying you up, not just wrists behind your back, but full body rope. He feels like a kid on Christmas morning getting to open the present he’s been waiting all year for.  And his most secret kink, that he takes a long time to divulge and still isn’t even sure he wants to indulge in, is his friends watching you two. As much as he’s loathe for another man to see you naked, it ties in with his desire to own you and there’s no mistaking you’re his if everyone can see him claim you. 

🌍L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Other than his fantasy of his friends watching, he isn’t much of an exhibitionist, but there’s something about taking you in the Restricted Section of the library in Hogwarts that gets him going every time he thinks about it. And when you're exploring caves and what not, he gets worked up fighting by your side. Watching you fight and be violent makes him rather impatient to have you. Otherwise, a bedroom. He likes taking his time and doesn’t want to be rushed because you’re doing it in public areas. 

👍🏻M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) You. He doesn’t need more than that. But your laugh does get him hotter than anything else. And seeing that look in your eye that tells him if he bent you over he’d find you wet already. 

🚫N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) NonCon even Consensual NC is a no go.  The second “no”, “don’t”,  “stop”, or anything similar comes out of your mouth he’s done and he’ll be hard pressed to touch you at all for the rest of the day. Growing up abused he often felt helpless and even though his abuse wasn’t sexual, it’s too close in his mind and he won’t subject you to it.  Feet and all body fluids and excrement (except sexual ones) are turn offs. He just can’t get his head into that space.   No multiples. You’re his, he’s yours. Period. There’s no chance he’ll let anyone come into your bed. 

👄O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Loves it. All of it. All the time.  He doesn’t usually like to cum in your mouth for previous reasons, but he loves you going down on him for a little while. Watching you take his entire length makes him dizzy every time. If he does finish in your mouth, before you swallow he likes to see it.  Going down on you may be his favorite thing. The noises you make are unlike any others and he loves the way you pull his hair. On top of that he loves the way you smell and taste and knowing it’s all for him makes it even better. 

💨P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) There’s a time and place for everything and he’s incredibly in tune to your needs, so as long as he gets inside you he doesn’t care how you need it. If you have no need that day, his personal choice is usually fast and hard. Not because he doesn’t like to savor or feel every sensation but he is usually out of patience by the time he gets inside you. 

⏳Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) As mentioned before, he’s not huge into quickies. He likes taking his time with you and some of his kinks and fantasies need time. Sometimes if it’s been a while since he’s had you or if you look particularly tempting in the morning and he doesn’t have time, between classes or lunch he’ll take a quickie to get him through the rest of the day. Usually they don’t satiate his hunger and he’s even more ravenous by the time evening comes. 

‼️R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Other than the library and his fantasy in front of his friends he isn’t into public sex.  He’s up for trying anything at least once (except for his few hard limits). If you want it, he’ll do it even if it’s not his favorite.

👟S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He refuses to cum before you. He just won’t. Once he does, he’s perfectly content to continue pleasuring you. And it usually doesn’t take him long to get ready for the next round. If you’re up for it, he’ll be ready. 

🪀T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Not a huge fan of toys. He likes to be the one pleasing you. He does enjoy light bondage, so he has a variety of ropes. But even for spanking he’d rather feel the sting in his hand than use a paddle. 

🥺U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He rarely teases. He wants you to cum and he wants you to cum a lot. If anything, he enjoys overstimulating you. 

📢V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He’s a damn animal. He likes hearing you so he doesn’t shy away from letting you know what you do to him. He moans, growls, hisses, constantly praises you and whispers absolute filth in your ear. The louder, the better. 

❓W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Dirty talk gets him off. He loves getting dirty notes left for him. Or a quick “I can’t wait to feel your cock deep inside me,” as you pass each other. The first time you said “cunt” he lost his damn mind.  On the opposite side of the spectrum, he may enjoy calling you a dirty slut while he’s buried inside you, but afterward you’re his beautiful girl and he loves you. He is forever telling you how good you are and how proud he is, how you impress him, make him fall all over again. When he’s not actively trying to make you cum he worships you. 

🩻X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Freckles, everywhere. They used to embarrass him until you spent an entire night trying to kiss each one. He’s tall, but he isn’t lean. Being a beater while at Hogwarts toned his body and his career keeps him in the same shape (unless he’s a professor, but then he enjoys helping the Slytherin team practice and likes to beat bludgers when he’s had a rough day).

💗Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Constantly. He’s always ready for you. Even when he was younger, he was easily aroused. You may not be able to have sex as frequently as you’d like with crazy life but all you need to do is whisper his name and he’s ready. 

🛏️Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He’s makes sure your taken care of, so he won’t fall asleep until you do, but then he’s out quickly and sleeps like the dead. 

divider by @cafekitsune

NSFW Alphabet

❤️‍🩹A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

👤B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

💦C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

🤐D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

🔢E = Experience (how experienced are they?)

🧘🏻‍♀️F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

🃏G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

💈H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

❤️‍🔥I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

✊🏻J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

⛓️K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

🌍L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

👍🏻M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

🚫N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

👄O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

💨P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

⏳Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

‼️R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

👟S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

🪀T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

🥺U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

📢V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

❓W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

🩻X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

💗Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

🛏️Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

[wistfulenchantress]

ok i was doing a writing exercise for my fantasy novel (as in it is a fantasy that it will ever be an actual novel) and i wanted to develop the father (villain)’s character so i created his grandfather, Silas Grey senior. but i don’t like him so i just really wanted to give a fictional reader a reason to hate the bloodline. so i created Artemis and Jenna, a tragic love story with a bittersweet ending. tw for gore/violence/death/blood. anyway, here is this short story i wrote :)

Jenna is gone. “Nothing could fix this.” The desperation has left Artemis’s voice and is replaced with a broken whisper. She isn’t saying it to anyone, she is just saying it. Letting that last shred of hope leave her body, so the remaining shell can continue on somehow, until it is no longer necessary for it to do so.

She falls to her knees on the stony ground.

She barely even feels the dagger as Silas Grey pushes it into her stomach.

She barely even sees his wicked smile, as he stands and leaves her there alone.

She dimly realizes there was a lot of red on her hands.

She is vaguely aware of the fact that she is probably about to die.

‘Oh well,’ she thinks.

Her vision starts to blur, and she slumps sideways, her head hitting the stony ground. She notices a lot more blood spilling out of her stomach. A bit dripping out her mouth, as well.

“Artemis!”

She retains consciousness for just long enough to see the dead girl with tears shining in her eyes, and then it all went away.

—

Jenna gasps at the sight of Artemis, fallen to her side, her back turned. “Artemis!” she calls desperately. She runs around, and a scream escapes her lips as she sees the dagger, embedded in her stomach.

She locks eyes with Artemis briefly, but then the girl’s eyes slip closed, and her figure slumps even further down. Jenna falls to her knees, her mouth hanging open, with no sound but a whispered ‘no’ managing to escape.

Jenna traces Artemis’s face with her hand, brushing some hair out of her face, and a shaky breath escapes Artemis’s lips.

That shifts something in Jenna, and she starts screaming again, grabbing Artemis’s shoulders. “Artemis! Wake up! Please, gods, wake up.”

She lifts her head into her lap, and Artemis blinks slowly. “Artemis,” Jenna whispers, tears pouring down her face.

“Jen?” Artemis croaks. Jenna nods, sobbing and stroking her cheek. Artemis brings a shaking hand to rest over Jenna’s, blood smearing across Jenna’s wrist.

“I’m here,” Jenna manages, sobbing.

“Why are you sad? This is a happy time.” Artemis attempts to sit up, but winces and sinks back onto Jenna’s lap.

“Why, love?”

“You’re not gone. I thought…” Artemis’s eyes glaze over.

“I’m right here. Please stay with me,” Jenna begs, jostling the girl, and wincing as more blood pours out the wound.

Shit!

Jenna pulls herself out from under Artemis. This wakes the girl, whose eyes meet hers, panicked. “Don’t leave,” she manages to whisper. Jenna breaks a bit more inside. “I won’t. I can’t, I’m not going anywhere. I just have to look at the wound. I promise.”

Artemis looks satisfied at this, and Jenna edges her way over to the dagger. It’s not good. She pulls her jacket off, trying to wrap it around the wound. “Arty, I have to pull the dagger out. Please stay with me.” Jenna grabs Artemis’s hand, limp in hers. She chokes on another sob.

She pulls the dagger out, and pushes the jacket into the wound, trying to stop the flow. Her hands are dripping at this point, and she almost laughs. She ties the jacket off, and looks back at Artemis’s face. Her eyes are closed. “No! You have to wake up!”

Artemis doesn’t respond. Jenna pulls her up, holding her desperately against her chest, one hand tangled in her hair. “Jenna,” she hears, Artemis whispering in her ear. She gasps, pulling back to look at Artemis. Her eyes are alert, darting around.

“You’re going to be fine,” Jenna tells her.

Artemis smiles shakily, her trembling hand on Jenna’s cheek now. “Please don’t forget me.”

“Never,” Jenna cries, “I couldn’t. I love you.”

“I…” Artemis’s eyes slip closed again.

“Artemis! Please!”

Her eyes open again, glassy, and she opens her mouth. Jenna brings her ear to it, desperate to hear any more words before…

Artemis kisses her cheek lightly. “I love you, too, Jen.”

Jenna nods. “I know. I know, dear. Just stay with me, please, I need you. I need you.”

The weight of her head falls into Jenna’s hand, and they both sink into the ground, Jenna collapses over her chest, body wracked with silent sobs.

“It’s okay,” Artemis breathes out. Jenna looks at her as her eyes slide closed, and one last shaky breath escapes her lips.

Jenna stays with the body for a long time, unable to move, unable to accept the truth. She cries until she runs out of tears, and then she just screams. And when she is hoarse, she sits and stares.

Eventually, she stands. She takes Artemis into her arms, carrying the body with the utmost care.

She buries her next to a large oak tree. She finds Artemis’s killer, and he pays for what he did. She plants purple flowers at the grave, and talks to it for hours, or brings a book and reads, sitting under the tree. And, many years later, when she passes, she is buried next to the violet patch she loved so much.

History forgets them. Life moves on, but the violets keep growing. And when even the violets are gone, and the ground is beaten down by war and savagery, one day, a girl named Nyx and a girl named Vala finally work things out, where the violets used to grow.

[soapyghost]

could you write jealous ghost?

Absolutely~

This is in the same AU as my fic here. But like an alternate ending I guess? Or like maybe what Ghost thinks of the reader when he sees her? And written in second person. Enjoy this lil story of jealous ghost

——————————-

The minute you rushed through the kitchen doors into the bar Ghost set his eyes on you and knows that you will be his. The bustle and noise of the bar fades away until there is only…you. He watches you scan the sea of hot sweaty bodies as your eyes come to rest on his and he sees something change in your eyes. He watches you saunter over to your table in the back, impressed at how fast you move through the crowd of people. Except suddenly he can’t see you anymore, this flicks panic in his chest. What happened? Where did you go?

You re-emerge on another side of the bar and see that a man has his hand clamped down on your wrist, his wrist. You were his, you just didn’t know it yet. He watches how your face contorts into something mixed with displeasure and measured anger. This wasn’t something new to you, he notices, men overstepping boundaries. He sees your lips moving and you struggle to remove his iron grasp from your fragile wrist. But this man isn’t budging. No amount of protests from your lips are getting through his thick skull, but your hands might. Ghost glances around and sees his teammates deep in some argument about who has the best shot, and then back to the crowd seeing that nobody even notices that you’re being cornered. Simon stands up and shoves his way through the crowd to where this rat of a man has you cornered.

“Listen man, I really am not interested in you. Please let go of my wrist before I call security” Ghost finally hears your voice for the first time, he can hear the annoyance in your voice.

“Oh sweety nobody is gonna hear you” the man’s words were slurred and slow. Simon could tell he was hammered and would be no match for him. He slams both of his hands into the side of the man who is trapping you in the corner.

