#it was so hot to have him twisting away from my bites. it made me feel a spike in predatory instincts and i kept grabbing him hard

[dickliquidizer]

..

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life.

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears a dress and has "flowing hair")

warnings: canon typical violence, cursing 

summary: You meet Benjicot Blackwood in the woods and continue to pine after him for years. 

word count: 2.9k

part II can be found here. part III can be found here. part iv can be found here.

You were bleeding the first time you saw Benjicot Blackwood. 

At the age of three and ten you had thought yourself invincible. So careless in your disregard for your father’s rules about minding the boundary stones that you crossed into Blackwood territory. So careless that you sought to climb a ravine that was nearly impassable. So careless that you lost your footing, scrambled to find purchase, cutting your hands and tearing your dress. So careless that you twisted your ankle and cried out in pain, alerting all those in the surrounding area to your presence. 

Face down in the dirt and sobbing, you did not hear him approach. But when you felt his touch at your shoulder, you jerked in response and tried to roll away. 

Through your tears, you saw a figure crouching before you. His face was almost entirely blank except for the furrow of his brow. Dark, messy hair that had likely never seen a comb. Stormy eyes that flitted across your person, assessing and calculating. A slight tremble to his fingers, fidgeting with the dagger at his waist. A black and red cloak, with a raven sigil pinned at the shoulder. No mistaking a Blackwood. And not just any Blackwood—Benjicot Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall. 

You screamed, whether from the pain or fright, you could not be sure. You tried to push yourself up to flee, but your ankle would not bear any weight. 

You fell back to the dirt, spitting a curse that you had heard your cousin Aeron use when he thought you were not around. 

Benjicot raised to his feet. “I would not recommend that, my lady.”  

You were sure that he knew who you were. Your gold dress might have been torn and dirty, but the red stallion detail was clear as day. You sat up and tried to brush the tears from your face, but there was no hiding your fear. You were trapped on Blackwood land, in violation of the assize and without any way to escape. 

Benjicot’s gaze had not left your face. From your Septa’s lessons, you knew that he was not much older than you. Maybe only a year or two. But even at five and ten his presence was imposing. He walked with a confidence of someone years older, so clearly comfortable in his own skin. 

Panting, you managed to gulp down enough air to make out, “If you’re going to kill me, then get on with it.”

Benjicot’s expression did not change, except for the almost unpercetable raise of his eyebrows. Unsheathing his dagger, Benjicot slowly circled your form before lowering and stopping right in front of you. He was so close that you could feel his hot breath. Smell his leathers and the soap he had likely used to wash that morning. Bringing his dagger to just under your chin, he forced your head to raise and meet his eyes. 

The cold sting of the blade made your breath hitch. Your body trembled, but you dared not look away. 

Leaning further into your personal space and pressing the dagger into your skin, Benjicot asked, “Are you so eager for death, my lady?” 

You pressed yourself into the dagger, feeling the bite of the blade cut into your skin. Warm blood trickled down your neck and soaked into the front of your gown. You watched Benjicot trace the path of the blood. Saw his breath catch ever so slightly at your actions. 

But he did not withdraw the blade and you did not move away. “There are fates worse than death, my lord.” 

An emotion flashed across Benjicot’s face, but it was gone before you could place it. Removing the blade from your neck, he leaned away from you and sat back on the ground. “One could say that a quick death is too good for a Bracken.”

You could hear the smile and jest in his voice. For the first time since falling in the ravine, you felt like you could breathe. Whatever had just passed between you and Benjicot, you were now sure that he wasn’t going to harm you. 

“And one could also say that being killed by a Blackwood is likely to bring shame upon my entire family.” You flopped onto your back, giving up on any attempt to stand. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benjicot twirl the dagger between his fingers. When his hand stilled, you shifted your gaze fully back onto him. “What do you plan on doing with me, my lord?” Your voice did not come out as strong as you would like, but you felt a shift in Benjicot’s disposition. You could tell that he had reached some kind of decision. 

Benjicot leaned back into your space, his face directly above yours. Your heart started beating faster. Your stomach clenched and dipped. And for one fleeting moment, you thought that he might kiss you. 

His face drew closer and closer, but instead of your lips, he sought your ear. “Remember this well, my lady. This land is not for Brackens.” You tried to keep your breathing even, but with his body so close and his voice so raspy, you felt bewitched. You, the helpless prey to his predator. 

“Should you wander into these woods again, I cannot guarantee that you will meet the same fate.” His lips brushed the side of your face, whether intentionally or not, you did not know. “Sleep well, my lady.” And before you could react, Benjicot brought the hilt of his dagger against your temple, sending you into darkness. 

Six years had passed since that fateful day. You will never forget waking on Bracken soil, cold and alone and in pain. But other than the injuries you sustained because of your own stupidity, you were unharmed. Benjicot had knocked you unconscious and carried you home. 

You lied through your teeth when your father and Aeron questioned you about what happened. You claimed to have suffered a hit to the head (not untrue) and could not recall how you made it home. When your story did not change, they eventually gave up asking. 

You had seen Benjicot sparingly over the years and only ever in passing or from across a crowded room. But you watched him—oh, how you watched him. 

Each year you begged your father to allow you to attend the Riverrun assize just for the chance to see him. From afar, you watched him grow taller and more handsome. A lean build and broad shoulders developed from years of sparring and training. His reputation for violence and ruthlessness made all Bracken guards nervous. Bloody Ben, indeed.

And at the last assize you knew he was watching you, too. Each time you entered a room, you felt his eyes track you and linger. Felt his gaze sweep across you; your skin flushing and hot at the thought he might find you as desirable as you found him. 

On the last night of the assize, Lord Tully held a feast to celebrate a successful negotiation of the boundary stones. You were passing tables upon tables of lords, knights, and squires, trying to make it to your seat without being crushed. 

But then you saw Benjicot. Walking in your direction. 

Your eyes caught, and what you would have given to be anywhere else in that moment. Alone with him. 

To outsiders, Benjicot’s face was indifferent, blank. But you knew his eyes were mirrors of your own—an intoxicating mix of intrigue and longing. As you passed each other, you felt the hairs breath of space between your hands. You had not touched, but your hand flinched as if burned. Propriety demanded that you keep your gaze forward, so you fought the urge to watch Benjicot walk away, but only just barely. 

That was almost a year ago. No matter how many times you walked the tree line separating the Bracken and Blackwood lands, you never saw him. You thought of writing him a letter but feared interception and rejection. And what could you possibly say? Thank you, Lord Blackwood, for saving me six years ago. In case you were curious, I have been infatuated with you ever since. Surely not.

So, imagine your surprise that on an otherwise unremarkable day, when you were merely walking the pastures with Aeron, that you were finally granted the opportunity to see him. 

Aeron and the other young men walking with you had stopped just short of the boundary stones. The day was relatively cool, and the fields were still damp from last night’s rain. You stood a short distance away from the others, preferring to settle against a rock formation and wait for the men to finish their work.

“Can you even get that thing up?” 

You heard Aeron unsheathe his sword. “Well enough for killing Blackwoods.” The others laughed at Aeron’s joke while you rolled your eyes at their arrogance. 

“Bracken!” A voice rang out from across the field. 

Your heart leapt to your throat as you swung your head around to see Benjicot approach with a host of Blackwood men. You heard a roaring in your ears as your focus narrowed on the scene before you. 

Aeron and the others had turned toward the direction of the Blackwood lands. From where you stood, you could see the tension line their bodies. Their laughter dying in the wind. 

Walking with purpose and determination, Benjicot demand, “Put the boundary stones back.”

Aeron hesitated briefly before approaching, “We didn’t move them—”

“Oh, so they just moved themselves, then?” Benjicot cut off. “Just rolled their way over so Bracken cows could fill their bellies on Blackwood grass.”

Aeron tried to argue, “The assize at Riverrun—”

But Benjicot wasn’t having it. “Fuck the assize,” he paused before adding, “and fuck you. This is our land.”

You were paralyzed. You did not know if Benjicot had spotted you yet, but even if he had, you were not sure your presence would matter. Blackwoods and Brackens never needed an excuse to shed each other’s blood. 

You watched unease flicker across Aeron’s face before resolving into determination. “It’s Bracken land.”

Benjicot’s face clouded over. And when Aeron mumbled “Babe-killer,” you saw rage and anger bubble to the surface.

“What did you say?”

Aeron turned back toward the Blackwoods, disgust marring his features. “Your false Queen Rhaenyra is a kinslayer,” Aeron accused.  

Never mind that Aemond Targaryen drew first blood in this conflict by killing Rhaenyra’s son. Not that Aeron bothered listening to you when you pointed this out. 

Benjicot grimaced before asking, “Your uncle declared for Aegon, did he?” But he knew the answer. No matter that your father had sworn fealty to Queen Rhaenyra nearly two decades ago. No matter that rumors spread wild about Aegon’s drunken, lecherous ways. No matter that this conflict was sure to result in war and death and famine and fire. 

Benjicot had reached his limit. “Well then, let me tell you. Aegon Targaryen is no true king,” he paused before continuing, “just as you are no true knight.” 

With each word, Benjicot advanced until he stood chest to chest Aeron. “You’re both craven”—shove—“little”—another shove—“cunts!” With a final shove, Benjicot pushed Aeron into another Bracken man, sending him to the ground. 

But Aeron had reached his limit too. Unsheathing his sword, Aeron pointed the blade at Benjicot’s chest. 

And Benjicot could not have been more delighted. A crazed look came over this face—Bloody Ben rising to the surface to meet battle. Smirking and laughing, he advanced toward Aeron’s sword and said, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Stop!” You shrieked, finally finding your voice and your legs. You sprinted to the both of them, shoving the Bracken men out of the way when they tried to hold you back. 

You stood between the two of them, wrenching Aeron’s sword away from Benjicot’s chest so that it pointed at your own. You faced toward Aeron, eyes pleading to back down from this challenge. “That is enough.”

You missed the look of panic on Benjicot’s face as you stepped in front of the sword. Missed the way he nearly lunged for you to pull you out of the way. Missed how his eyes settled and softened at the edges when taking in the sight of you. Your golden dress and flowing hair. Gods, how he wanted you.

And if Aeron did not move that fucking sword away from you in five seconds, Benjicot was going to kill him. Consequences be damned. 