“You heard her, she isn’t interested in you” he huffs, barely holding back the anger. He sees you look up at him from the corner of his eyes. But he’s too focused on keeping some measure of composure so he doesn’t smash this man’s skull in right here in the bar.

“Who the fuck-“ begins the man but he stops dead in his tracks as he looks up on Ghosts hulking frame and skull mask. “Holy shit” he exclaims.

“Get the fuck out of here. If I ever see your face again, you won’t have one” Ghost snarls at him. The man gulps and nods as he flees from the bar. Simon, satisfied that the threat is gone turns to look at you, your mouth slightly agape. God how pretty you are, he thinks to himself. His gloved hand reaching up to close your jaw, you suddenly regain your composure. You put an arm on his bicep, “thank you. You really didn’t have to.” You say, sheepishly. He can see your cheeks flushed with embarrassment? Pleasure? Maybe a mix of the both.

“Anytime luv” he nods, and returns to his table. Knowing you’re following close behind.

When you both reach the table you can hear Johnny whistle. The whole 141 squad witnessed how Ghost was basically your shining armor.

“Aye lass, he doesn’t do that for just anyone” Johnny says.

“Shut it Johnny” Ghost sighs as he slides back into his seat. You introduce yourself and collect their drink orders before heading back to the bar. Once you’re out of earshot Soap pipes up “God, the things I would do to her. Amiright LT?” There’s a silence and then the sound of air forcibly coming out of Johnny. Ghost hit him square in the solar-plexus with just enough force to knock the wind out of him but not enough to actually hurt Soap. “Don’t you ever speak about her like that again” venom dripping from Ghosts voice.

[juneknight]

degradation kink + marc? thank u:’)

I’ve never written this kink before so I hope this is okay 😬 thank you!!

About this: Marc/fem!reader, probably light degradation, piv, restraints.

*

You tuck a finger beneath the last cuff around Marc’s wrist, testing the breathing room it would give him. Satisfied, you kneel back where you straddle his lower thighs and cast your eyes over his body: naked, tan, firm in all the right places and soft everywhere else. Your eyes fall to his cock. Very firm in some places, you think.

When your eyes meet Marc’s, you see the hint of smugness in them. Your own smirk vanishes. That won’t do at all.

“I’m only going to explain once, so try to follow along. I’ve made this as easy as I possibly can for you, baby. I want you quiet and still. I don’t need your hands or your mouth, don’t need you rutting away at me like an animal. All I need is for your cock to stay hard. That means no cumming. Is that too hard for you?”

He shakes his head, redness high in his cheeks. Between you, a drop of pearlescent pre-cum beads at the head of his cock.

You hum, doubtful.

Lifting yourself up, you shift until you can rest the head against your wet opening, smearing your slick along him.

“Maybe I shouldn’t even put you inside me,” you wonder out loud. Shifting your hips lets his shaft slide against the wet seam of you, dragging over your clit. “I could probably cum like this.”

Marc’s face twists at the thought. “No, please—“

Your movement stops. His teeth clench tight when he realizes he’s already broken your rules. You let out a mirthless laugh, shifting off of him. “I knew this would be too hard for you. You can’t even follow simple instructions. What’s so hard about being still and quiet?”

The question is a trap, one he manages to avoid. He stares at you with that expression he always makes when you talk down to him: eyes a little wet, angry, hectic. Desperate to please you, and hating the part of himself that thirsts for it.

Humming thoughtfully, you straddle his thighs again. This time you guide his cock inside of you; Marc isn’t the only one who thirsts.

“Just be a good cock for me, okay?” you whisper while slowly working him inside yourself. “Just like one of those plastic ones that I have in the closet.”

He takes a measured breath, eyes falling shut as your right warmth surrounds him. He nods without looking.

Finally you rest flush against his thighs, his cock buries as deeply as your body will allow. It’s a delicious fullness that borders on too much—but you aren’t complaining.

Then, instead of riding him, you reach down and begin rubbing circles around your clit. At your stillness, he opens his eyes, staring at your wet fingers as they caress your aching bud.

Beneath you, his thighs flex.

“Marc,” you warn, dragging his name out. His lips thin, jaw flexing. You soften your voice, trying a different tactic.

“Come on, just be a nice fat cock for me to fill myself up with. At least that’s something we know you’re good at.” Then, under your breath, you mutter: “Maybe the only thing you’re good at.”

He groans, forcing his head back against the pillows until his throat is bare to you. Inside you, his cock twitches and holy-fucking-shit, he cums.

“What the fuck, Marc,” you whisper, breathless. “That’s—holy shit, that’s so fucking hot—“

Marc groans, a grin blooming on his face. “You are so bad at this,” he teases.

You swat his chest, letting your thighs flex and lift you off his softening cock just to feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of you as he softens incrementally. “It goes against my instincts, to be mean to you; I’m doing my best!”

He thrusts his hips up. Even softening, he rubs against that spot inside you that makes your gut ache with pleasure. He lifts a brow. “Obviously, I like it.”

“Compelling evidence,” you breathe.

[elysianslove]

please use this ask to elaborate on mattsun’s dick <33

AH YES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING gotta do this before i start fasting lmfao.  this ended up being sadder than i thought, but it just ends up being kinda sweet and sorta hot. also this was way longer than i intended. post in reference.  

warnings; big dick mattsun, throwing up, pain kink (?), painful sex, insecurities, consensual taping  

okay remember when i mentioned the insecurity thing? let’s dive deeper into that; third years and mattsun are at some sleepover thing. it’s a little before graduation, and they don’t when they’ll see each other next, so they’re trying to make most of the time that’s left. the conversation progresses to sex, as it naturally does, and each of them admits some horrifying or embarrassing sex story. 

iwaizumi had sex with a girl who was extremely kinky and asked him to slap her, but— they don’t call him ace for no reason. 

oikawa lost his virginity to this girl and she started her period halfway through, but he was really young and didn’t realize that was something that could just happen? it wasn’t that he was immature about it. it was more that he fainted. 

hanamaki found out he was allergic to flavored condoms when he lost his virginity, and it was not fun. 

but then it was mattsun’s turn, and they’re all waiting for his embarrassing sex story, till he hits them with, “i’ve never had sex though,” and each and every one of their eyes bulge out of their heads. it’s the last thing they’d been expecting from him, from cool, suave, charming mattsun, but he continues to swear by it. and when they demand the reason — surely you’ve gotten the chance to before? — he admits it to them: “apparently my dick is too big.” and it’s comical to say out loud, because he’s only gotten with a handful of girls, barely any for it to be firm hypothesis. he thinks he’ll one day meet someone that doesn’t think it’s too big, it won’t fit, um i can give you a handjob, if that’s okay? 

all that evidently leads to a dick comparison, because how big can it really be? and once mattsun sees his best friends’ eyes widen at his hardened dick, it sinks in. shit, he really is big, isn’t he? 

“holy shit, mattsun,” makki says, and he’s bashful as he stares at his best friend’s dick. “how would that fit inside anyone?” and mattsun’s already growing soft, tucking his dick back in his pants and moving to wash his hands after kicking makki rightfully in the chest. 

college comes around, and he passes by a thousand girls crying about how the boy from last night’s dick was so small, ugh i wish i had an 8 inch, and the things i’d do to have my guts rearranged. he sees a little light in this tunnel of endless blue balling, and meets a girl, takes her back to his dorm with his lips biting at her neck and her hands fumbling with his belt. as soon as he falls onto the bed, as soon as she straddles him, naked, and moves to slip off his trousers, anxiety meets him halfway again, and he holds in a breath as she pulls at the hem of his pants and takes his boxers with her.

the gasp his half hardening cock pulls out of her is confusing. he can’t tell what to make out of it, but she spits on her palm and grips his hefty cock in her small palm, unable to have her fingertips meet. her eyes are wide, but she seems determined, even tilts her hips forward, but she resorts to, “can i just suck you off?” 

and mattsun thinks alright, that’s an upgrade. 

when she ends up throwing up because she underestimates his size and overestimates herself, mattsun offers her his bathroom to clean up, and grabs her a bottle of water as she leaves. 

he ends up losing his virginity to some masochist, and it’s not very memorable or anything he’d ever imagined it be. it sits high on his list of regrets: he cums way too early, and hurts the masochist too much for it to be enjoyable in any way. but he texts the old third year groupchat and types in “i lost my virginity 😎” and receives the praise he had expected. 

for months to come, he fucks his fist every other night to amateur porn and watches as some camgirls’ cunts swallow inches and inches of plastic cock. he hooks up with some girls only to have them sit on his face and kitten lick at the head of his cock. some swallow a little bit of his cock, some fondle at his balls, but none ever let him fuck them. oikawa sends him links for sex toys, and mattsun feels as pathetic as ever, but he buys a fleshlight anyways and finds purchase in how tight it feels around his cock, how wet and slippery it is, how it properly milks him dry. makki meets him during a break and offers to suck his dick for him, but mattsun flips him off and kicks at his stomach again. 

it’s during his third year that he meets you. 

you’re sweet and charming, , and you have pretty hair, and he likes your style, and you laugh at his stupid jokes. you call him handsome, and you call him pretty, and you compliment his hair when it’s at its curliest. you send him the weirdest memes and tell him it reminds you of him, and you pick him up at obscure times because you’re craving nuggets or ice cream or ramen or licorice. he asks you to be his girlfriend and when you say yes, he blushes so forcefully that he has to scrunch up his face to try and hide it. he lets you meet his friends through a screen, and he buys you matching rings because he enjoys the subtlety of it all, and he orders donuts to be sent to your place  during your exam week. 

being with you is a dream, so much that when he hovers above you, kissing at your lips like he always does and sucking at your neck the way you love, and you murmur that you want him, want all of him, his hands fumble and shake. he tries to hide it, but his breath is shakier and his chest is flushed, his eyes a little hazy. you’re so gentle with him, and he hadn’t known he needed it until you’re straddling him and slowly smoothing your hands down his chest, palming him through his too tight briefs, squeezing softly. 

when your hands reach for his briefs, his own snap to your wrist, and he dares to beg, “please stay,” and you kiss him in response. your breath hitches at the sight of him, and your hand shakes when you spit on it and grip at his cock, but despite your initial hesitance you don’t falter. 

you stroke tentatively at his cock, squeezing him tightly, and fall closer to him, hovering your lips by his as you ask of him, “stretch me— stretch me for you.” 

there’s only one word to describe everything mattsun had been feeling in that moment, and it’s overwhelmed, but it’s somehow in the most positive way. he sits up straight, keeping you on his lap. his fingers find your dripping cunt and he pushes one, two, three, four fingers inside of you. he makes you cum twice, fingers curled and rapidly thrusting into you, other hand occupied with your sloppy clit and mouth latched onto your nipple. you praise him and thank him and cry for him and writhe in his hold as he pleasures you, and when you’re breathless and limp in his arms, he waits for the ball to drop, for you to give into your anxiety and hesitance. 

except you don’t. 

you lift yourself up on trembling knees, hands settled on and gripping his shoulders, and with teary eyes, you say, no, you beg, “make it fit.” 

he has stars in his eyes as he grips his cock tightly with one hand, the other holding you to him by your waist. it’s slow, it’s painfully slow, but mattsun has never treasured time as much as in that moment. he takes in everything, from the way your body tenses at the first intrusion when his tip presses against your hole, to the small gasps and moans as you take more and more of him in, at the sweat that beads at your temple and that rolls between your breasts. he marvels at the heave of your chest and the roll of your tummy as you curve in yourself, and he revels in the press of your lips to his, in the pull your arms looping around his neck and pressing his chest flush to yours. 

he does cum too early, but you don’t chastise him. you only continue to ride his soft cock, his cum messily dribbling out, and he ignores the sting from his sensitivity in favor of rubbing at your clit, sending you over the edge eventually. 

he texts the old third years groupchat that night again, with you sleeping soundly by his side, comfortable beneath his blankets, “why didn’t you guys tell me sex was this good? fake friends,” and sends a picture of him shirtless, sweaty, and with a post-sex flush to his cheeks and messy curls, with the middle finger. 

maybe you shouldn’t have let him have a taste of you, because he fucks you in bed the next morning, sleep still settled deep in your bones, and then he fucks you in the shower, and then he eats you out splayed out on his dinner table. he videotapes you sucking him off, with your permission, and watches it when you’re too far out of reach. he sends you pictures after a shower, gripping his cock through the briefs he’d quickly slipped in, hair wet and curly and matted to his forehead, skin damp and glistening. and when you react so positively, he blushes, to his dismay. you meet his friends and they joke about how you’re still alive, but you brush them off and tell them you’ve never felt more satisfied. 

with every single time he watches his cock sink into your warm, tight, sloppy cunt, and every time he watches you swallow around him, and every time he makes you cry and leaves you braindead, leaves you mindless and begging for more, his confidence grows. so much until he learns to be cocky about it, so much that when he barely preps you and pushes into you, he shivers at the way you whine and tense up, at the way you flinch and lightly thrash. because you’re a good girl, aren’t you? always take my cock so well, don’t you? nobody but you, nobody like you. 

and it’s true; it’s nobody but you for him. in every single way.

hello what the fuck am i doing. i did not think this was gonna escalate like this hfskjfns but anyways, big dick mattsun for the win <3 

[sukirichi]

omg sorry im the anon who picked too many spices i’m so sorry 😭😭 so let me try again: wine for yuuta, ingredient 53, and spice 8 10 11?

good for you

People said all bad things about him, how he wasn’t good for you, he was going to toy with you, he was someone you needed to stay away from, but that wasn’t true.

meal order: wine + 53 (bad boy good girl au) + 8, 10 (dumbification, begging kink) 

warnings: nsfw content, fingering, dumbification, begging kink, slight voyeurism, slight corruption kink, bad boy! yuuta, unedited fic

note: soooo anon...i hope you like this, this is my first yuta fic and i was really nervous i was gonna mess this up, sheesh, hope you like it and thank you for the request! have some wine~

masterlist !

You were so good for him – it made sense you were his favorite.

The moment you felt his cold fingers graze under your shirt, fingers lightly tugging at the clasps of your bra as a promise of what was to come next, you shuddered from his touch. You leaned back to his body, your hand clutching his that was gripping your thigh.

“Yuta,” you bit your lip to hold back a moan, his expert hands sliding down your inner thighs to brush over your clothed cunt, teasing you to no end. “We-we shouldn’t.”

“And why not?” his husky voice sent shivers down your spine, and you gasped as his fingers tugged your panties away. He’d barely even touched you, yet you were soaking wet for him already. Two of his fingers slipped past your folds easily and you clamped down as he scissored you, finally releasing your bra and easing it off your shoulders. “They won’t know. We’re just studying, remember?”

Your relationship with Yuta was complicated, to say the least. Last month, your homeroom teacher assigned you to tutor him, and your eyes widened because the last person you expected to see was the notorious Okkotsu Yuta who barely attended school, preferring to live life in his own way.

He looked scary then; dark circles hanging heavily under amused eyes, slicked back hair that shone under the sunlight, and a half-sneer as an excuse for a smile.

He terrified you, until he didn’t. Contrary to what people said about him, how he wasn’t good for you, he was going to toy with you, he was someone you needed to stay away from, you never thought that way about Yuta. And he knew this too; he took advantage of your unconditional kindness, basking in your shy, soft touches and stuttering during study sessions whenever he stared at you a little longer than you expected.

You were so fucking cute he just couldn’t keep his hands off of you. He blamed you for it, really. He wouldn’t have been this addicted to the quiet, timid girl who followed rules and apologized way too much than necessary if you weren’t such a good girl for him.

But you were so cute, so curious and innocent that Yuta, being the more responsible and experienced one between the both of you, just had to give in to your pleas. Soon, your shy touches became eager ones, grinding on his thigh with your hands  tugging at his collar while you begged for a kiss. You were so pretty too, always so ready and wanting for him, but oh, everything was different when you begged.

If he thought you were pretty before, it was nothing compared to when you begged.

Innocent eyes gazing up at him under thick lashes, small hands wrapped around the thick base of his cock, your pretty red lips begging to taste him – you were at your prettiest when you were begging for him, and how could he deny you?

It was because you were so good for him that he Yuta wasn’t selfish when it came to pleasing you, his cock hardening when your head fell back on his shoulders, lips open as wantons flooded through your lips. “Shh,” he chuckled with a kiss to your lips, his fingers pumping in and out of you until you were dripping down on his palm, the sopping sounds of your pussy nearly embarrassing. “You don’t want to be loud, baby, your parents will hear you.”

At the possibility of getting caught, your eyes widened, and you slapped your palm over your mouth to hide your sinful moans. Yuta’s eyes darkened as you trembled in his arms, trying so hard to be a good girl and keep your reputation, but the way you grinded down onto his fingers told a different story.

“Y-Yuta,” you cried out, reaching up to capture his lips in a kiss. He swallowed your moans while his other hand gripped your thighs tighter, your ass barely grazing his painful erection. “I need more, please, will you-will you-?”

“What do you want, baby? I can’t give it to you if you don’t tell me.”

Yuta smirked when you whimpered in his hold, your hips pumping up and down as you rode his fingers. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. You knew he could give you more, and Yuta would gladly do anything for you as long as you said it.

The sight of you cumming all over his fingers, tits perked from under your shirt yet still looking so innocent from your shirt skirt – he could cum in his pants just watching you. But he held it all in, fully aware that you wanted him inside you, though your shyness still remained. Ironic, really, since Yuta had already lost count of the times he had to stuff your panties down your mouth as he dragged you to the nearest empty classroom, making you cum either just on his tongue or cock alone.

He figured he’d have ruined you by now, but you were just so good, such an innocent, pretty little thing that the mere mention of his dick had you flustered.

“Yuta, I can’t – you-you know what I mean,” you palmed him through his pants. Yuta hissed at how you pulled his cock out free from his confines, the warmth of your hand wrapping around his cock, the tip already flushed and red.

He gripped your wrist and pulled you towards him, resting your ass just above his cock. A dark look crossed his face when he saw you inhale sharply as he rubbed his tip all over your lips, your pink panties tugged all the way to the side, the material loosely clinging onto the fat of your flesh. 

“Is this what you want,” he teased, hands placed on a tight grip of your hips as he slowly sank you down his length. He reveled at how you slowly lost yourself, thighs quaking, and it was just only the tip. “Do you deserve it, baby? Have you been a good girl for me that you think you deserve to feel good?”

“Yes, yes, of course!”

Your eyes were focused on the remaining length of his cock that wasn’t buried in you, and you were so needy, so fucking wet and horny that you wiggled your hips, a slight whine echoing from the room when Yuta only tightened his hips on you as a warning. “Don’t move,” he growled lowly, and like the good girl you were, you complied, bottom lip jutted out. “You don’t get to sit on my lap when you don’t beg hard enough for it, baby.”

“But, oh,” you tried to say, your words cut off when Yuta suddenly gripped your ass down all the way down his length in one go, your ass flat on his thighs.  

Both of you groaned at the feeling of him buried deep inside you; you could feel him pulsing inside your heat already. Unsatisfied with your silence, Yuta slapped your ass, forcing you to look at him. 

He was perfectly content with you cockwarming him; he could jack himself off later, but he knew you couldn’t satisfy yourself – not when your needy little cunt always wanted to be stuffed full with his dick.

“My parents are downstairs,” you tried to reason, though your actions betrayed your words as you dug your nails on his shoulders, eyes closed from the pleasure. Yuta gave small, slow thrusts, the movement just enough to scrape at your walls, almost as if to mock you that you could’ve had an orgasm by now if you just complied. “I-if they hear, they’re going to get mad, and they’ll find out that—”

“They’re going to find out what?” he thrusted his hips into yours sharply until your skirt was bunched all over your ass, his hands rough and hungry while he kept you in place. Your moans filled the room, and Yuta gripped one of your legs to press on your sides, thigh-high socks teasing and plumping up the flesh of your legs. “That their sweet, innocent daughter isn’t such a good girl after all? Look at you, walking around in school wearing that. You’re always begging to be fucked, baby.”

You didn’t deny him because his words were true, and soon Yuta had you choking in your own breath. He wanted to make you beg, to go down on your knees just to show him you deserved it, but you clenched down on him so hard that he lost himself too.

Yuta pulled you in for a heated kiss, his strong hands wrapping your legs around his waist before dropping you both down on the bed.

He didn’t bother pulling his shirt off, only jumping out of his slacks before he found home in between your legs. Yuta chuckled at how fucked out you were before him, teeth deep into one of your stuffed toys while he kept fucking into you. 

He fell forward, hands planted beside your head, his dick scraping against the warm walls of your pussy.

You were close; he could feel it. Yuta picked up his pace and started littering lovemarks on your neck, somewhere people could see his markings and to claim you as his good girl.

You were such a good girl for him, letting him pump himself into you in a rough pace until you could no longer hold back your moans. “Yuta, Yuta, god, you-you feel so good, right there, oh,” you were a mess on his cock, drool collecting from your pillow and tongue lolled out. 

He found you so pretty, so gorgeous and so good; screaming his name like that even as your parents called out to ask if you were fine just because you knew he liked it when you said his name while you were stuffed with his cock.

“Come on, baby,” he gripped your waist this time, not slowing down for a moment as his thrusts grew sloppy. Yuta’s dick twitched and pulsed harder inside you when your walls hugged him tightly, sucking him in too deep that he was hitting your most sensitive spots. “You’re close, aren’t you? You want to cum on my cock? Beg for it, come on.”

“Yuta, Yuta, please please please, want to cum on your cock, want you to fill me up,” your back arched when he hit your g-spot, your vision turning white for a moment. “Fuck, fuck, Yuta, fuck me good – please, I want you, there, please!”

His dick only further hardened upon hearing such dirty words fall from your pretty lips. You were begging so good for him, following his orders and making him feel good with your pretty pussy – how could he deny you? People said all bad things about him, how he wasn’t good for you, he was going to toy with you, he was someone you needed to stay away from, but that wasn’t true. 

He kept fucking into you until you were creaming onto his cock, his name falling like a prayer on your wet mouth, losing all your sanity and comprehension when he spills inside you, your cum dripping down your ass.

Yuta chuckled before leaning down to kiss his pretty girl, so good for him, but what they didn’t know was that the bad boy was just as good for you, and he never failed to make you feel good.

They called him a bad boy, labeled him all sorts of things, warned you so much of the dangers he brought. 

Everyone was just simply unaware how he good he was for you.

[seita]

— haikyuu squirting.

includes: oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, hanamaki, kunimi, + kyoutani.

p a r t o n e ;;

⤿ next: t w o

-ˋˏ aoba johsai ˎˊ-

— tooru oikawa.

≻ he has a goal to make you squirt ≻ he thinks it’s super hot and wants you to do it ≻ he honestly will experiment with it every time you have sex ≻ you won’t notice anything different ≻ but one day, he hits this spot inside you ≻ and you just explode and he’s elated ≻ and you’re like ??? ≻ he’s just like “ive been trying to make you do that for a week!!!” ≻ and then he continues on because he wants to bask in the fruits of his labors and make you squirt until you cry~

+

“c’mon baby,” he groans, working his fingers into your spasming cunt. you’re so tight, squeezing him like craze because you’re so close. and he knows your body’s signals like the back of his hand.

“fuck, tooru!” you sob, gripping his wrist with both hands as his fingers fuck your tender g-spot. his jaw as clenched as he watches you. he’s waiting, he can taste it on the tip of his tongue.

your whole body is tense and you’re trembling. your orgasm is so close, it’s dangling right over your head. the coil is taut and it’s growing painful. he continues to fuck his fingers into that sweet little spot that has you sobbing.

you look so beautiful like this, brows drawn together and mouth hanging open as your mind tries to comprehend the overwhelming pleasure he’s bringing you to. he finally brings his thumb to your clit, circling the bud in a few, slow strokes that finally send you flying over the edge.

you scream, thrashing against the bed as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. he nearly cums in his pants when you gush, your cum spraying all over him. he licks his lips, tasting your stray cum on his tongue as he does so. it makes his eyes roll back in his head.

and it isn’t long before you’re forcing his hand away from you, leaving you a trembling, panting mess on his bed.