Your interference seemed to strike Aeron dumb. He did not know what to do, but when he finally realized that his sword was directed toward you, he sheathed the blade. He made to grab you but you resisted, flinging your hands out to both sides in a bid to stop the two of them. 

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, betraying your panic and fear. But when you spoke, your voice was strong. “There is no need for violence.” 

Turning toward Benjicot, your breath caught in your throat. His attention was on you. His eyes glued to your form. You were not even sure he was blinking. You fought the heat that threatened to crawl across your cheeks and expose your feelings. 

For the first time in six years, you spoke to Benjicot. “We will move the boundary stones back.” Out of all the things you had imagined saying to him, boundary stones had never once crossed your mind. But such is your luck in this life. 

Aeron stiffened and started, “We will do no such—”

You did not see Benjicot move, but suddenly he was in front of Aeron again. “Are you going to defy an order from your lady, you craven cunt?” 

You did not bother pointing out as your father’s heir, Aeron ranked higher than you in House Bracken. 

No, instead you watched Aeron pull back his arm to swing at Benjicot. You were not sure what possessed you—love, most likely—but you found yourself shoving Benjicot aside and stepping into the line of Aeron’s fist. By the time Aeron and Benjicot realized what happened, Aeron had already struck you across the face. 

Your face whipped to the side from the force of Aeron’s punch, causing you to lose your balance and fall to the ground. You were stunned from the hit. And when you gingerly touched the side of your mouth, your hand revealed blood. 

When you looked up to Benjicot and Aeron, you were not sure who was more shocked. Aeron looked sick with himself, but Benjicot—oh, Benjicot was enraged. How dare anyone strike you?  How dare anyone make you bleed? 

Benjicot unleashed his fury. You could hear bone snap from the force of Benjicot’s punches and strikes. Aeron tried to block, but Benjicot was too fast and too angry to be slowed. 

“You call yourself a knight?” Benjicot spat at Aeron. “Hiding behind your lady and letting her fight your battles? You fucking worthless excuse for a man. I should cut off your godsdamn balls and hang you with them.”

When Benjicot drew his dagger, you knew you had to put an end to this. Picking yourself up off the ground, you approached the fight. Of all the foolish and ill-thought plans you had ever had in your life, interrupting a fight between a Blackwood and Bracken may have been the stupidest. 

Just as Benjicot was about to strike, you placed your hand on his back. He was hot and hard and you felt a shock surge up your arm where the two of you connected. Instantly, Benjicot lowered his weapon and turned toward you. 

He was breathing heavily, but the crazed look in his eye faded when he beheld you. He could see the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. See the shallow cut on your mouth. See the fear and hurt and longing in your gaze. His knees threatened to buckle. 

Keeping your hand on his back, you whispered, “Please, stop.” 

You forgot about the men surrounding you. Forgot about propriety. Forgot about the boundary stones. Forgot about your feuding families. Forgot about everything except for the man in front of you. The man you loved.

Quick as lightening, Benjicot sheathed his dagger. He longed to grab your hand and pull you into his arms and assess your injuries. But unlike you, Benjicot did not forget himself. Not when there were those here who could still harm you, whether by word or deed. 

So he simply said, “As you wish, my lady.”

My lady. Oh, your heart squeezed at the sound of that. 

Holding your gaze, Benjicot returned to his men. In the distance, you heard the Bracken men help Aeron stand, hurling insults to the Blackwoods as if Benjicot had not just thoroughly bested their lord. 

Clearing your throat, you repeated, “We will return the boundary stones. Let that be the end of this matter.” 

As you turned away from Benjicot and crossed back onto Bracken land, you let a sob escape. Hoping that the others would blame it on your injuries, you avoided their looks of concern and confusion. You ignored Aeron’s apologies. You wanted to get as far away as possible. But with each step you took, you felt your heart break just a little bit more, realizing that your love was an impossible dream. 

--I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if I should do a part two.

[ervotica]

hehe dark!rafe fucking jj's ex bc she spiraling after the break up and using hella drugs so he's just degrading & using her however bc she's beneath him and he can't help but record it and send it to the male pouge's

warnings; DARK, smut (18+ only), drug use, dub-con (r is HEAVILY under the influence and not very aware), throat fucking, fingering, slight daddy kink, breathplay, degradation (I may have gone insane with this one I fear)

A cruel hand is splayed against the top of your spine where the base of your neck begins, subduing you enough to keep you from thrashing as Rafe curls his fingers against the spongy walls of your cunt. You're alight with pleasure, the lick of a flame igniting your every muscle as you gargle into the sheets below you; you're not entirely sure how you got here but your drug addled brain is too hazy with the white-hot euphoria he is so kindly granting you.

He groans at your blank eyes, breath hot on your skin as he licks a long line against the column of your throat and bites down, taking great enjoyment in the way you wriggle and whine.

"Please," you gasp out, that coil in your belly drawing tighter the longer he keeps his fingers nestled against that spot deep in your pussy that makes you scream.

"Please, what?"

"Please, daddy. Lemme cum."

"Attagirl." His grin is wolfish, teeth pointed and bared like a predator. "Little fuckin' whore, aren'tcha, kid? Bet Maybank never made you feel this good."

You shake your head vehemently, almost incomprehensible where you're drooling into the pillow beneath your balmy face.

He tweaks his fingers once more and suddenly the dull flame of bliss has roared to life, squeezing every one of your muscles like tendrils as you gush and your hole clenches around his thick digits.

The muted roar of white noise is all you can hear for a good while; eyes rolling, lashes fluttering, limp and spent from just one orgasm.

You don't see him next but rather you feel him. A thick mushroom head prodding against your swollen lips, the taste of bitter precum on your tongue as he feeds his cock down your spasming throat. A gag rips through you but he pushes past it, unfazed by your own discomfort as he chases the feeling of your tender gullet tightening around him.

"Yeahhh, that's good," he unabashedly moans, deep and gravelly. His cock pushes at the thin skin of your neck, flesh bulging as he settles your nose in the thatch of hair at his pubic bone, heavy sack pressing lewdly atop your gurgling mouth with every rut of his hips.

Bubbles of spit ooze from the corners of your stretched lips and then you're suddenly blinded by white light. The flash of a phone camera crowds your vision and Rafe doubles down, hips pistoning against your slack face as he groans and grunts, degrading insults pouring from his mouth.

"Dirty slut, all you're good for 's takin' dick, right? Just a filthy little hole for me to use when 'm bored."

You purl and choke around him in an effort to voice your complaints, but all it seems to do is spur him on further.

"G'na have this throat trained in no time, kid. You're my personal cocksleeve from now on."

He wrenches himself away despite being seemingly on the precipice of blowing his load; you gasp and whimper as he turns to prop the still recording phone on the dresser behind him, twisting a large handful of your mussed hair around his hand and dragging you across the expanse of the king sized bed. Your neck contorts in an odd sort of manner as he positions you with your head hanging upside-down from the side of the plush mattress. It gives him ample leverage to use you without care; he's not bothered if you pass out, he'll use you either way.

It's rough, borderline abusive, how he fucks your throat. Hard and fast and unrelenting despite your almost continuous retching and slapping feebly at his thick thighs. The bulge in the divot of the soft flesh only becomes more prominent, his spongy head pushing from the inside as though it's trying to rip through you.

His hand reaches between his own legs to plug your nostrils and a menacing chuckle hits your ears as your vision blurs and your eyes lose focus and roll to the back of your skull.

He lets up just as you're on the cusp of unconsciousness, dick never leaving your warm cavern as he reaches blindly behind him for the phone. Forearms dig cruelly into your ribcage as he props himself up and zooms the camera in on your sopping, swollen cunt, parting your petal soft lips and slipping two fingers inside to bully another orgasm from you.

"If I were you, Maybank, I'd have never given up this tight cunt," Rafe rasps. "Fucked the poor thing dumb, already. 'M keeping her."

He presses send before you can protest- not that you'll ever be able to. You'll be too cockdrunk to ever notice what he's done.

[pasukiyo]

HANDLE IT

mike schmidt x f!teacher!reader word count; 2,417 warnings; once again, no plot, just porn <3 summary; mike has a look. that's never a good sign.

 “Follow Mrs Davis and her class for lunch!”

 Mike watched from his seat behind the teacher’s desk as his girlfriend saw her class out the door, hand on the handle and pulling it closed behind them, making sure to twist the lock while she did. The corners of his mouth twitched as she sighed and fell back against the door, blowing a strand of loose hair out of her face. 

 “Long day?” Mike asked and she narrowed her eyes over at him, her lips quirked in a tired grin. “Don’t even get me started,” she grumbled as she pushed herself off of the door, heels clicking against the tile as she made her way back to her desk. 

 “Abby hasn’t been a problem, I hope?” Mike cocked an eyebrow to his hairline as she leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, settling herself down in her chair. She rolled her eyes at this, “you always make it seem like she should be causing trouble,” she tittered. “No, Abby’s always great.”

 She watched as Mike reached for the floor beside him, a plastic takeout bag in his hand and she grinned, wiggling in her seat as he began to unravel the knot in the handles. “Sooo… what did you bring me?” She asked, letting the smell of what she swore was tomato sauce waft through her nostrils.

 “New Italian place opened in the mall. Figured we could try it out,” he replied as he handed her one of the takeout boxes in which she ripped the lid off of, grinning over at Mike. “Spaghetti with meatballs. You know me so well.”

 She leaned forward as he handed her the plastic fork to press a kiss against his lips and Mike smiled, practically chasing after her mouth again when she pulled away. He watched as she spun the spaghetti around her fork, as she took a bite and moaned at the taste. 

 Suddenly, Mike’s jeans felt very tight. 

 “What is this place called? It’s amazing,” she moaned, chewing behind her fingers as she turned to glance over at Mike. “Ten out of ten. This might even be better than your spaghetti and meatballs.”

 Mike, although distracted by something else entirely, furrowed his brows at this, tossing his hands up. “Hey,” he said. “Thought you loved my spaghetti and meatballs.”

 She shrugged, “they’re alright.” Mike playfully shoved her shoulder and she tried to bite back a chuckle, glancing back over to him. “Hey, I don’t see you eating spaghetti and meatballs, why don’t you try and find out?” She laughed, taking a bite from a meatball as Mike pressed his lips together, curved into a grin as he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not that hungry right now.”