“what...the fuck, tooru?” you gasp. he only grins in response.

— hajime iwaizumi.

≻ you’ll most likely be the one to bring it up to him ≻ he doesn’t actually quite know much about squirting ≻ he knows that it’s a thing ≻ but he doesn’t think it’s like...doable in real life ≻ he’s just like “oh yeah lmao that just exists in porn” ≻ so when you’re like can u do this-- ≻ he’s like huh? ≻ but he’s 4000% down and will give it his best shot ≻ it’ll take some trial and error ≻ because he has to learn the proper mechanics and angles to make it happen ≻ but when it does, he’s immediately addicted

+

you’re riding him, relishing in his praise as he caresses your pretty body.

“show me how you need it, pretty girl,” he whispers, “you’re gonna make a mess for me tonight, aren’t you?”

you desperately nod, nails digging into his forearms as you bounce. he groans, feeling you drip down his balls. he’s sure there’s a mess beneath him but he can’t be bothered to worry about it now because you’re clenching desperately around him.

“right there, daddy!” you cry, “right there, please! you’re go-gonna make me cum!”

he growls and flips you over, pinning your knees to your chest as he desperately fucks your cunt. you’re creaming so prettily around him that it’s driving him insane.

“play with your clit for me, princess,” he orders, following your hand as you find the bud and eagerly begin circling it.

he angles his thrusts for your g-spot, knowing that’ll be what sends you over. and it works like a charm. soon enough, you’re arching as you find release.

he doesn’t stop like he usually does, he replaces his fingers on your clit and continues to fuck into your spasming little cunt. just like he wanted, you begin gushing. you squirm, unable to escape his hold as he continues to fuck you until you’re made a complete mess for him.

— issei matsukawa.

≻ it’s completely accidental ≻ his dick is honestly just too fucking big ≻ that when you cum it’s explosive ≻ you always cum super hard for him when you’re stuffed full of his cock ≻ he honestly ADORES that you have such a fierce reaction to him ≻ it boosts his ego ≻ especially if you praise him while he makes you gush everywhere~

+

“you’re making such a slutty face,” he grins, watching as you arch your hips for more. he’s fucking you so well and it makes you lose your mind.

“i’m getting close,” you warn, making him arch a brow.

“i’ve only just started,” he teases, enjoying the look of humiliation that crosses your face at his words, “tell me you’re a whore for my cock and maybe i’ll let you cum.”

you break immediately, “i’m a whore for your cock, issei!” you cry, making him grin, “please, please only you can make me feel like this. only you can make me cum like this!”

“what a good little bitch i have,” he chuckles, speeding up his pace.

you can’t even take all of his cock but you continue to work your hips as if you could if you try hard enough. your eyes roll back in your head and you plead with him in babbled whimpers that absolutely drive him wild. he knows you’re dangling on the edge but you’re holding back because you’re his good girl. and he’s so proud of you so he decides to reward you.

“go on then, pretty girl,” he groans, “cream on my cock like a good little girl.”

except when you cum, it’s not like any of your previous orgasms. it’s wetter. and the more he fucks you, the wetter it gets until you’re absolutely gushing around him. after a few seconds, you push him away. when his cock pops out of your cunt, and you immediately squeal as you squirt all over him.

you’re still trembling by the time he works his cock back into your cunt. he grins, “did that feel good, pretty girl?” to which you nod, “good because you’re going to do that again and again until i’m satisfied.”

— takahiro hanamaki.

≻ he knows what it is and how to do it ≻ but he never actually executes it ≻ mostly because of the mess ≻ he’s not a huge fan of messes ≻ but if it’s something you want him to do ≻ it needs to be discusses before your um...session ≻ so that way he can put a towel down to minimize the mess ≻ he’s always pleased with the way you tremble and react so beautifully. ≻ he still doesn’t do it too often tho

+

the towel was growing wetter the longer he fucked you with his fingers. his spit, lube, and your own natural arousal only serving to make a complete mess. he was going slow, it was an agonizing place. switching between forceful thrusts against your g-spot and simply grinding the tips of his two fingers against it; it was only serving to drive you mad.

tears had long since started falling down your cheeks. he thought you looked prettiest like that; eyes red and pitiful little sniffles coming from you as you cried for more.

he knew what you wanted, what you needed. but he was content with torturing you. you were so cute when you were distraught and he couldn’t help but send you a boyish smile that made your face crumple in frustration. it was so easy to rile you up.

“want me to make you ucm now, sweet girl?” he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt to playfully smack your neglected clit.

your thighs jump at the stimulation before nodding desperately. it didn’t take long for the desperate pleas that he had been waiting for to begin falling from your lips, “please daddy, please. i’ll do anything just please make me cum!”

he grins, “such pretty words,” he coos, nodding his head, “anything?”

“anything daddy please!” you cry and he groans in response.

“then make a mess for me, baby,” he orders, finally fucking your tight cunt the way you need to fall over the edge.

and you do so beautifully, gushing and squirting all over him. he groans at the sight of finally getting what he wanted. you tremble and sob just for him and he never wants to forget the sight of you falling apart perfectly for him all because of his fingers.

— kentaro kyoutani.

≻ he actually brings it up to you!!! ≻ but he knows that it’s a thing ≻ he just doesn’t know if it’s something you want to experiment with or not ≻ and he’s not willing to just do it and surprise you ≻ when you agree ≻ he goes feral ≻ he absolutely loves making a complete mess out of you ≻ he already does it well enough on his own ≻ but NOW there’s an actual...mess to clean up.

+

your face is buried in the pillow, muffling your sobs and cries of pleasure. his hand is pressed on the small of your back, making sure you’re presented just right for him.

he’s quiet as usual, short grunts and the occasional filth falling from his lips so perfectly, “so tight, you’re dripping.”

“only for you,” you promise breathlessly, making him grin. if you had seen it, you’d see the sadistic pleasure in it.

“that’s right, babygirl,” he groans when you clench around his cock at the sound of the petname.

you were so easy to read and so easy to satisfy. it drove him crazy. leaning over your body, he fisted your hair to keep you pinned as he began to piston into your pretty cunt, tearing cries of untold pleasure into the pillow.

he’s able to make out the warning for your impending orgasm and reaches beneath your body to find your clit. he slaps his fingers harshly against the bud. it’s the final action that sends you over the edge.

your body lurches forward, forcing his cock from your clamping cunt. he groans when he looks down to see you squirting everywhere. he rubs across your clit quickly, splattering your cum everywhere until you’re sobbing for him to stop.

“you’re such a sloppy little bitch,” he growls, forcing his cock back into your sensitive cunt.

— akira kunimi.

≻ another one who doesn’t try ≻ but it’s mostly out of laziness ≻ if you squirt, it’s gonna be 99% you 1% him ≻ he digs it tho ≻ he’ll make sure you know that he finds it really hot that you got yourself so worked up over his cock that you couldn’t help but make a mess!!

+

you’re bracing yourself on his shoulders as he holds your hips tightly. soft moans and cries of his name escape your lips as you ride him, his cock filling you up so perfectly while he doesn’t do anything. he lets you do as you please, merely helping you keep your balance along with occasionally cupping your pretty tits that bounce perfectly in his face.

“i’m gonna cum,” you gasp suddenly, shoving a hand between your thighs to circle your clit.

he nods, a lazy smile crossing his face, “yeah, baby, play with that pretty clit and cum for me.”

you whine, your head falling back as you sob through your pleasure. it comes in waves, making you tremble and cling to him as your high washes over you.

he curses, suddenly pounding into you from beneath you. you squeal, clawing at his shoulders as you gush around him, making a complete mess over his cock and abdomen.

he laughs as he falls limp, staring at the dripping cum you left all over him, “is my cock that good that you just make a huge fuckin’ mess? hm? i didn’t even have to do anything,” suddenly, he slaps your thigh, “keep riding me, want you to do that again.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[xandria]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : ᴄᴏᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ

   — includes : Bokuto, Hinata, Tendou

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 : 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘢 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵

♡ this man is too pure, does it just to be close to you ♡ innocent and wholesome, that’s how it always starts anyways ♡ he promises he only has pure intentions when he approaches you ♡ “wanna be as close as we can” 🥺 ♡ he whines it out like a justifiable reason as he slides your panties to the side ♡ you want to believe him, you want to trust he'll behave ♡ 100% does not behave though, honestly, this is your fault, you know better ♡ you know how quickly he comes undone buried in your tight, wet heat ♡ not that he cares though, he's positively shameless ♡ he definitely wants to do it in a dark room with friends because he can   ♡ gets off on the idea that he’s balls deep in you and no one in the room knows ♡ but you know better, so why the hell did you agree to this? ♡ oh, that's right

- ♥ -

   His strained gasp sounds off in your ear, shaky and stifled, caught in his throat as you clench around him. With his lips pressed to your ear, you are going absolutely insane with each subtle noise he makes, each stuttering breath from the way you affect him going straight to your cunt and making you soak around him.

Your muscles ache from the tension of trying to stay still, and the way his breath comes out ragged and unsteady let's you know he's in the same shape. Luckily, his labored breathing can't be heard over the movie playing in front of you, and no one can see underneath the blanket, where your dress is hiked up to your waist, Bokuto's shorts pushed down slightly, and every inch of his cock stuffed inside you. His hot breath on the back of your neck, the way his lips graze the shell of your ear, his taught chest and chiseled arms embracing you tightly, it is taking everything within you not to jerk your hips violently. You can tell by the way his heavy pants in your ear get louder, and his roaming hands become more grabby that your little 'cuddling season' is getting very dangerous very quickly. 

You freeze when Bokuto moves slightly to adjust his position laying on the couch. At least, that's what you hope it looked like from above the blanket, because beneath it, he just angled his hips to pull back an inch and then push forward, sighing deeply through his nose as he presses the head of his cock as far as it will go. You inhale sharply, wincing when it makes a louder noise than you wished for, then relaxing after a few moments of no one noticing. Only when his tip is hugged tightly to your cervix does he settle back into stillness. You want to turn and glare at him, but the lethal grip his biceps have around your waist keeps you stationary in his arms as his large palms roam your sides.

"Kou," you whisper in a warning tone that he doesn't register. He simply buries his face in your hair and hums happily in response, pleased that you are calling out to him. You look up to assess the potential risk around you. Atsumu is the most likely to notice first, as he is sitting on the couch right beside you, but he also seems the most distracted, idly chatting with Hinata during the movie. Ok, you figure, if you can just keep Bokuto in check, maybe you can keep from-

Your breath catches in your throat, thoughts interrupted, when bokuto's hands suddenly slide underneath your shirt, palming your breasts. Teasing your nipples with his fingers, he pinches your sensitive buds, and whether it be involuntary or as revenge for his teasing, your hips jerk back into him, and your walls squeeze his cock tightly, something you immediately regret.

His head falls back and he sighs in pleasure a little too loudly.

A few of your friend's eyes are now on you, specifically Atsumu's, who's staring hard at the two of you with rightful suspicion, before he says a phrase that you and Bokuto, unfortunately, know all too well.

"Hands check!" At the order of the blonde, you and Bokuto raise your hands from under the blanket to show that they aren't up to anything nefarious, and your friends, satisfied, return their attention to the movie.

Thank god they didn’t ask y'all to stand up.

Some time passes and you start to get hopeful, Bokuto seemingly behaving himself as he lays still on the couch behind you. Your friends start to leave one by one, and you actually think for a moment that you'll get out of this scandalous situation with the entirety of your dignity intact. That is, until another guest exits, leaving only Atsumu and Sakusa left, and you feel sudden suspicion and dread at how your boyfriend starts glancing between them and the door. You are moments away from giving Bo a small reminder of patience when he opens his mouth to address the remaining guests.

“Okay guys, I’ll be completely honest, I’m balls deep in y/n right now and getting pretty into it, so, if you wouldn’t mind heading out!”

The small, lingering moment of silence after your boyfriend's announcement rings loudly in your head, and you will yourself to be less aware of your friend's deadpan stares.

“...Really, Bokuto? Really?” Atsumu’s jeers, and then starts laughing. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” Sakusa regards you, apologizing on behalf of the two fools in the room. 

“...It’s fine...“ You mumble from behind your hands, burning red with embarrassment. 

You can just feel the beefy man behind you beam with excitement as he watches your friends stand and leave. He’s on you the second the door is closed, moaning lowly in your ear,

“M’fucking dying to finish what I started,”

♡ needs it for naps 🥺 ♡ this pretty boy isn’t often tuckered out, but when he is ♡ he still wants to be close to you sooo bad  ♡ just needs to hold you and feel you wrapped around him  ♡ so he’ll crawl into bed, pulling you into his grip ♡ burying his face in your hair and his cock in your cunt <3 ♡ and just, pass out like that ♡ heaven for him, sometimes inconvenient for you. ♡ don’t even think of trying to move though, this is his sacred time  ♡ even if you could escape his beefy grip, ♡ he’s a light sleeper :) and grumpy when waken from naps :) ♡ oh, and he takes it real personally if you ruin his precious cockwarming naps

- ♥ -

   You knew you should’ve said no… you’ve got groceries to get and a meeting to catch, but, when your tanned, beefy, exhausted-looking boyfriend walked through the door with heavy steps and spotted you on the couch with those tired hooded eyes, you just couldn’t resist what came next. 

When he crawled over to you with that lazy smile, a husky “hey there, pretty puppy” falling from his lips, when he wraps his strong arms around your torso and pulls you in, and especially when he grinds lazily against your ass, moaning a few praises before pulling your panties to the side and stuffing himself inside. Every single time, he hums happily at the way you have to adjust, twitching and whimpering in his grip, before relaxing into his form, and every single time, he is asleep within moments.

A while later, you try to glance at the clock, your movements limited by the big spoon embrace he has you trapped in, and you just know it’s probably time to get up. 

But… the soft hum of your boyfriend’s warm breath is on your neck, coming out in steady huffs, his nose nuzzled up to the skin behind your ear, and fuck. You thought you had stronger will power than this. 

With his warm embrace, the way his heartbeat thuds rhythmically against your back, his taught chest rising and falling with his peaceful sleep… Honestly, nothing would have made you get out of this heavenly embrace, except maybe, the burden of responsibilities, or maybe the ache of your hips from being wrapped up with your knees toward your chest for so long. You try to shift your hips to a more comfortable angle, and he twitches inside of you, reminding you of how positively filled you are right now. 

You huff, from sensation and frustration, and when the wall of muscle behind you doesn’t wake, you try your luck again. You push your legs against his thighs, trying to break free from the curled position his legs had pushed you in. You manage to free yourself some wiggle room, and you hopefully start to squirm your way out of his arms, when a sudden grip on your wrist catches your attention. 

“What’re you doing?” His tired voice grumbles out, almost innocently, but you know better, you’ve been caught. 

“I was… I have-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp when he thrusts forward suddenly, pushing his now hardening cock deeper into you.

“You were what, baby? I thought you were being my cocksleeve,” he coos out the degradation with such dripping affection you almost feel guilty for waking him up from his nap. He leans in with a sigh, placing soft and sweet kisses on the skin of your neck, right below your jaw. “You’re so perfect as my little cocksleeve…”

“Shoyo,” You sigh in pleasure and relief, your eyes fluttering closed at his soft touches and warm praises, mistakenly taking his kind demeanor as a sign you were in the clear. You gasp in shock when he flips you over on your stomach in a mere moment.

“But, you woke me, so” He says, his sudden tone almost alarmingly dismissive as he sits up from you, leaving you whining at the loss of his warm chest on your back. He grips your hips in his large hands with vigor, “Now I have to punish you, okay?”

“S-Sho! Wait!” Your fingers grasp at the sheets as you tense. “Can’t,” is all he gives you, running a rough palm down your spine to squeeze your ass harshly.

“You’re my puppy, aren’t you? That means you’ll let me use you when I need you, right?”

♡ he does it to tease himself, and you ♡ can you tell this man is a masochist AND a sadist? ♡ can you tell this man has an orgasm denial kink AND an edging kink? ♡ ok anyways ♡ he’s fucking wild so he finds it hottest in really risky situations  ♡ catch him pushing your skirt up and telling you to be quiet in the corner of a crowed train <3 ♡ or how about on the balcony of a crowded party? ♡ a sea of dancing people behind him, a night sky of city lights and passing cars in front of you ♡ he’ll hold you in place while spilling filth into your ears ♡ after all, as long as you stay still ♡ he just looks like a good caring boyfriend, hugging his girlfriend on the balcony <3

- ♥ -

   Music and muffled voices pound dully through the glass of the closed balcony doors, colored lights flash in your periphery, mostly blocked by Tendou’s looming frame behind you as the cold wall of the balcony is pressed tight against your chest. Your fingers white-knuckle the railing in tight fists, attempting to ground yourself, as the painful stretch of your boyfriend's cock threatens to do you in. He's only halfway in you, and your head is spinning as he barely pushes more of himself inside.

Your hips jerk forward to escape the harsh stretch of his cock, but the tense tightness of your cunt won't allow you any reprieve, only succeeding to suction him in tighter as you pull forward. 

“S-Shit, you better stop fucking doing that, sweet girl.” His long fingers have a mean grip on your hips, your skirt bunched in his knuckles, and you can practically feel purple forming beneath his fingertips. 

He waits for you to still and then sinks farther into you. You twitch again, and he reprimands you with a harsh warning squeeze to your thigh, leaving the flesh tender and aching.

“Better listen to me pretty thing, or I’ll have to pull out and leave you an empty mess on this balcony.”

“No! Satori, please,” you pant, the muscles of your thighs and ass trembling from trying not to push back into his agonizingly still hips. 

His long, curved, perfect cock is slowly driving inch by inch into your wet heat, dragging his pronounced head against your sweet spot at a speed so slow you could choke. 

You whine and grab desperately at his hands, the one on the railing and the one digging painfully into your hip.

“I said, stay still angel, or this whole party will see how fucking desperate you are for me," he moans lowly, voice deep and taunting, a stark contrast to the soft kiss he plants on your cheek. He fists the flesh of your hip harder, despite you keeping yours just as still as his, and you whimper.

"Don't get us caught, and maybe I’ll give you what you want,” he practically growls in your ear, his killer grip on the balcony making the veins in his hands protrude. The throbbing of your bruised hip under his large grip and the dripping lust from his voice is too much, your knees shake and a deep, broken whine leaves your throat. Tendou shivers, releasing his hand on your side to wrap his strong arm across your waist, trapping you against him. He moans into your hair, deeply inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, unless, that's what you want, huh? You just tightened around me, does getting caught stuffed full of my cock turn you on, slut?” He's growling in your ear and you whimper, your head falling back to his shoulder, tender walls fluttering around his cock. He leans down and groans against the skin of your neck, taking the opportunity to trap you in a tighter hug against the balcony and finally push his cock into you to the hilt. His lips smile against the side of your throat as you gasp.

“That is what you want, isn’t it? You’re just a filthy fucking slut for me, aren’t you? My dirty little whore,” You quiver around him as he grunts in your ear, his aching cock twitching against your cervix. 

You can tell by the way his voice shakes and grows huskier, and the way he tightens his arm around your waist, fingertips digging forcefully into your soft flesh, that he is just as weak and trembling with pleasure as you are.

“I should just fuck you right here on this balcony, shouldn’t I? Let everyone below us, everyone at this party see how good I fuck you, show them how hard I make you cum, yeah?” He’s practically panting in your ear, his cock painfully still, and painfully hard, straining in your tight, gummy walls.

“I’ll spread you open and show the whole world you’re mine, you want that?” His iron restraint has held up until now, his hips jutting forward in a moment of weakness, jolting you into the cold balcony and making you cry out his name.

“Yes, please! Tori! I’m yours!”

The pleased, sadistic chuckle that tumbles from his throat is low and vibrates you to your soaking core.

“That’s my fucking girl,”

[lokiskitten]

I NEED a part two of “first time”

Loki Laufeyson | first time pt2

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : ( refer to pt1 ) after experiencing a first intercourse together, Loki insists on crossing the path towards the end. With only the fear of being seen by the other variants holding you back, you end up agreeing to follow the excited man’s proposition.

warnings : smut, extremely short moment of none-con followed by a consent check up, mention of virginity loss ( male ), unprotected sex ( pls for the love of god wrap it ) and lowkey sub!Loki.

“Now that was... ah. Nice.” You affirmed tiredly, knees colliding with one another though your feet remained slightly parted. Your organism was still trying to wash away the orgasm you had just reached with Loki’s divine help. Meanwhile, the god of mischief carried on staring at your body, resembling a scientist who led an experience on the human anatomy. He wanted to ask a thousand questions, but didn’t feel brave enough to dare to open his mouth just yet. In fact, he felt as if he was disturbing an intimate and personal moment of yours. It nearly managed to make the god feel flustered and awkward.

Looking closer, Loki was able to spot your own love juice dripping out of your entrance, coating your swollen lips and settling a deep emotion of lustful hunger within his soul. He wanted more, he needed more- and only you could potentially satisfy his crippling and frustrating sexual appetite at the moment. His hands rested on your knees, forcefully parting your thighs before he allowed himself to slip in between. Upon feeling a weight suddenly add up against your own mass, your eyelids moved open which allowed you to make eye contact with Loki. You felt surprised to see him there, and even more surprised to witness him behaving in such a way.

“What are you doing?” You asked, attempting to move your chest up with the help of your elbows- which led Loki to back away to sit down on his knees between your legs. “Well, I’m doing the thing. Isn’t that what people do next?” He explained, earning a frown from your shocked self. Though, you were still willing to be patient with him. “No, you always ask. Always. Do you understand?” You affirmed seriously, earning a shy nod from the demigod who didn’t really enjoy to be treated like a child. Though his aim wasn’t to ruin this moment by starting unnecessary drama- especially as he appeared to be in the wrong. But once this small moment of embarrassment had passed by, Loki felt like explaining the reason to why he appeared so frustrated.

“Look, I have a very painful..” he began, only to end up being cut off by your staring self who admired the long shape traced from within his pants. It was too big to miss. “Boner.” You finished before looking up at him, earning an embarrassed gasp coming from the demigod. “And I really want you.” He finished on a nearly sorrowful tone adding up to a puppy face- a note that managed to reach your heart. You shot a glare at the small wooden cabin in which Mobius and the other variants were having dinner, anxiety taking over your organism at the thought of potentially being seen or caught by them. “I don’t know..” You explained, earning a frown from Loki sitting before you who didn’t appear to understand why you were refusing the offer after you had both experienced such fun.

“Aw come on. What could possibly go wrong?” He cheered, giving your shoulder a gentle fist kick in order to lift the mood. Unfortunately, you couldn’t help but remain stoic. “Well, loads of things in fact.” You responded, leading Loki’s smile to drop instantly. “What if we get caught? That would be an embarrassment I’d never be able to get over. Not to mention the whole pregnancy issues if your princess self isn’t capable of pulling out at the right time.” You carried on, offering Loki multiple exemples to why this upcoming sexual intercourse could possibly go wrong. Ironically enough, he appeared more concerned and offended over the fact that you had just called him princess rather than getting worked up about the horrible consequences program you had just settled.

After spending a couple of seconds making useless eye contact with the raven haired man, you ended up breaking this one in order to shoot another glance towards the wooden cabin. The surroundings appeared calm, which managed to ease your anxiety. Besides, after leading you to cum in such an incredible way, you believed that maybe Loki deserved a release too- adding up to the fact that you’d feel proud to be the woman who would take care of breaking through his virginity. Turning your head back towards his, a nod was the only gesture that escaped your body. It instantly managed to lift the demigod’s mood. “Really?..” Loki asked, and that in order to make sure you weren’t tricking him, the most famous trickster.