 She raised a brow and tilted her head to eye the other takeout box in the plastic bag. “Mike, you haven’t even touched your food,” she tittered, eyeing him incredulously. She narrowed her lids, “you have a look.”

 The corner of Mike’s mouth twitched— she was catching on. “I don’t have a look.”

 Her face fell and she dropped her fork in the to-go box, eyebrow cocked. “Yes, you do.”

 Mike leaned back in his seat and locked his fingers together on his lap, shrugging as he turned his head to face her. “Enlighten me, what look do you think I have?”

 For a fleeting moment, her gaze lowered to the very evident tent in his jeans, her thighs subconsciously clenching together at the sight, cheeks growing warm when he chuckled. She looked away, soothing her palms up and down the length of her skirt and Mike watched, teeth sunken into the inside of his cheek. A scenario played in the forefront of his mind, fantasizing about ripping the skirt clean off her legs and taking her right there on top of her desk had him balling a fist, squeezing his thumb so tight, it almost felt like it’d pop. 

 “Mike…”

 “What?” He murmured, leaning in closer, brushing away the hair curtaining away the side of her face back behind her ear. She melted like wax at his touch, as if her fingertips were flames. Her skin burned so hot now, she feared she actually would melt into a pool of magma on the floor below. 

 “Here?” She whispered as he rolled his chair closer, his breath a phantom looming over her flesh, sending shivers slithering down the coil of her spine. Mike peered up into the sides of her irises, “why not?”

 His lips pressed against the delicate skin just below her ear and she trembled, panicking eyes darting to the door she had thankfully locked. “I’ll give you a million reasons why not,” she murmured as his kisses trailed down to the curve of her shoulder, the scruff on his chin and just above his lips deliciously burning her skin. 

 “I can be sneaky,” he whispered against the valley between her neck and shoulder, his lips a crescent against her skin when he playfully nipped her flesh between his teeth there. She jolted and hissed, clenching her thighs together once more as the familiar slick of warmth burned the pit of her belly. “If somebody walks in, we’re both dead,” she murmured as his palm gripped and soothed down the length of her thigh, kneading at her knee, teasing her, taunting her. 

 “Relax, babe,” he breathed a chuckle against the crook of her neck. “I just want a taste, that’s all. Wouldn’t want you to get all fucked out before the day is over.”

 His low, raspy words had her reeling, her head in a frenzy and teetering on the edge of a mindset she knew she was at risk of falling down into. “Screw you, Mike,” she muttered through gritted teeth as he grinned, placing one last kiss against the breadth of her shoulder before sinking down to his knees on the floor, hanging his head so that he could fit beneath the desk. 

 Her heart drummed against her chest as he slithered his way between her legs, hands on her knees as slowly he parted them, as if he were unwrapping a present on Christmas Day. Through heavy eyelids, she peered down at him just as a silent curse fell from his mouth, teeth burrowed into the plush of his bottom lip as the pads of his thumbs rubbed circles into the inside of her knees. 

 “You’re soaked clean through your panties,” he chuckled and she burned brighter, sweat already beginning to bead at her hairline and her chest heaving to the unsteady beat of her heart. His name fell from her lips in a whispered sigh as he reached forward with his right thumb, pressing the fat of it straight onto her clothed clit, her back arching up off of her chair as he traced an agonizingly slow and painful circle against it, sighing at the way her slick showed through the thin fabric of her underwear. 

 “Fffuck,” he grumbled beneath his breath, hiking the skirt that hugged her curves until they pooled at her hips, pushing her knees further apart until he had full access to everything. His gaze was like a laser, burning through the damp fabric of her panties straight through to her pussy. He eyed her like he was starved, like he’d go hungry if he didn't get himself a taste. 

 Mike hooked his middle and forefinger around the hem of her underwear and tugged, although with some resistance with how wet she was. She gasped when the fabric unstuck itself from her arousal, Mike’s lips falling agape as he tugged her panties all the way down her legs until they hooked around one single ankle. He pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around her hips and with his palms to her ass, drawing her in even closer until she sat on the edge of her seat. 

 “So fuckin’ pretty,” he marveled at the sight before him, admiring every single inch of her as if she were an artifact. She shuddered beneath his stare. “Mike,” she mewled through a shaky breath, “please.”

 With those deep, rich chocolate brown eyes, he glimpsed up at her and she gazed back, wondering when his pupils ended and his irises started. His eyes glimmered with longing, with desire, with lust. She thought she’d come from just his stare alone. 

 “Have to stay quiet, hm?” He nodded up at her, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a kiss just above her clit, feeling it throb against his chin as she writhed, trying to suppress her mewl. She nodded, pressing her lips together as she briefly glanced up at the door then to the windows— she was so grateful she’d drawn the blinds earlier. 

 Their gazes never leaving one another, Mike carefully leaned down to press a tender kiss on top of her aching bud, her toes curling in, back arching off the back of her chair. One of her hands flung to the mess of dark tendrils atop his head, the other gripping the armrest of her desk chair. Mike pulled away again, the makings of a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Think you can handle it?” He asked and she whimpered, nodding, every ounce of dignity in her body long gone, thrown somewhere far away from right there.

 “Just… please, Mike,” she whined, trying to keep her voice on the low as she gripped the roots of his hair tighter, inviting him back into her warmth, his arousal like a gloss on his lips. The crescent shape of his lips fell back against her clit as he pressed another kiss to it, electricity flowing through her body and making her jolt once more. 

 Mike eyed her through hooded lids as he licked a stripe all the way from her entrance back up the underside of her clit, relishing in the way she’d tremble and press her lips together in a desperate attempt to silence her whimpers. The delectable taste of her arousal coated his tongue and simmered on his taste buds as if she were his ambrosia, and he hummed as he licked another line up her slit. 

 “Taste so damn good,” he practically growled against her cunt as he plunged his face back in, his lips around her clit and tongue swirling against the sensitive nub. Tears were streaming down the sides of her face now as she threw her head back, using every last ounce of strength inside her body to will her moans to stay at a minimum. All she could do was pray that nobody would come knocking on her classroom door now. 

 A string of curses, his name among the mix, tumbled from her lips as he sucked her clit, every swirl of his tongue coaxing her closer and closer to the edge. She was balancing on a tightrope now, teetering on bliss as his tongue trailed down to her entrance, slow but firm as it pushed its way in. Her fingers tightened in the mess of hair on his head, pulling harder, making him surge into her. 

 She could feel every inch of his tongue inside of her and he was so close, the bridge of his nose pressed deliciously down on her clit, sending her down into a spiral of pleasure. She squeezed her eyelids together so tight, she was seeing stars, a shimmering backdrop of glitter as he swirled his muscle inside of her, humming into her at her taste. 

 “Sh… shi… shit, Mike!” She gasped as he nodded his head, tongue swirling inside of her, the bridge of his nose rubbing up and down against her clit. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her hand, every move his tongue made and every bit of pressure his nose applied to her clit added more rubber bands to the ball pressing down against the pit of her belly, dangerously close to erupting. “I’m… I’m gonna come if you don’t… if you don’t stop.”

 Mike blinked up at her and pulled away for breath, every inch of his face from the bridge of his nose down slick and shiny with her arousal. She felt herself clench at the mere sight as his chest heaved, chasing air back into his lungs, a smug smirk on his face. “I’m betting on it, babe,” he chuckled before diving back in, her pussy empty one moment and nearly full of his tongue the next. 

 His eagerness almost had her screaming, her nails scraping so hard against his scalp, somewhere in the back of her mind, she feared she’d draw blood. Mike hummed against her— he didn’t seem to mind so much. 

 Oh, how could he when he could sense she was so close? He could practically smell her orgasm, using every ounce of skill in his body to push her even closer to the edge, to knock her unsteady on top of that tightrope until it snapped below her altogether. 

 With her hand not tangled in his hair, she sank her teeth into the side of her hand to muffle the scream that ripped through her body, squeezing her eyelids shut even tighter as her body spasms, bones rattling in her release’s wake. Her orgasm thundered and cracked through her body like an earthquake, the sheer power of her release like a tempest. Her thighs squeezed around Mike’s head and he palmed at the sides of them as he swirled his tongue inside of her again and again, making sure not a drop of her went to waste. 

 He was practically drinking her, slurping every last drop until there was none left to be had. And only when that moment came did he pull away, breathless as he sat back on his heels below her desk, swiping at the slick dripping down his face with the back of his hand. 

 Mike gazed up at her curiously, her head still thrown back over the back of the chair, chest heaving up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. He chuckled as he pushed himself out from underneath her desk and up so that he could stand beside her, a palm cupping her cheek, the other aiding her head to sit normally on her shoulders. The pad of his thumb soothed over against her cheek, coaxing her out of her bleary state, her vision slowly beginning to clear again. 

 Mike tried to bite back his smile, “doing alright there?”

 She huffed as her cheeks burned, “shut up, Mike.”

a/n; i ended up writing up this one in like 45 minutes while sitting in the bathtub LMAO y'all went absolutely crazy with the last mike fic, you literally broke my tumblr notifications 😭 glad to see so many others horny for josh in this movie too

TAGLIST !!