“Yeah, lets give it a try.” You responded on a friendly tone, a discreet smile adorning your features as you watched Loki summon a blanket for the two of you. He had probably noticed the way you appeared to avoid dust with the help of your pants, and wanted to offer you better then this piece or clothing to protect your sensitive skin. However, he appeared to organize this upcoming event in quite a religious way. He made sure to keep the blanket flat against the floor, brushing away the wrinkles until you finally stopped him by taking ahold of his wrist. “This is the part where you take your clothes off.” You affirmed, underlining the fact that he probably should stop worrying about the wrong matters especially as you were running out of time.

“Oh, right right.” He answered politely, taking a seat on the green pled before he began to precariously unbutton his TVA shirt. You watched as his tone muscles were revealed, his abs shifting as he got rid of his upper piece of clothing for good. This checkpoint led you to look up at his greenish eyes again, the two of you exchanging a smile before he began to go for his belt. The shape of his hard member was still visible through his trousers, a length that would soon be set free once Loki would finally get rid of his pants. No shame or embarrassment seemed to fill his organism upon his lower clothes being pulled down to his knees- his crotch being revealed to your respectful sight. In contrary, Loki appeared more than proud of himself for finally getting to go through such a thing, which held him back from accumulating negative emotions.

Your two naked selves then laid down on the blanket, wrapping your arms around one another’s body and engaging in a rather friendly but passionate hug. You enjoyed this warm and safe physical contact, and you expected Loki to enjoy it too. The sensation of his moist tip rubbing against your stomach only made it better- as you still felt amazed regarding the size of his member. It combined both generous length and girth, and was also gifted with the perfect shape any woman, or man, could ever ask for. “You smell nice..” he affirmed, his nose being stuck to the crook of your neck as you happily passed your hands through his black hair. He ended up looking up at you, pressing a shy and respectful kiss to your lips. You smiled.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to roll around, switching to Loki now resting on top of you. He smiled down out you out of pure excitement, his tip already trying to find a way into your entrance- as clumsy as his hips could be. After taking notice that he appeared to have a hard time lining himself up with your hole, you slipped a hand down between your legs and gave his balls a gentle caress, earning a couple of sensitive moans coming from your excited partner. However, your hand then proceeded to slither it’s way up his shaft, delicate digits wrapping around this one’s girth in order to move it to where it should and wanted to be. When you felt like Loki was now ready to carry on on his own, your hand made its way back up to his shoulder before passing underneath his arm and wrapping around his smooth and muscular back.

The raven haired man looked down at you with slight panic in his eyes upon being aware that a single hip thrust of his could begin the intercourse, his shoulders now having to carry a great responsibility he simply wasn’t ready to fail. Unfortunately, Loki once again appeared to struggle with pushing himself in. Even when looking down at your crotch, he still didn’t manage to properly slide inside of you. However, upon taking notice of his distress again, you agreed to slip your hand back down to his groin, taking a gentle hold of his shaft which you locked between your thumb and index finger before offering him a little bit of help regarding penetration. Thankfully, his cock was now able to slide inside of you on it’s own even if it remained a slow process.

Moving your hand away, you allowed Loki to fully take over the penetration process as you watched his facial expressions clench and contract. Eventually his eyelids shut close, hips colliding with yours as his tip dangerously brushed against your sensitive cervix. You could tell that this was brand new for him, and that he visibly had a hard time handling it. “You’re doing amazing.” You affirmed empathetically, your hand gently caressing his flexed biceps. Meanwhile, Loki couldn’t help but focus onto the warmth your walls provided him, his brain still attempting to process how nice it felt to finally get to be coated in a woman’s love juices. It was tight, moist, and warm- long story short : the perfect environnement for his needy member.

“Maybe try to give moving a try..” you proposed shyly, your organism beginning to feel more than overwhelmed by Loki’s filling presence inside of you. After hearing about this offer, Loki began to slowly back away from your crotch, shiny length, which was coated in your love juice, sliding out of you with relative ease. The two of your moaned, though you appeared calmer than your friend at first- who you didn’t forget was currently going through his first intercourse ever. Therefore, judgment wasn’t present. It didn’t take long for a regular thrusting process to take place, your overly sensitive walls nicely reacting to the friction caused by Loki’s cock especially after getting to orgasm beforehand. Your arms remained wrapped around his back, the two of you rocking back and forth against the green blanket.

“You’re doing so good..” you whispered in his ear, eyelids remaining closed as your hand had now taken ahold of his long raven hair. Your main goal was to enhance him through this event, and give him the happiness and recognition he clearly deserves as a bed partner. However, your natural tightness adding up to the more than large size of his girth was overstimulating Loki’s genitals, sending shockwaves of pleasure down his shaft and straight into his tensed balls which repetitively bumped against the area located beneath entrance. “Don’t forget to- to pull out.” You begged breathlessly, his thrusts becoming more primal and intense now that he had gained some extra self esteem regarding the situation.

You couldn’t help but grow worried and work yourself up over this intercourse’s potential end, wondering if the man on top of you was going to be able to control himself and pull out before his cum could penetrate into your womb. Thankfully, this annoying state didn’t last for long and you soon found yourself lost into lust again. Your arms wrapped around his neck, teeth gently biting down onto his earlobe as you allowed yourself to tug on it in a primal yet harmless manner. Loki seemingly appeared to appreciate this move, another wave of moans exiting his mouth as he unexpectedly pulled out of your cunt in order to allow his own hand to wrap around his shaft.

A couple of pumps were enough to see white liquid spring out of his urethra, the sperme landing on your stomach and staining your delicate skin. You were both left breathless, for nearly the exact same reason as one another. Resting your hand onto your chest, you panted whilst looking down at the substance on your tummy which appeared surprisingly appetizing. “Loki..” you moaned gently, fingers brushing against one of the stained parts of your stomach before you brought your digit up to your lips. Even if you hadn’t tasted many, his cum appeared different than the rest on the gustative level. “That was amazing.” You affirmed with a smile, extending your arm for him to join you on the blanket. You were craving for his touch, more than you had ever craved anything before.

[ part one available right here ]

As requested, here’s part two! I hope it was enjoyable for you guys to read. Don’t hesitate to leave feedback, it means tons. Stay safe and happy❤️

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summery: You and Tom bet on who will touch the other first after he comes home from filming. Both refusing to give in you resort to some teasing measures to get the other one to break.

Pairing; Tom + female reader.

Themes: Light-hearted, lots of teasing. Established relationship. Fluff. Cocky Tom. Cocky reader too, let’s face it. They are both stubborn idiots. Lots of horniness all around. To be honest, very little plot and mostly smut. Bit of fluff as well though. 

Warnings: Unprotected sex in established relationship. Masturbation. This work is strictly +18.

A/N: Not beta-read, I’m wine drunk and wrote this in like 2,5 hours so it is what it is. 

It was such a stupid fucking bet and he wish he never agreed to it. It is all your fault, he decides, as he watches you bend over into downward dog, your breathing rhythmic and even as you stretch your beautiful body. He tries to look away from your ass, honestly he does, but you’re wearing those light grey yoga pants that practically has him drooling and the fabric is hugging your body so perfectly it would be a crime to look away. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure that’s the whole point of you doing this, practicing yoga in the living room right in front of him as he’s supposed to be working. The whole point is to have him staring, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it. 

It had all started the week before he was set to return from filming. He had teased you (and sure, in retrospect that was a terrible idea and he should have known better) had said that you would jump him the first chance you got, that he probably wouldn’t even get through the door before you had him out of his jeans. You had retaliated with an accusation that he would be the one all over you and obviously he had to deny that.

It had spiraled, neither one of you willing to give in and admit defeat and now here you are; a full day after his return and he hasn’t as much as hugged you. 

Because whoever touches the other first loses the bet. 

And now here you are, in front of him; wearing skin tight yoga pants and bending over. 

A part of him, the midsection of his body to be precise, wants to just give in; to hand you the victory - fuck his pride. But the part of him, the rational part he likes to think, that has him bashing up golf clubs every time his dad beats him in a golf round; refuses to give in.

So what if he hasn’t seen you, hasn’t felt your body in over three months? Or that he now has your magnificent ass right in his face as he’s trying to concentrate on his dull emails. So what? He’s not faced by that, he’s a man of the world after all. 

You lean forwards again until you’re on the ground, turn to your back and start to slowly but steadily push your hips up and down, in what Tom can only assume, is referred to as the ghost fucking position. 

“Aren’t you supposed to answer emails?” You ask and he doesn’t even need to look at your face to know that you have a smug smile on your face.

“I am” he mutters, looking away from your body on the floor and back to his phone screen. 

You laugh, and he pretends not to hear it, while you pretend that the visible hard-on he’s sporting doesn't make you want to climb into his lap and give in to both of your temptations. 

The bet was stupid and totally his idea.

Tom comes out of the shower, drops of water still pouring from his wet hair onto his sculpted chest. The only thing he’s wearing is the white towel wrapped around his waist and the silver Rolex on his wrist. Seeing you standing in the kitchen and slicing tomatoes he sends you his widest smile. 

And you thought you were playing unfair with the yoga. 

He sits down by the bartop, all bare chested and golden. “Anything I can help with?” he asks as you place the tomatoes in the salad bowl. “A change of music perhaps?”

You throw a left over piece of tomato at him and it hits him square in the chest. He just smiles wider, completely unfaced. “Leave my dinner playlist alone, yeah?” You tell him, resisting the urge to give him the finger. 

“So tense” he snickers and leans his head to the side, “I know what could help you relax.”

“Throwing more tomatoes at you? Because we need them in the salad, Thomas.”

He stands up and moves around the kitchen island until he’s behind you, careful as not to touch, framing you against the bench with his strong arms on either side of your body. You can smell him, fresh out of the shower, feel the warm radiate from his body; it is as he’s already holding you. He’s so close, it’s like every cell in your body is reaching out for him. 

And it’s been so long. 

Three months of twisting and turning alone in bed, of only your own hands as company and him on the phone screen as he encourages you; tells you how goddamn gorgeous you look fucking yourself for him. Three months of only seeing him on the phone; not being able to touch him and feel him for yourself, to taste his skin. To just see him spill all over his own hand instead of being there, catching it all with your tongue. 

But it will have to wait a little while longer, because although you might love him, and the way he makes you feel, there’s no way you’re giving in just yet. 

Slowly turning around, carefully as not to touch him, you reach for the bottle. “You can open this, since you wanted to help” you say and hand him the wine, “that would help me relax.”

He smiles, unbothered by his failed attempt at luring you to defeat, and steps back. You stir the pasta sauce, trying not to look at his bare chest as he’s leaning over the kitchen counter, looking for something. Finally he finds the corkscrew and sits back again at the bar table. He gets to work with opening the bottle, his strong veined hand wrapped around the throat of the bottle, as the other inserts the screw. His brow is furrowed in concentration and he’s biting his lip. Around his wrist the Rolex watch reflects in the light. Uncorking the bottle he pours blood red liquid into two wine glasses and hands you one before taking a sip from his own, brown eyes looking at you from over the rim of his glass. 

“Put a fucking shirt on, Thomas” you mutter, going back to chopping vegetables.

The song and dance of torturing each other continues for the following two days. What goes on between you can only be described as a red-hot war. 

“Oh for fuck sake!” Tom’s voice booms over the living room. 

“Too direct?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“No, no not at all” he answers, voice dripping with sarcasm, “no please, keep deep-throating the banana, it’s incredibly subtle.”

Slowly he wakes, blinking into the dark night. The alarm clock on his bedside table tells him that it’s just after 2 am and for a few long seconds he stares at it.

A rustling of sheets beside him in bed and it hits him. He’s home, home in his own bed with you laying next to him, as it should always be. Except that things aren’t the way it should be. 