@bxbyyyjocelyn

[neos127]

hot things jake does

pairing. boyfriend!jake x fem!reader (use of pet name ‘pretty girl’) genre. hcs, fluff, established relationship notes. kinda messy bc i’m just dumping my thoughts

i. biting his lip ALL THE DAMN TIME

more specifically when he’s checking you out. it sends your mind into a frenzy and you always have to tell him ‘stop looking at me like that!’ he doesn’t care, finding it cute how flustered you get from a simple action. ‘like what?’ he teases, biting his lip again. you can’t help but groan, feeling your face heat up again.

ii. playing with the rings on his fingers

jake’s hands are very attractive so watching him mindlessly twist his rings around his long fingers makes you (figuratively) drool. whenever you can, you’re holding onto his hands or kissing them. he gets all giggly when you do that, finding it cute how you have such a fascination with his hands.

iii. raking his hand through his hair

you aren’t exactly sure why you find this so attractive, but it’s jake and anything he does is enticing. he’s just so damn pretty and you can’t help but stare at him whenever he does this. you often like to run your own hands through his hair, the sound of him sighing in satisfaction makes your stomach flip.

iv. keeping a hand on your back in crowded places

jake is always glued to your side and he becomes very protective when the two of you are in a crowded space. sometimes he holds onto your hand, or grabs onto your clothing. usually he keeps a hand on your lower back, basically guiding you through the crowd. the action is very simple, but it makes you smile. even when you’ve both made it out of the crowd, jake doesn’t move his hand, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb.

v. eye contact

once jake gets out of the shy boyfriend phase, he loves to tease you. before, prolonged eye contact with you was nerve wrecking. but now, he looks to see the reaction that you have under his unwavering gaze. your face starts to heat up and you can never look at him for more than two seconds. jake will move his face closer to yours, forcing eye contact with you with a small smirk on his face. ‘why are you looking away from me, pretty girl?’

vi. wears glasses

every time jake puts on those clear glasses, an angel is born. you can’t help but squeal when you see pictures of him wearing the glasses so seeing him in person— you need a minute to take a breather. he has to know he’s hot in them, he just has to. the way jake smirks at you when he catches you staring too long, he definitely picks up on the kind of effect he has on you. ‘watchu lookin at, pretty?’ he asks, looking at you with a slight tilt to his head. you don’t say anything, reaching over kiss him. it ended up getting so intense that jake moved to take off the glasses, but you slapped his hand away. ‘keep them on, please.’

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Hi hi! Can I request a Toji x fem! Reader who’s really quiet in bed, because of an ex (like, maybe he tells her that the sounds she makes aren’t pleasant and things like that??)

OH MY GOD??!?!? HELLOOO!!! I'M FEELING SO SPOILED TODAY 🤭🤭 yes yes yes yes yes THANK YOU ANON 💗 it's a little angsty AGAIN (don't know what's up with me tbh) but very sweet

Don't Be Shy ★

Everything feels fragile. New feelings, new headspace, new man. Thinking about it made your stomach twist and turn in complicated bows... He's so handsome. So strong. So dreamy. God, what if I fuck it all up?

It was all new... the feeling of his hips grinding up into yours as you grip onto his strong, wide shoulders, biting down into your bottom lip to stop your sounds in their tracks.

"Mm fuck baby, you feeling good?" Toji's grunts and light tap on your hip pulls you from your flurry of worries.

"Uh yeah, yeah, it's really good, Toji." You mumble, feeling your breath hitch in your chest, attempting to hold back you gasps as the pressure of Toji's bulge crashes perfectly with your clit.

"Gotta tell me bubs... I don't know this pretty body yet. Gotta help me learn." He huffs out as your hands travel under his fitted black shirt.

You simply nod, feeling your cheeks warm up as you and Toji exchange the same warm air between quick breaths.

You feel yourself loosen up the wetter you get, biting onto the back of your hand and clenching your stomach, subtly compressing your moans.

Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to at least talk.

"Okay, fuck okay, I want you inside please." Missing the way Toji smirks, you quickly get your sentence out as fast as possible before a moan can slip out, concentrating hard on keeping your voice as steady as possible.

"Alright, princess, c'mere." Toji flips you onto your back, gently tugging down your pants along with your soaked panties.

You cover your mouth as you feel Toji's hot breath on your quivering pussy, looking up at the ceiling.

Toji's good. Really good. You can tell simply by the way he operates that he's skilled. Experienced.

He's been with other girls. Seen other girls. Heard other girls. And all of a sudden, it all comes back to you.

"Uhm, you don't... you don't have to prep me or anything. We can just do it, I'll be okay." Pushing away his head when you realize he's about to taste you, you situate yourself, sitting up on your elbows.

Toji is shocked as he hovers above you, glaring in confusion.

"Are you sure? I really don't think that's a good idea bubba." Softly, he glides his middle and pointer finger along your slit, assessing if you were even close to being wet enough.

"No, no I'm sure. I'll be alright." Sitting up slightly, you paw at the waist band of his gray sweatpants, watching in delight as his cock strains against the fabric. Pulling them down, you distract him by grazing his tip with your delicate finger, making him shudder.

"Fuck~ alright babygirl..." He mumbles, laying you back down as your legs automatically spread, humping his veiny cock against your heat, getting it as wet as possible.

His sharp, commanding eyes focus on your face as he slowly pushes himself in, attempting to gage any type of reaction from you.

It burned. Really bad, it burned as he slowly stretched you out, feeling like you were being split in half at your core. You laid there quietly, softly breathing out as the pain subsided and pleasure picked up.

The physical and emotional intensity inside your chest suffocated you as Toji began thrusting into you, shallow and slow. It felt so good. He felt so good.

But you couldn't make a noise. You couldn't be ugly. You'd embarrass yourself, you'd turn him off. You'd ruin it.

"You always this quiet, doll? Makin' me nervous." Toji quirked his head to the side, less than pleased as he slid in and out of you and you just laid there, only sign of life being your blinking eyes.

"Yeah, I guess so." You mumble, praying he'd drop it. It's so humiliating. What's worse than being an ugly moaner? Your signs of pleasure are grating and unattractive... at least, that's what he said.

The last man you laid yourself out for, being totally vulnerable with, someone you thought was utterly attracted to you, no matter what. The sex was good... so good that you were moaning and whimpering under him.

God, he was so harsh. You never thought you would be so politely degraded after sex, all over the way you sound.

Tears well up in your distant eyes, and before you even feel it, Toji sees it.

"Shit! Shit, fuck are you okay? Are you hurt? What's wrong bub?" He pulls out of you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his shoulder.

"No, nothing, nothing it's so stupid." You shake your head, wiping your tears as Toji cradles you.

"I should've known sweets, I'm sorry. You've been off. What's on your mind, pretty girl?" You feel the stress building up around you, a warm all-encompassing feeling breaking you down from the inside out.

"Don't want you to think I'm ugly." You whisper into his shoulder.

"Huh? Baby, I'm lookin' at you right now. You're beautiful, you know that." His dark eyebrows furrow as he looks you over.

"No, no. My voice. My sounds. I don't want you to think I sound bad... My ex... he said- he um said that ummm... God this is so embarrassing. Um he said that I sound bad... that I turned him off. So I don't want to um, I don't want you to be less attracted to me, 's all." You sob out, explaining yourself as shame overtakes you, dignity leaving your body through salted tears.

"Oh. What a dumb prick. Don't think about that ass. I want to hear you, you kidding me? Let me hear you... okay?"

Slowly, you nod, detaching yourself from Toji's shoulder, laying back down.

"Okay, bub?" Toji repeats, drawing sloppy circles on your clit with his bulbous head, coaxing a genuine, surprised gasp from your throat.

"Okay... okayy." You gently speak out, a long, staggered breath freeing itself from your system.

"Therrree we go, sweetheart. Just let it out. Such a pretty little girl." Keeping his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, he slides himself back in, basking in pride as he hears the smallest moan slip from your pretty parted lips. Gotta start somewhere.

"Give it to me, baby," Was the only warning you got before Toji began hammering into your puffy little cunt, forcing gasps and moans from you. Quickly you move your hand up to your mouth to cover your embarrassment, but Toji grabs your wrist, pining it beside your ear.

"Fuck, fucckkk sounds so good baby. Pretty little moans." He praises as he kisses along your jaw, forcing himself deeper into you. He knows he hit your sweet spot when your most blissed-out noise filled the room, signaling to his brain the beginning of his orgasm, bubbling in the pit of his toned stomach.

"Keep moaning like that and I'm gonna fill you up. Fuck, gonna make me cum... you close, bubba? Come on, talk to me." His encouragement works you up even more, making you feel brave.

"Mhm yeah, 'm really close Toji. Wanna cum with you." You moan out as his thrusts increase, then completely still all at once.

Your voice. God, your voice. Just hearing it had Toji gripping onto your hips and cumming on the spot. His orgasm triggers yours, your confident moans almost making him hard again.

"So good. So beautiful. Pretty moans for a pretty girl." Toji grins, breaking the peaceful ambience of the room.

"Wanna hear you for the rest of my life, pretty."

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

Thank you so so much anon!! Kisses! 💕

[doomsdaybby]

heavily inspired by this audio ☺️🫶🏻 18+! MDNI!

Eddie is loud. Always has been, always will be.

He just can’t help it. Especially now, clammy forehead pressing into the heated seam of your jawline, nosing at the tender skin right below your ear, your staggered trembling breaths melting into the crown of his head.

It had been a while since you’d seen eachother, almost two weeks to be exact. Eddie hadn’t cum in about four days, which was at least ninety hours too long. So it took approximately only one hour before Eddie was showing you, with unrestrained pleasure, just how much he had missed you.

He’s fisting his cock frantically, slick smacking sounds and the carnal ragged shreds of his exhales drowning out the forgotten movie playing away on the television screen.

He’s panting, fucking heaving, and he may be getting too carried away but you would die before telling him to slow down. Not when you’re having so much fun watching him unravel.

You’re washed in an amber glow from the lamp adjacent to the couch you’re both splayed out on, illuminating each strand of Eddie’s hair a golden hue, your cheeks beating a dark cherry red.

“Wish it was your pretty pussy wrapped around me right now,” his breath is hot, a bonfire of disgusting words that has your thighs squeezing together and rutting against nothing.

“Wish y’could feel how hard I am for you. Fuck!” he grits his teeth, moans gutteral, biting down on his inner cheek hard enough to draw blood.

“This cock is so hard for you, I just wanna bury it so deep in you. Oh my goooddd, baby,” he just keeps going, twisting his wrist crudely right at the head, pretty gasps absorbing into your sticky skin and only amplifying when you crook your head down to spit into his fist.

You didn’t have to speak, not that Eddie even gave you a chance to do so. Stunned by just how desperate he is for it, for you.

So you listened, and you watched, and waited for your turn, pressing tender kisses into the blanket of curls that tickle your nose.

“Please can I cum? Can I? Can I? Please please pleasssee,” he’s drawling frantically, tripping over his own words, and he’s a whimpering pathetic mess. Drool collects at the seams of his lips, painting your skin wet and glistening.

“No, baby” was all you had to mumble and he was near sobbing, a tacky groan mulling at the back of his throat.

“Need to cum so bad,” a low mewl, gulping thickly. His strokes are almost violent, “Wanna feel you clench on this fucking dick. Aaaahhh, ah, ah, ooohhh fuck yes!”.

Your breaths flutter, chest rising and falling faster than you thought was possible. “You gotta go slow, my sweet boy,” you whisper despite your racing heart rate, the words catching tight to the back of your throat. You reach your hand down just for a second, wrapping your shaking fingers over his own to coax him into a more gentle rhythm.

“Jesus, fuck,” he spits gruff, thick unforgiving fingers that aren’t so preoccupied on his own pleasure travel to mangle the fat of your thigh, heavy rings pinching sharply at your skin and you almost yelp under the unhinged roughness of it all.

He picks up the pace again despite your delicate coaching, near writhing without reason next to you and he’s rocking his hip into the curve of your doughy thigh.

So you allowed it, the poor boy obviously needed it, he has made that much clear. You grind down against the couch cushion, you just couldn’t help yourself, your own mouth falling slack-jawed as Eddie continues his onslaught of profanity.

Of course you let him ramble himself to the edge of oblivion.

[charliemwrites]

Okay so the poll results were for an OC captain, though it was close enough that I still hesitate to name him in the canon of the fic.

I’m also going to be taking my time fleshing out his character because it’s been a while since I made an OC. So please be patient while I add tidbits here and there to build his character.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex, descriptions of scars, mentions of past torture

Nikto beats you and Nova twice out of three rounds — but that’s no surprise. The man moves like a machine. Even against two opponents he controls the battlefield like a chess master. Neither you nor Nova take it to heart, especially since he always gives you both advice at the end, helping you to improve.

He’s a great partner, a great teammate; you’re sure to show him your appreciation after sparring with a kiss to his nose-plate. His hands spasm on yours as he helps you unwind your wraps, gloved thumb sweeping over your bare palm.

“You did good today,” he says, voice rough and accent thick. He must be pissed about earlier still, when Ghost and Soap threw your matches with them.

“So did you,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks.

You damn near melt. Nikto has an open invitation to your room, but his is a sacred place, only for him unless otherwise specified. That he’s asking you to come to his tonight…

“Absolutely,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I just need to see the captain first. Okay?”

He grunts in understanding, eyes flicking to the door the 141 left through earlier. He mutters something in Russian — some insult about goats and mothers you think.

“Yeah, exactly,” you reply, voice dropping with simmering irritation.

A good spar with him and Nova has helped ground you a bit, but it hasn’t helped the anger. You don’t spar any of your team with anger; they don’t deserve.

Luckily, you and your captain worked something out a while ago when you’re feeling a bit… aggressive.

“Cap?” You call, still holding Nikto’s hand. “Could I stop by for a nightcap later?”

His eyes flash, a sinful twist to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, babygirl. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Over his shoulder, you see Nova arch her eyebrows and Keegan grin wicked into his water bottle. Gossip fiends.

“Showers. Now,” the cap says, slapping them both on the ass. “Double time. I need to have a word with Price still.”

—

Long after the sun has gone down, you’re standing outside your captain’s door. Take a breath. Remind yourself of your mantra. He wants you, always will, and he’s going to take care of you.

Then loosen your shoulders, unboxing all the frustration and aggression you set aside earlier. Feel it burn through you, make your hands twitch in and out of fists.

One more inhale, and then you shove the door open.

“There you are,” he rumbles. “C’mere.”

You flash your teeth, “No.”

He tilts head back and forth, cracking his neck. “Alright then.”

There’s no real fight. You’re not looking to get away or actually hurt him. And he’s not looking to actually make you submit. That’s not the point of this game.

He strides across the room and shoves you back, pins your shoulder to the wall. You grip at his forearm, nails scraping, and squirming as the hot, hard length of his body squishes you flat.

“Settle,” he orders.

“Fuck you,” you snarl back, nipping his lip.

He growls, tangling a hand in your hair and tipping your head back. Leaves a searing trail of kisses down your throat, bites a bruise into your collarbone. You wriggle and fuss all the while, safely held still and supported by his hands and body.

“Brat,” he rasps in your ear.

“I’m not,” you snap.

“Oh, yes you are, babygirl,” he replies, a mean smirk on his flushed face. “But that’s alright, I like you bad.”

He pulls you from the wall, bullies you onto the bed. You try to grab at him, get him under you. He doesn’t indulge like he normally would. Pins you on your back so that you can keep fighting, yanking at your wrists in his firm grip, pushing your hips up to grind into his as if trying to flip you both.

He slots his hips between your thighs, positions just his knees under your ass so that your back is arched, shoulders on the mattress. Limits your mobility, but that doesn’t stop you from kicking at air, making half-angry, half-desperate noises in the back of your throat.

“Gonna say please like a good girl?” He teases.

“No,” you hiss back.

He has the audacity to chuckle, which just riles you up more. (It’s supposed to). You curse as he works a hand beneath your shirt, palms at your bare breasts and pinches your nipples until they ache. You gasp like a pornstar, surprised and turned on.

“Pretty noise,” he coos. “Do it again.”

When he twists, you mewl, face immediately burning up as you renew your “efforts” to get away. All it does is make the treatment rougher than if you just laid still and took it, but that’s what you want, what feels good. A little edge to the pleasure as adrenaline and energy electrify you from head to toe.

He grinds against you, cotton of your loose shorts sticking against your soaked cunt. Christ you were turned on before you even barged in. Now you’re fucking throbbing for it.

“Gimme,” you grit out, rocking against him. Gears successfully shifted from physically taking control to just ordering him around.

“Give you what, brat?” He goads, slapping your pussy. The thin fabric muffles the sting, but it sends a white-hot ache through you that makes your eyes roll. “My cock? You think you deserve it?”

Another slap. You cry out, notice the sly look on his face when he notices that you’ve soaked through your shorts.

“Yes,” you reply, all confidence and reckless arrogance.

He yanks his underwear down to mid thigh, thick cock springing up to smack lewdly against his toned stomach. Precum smears over the pale scars there, sticks in the trail of groomed hair there.

“Yeah?” He growls. “Alright then.”

He yanks the crotch of your shorts aside (you hear stitches pop) and then he’s plunging into you. It’s too much all at once and you cry as much, knees squeezing around his tattooed ribs.

“Fuck.” His voice is shredded, so rough and low you feel it more than hear it. He lets your wrists go to grip at your ass, grinding deeper. Can feel the fat head of his cock bullying at your cervix, his favorite passtime while you adjust to the thick base of him.

“How does that feel, babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear. “You needed daddy’s cock, huh? Needed it to set you right again?”

You whimper out a curse at him, gripping at his biceps. He croons mockingly, thumb slipping between your bodies to press at your clit. Not rubbing or grinding, but just pressing. Just the right amount to make you sweat and pant, start trying to squirm to get any friction at all.

He lets you — could stop you if he wanted, or pull away entirely — but he likes winding you up like this. Likes seeing all that vicious energy turned to seeking pleasure from him.

“Fucking move,” you try to snarl, but your voice breaks midway through and comes out more pleading than you’d like.

“What was that, babydoll? Are you talking to me?” He teases, rolling his hips.

Your mouth falls open, a moan ripping from your chest, deep and needy.

“Daddy, move,” you cry, voice going up in pitch.

“There’s my brat.”

He pushes one of your knees up against your chest and slams into you. You scream and he doesn’t even try to cover your mouth, whispering filth as he tilts your hips for the best angle with his other hand. Fucks into you deep and rough, grinning at the obscenely wet noises every time he plunges into you.

Can practically feel him fucking your cervix open to get just that little bit deeper. Licks his lips when he sees the little bump in your stomach. You give as good as you get, squeezing down tight, bouncing to meet him, nails scoring lines down his back and shoulders.

“Gonna ask daddy to make you cum?” He goads.

“Earn it,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls out, flips you onto your stomach while you’re still dizzy with emptiness. Hikes your hips up and sinks into you like coming home. Your knees almost give out but that’s fine by him, he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up all on his own, using you like a noisy little toy for his own benefit.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine, feeling overwhelmed, pleasured tears gathering in your eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Daddy…”

“Feel like being good yet?” He asks. A large, rough hand circles that back of your neck and pins you face down to the mattress.

“N-no,” you whine, fight gone out of you now that you’re getting exactly what you want.

Fuck it feels so, so good. Every inch bullying you wide open and loose, so wet you’re dripping down your own thighs, wetting his ball as they slap against you. You feel split open and pinned, unable to do anything but take it, tortured stupid on ecstasy. He licks a stripe up your back before pressing you down prone, ankles locked around yours to keep you open and accessible.

“S’alright, doll, don’t need to be good to be mine.”

He’s barely pulling out halfway before ramming home now. You can barely get a breath in, the weight of him pressing whatever resistance was left right out of you.

“Daddy, daddy,” you sob. “Fuck, I wan’ it.”

“Want it, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, pressing your face into your arms. Cant your hips just that little bit to get him abusing that bundle of nerves.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He coos. “Did daddy find your little sweet spot?”

A series of short, ruthless thrusts right there, making incoherent, desperate noises fall from your mouth. Before you realize it, he’s wedged a hand beneath your hips and has two fingers toying with your poor, neglected clit.

“‘M gonna… f-fuck, fuck,” you whine, writhing (or at least trying to) against him. Not sure if you’re trying to urge him on or get away. Doesn’t matter, he’s in charge, has been since the beginning. “Daddy, I wanna…”

“Whenever you want, babygirl,” he replies, voice going all warm and gooey. Your chest hitches. “Squeeze around me nice and tight. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Didn’t realize that was what you needed, but you fucking scream as you clench down around him, stars bursting behind your closed eyes. He fucks you through it, tapping against your g-spot again and again until you dissolve into a weak, wet whimpers.

“Daddyyyy,” you whine.

And that sets him off, flooding you with heat. He loses control for a second as his hips jerk, pounding brutally into your oversensitive, swollen pussy. Makes a few tears finally slip down, soaking into the sheets along with your drool. The sound of him groaning as he cums makes you spasm around him again, a little aftershock that milks the last of his release.

“That’s it, easy,” he groans, brushing kisses over your trembling shoulders. “Easy, doll.”

He lies over you for a few minutes, letting you feel him there. Right there with you. Breathing and recovering, holding you through the endorphin rush. When you squirm a bit, he eases off you, cock slipping out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you, glassy eyes fluttering.