Because of that stupid goddamn bet. 

The sheets rustle again and he wonders if you are awake as well. But then he hears it; a soft moan. 

Turning over in bed at lighting speed he stares down at you. “Are you fucking touching yourself?” He asks, heatedly. 

Your answer is another soft moan as you look up at him, pupils blown wide and lips parted. Tearing of the duvet he looks down at your naked body, at you hand, covered in slick, moving over your clit.

Fuck. 

He moves over, leans over you; his legs on either side of yours and his arm on each side of your face, carefully making sure that he isn’t touching you. A slight catch of breath is all the sign you give of having been surprised, your hand keeping it’s gentle pace. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, voice low in the quiet room. 

“You” is your breathless reply, “you touching me.”

“Think this is how I would touch you?” He asks, snickering. He’s holding his body over you, looking into your lust-filled eyes. “I’d go much slower at first, tease you. Slowly move around your clit until your hips are bucking up and you're begging me for more”.

He moves his head, so that his lips are almost touching yours. Almost. 

“You’re so good at begging after all” he murmurs against your lips, moving his boxer clad hips so that they almost touch you and you groan, your face telling of vexation and volatile bliss. But you do as he says, follow his instruction with the movement of your hand. 

“Good girl” he whispers softly against your lips. 

“Then I’d slide one fingers inside that wet cunt, still slow; still teasing.” 

You whine, but you do as he says. Slowly you move one finger in and out of yourself, as the other hand is still circling your clit. “Need more” you moan but he just smiles.

“Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He teases with a devilish grin, tilting his head to the side, looking down at you with sparkling eyes. “But your hands are smaller than mine, so maybe you should add another finger.” 

You insert your middle finger as well; and moan. “Faster” you beg, but he shakes his head and so a string of curses fall out your mouth and all he can do is smile at it. 

“That filthy fucking mouth of yours” me mutters. 

“Well if you shove your dick into it instead then this stupid fucking bet will be over and we’ll both get off.”

“You know, I’ve really missed your fantastic sense of humor while I’ve been away” he answers dryly, but with a smile. 

“Tom” you whine. “I need more.”

He wants to kiss you so badly, to press his lips against yours and taste you; to remove his boxers and sink into you in one swift movement until your hoarse and wanton whines turn into satisfied moans, soft and sweet like honey. 

“Go on then, darling” he says, voice huskier than usual in the dark night. “Speed up for me.”

You do, your body hungry for satisfaction, hunting your orgasm with determent, sharp movements. 

“Fuck,” he swears, “fuck you’re soaked.” He looks down at your wet slit, your rapidly moving fingers, your hips bucking up to meet your hand. Looking back into your wild eyes he groans, his mouth still dangerously close to yours.

“The whole room smells of you” he moans, and it’s true. The scent of your arousal mixes with the scent of your perfumed skin and this is the closest he’s been so far to falter; to give in to temptation.

Your head is thrown back against the pillows, throat exposed, soft moans escaping freely. He wants to touch you everywhere, feel the softness of your skin with his rough hands, his wet mouth, his teeth. He’s breathing hard and he hasn’t even been touched, but he feels the want of touching you in his bones.

He wants to wrap his lips around your hardened nipples. To suck, bite, lick and kiss them until you fall over the edge. 

“So fucking beautiful” he breathes out. Even if he had wanted to he wouldn't have been able to look away from you. “But it’s my hand your fucking, remember? Think I’d wouldn’t fuck you harder than that?”

And god, he wish it was his hand you were fucking, wish he could feel you come; hot and wet and pulsing around his fingers. Instead he is left to watch. Watch as the movements of your hand speeds up until fucking yourself with a carnal kind of need, until you fall apart at the seams; luscious bliss spreading over your features, and your tense body relaxes until you soften against the mattress;  loose limbed and starry eyed. 

And he is left to take care of the his erection all on his own.

A thin layer of sweat is covering his chest and his muscles are taut as he forces his arms to carry his weight into another push-up. 

“Thirty-six” he groans out, his voice strained and deep from the physical effort, curls of brown hair falling over his face as he lowers himself to the ground again. “Thirty-seven.”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, your eyes fixed on the muscles of his back, and the way they move as he moves. 

You feel agitated and frantic and in that moment you want nothing more than to lay down beneath him; look up at him as move above you with swift, powerful moments. It’s beyond reason, the carnal tug inside you as you watch him and it is absolutely maddening that he hasn’t given in yet to his desire; because you know he desires you, have seen it in his dark eyes, always following you around the room, over the last few days. 

But you are not going to be the first one to give in. 

“Forty-two” he moans out, and the sound of his heavy breathing and deep groans vibrate somewhere far inside you.

You’re not. 

You just need a change of tactic, that’s all.

The pub is packed tonight, but the more secluded pool area section is scarce of people. Tom sips on his beer, scrolling through instagram; waiting for you, as the speakers blast out ‘Galway Girl’ for what feels like the hundredth time since he came in. He’s been visiting a friend while you’ve been at work, having decided this morning to meet up at the pub after for a meal and a game of pool. 

A text pops up on the screen, beside your picture. It simply says ‘Look up’. 

He does. And fuck. 

Oh, fuck no. 

Oh, for all that is holy, surely you wouldn’t be that cruel to him.

Not the white shorts.

Not the white shorts you had worn last summer, the ones you know very well turns him on like nothing else. The ones you had worn that time when you had driven down to the beach on bonfire night; the time when you pulled him aside from the rest of the company and he had ended up fucking you against the birch wood tree just some meters away from all your friends, your shorts around your ankles and your nails digging into his back as you tried to bite back you moans.

Surely you wouldn’t be this cruel to him, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. He hasn’t had sex in over three months and you show up looking like this  and he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. 

He’s just not sure about whether this is going to be heaven

or hell. 

He watches you as you walk through the pub with long confident strides, the goddamn heels you're wearing extending your legs, and the fabric of the white tank top stretching over your chest. Your lips are painted blood red, as if you are ready for battle.

He’s not the only one in the pub staring at you but you keep your eyes fixed on him, burning into his eyes, as you move across the floor. 

“Honey” you greet him. “Got one of those for me as well?” You nod to the beer in his hand, frozen mid movement to his mouth. 

“Why?” He asks, trying to regain the upper hand. “Feeling thirsty?”

You laugh dryly, looking down at his crotch, where he’s painfully aware a bulge is showing. Instead of commenting on it he hands you the other beer bottle he ordered and watches as you wrap your red lips around the opening, swallowing down. He feels warm all over in the stuffy pub and he pulls at the collar of his t-shirt. 

He reaches for the cue sticks and hands you one. “Alright, darling” he sighs, knowing very well what kind of teasing hell you are about to put him through tonight, “let’s play.”

The playlist has gone from Ed Sheeran songs to Mumford & Sons and the pub is still packed with people, though the pool area remains empty apart from you and Tom. It's warm in there and Tom takes big gulps from his third beer of the night. He can feel sweat forming on his back, his brow, his chest. 

You’re not helping the situation. Although he’s pretty certain that helping is opposite of what you’re trying to do. 

“You’re so fucking annoying” he whines, as he watches you hit the white ball perfectly, resulting in two of your striped balls ending up in the pockets. He’s leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and mouth in a thin line.

He fucking hates losing. 

“You know what you should do?” You ask, lining up against the table, arched back as you bend over with your cue stick; giving him a full view of your fucking fantastic thighs, “try to fuck it out of me.” You hit another perfect shot and a third ball goes in. You look over your shoulder at him, still bent over the table, and wink.

Standing up straight you turn to him. Swaying your hips to the music you lift the beer bottle to your red lips and you swallow a mouthful. Placing the bottle next to you on the side of the pool table you walk over to him, standing so close you’re almost touching. 

Almost

In fact, you might as well be, for he can smell your perfume, mixing with the scent of your shampoo. Can feel the heat radiate of your warm body. It’s been so long since he’s held you and his entire body is painfully aware of it. 

With your lips just centimeters from his you whisper; voice husky and low, “I know how bad you want me, honey.” You move your face so that you’re almost kissing the stubble on his cheek, mouth nearly pressed against it. 

“You want my hands” you whisper again, looking up at him, your hand hovering right over his erection, carefully as not to touch it, and he nearly bucks out to meet your hand. He’s glad that the area is more secluded, part of the wall hiding the pair of you from view. It feels like there’s just the two of you in the entire world; might as well be for all he cares right now. A blush colours his cheeks as he stares back at you.

 “You want my mouth” you breathe against him, your lips curled into an evil smile. “You want my tongue” and you lick your lips before biting it, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“You wish I was on my hands and knees right now, so you could fuck my mouth.” you finish. 

His skin feels tight and overheated, but he keeps his tone casual as he replies, “actually I wish you were bent over the table so spank that arse of yours, but sure, I wouldn’t say no to a blowie.”

“What’s stopping you? You think you can hold on forever? You know I’m not going to give in, Tom. You know me. Can you imagine going to sleep tonight? Untouched? Again?” 

There’s no use he thinks as he plunges in for a kiss, pulling you tight against him; eager to touch as much as you as possible with impatient hands. 

He tried to beat the devil at her own game and he lost.

“Think you lost, honey” you say between kisses as he’s pressing you up against the front door. 

“Don’t give a flying fuck love, just keep touching me and I’ll die a happy man.” His voice is breathless and hoarse and his hands are all over you; as if he can’t get enough. Your hand is in his soft hair, holding on, as the other is cupping the bulge in his trousers, stroking him through the fabric as he whimpers in your ear. 

“We should probably get inside,” you whisper. “Unless you want your neighbors to witness me give you a hand job on the front steps.” 

He groans, but steps away from you. His hair is ruffled and his pupils are blown wide, spit from your previous kissing covering his lower lip. You imagine you look just as disheveled. 

“Think you need to learn a lesson in delayed gratification” you tease, not being able to stop yourself. 

His eyes go even darker and he takes a step forward again, cups your chin and looks you straight in the eye in a way that has bolts of excitement shoot up your spine. “Before the night is over” he says in a slow, gruff voice, “I will teach you all there is to know about delayed gratification.”

He digs in his pockets, pulls out his keys and unlocks the front door, guiding you in with a hand on your lower back. 

He feels as if someone has lit a match under his skin. His whole body is screaming with vehement urgency for yours. His hands can’t get enough of you; his lips never want to leave your soft lips again. Your soft little noises are filling his head and he hardly even registers your hands unzipping his jeans; until you’re pulling them, alongside his boxers, off of him in a sharp tugging notion. 

“Filthy girl, I fucking love you” he moans out between kisses as you wrap your soft hand around his hard cock. 

He pulls at your tank top and for a moment your skin separates entirely from his as you step away, so that he can remove the fabric from you. Yanking at the goddamn jeans shorts he pulls them down around your ankles and you step out of them.  Your underwear soon follows suit along with his t-shirt until you both are free of any inconvenient clothing. 

He needs your warm and soft skin pressed against his, needs your soft little moans in his ear as he fucks into you, needs the taste of your sweet skin on his tongue. 

He lifts you up on the bed and soon follows suit. Reaching down he slips a finger between your legs, feels how wet and warm and slick you are and groans loudly against your shoulder. 

Lining up against you, cock in hand he looks at your lust filled eyes. “Next time I’ll go slow, yeah? I’ll take my time.”

Your answer is your hands on his shoulder, pulling him against you and he slips inside you with an ecstatic moan. You moan as well, wrap your legs around his hips. He starts moving, thrusting in and out of you with greedy dragged out jabs. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room and mixes with your whimpering mewls. 

You are so hot and tight and wet around him and the pleasure is so intense it’s bordering on painful. His face is so close to yours, it is as if you are sharing breaths. 

He wants to punch himself from denying himself this for several days when he already had to go without for months.

“Did you think your hands could stand in for mine while I was away? That it could measure up at all?” He asks you, voice thick with lust. He’s so full of want for you and you’re all soft noise and wandering hands. Your warm breath on his even warmer skin. His lips on your nipples; kissing, sucking, biting. 

You writhe beneath him, unable to lay still as you buck your hips up to meet his; fucking into him. He’s not going to last long but neither is you and holding on is a losing battle. Like he said, next time he will go slower, gentler, softer. Drag it out for an entire night. But you both have too much built up pressure inside you to last now. He feels like a bomb about to go off, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine, as he fucks into you with even greater force. You’re hot and swollen and hugging onto him so perfectly he feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get to come soon. 

But he knows that you are close. Feels it in your nails, dragging along his back, in the sharp movements of your thrusts, in your laboured breathing against his shoulder. He feels it in the way your cunt squeezes around him.

“I’m coming” you whimper and he wants to cry from the relief as he feels you spasm around him.

“Fuck” you moan out as your breathing calms down, and he’s holding you pressed against his chest. “Haven’t had a decent orgasm in months, I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“You really can’t function without me, can you?” he says with a smug smile and honestly, hadn’t you’ve been so blissed out you probably would have bitten him. 

A/N: I honestly don’t know if any of this made sense. I’m drunk and tired and I’m going to bed. If you read it, please leave your thoughts. 

[tom-holland-parker]

Tease

Summary: After a bad mistake of wanting to make Tom jealous you have to deal with the consequences of being a tease

Pairing: Mob!Tom x reader

Warning: SMUT 18+

Word count: 2326

Masterlist

Part of you wished you could’ve blamed your behavior on all the alcohol you were drinking, but everyone knew you weren’t the type to get sloppy after 3 drinks. You smirked to yourself as your fingers gently trailed up Tom’s thigh. He seemed to be unfazed, continuing his conversation with the men in front of him as if nothing was happening. It wasn’t until your palm rubbed against his growing bulge, that his voice froze, clearing his throat to avoid any suspicion. 

You smiled to yourself as your fingers began to trace the outline of his cock, teasing it through the tight fabric of his pants. He coughed again, grabbing your wrist as a warning. You turned to look at him, a mischievous smile plastered on your face but eyes full of lust. He bit the inside of his cheek, he knew that face all too well. It was the face of a brat. 

Not just any brat...His brat

“You better start behaving or I’m gonna punish you when we get home”, He whispered as he moved your wrist, letting it fall to your own lap as he returned to the conversation. You sighed, finishing your fourth drink of the night. Needless to say, you were bored. Tom was busy all week with business meetings and barely had time to see you, let alone touch you. You watched as the men around the bar stared at you from afar, some whispering words about you, others simply admiring. Tom seemed to notice too as he wrapped his hands around your waist pulling you closer to him. 

You smiled to yourself as you kissed Tom’s cheek, “I’m gonna go dance” You whispered, getting up from your seat. He quickly grabbed your wrist, “Not if you’re gonna go dance with those men” He said protectively. Tom would never admit it but he was an extremely possessive person. 

You shrugged your shoulders, smiling as you pulled your wrist from his grip, “You could always join me” His jaw tensed, his grip around the cup tightening. You gave him a quick wink as you walked away, swaying your hips side to side knowing he would be staring at your ass. 

You hadn’t even reached the bar, before someone offered to buy you a drink. A tall boy, that was definitely younger than you. You smiled, nodded your head as he followed you to the bar. You didn’t have to look back to know that Tom was watching you. You could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head.

“My name’s Dustin,” The boy said, holding out his hand. You shook it with a smile, “I’m y/n”

“So do you come here often?” He asked, leaning against the bar. You giggled at how cheesy he sounded, completely the opposite of Tom. “Occasionally” You said as Frank, the bartender, walked your way. 

“This man bothering you, y/n?” he asked, looking at Dustin. You shook your head, “No Frankie he’s just buying me a drink” 

Frank’s eyes quickly glanced in Tom’s direction, noticing the look of anger on his face. Frank caught on quickly, rolling his eyes as he looked back at you, “alright what’ll it be?” 

“I’ll have rum and coke,” Dustin said as he stared at you. You glanced at him before looking back at Frank, “I’ll have a vodka redbull”

Frank smiled, walking away to pour your drinks. Your eyes traveled to Tom who to your surprise looked calm. You watched as he leaned back in his seat, staring at you with that domineering look in his eyes. The look that said,

 try me

You smiled, blowing him a kiss as you turned back to Dustin, Usually you would just flirt with other boys to make Tom jealous but tonight was different. You wanted to test the limits. Frankie came back shortly with the drinks, laughing as he rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he walked away. 

You sipped on your drink as you moved closer to Dustin. You felt his arms snake around your hips, his hands resting just above your tailbone. You finished your drink, quickly setting it on the counter as you pulled Dustin to the dancefloor. Your hips swaying side to side as his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer. 

You turned around, catching Tom’s eyes as you leaned back into Dustin, your hips slowly grinding against the boy. His eyebrows raised, surprised at your boldness. Tom’s grip on his drink tightened as he sipped his whiskey. It turned you on, how jealous he was. His angered expression making you wet.  You knew he was close to his breaking point. You smiled as you gripped Dustin's hands, moving them to your thighs as he slightly lifted the hem of your dress. Not enough to expose anything, but definitely enough for Tom to lose his mind. You watched as Tom slammed his drink on the table, standing up quickly and walking your way. Before you knew it, Tom’s hands gripped your wrist, pulling you out the club before you could say a word. 

Tom forced you in the car, before quickly speeding off to the house. The car ride was silent but every now and then Tom took a deep breath, shaking his head. No doubt planning everything he was going to do to you. As you got closer to the house the confidence from the club had seemed to disappear. You tapped your foot nervously, glancing at Tom every few seconds. His face remained the same, jaw clenched and empty eyes. 

Tom turned to look at you as he put the car in park, “Give me a kiss” He said calmly. You looked at him in confusion as you leaned closer to him. Your lips were only centimeters away from his before he gripped your throat, roughly pulling you into him. The kiss quickly deepened as you leaned even closer to him. Tom chuckled, pulling away quickly, “Go upstairs and wait for me” He whispered, letting go of your throat. 

You did as he said, rushing upstairs and sitting quietly at the end of the bed. Tom walked in a few minutes later, two water bottles in hand. You bit your lip, knowing you were in for a long night. Tom smiled at you, putting the bottles on the dresser before walking in front of you. His finger pulled your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You looked so beautiful tonight” he said as he leaned down to kiss you, “all dressed up”

He pulled away, getting on his knees. His fingers gripped your thighs spreading them as he placed gentle kisses on your legs. “Awe look at you all wet” he teased. Your fingers ran through his hair in anticipation, a small whimper escaping your mouth as his lips kissed your already damp underwear. He smiled, pulling your underwear off. “Too bad you’re such a slut” He smirked. You groaned as he roughly pushed his fingers inside you. moaning loudly, your hips jolting in surprise. “Oh God” You moaned. His fingers curled inside you as his tongue circled your clit, quickly bringing you closer to your high. 

“Fuck” he gripped your legs, putting them on his shoulders as he pulled your dripping cunt closer to his face. “I’m gonna-” 

“Don’t you dare” He said as he lifted his head, “whores like you don’t get to cum without permission”. You whimpered as he removed his fingers. Tom smirked watching your squirm around, desperate for his touch. Seconds later his head was back between your legs. He places a kiss right on your clit, a chuckle leaving his lips when he suddenly takes you in his mouth sucking and pulling, you gasp and arch your back, “Tommy right there”

His hand quickly slaps your thigh as he lifts his head, “what did you just call me?” 

“Tommy” You smirked, silently hating yourself for adding fuel to the fire, “That’s your name isn’t it. Or do you prefer I call you Thomas” 

He stood up, watching you shut your thighs, pathetically trying to satisfy your throbbing clit. You knew better than to touch yourself without his permission. Tom took a deep breath as he shook his head, “I know you’re just doing this because you’re such a cockslut”, He grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stand up, “you just can’t go two seconds without me pounding into that tight little pussy” 

You didn’t say anything, just watching as he gripped your dress, easily ripping the thin material. You open your mouth to complain, that was your favorite dress, but Tom beats you to it, “another word out your mouth and you won’t be able to sit for a week” 

He smiled when you shut your mouth, his hands grabbing your waist, pulling you closer. “Go lay on the bed” he whispers, roughly smacking your ass as you walk away. You bit your lip, watching as he walked to the closet. He returned shortly, his shirt had been discarded but the tie he wearing was clutched tight in his hand, “Give me your wrist” 

You silently obeyed, holding your wrist out. He tied them together before attaching them to the headboard of the bed, “you remember our word?” 

You nodded your head, “Bottlecap” 

He smiled in approval before moving off the bed, reaching into the top drawer of the nightstand, “I had a moment of clarity as I watched you let that boy buy you a drink” He said quietly, smirking as he pulled out the small blue vibrator out the drawer, “I’ve been ignoring you and your needy little body” 

You squirmed at the sounds of vibrations filling the room, he hadn’t even touched you and you were already on edge. “I was going to bring you home and reward your for how good you’d been handling being by yourself” His smirk fell as he moved between your legs, “Until you let him put his hands on your body”

Your back arched as he pressed the vibrator against your clit, your moans becoming louder as you felt pleasure build up. “Please sir Please” You wined 

“Oh now you want to behave” He chuckled, “too bad honey you can’t cum until I say so and I’m not feeling so generous” 

Tears slowly trailed down your face as the knot in your stomach became painful to hold. You uselessly tugged against the restraints, “I’m sorry sir please” 

“Aww look at you crying, you look so pretty like that” he teased as he thumb wiped a tear from your cheek, “Once you start you don’t get to stop until I say so” 

A silent scream left your mouth as he pressed the toy harder onto your clit, “Please please please” He let out a loud laugh, “Aw you pathetic desperate little slut, fine I’ll be nice you can cum” 

Your legs began to shake as he thrust two fingers inside you, Your walls squeezing around him, “Good girl come on cum again I want another one” He groaned as his fingers hit your g spot

You shook your head, “No it’s too much” You cried trying to move your hips away. Tom chuckled, “you know that if you say the word I’ll stop baby but I don’t think you want that” You moaned as you came again

“Please I need you inside me” You begged, your mind became cloudy as your hips began grinding faster against the vibrator. “You don’t get to tell me what you want, no after what you did tonight” He laughed as he reached for your throat, squeezing it tightly. 

“I’m sorry I’ll never do it again, please” You moaned. Your throat was become sore from all the moaning you were doing, “Please I’ll be a good girl”

You screamed as you came for the third time that night. You took a deep breath as the vibrator was cut off, Tom pulled out his fingers, bringing the dripping flesh to your mouth, “Suck on my fingers baby” He said with a smile as he pushed down his pants. 

Your second of relaxation was cut short as you felt Tom’s tip at your entrance. You shuttered at the feeling of his tip teasing your sensitive clit, “You okay baby?”

You nodded your head, “Please I need to feel you.” He chuckled as he thrust into you deeply, “such a needy little thing, can’t go two seconds without my cock.” The sound of your moans filled the room again as you tugged against the restraints, your shoulders were getting sore from the position, but you couldn’t care less. 

His hips slammed against yours with every thrust, his grip on your sides were sure to cause bruises tomorrow, "Oh fuck baby, look at you making a mess on my cock. Is this all you wanted?"

"Yes Tommy Please" you moaned, your legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him closer as you came for the final time.

 The feeling of your wet walls gripping Tom's cock drove him wild, his thrust becoming sloppy as he reached his high. Your body going limp as he moved to untie your wrist, giving each a kiss before gently rubbing them.

"You did such a good job" Tom said as he placed gentle kisses on your face and body, "you took that so well" 

"Tommy I'm sorry please don't be mad at me" your voice barely above a whisper. He chuckled, "Darling I could never be mad at you. It's my fault for ignoring your needy little body for so long"

You hummed in reply as your head rested on his shoulder. He placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead, "you relax, I'll run a bath" 

You grabbed his wrist as he began to move, "Tom-"

"Something wrong, Love?" he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. You shook your head, "I love you"

He chuckled giving you another kiss, "I love you too"