“C’mere,” he soothes, tugging you in. Lying on his side, he hitches one of your thighs up over his hip, tucks your arms between your chests and rests his stubbly chin on your temple. You splay your fingers over his peck, over the bold, dark symbol for SpecGru. Feel his heart settling back into rhythm and sigh, snuggling in.

The hormone drop is a monster on your emotions, often leaves you shivery and lonely, a little sick in your own body. First time you did this with him ended in tears, expecting him to get up and leave. He didn’t, never has, but you both learned that as much physical contact as possible in the aftermath eases the comedown away from a total crash.

“You did so well, babygirl,” he whispers, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach without dislodging you. “Such a good girl. Even if you think you’re being bad.”

You flush, hide your face against his neck. He chuckles, honeybalm on your soul. Can feel his hand start to move, then pause as he remembers that you can’t handle that stimulation right after sex. So he just squeezes, slow and gentle, helps get you back in your body.

“I still want you,” he assures, echoing your mantra back at you. “Always will. You’re mine.”

You outline a heart shape onto his forearm, not quite able to speak yet. He recognize the feeling though and gently guides your face up to place a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Love you, too, babygirl. Ready to clean up?”

You nod. He eases you up, lets you cling onto his hand as he walks you to the en suite. Fills you a glass of cool water to sip on while he gets the shower running. Turns his back while you use the restroom and wash your hands, then guides you into the hot water.

You lean into him, near boneless, as he washes you, calloused palms with soap instead of a cloth. Then sits still, hands on your hips, while you return the favor. This part is one of the most important for you, getting to freely return touch.

(Simon hardly ever let you touch, especially in the aftermath. Sure, you could scratch and grip at him during sex, but during foreplay it was all part of his dom persona that you couldn’t just touch at will. And afterwards… well. It’s not like he didn’t do aftercare. He did! But the almost formulaic warm cloth wipe down, glass of water, doze for a bit before he left was not… not ideal. Not like this.)

Your captain hums, eyes half-lidded but trained on you, while you smooth your palms over the firms planes of his muscles. Fingers tracing over tattoos and scars. Squishing and patting at the healthy layer of tissue over his stomach and thighs. Lets you nuzzle and kiss his soft cock, even though it makes his fingers twitch with oversensitivity.

Squeezes when you lace fingers together to stretch his arm out, inspecting the lines your nails carved into him.

“M’okay, baby,” he says before you can ask. “Feels good.”

You similarly assure him over the bruises on your wrists and hips, smiling and leaning up to kiss his jaw.

When the shower is over, he dries you off, playfully ruffling your hair just to kiss the pout off your lips. He dresses you in one of his shirts and a spare pair of your own joggers, found in his duffel.

You sit with him for a while longer still, enjoying how he lets himself relax once he knows you’re taken care of. He lies with his head on your chest, your fingers fluffing his hair, while the two of you watch an episode of some stupid show Keegan got the rest of the team into.

Only when it’s over does he ask if you’re ready to go to Nikto’s. If you wanted to stay, you could. Nikto would understand. But you’re looking forward to a night with your quiet Russian while the other three have a little movie night.

At the door, you kiss your captain goodnight. Hug and kiss Keegan and Nova as you pass them in the hall headed to his room. Nova makes a point of kissing one of the bruises on your wrist, while Keegan whispers that he loves you.

You pad to the first door in the hall, where Nikto has stationed himself as the team guard dog. You tap gently at the door, a pre-determined pattern to let him know who it is.

The door cracks open, one startling blue eye peering from the darkness.

“Evening, Nik,” you coo.

A hand reaches out and gently yanks you inside. And then next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in thick arms devoid of any usual covering. You feel smothered, in a good way.

“Love,” he rasps in Russian into your hair.

You hum in return. Place your palms flat on his abdomen. The muscles clench, you pause as you realize his abs, impressive as they are, feel too defined. He needs water. Taking mental note, you draw your hands carefully around, feeling the raised bumps of wicked scars. Make sure he can track exactly where and how you’re touching until your arms are wrapped around him in a return hug.

“Smell good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” You giggle. “Showered just for you.”

He snorts, then scoops you up. You make a delighted noise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the room. Of course his navigation is impeccable, even in pitch black. He lays you down on the bed, but before he can crawl up with you, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re dehydrated.”

He makes an annoyed noise, sounds like he’s about to protest. You shush him with a quick peck to his chest.

“Get a glass please? I could use some water myself.”

Which has him instantly moving. You politely turn away as the bathroom light flicks on, the water runs. Can hear him chug two entire glasses before he fills it one final time. The light turns off again. The bed dips as he returns, presses the cool edge gently to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur, sipping about a quarter of it to appease him before he sets aside for you on a bedside table.

And then he gets what he really wants, stripping you down and tucking you in like a nesting bird. Practically on top of you while you’re still reeling from how much skin you can feel. Even during intimacy, he tends to stay clothed or mostly clothed. But right now all you can feel is a pair of underwear against your bare ass. Everywhere else it’s miles of warm skin, uncovered muscle and texture of scars.

“This is nice,” you coo. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

You wiggle around until you’re chest to chest. Start with his hands. Kiss each smooth fingertip, prints flayed off. Then his palms, the divots from nails driving through. Flip them over to kiss his scarred knuckles, smile at the way he twitches, flexing them outward like he’s trying not to close his hand.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You kiss his wrists, his forearms, to his collarbone. You’ve peeked a blue-black tattoo there before. Stars and the start of something that might be religious. Spend a little extra time there, tongue peeking out. He shifts; you take it as a sign of discomfort and move on.

“Here next,” he says when you dip to go to his chest.

He guides your face up his neck, where you press long (but chaste) kisses until you bump his jaw. And realize that’s all skin too.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Can I…?”

“Yes.”

You feather your lips along his fresh-shaved jaw, the nicked scars on his chin. Then up, ignoring the wicked scar along his cheek. Breathe against his temple, feeling dizzy with the trust he’s showing you.

“I love you,” you whisper, continuing along to his nose, twice broken and poorly set each time. A line over one nostril where a piercing was ripped out. He makes a noise in his throat, think he might be having trouble speaking again. Don’t mind.

He lets you get down to his mouth, where a particularly twisted scar warps part of his upper lip away from his teeth. You think that if you saw it in the light, his canine would be visible. His lower lip is uneven too, like a misaligned seam.

You don’t pay any special attention to any of it, focused more on reacquainting yourself with how your mouth fits with his. He doesn’t lead, doesn’t rush or pull or press. But there’s tension all along his body, everywhere you touch. You don’t ask for more than a chaste kiss, and when you pull away, you tilt your forehead gently against his.

“Still okay?” You ask.

“Still okay.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[obssessivethorn]

Yuu Makes Constant References No One Else Gets

Since I started playing Twst Wonderland, I can’t help but imagine Yuu starting out by constantly making references to pop culture and memes from their world only to realize midway through that no one else around them will understand it 

[Masterlist]

Just imagine: 

In the early stages of the game, Yuu starts to gradually feel more comfortable around their friends, mainly Ace, Deuce, and Grim

At first, they slowly start to feel at home again 

They’d begin loosening up and speaking more like how they would in their home world 

In this case, that means more references and obscure humor 

Especially if we’re basing Yuu’s home world on our current day world

There are so many intricate inside jokes on the internet that wouldn’t make an ounce of sense to anyone who has never been exposed to that kind of environment like we have 

So, when Yuu first made an obscure reference in a conversation with the Single Braincell Gang™, they fall back into their closed off space

Because they’re not from here 

They have a whole other world to get back to 

If they can even get back to it 

And while Ace and Deuce may not be the brightest, the two had gotten to know Yuu enough to know that something was off with them. They just couldn’t place what

After the first few slip ups, Yuu had started talking less and less

They started letting Grim speak for the both of them more often, only speaking when others addressed them or when it was about a topic concerning Twisted Wonderland

From an outside point of view, nothing seemed to have changed. They still hung out with the other first years, laughed and teased their friends, and regularly asked or answered questions in class

But those closer to the Ramshackle prefect could sense the hesitation whenever they were about to say something 

“You should have seen Crewel’s face when Deucey asked that question!” Ace recounted the event between fits of laughter.  Yuu sat with the other first years at their (unspokenly claimed) lunch table, happily chuckling at their boys’ antics. They held Grim in their lap, being used as his personal high-chair like usual, subconsciously running one of their hands through the monster’s soft fur and munching on their own sandwich with the other.  “I wouldn’t have asked such a stupid question if I wasn’t so tired from you keeping me up all night with your complaining about that test we have today!” Deuce retorted, grumpily taking another bite of his egg noodles. Though he looked away from his friends, the flustered blush on his cheeks was still easily seen by the group.  The prefect let out another giggle, “I swear, Crewel looked exactly like that one meme with the lady surrounded by all those different equations-!”  “Huh? Is that a new one I haven’t seen?” Epel asked, his head cocked to the side in question. Had it been any other situation, Yuu might have found it cute. But their embarrassment was too strong for any thought like that to surface.  “Ah-! Nevermind, sorry. It’s an old meme from my home world.” They let out an awkward laugh before looking down and stuffing another bite of their sandwich into their mouth. Their face felt hot and they wished for nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow them, never to be seen in Twisted Wonderland again.  “Y-yeah, and then Crewel assigned Juice like, a hundred more pages of homework to make sure he understood the topic!” Quickly, Ace diverted the others’ attention back to him, no doubt after sending a look of pity to the prefect.  “Hundre-! It was only ten!” Deuce exclaimed, mouth full of pasta.  Yuu could only mentally thank Ace for saving them from the piteous stares from the others. It was no secret that home was a sore subject for the prefect. Any time they spoke about it, their eyes would glaze over with nostalgic longing. Ace and Deuce would often ask them about traditions or cultures back in their world, both out of interest and because the two knew Yuu loved telling them about it. 

Other times, however, aren’t grim reminders of how Crowley isn’t actually looking for a way home

Instead, they have these little moments with themself where they make references to things from their home world as an inside joke

Even if they don’t understand, Yuu’s friends still notice the tiny smirks or held laughs on occasion

But they’d never say anything about it, because it’s obvious how the small joke grounds Yuu and comforts them with the familiarity 

“C’mon! We’re all in this together!” Yuu hastily spouted, trying to stop Ace from running away from his cleaning duties, again. Before Ace could even respond, the prefect immediately let out a bout of laughter and grabbed the boy’s arm, yanking him down the hall while humming a song he’d never heard before between occasional giggles.

Yuu starts recording Grim who is knocked out on their bed. Light snores come from the fluffball. Yuu is heard sniffling behind the camera. “Oh meow meow get up,” they croak. Their hand comes up to lightly shake Grim, stirring him awake and now very confused. “Oh shit meow meow, I thought you was dead-,” Yuu giggles out, further confusing a very dazed Grim

“C’mon, Yuu, the question’s not that bad!” Epel said in between laughs.  “Yeah, Yuu! It’s just three more of these!” Ace could barely get the words out as he slowly collapsed in silent laughter. He slid further down in the library chair he occupied, hand clasping his chest in an effort to breathe yet still remain quiet.  “No, I’ve had it! I am disgusted!” Yuu continued to furiously pack their materials. “I am revolted!” They fumble in closing their notebook and quickly give up, letting the papers crumple up as they shove it into their bag. “I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get?”  The rest of the first years watch as Yuu slings their bag over their shoulder and promptly makes their way out of the library. Ace practically gasps for air. Epel finds himself in a giggle fit, unable to stop. Deuce is a mixture of confusion, amusement, and horror while he very obviously is still processing what just happened. Sebek can only look surprised, unsure of how to proceed. And finally, Jack is just as surprised but is holding back his own chuckles that threaten to spill. 

“Ace, you idiot! There’s a ‘b’ in ‘subtle’.” Deuce scolded. “What?! Where’s the ‘b’?”  “There’s a bee?” Yuu’s quivering voice quietly broke the tension. “Yuu!”

“Whoa, Yuu, I honestly didn’t know you could do that!” Yuu looked at him with a deadpan expression bordering on offended. ”Do you think I fuck around?”  (definitely more obscure but if you understand this i love you) ((Hint: Brennen Lee Mulligan in a Game Changer episode))

Any g-note plays and Yuu’s eyes widen in recognition

“Floyd, Jamil, Ace. You guys gotta get your head in the game.” 

Whether you wish to view it as romantic or platonic, the fact in undeniable that the cast is weak to hearing and seeing Yuu ramble on about things back from their world, specifically the first years or Heartslabyul boys

I personally really like the headcannon that only really the Heartslabyul boys, and maybe the rest of the first years, are in on Yuu being from a different world. It makes certain moments hurt just a bit more with the idea of little to no one knowing that Yuu is meant to inevitably leave. But i digress

Yuu could just be reminded of their favorite dish back home or a song they were obsessed with when they were younger, but the way they talk about it is mesmerizing to the boys. Their eyes light up with an aching mixture of nostalgia, longing, and joy. Recounting old stories or stupid trends they participated in never fails to crack just the slightest bit of a smile on their lips. 

For some odd reason, the way they describe their home world feels like taking a sip of a warm drink on a cold winter day. Comforting in all the right ways. Warming you from the inside despite the harsh environment surrounding. 

Not only does Yuu make it all sound like a fantasy at times, which is technically true given it’s a different world/dimension, but they somehow give the boy a strange glimmer of hope too. Like they too will have a chance to visit and experience the same joys. Only, there’s no chance of that happening. Right? 

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[worldume]

…..WHAT DO YOU MEAN PHONE SEX?!

˖┊ spotlight: sakura haruka.

˖┊ synopsis: sakura would have never thought this new life would bring him everything that it did: friends, new found family, a sense of belonging— a girlfriend he’s in love with. a hot girlfriend who he jerks his cock to nearly every night, fantasizing about the day he finally has the courage to sink his cock in her. but that takes baby steps, right?

˖┊ content: masturbation, phone sex, assigned female at birth reader, reader also has she/her pronouns, love bites and hickeys, reader has the wonyoung effect, all characters are 18 and over.

˖┊ word count: 4.5k.

sakura laid on his back, pretty mismatched eyes gazing up at the ceiling— unfocused. his chest heaved with each heavy breath, sweat glistening on his forehead and dampening his tousled hair. he felt the adrenaline slowly ebb away, replaced by a sense of weariness as he lazily shifted his gaze downward, staring at his hand. he couldn’t be bothered to scoff at himself this time, he’s too fucked out right now. sakura’s cum is whitish clear as it dripped from his hand, sliding slowly between his slender fingers. the droplets formed rivulets that traced down his skin, stretching into thin threads.

sakura was still a guy at the end of the day really. he’s had his hand wrapped around his cock milking himself countless times but instead of the naughty magazines he would use before, you’re now his favorite.. inspiration. no, seriously. just the thought of that precious little face of yours is enough to get sakura hard as a fucking pole. he’s surprised actually— not for any other reason than his thoughts alone are enough for him. there’s no need for porn, magazines, or a fleeting touch from a woman that smelled good earlier in the day… yeah, times were rough.

sakura’s post nut clarity was abruptly interrupted by the sudden shrill ring of his phone. the sound pierced the heavy silence, startling him. “ah— shit.”

with a groan he pushed himself up from the bed, feeling the thin sheets shift under his movements. he reaches for the phone and glanced at the caller ID before sighing, sandwiching the device between his shoulder and ear— the cool screen pressing against his flushed cheek.

“yeah.” he answers as he fumbles to wipe his hand off with the kleenex beside his bed, feeling it smear slightly. the motion was hurried and somewhat clumsy. his voice still thick with breathlessness, sounding rough and low when he finally answered. the word came out almost as a sigh.

“hi, baby! you’re coming out tonight, right?” god— your voice was so sweet it made him feel a severe case of cute aggression. which often led to frustration because he didn’t know what exactly to do with himself.

“where?”

“the beach party? choji and togame extended an invitation to bof—”

“hell no.” as sakura continued the call, he got up and made his way to the kitchen. his hand scratched his toned belly, the phone still sandwiched between his shoulder and ear.

“those pricks are still lame to me..” he opened the fridge door, the cool air hitting his warm skin as he peered inside. with one hand he started rummaging through the contents, pushing aside half-empty containers and expired leftovers. “and you shouldn’t be goin’ neither, way too many freaks gonna be ooglin’ at you in a bikini..” of course you didn’t see but there was a faint blush on his cheeks. the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the background, mingling with the muffled voice on the other end of the line. it took sakura a long time to express his feelings but expressing his jealousy and possessiveness over you seemed to be the easiest.

he reached for a bottle of water, the condensation slick under his fingers as he twisted the cap off.

“then who’s supposed to be my date?” you asked through a pout. you were on the other end painting your toenails, looking down at them with a tilted head as if you weren’t sure about the color.

“—wh—!” sakura nearly spits out his water. “you— you don’t need a date.. it’s a party.”

“yeah but it would be nice, haru.” you say, finding yourself getting a little bit frustrated with him. you twist the cap closed on the polish. “but, if you really don’t wanna go it’s okay— i’ll probably ask kiryu to be my date for the night.”

“he’s going?” his expression was a mix of reluctance and resignation, eyes narrowed slightly in thought.

“of course, mostly everyone from bofurin is— umeee, tsubakiii, hiragi, suo, nirei, even kaji! but i suspect choji told him there would be sweets..”

“suo and nirei..? i didn’t think those fuckers were serious about going to a pool party.” he thought to himself.

see, sakura is actually pretty cute because he takes dates very seriously. you’re his first girlfriend— his first big boy relationship and the thought of someone else being your plus one at the party made his blood boil. a low growl of frustration almost escaped his lips as he clenched his jaw, his possessiveness surfacing.

“alright.. what time should I pick you up?” he asked.

5:45 PM

as the sun began its descent, it casted a wild golden glow across the sand and sea. the sky was painted in fiery hues of orange, pink, and purple, the colors blending as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. the sound of crashing waves was drowned out by the rowdy laughter and shouts of the partygoers.

a massive bonfire roared nearby— flames leaping high and casting flickering shadows on the faces gathered around it. makeshift torches and string lights rigged between palm trees, colorful beach towels and blankets were spread out haphazardly and tables groaned under the weight of a spread of various food and drinks. the scent of grilled meat mixed with the unmistakable tang of alcohol.

people were scattered across the beach in various activities. a heated volleyball game was underway, with players diving and shouting with abandon. others were plunging into the cool water while other groups lounged on the sand. some smoking, others downing beers as music blasted from a portable speaker.

you and sakura stepped onto the sand, your fingers interlaced with his in a warm grip. you looked cheerful and happy, eyes sparkling as you greeted everyone with genuine smile. each person you passed greeted you with wide grins and waves— but your popularity wasn’t something new. you were known to be a very sweet and extremely beautiful girl, so much so that the crushes many harbored for you were still full in effect.

sakura on the other hand wore his signature scowl, his eyes scanning the crowd with wariness and annoyance. his jaw was set and his posture was tense— he wasn’t the party kind of guy so he said but this is sakura we’re talking about. emotionally constipated and stubborn. he didn’t like anything if we’re being honest.

as you scanned the crowd, you spotted two of your closest friends and called out excitedly, “nirei! suo!”

they turned towards you, their faces lighting up. “hi, (name)..!” nirei called back, grinning widely.

“it’s nice to see you, (name),” suo added with a smile.

you approached them and placed both of your hands on each of their jaws, giving them both quick kisses on the cheek. nirei blushed slightly his eyes darting away shyly, though he couldn’t hide his smile. suo on the other hand, closed his eyes and leaned into the gesture, clearly enjoying the affectionate greeting.

“you got the grump outside, good job,” suo remarked, glancing at sakura with a smirk.

“watch it.”

“hey?” you squeezed sakura’s cheeks gently and gave him a teasing look. “be sweet. you promised no fussing or fights tonight.”

he sighed, his expression softening slightly. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you and sakura walked hand in hand through the party while the atmosphere buzzed with laughter and music. nirei and suo followed closely chatting animatedly as you searched for a spot to settle down. on the way you all ran into some familiar faces, chatting with them until eventually, you found a cozy area near the bonfire, away from the thickest crowds but still within earshot of the music.

sakura spread out a large beach towel while nirei and suo laid down blankets and set their bags beside them. the four of you arranged yourselves comfortably, the bonfire casting a warm glow around you all as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

you were starting to feel the evening’s warmth settling around you and the fabric of your swimsuit cover up was feeling stifling against your skin. you glanced at sakura, who was focused on setting up the towels, giving him a little smile. “he’s not doing so bad”— you think suo and nirei being there is helping him feel a little bit more comfortable. you stood and absentmindedly began to peel off your cover-up, revealing the sleek lines of your swimsuit underneath. the movement was natural to you, but little did you realize the effect it had on sakura.

his eyes widened slightly as he glanced up, catching you in the act. his breath caught in his throat, the sight of you subtly revealing yourself was stirring something within him. you continued to undress, folding the cover up with this casual grace that was almost infuriating, unaware of the sensual energy you exuded.

sakura’s gaze followed your movements, admiring the curve of your back and the play of light on your skin. his heart raced, his thoughts momentarily lost in the allure of your presence. he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, but couldn’t help but feel a rush of desire. shit, this was bad— at this rate he’d be hard.

you turned to him with a smile, completely oblivious as you settled down on the towel beside him. kind pisses him off.

“what’s the matter cutie pie?” you asked sweetly as you reached over to cup his cheeks with your soft hand. He gives you a haphazard scoff as you giggle, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips.

“what’d i tell ya about callin’ me that stuff in front of the guys..” he mumbles under his breath, hoping that the two beside them wouldn’t hear but unfortunately they’re trying their hardest to not blow a lung from holding in their laughter. a small “pfft” is what ultimately set sakura off— making him lung for whoever he could grab first. poor thing.

7:23 PM

by now the moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the beach. laughter and music filled the air, but for you and sakura the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. you guys waded into the gentle waves, the cool water lapping at your ankles before rising to your waists until you were both completely submerged into the water.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, arms encircling his neck in a koala hug. the warmth of his skin against yours was a nice contrast to the cool and salty ocean. droplets of seawater clung to both of your skin, glistening in the moonlight like tiny little diamonds. each time you two moved, the water would ripple and splash, sending cool beads sliding down their bodies. sakura's hands were firm on your back, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your spine, sending shivers through you despite how warm his touch always seemed to feel. sakura always had a boyish charm to him because of his temperament but.. it was moments like this where he gave you butterflies, made you feel like a blushing schoolgirl again.

you both could feel each other's heartbeats, steady and synchronized, creating a rhythm that seemed to match the rise and fall of the waves. you nuzzled into the crook of sakura's neck, breathing in the salty scent of the sea mixed with his familiar, comforting scent. your cheeks brushed and could feel the firmness of his jawline, something in you growing a bit primal. maybe it was the alcohol talking but you wanted him to feel something.

your breath quickened and you could feel the heat rising within yourself. you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into sakura's eyes. they were dark but inviting, filled with the same unspoken longing that you felt too. you wondered if sakura knew the effect he had on you— you wondered if he also stayed up late hours of the night touching himself to the thought of being inside of you. you weren’t a virgin, you hadn’t been for a while but you knew that sakura was. he didn’t have to explicitly state it, you could see it in the way he carried himself. the way he blushes at every little act of affection, the way he fumbles his words when you do things that are just mildly suggestive— it made you feel like a pervert but you knew he had so much cum to give you wrapped in a little bow.

without thinking you leaned in, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck. you could feel the pulse of his heartbeat beneath your lips, strong and steady. he tensed against you and you couldn’t see it but his brows were forming into a furrow as your teeth grazed his skin lightly at first, testing, teasing. 

“w—what’re you doin’?” sakura's hands tightened on your back, a silent encouragement was all you needed— the primal urge in you grew stronger, an almost overwhelming need to claim him, to leave a mark that would signify sakura is yours.

you didn’t know if it was possessiveness, greediness? it didn’t matter— biting down gently on his neck, just enough to leave a small, distinct mark. the taste of salt and the faint metallic tang of his skin mingled on your tongue as you felt him shudder beneath you, a low groan escaping his lips. “that— fuck.”

you pulled back slightly to admire your handiwork, a small, reddish imprint on his neck. sakura's eyes met hers again, dark with desire and yearning.

“keep going.” sakura said— it sounded like an order, but there was a.. desperation hidden somewhere in there. just beneath his surface. almost as if he was scared you were going to stop.

you pressed your lips back to his neck but this time you found a new spot just below his ear. you began to suck gently, using your tongue to tease the sensitive skin. your tongue lapped in a delicious way— lips wrapping around his skin as you applied more pressure— sucking him, as blood rushed to the surface, creating a deep, purplish hue. you shifted slightly to get a better angle, teeth grazing his skin just enough to make him bite down on his lip. you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, his breath hitching with each swipe of your tongue, each pull of your teeth.

sakura was hard. you could feel it but he was hoping you couldn’t. he’s never felt quite like this before— even this sensation right now was admittedly better than anything his hand could ever provide. he knew why guys liked girls; they were soft, pretty and smelled like flowers or sweets but this.. was he really missing out on this for so long? 

2:56 PM

the aroma of simmering broth filled the air as sakura, suo, nirei, kiryu, tsugue, and sugishita— sat around a hot pot table, eagerly tossing in vegetables, meats, and noodles. the clatter of chopsticks and the hum of conversation created the typical sunday night vibe they were usually always going for, but sakura found himself drifting in and out of the chatter, lost in thought.  

he stared into the bubbling pot, the events of last night replaying in his mind— his cheeks flushing slightly as he remembered the feel of your lips and the marks you had left on his skin. his friends’ laughter and banter seemed distant, a background noise to his thoughts.

suddenly, without thinking, he blurted out, “are you guys virgins?”

the table fell silent. all five of them froze, chopsticks hovering in mid-air, their expressions shifting from surprise to shock, then to barely suppressed laughter. nirei was the first to break the silence, nearly choking on a piece of tofu with a furious blush on his cheeks— he wasn’t good at that kind of stuff either. all his knowledge came from sex education books and his incognito tab so he was pretty much useless to the conversation. “where did that come from so suddenly?!”

tsugue laughed so hard he almost knocked over his drink, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “you're seriously asking us that? right now?”

suo raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, a grin playing on his lips. “this is a first. you’ve really outdone yourself, sakura. what is it? you and (name) are getting pretty serious, huh?”

kiryu leaned forward, grinning. “ah~ ♡ alright, alright. calm down, everyone. our saku-chan is finally growing up.” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “i’ll bite. why the sudden interest? something happen last night~?”

sakura’s blush deepened, and he stammered, “no! i-i was just thinking about.. things. you know, with (name). i just wanted to know!” he caught a glimpse of sugishita giving him a weird look he wasn’t too fond of. “don’t give me that look, asshole!”

suo crossed his arms, a warm closed eyed smile on his face. “well, for what it’s worth, experience isn’t everything. it’s about connection, trust, and being comfortable with each other. that’s what really matters.”

kiryu nodded in agreement. “yeah, and take it slow.. don’t rush things because you feel like you have to reach some milestone. if you care about each other, everything else will fall into place.”

tsugue chimed in, “and if you need tips on how to not ruin the moment, just remember this conversation. we’ll remind you of it, man.”

“shut up! i was only curious!”

“well, since yer askin’, i'll give ya some real advice.” tsugue leaned over the table with his elbow propping up his weight. “start out with some phone sex.”

so nodded in agreement. “hm, that isn’t a bad way to ease into it— it's a good way to build up intimacy without the pressure of being physically together. plus, it can be quite attractive.”

kiryu was still grinning when he added, “yeah, knucklehead is actually right this time, saku-chan. t's a good way to explore what you both like.. aaaannd~ it sounds like you’re already halfway there, if your random question is anything to go by.” he chuckled.

“and the two big mosquito bites on your neck..” sugishita mumbled with an eye roll.

sakura blinked, taken aback. “p-phone sex..?”

kiryu nodded. “yeah.. it's.. less intimidating and it can help you get comfortable with each other’s boundaries.. just let it happen. and maybe don’t overthink it too much— like you have the tendency to do.”

“i do not!” sakura barked, crossing his arms with a heavy blush on his face. “just drop it— nothing’s goin’ on, i was just—”

“curious?” suo tilted his head and offered sakura a smile. “its okay, we’re not here to judge you. but you make it so hard not to poke a little bit of fun.”

“yeah, yeah.. lets eat.”

out of the five at the table, 3/5 had their cherry picked. can you guess which three?

11:11

sakura lay on his bed, the cool breeze from the open window rustling the curtains. his phone was pressed to his ear, and on the other end, your voice warmed his ear. you guys had been chatting about your days, sharing the small details. like how you went shopping that day and picked up a new perfume and got the refill on your nails you had been wanting for a few days now. sakura didn’t know what half of this stuff was until he started dating you and now he looks forward to picking your next nail set or seeing what the very slight change you made to your hair that makes a world of a difference for you.

“yeah, i’m sure it’ll look okay– a middle part won’t make you look ‘weird.’” he rolls his eyes— he doesn’t know why you worry over little things like that. he’s never seen you look bad a day in your life. 

“it can! that’s like your black hair where your white is and vice versa! i was too nervous to try it at the party so i did it how i usually do it.” you said through a small pout.

“yeah, speaking of— it’s been almost a week and those shitty marks you left are still dark. they’re teasing me about it,” he grumbled in his usual fussy tone, adjusting onto his pillow as he props his head up onto his forearm. He finds himself looking back up at the ceiling.

you giggled, your laughter like a melody to his ears. “you weren’t complaining when i was doing it.”

sakura huffed, his blush deepening. “that’s not the point! suo and kiryu have been relentless. they won’t let it go.”

“oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” you teased. “besides, they’re just jealous because i~ got to mark you first.”

“psh, whatever.”

there was a small pause.

“so,” your voice dropped to a softer, more intimate tone— but you almost sounded worried, “do you really mind the marks? you can be honest..”

sakura hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding a little faster. he panics a little actually, he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea “no!” he coughs before lowering his voice a bit. “i.. i don’t mind,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “liked it, actually.. made me feel.. close to you. or whatever.”

you smiled on the other end, your own heart swelling. “you reacted so cutely~”

sakura felt a warm flush spread from his cheeks down to his chest. that all too familiar feeling of his cock starting to jump. “..you’re really good at making me feel things, y’know that?"

“good things, i hope?” your voice was playful but still sincere.

“yeah,” he replied, his voice growing softer, more breathless as he felt more blood rushing from his head to his cock. “really good things.” the outline of his shaft was getting more and more prominent by the second.. he just can’t stop thinking about.. you. everything about you. it's all so alluring; your smell, how soft your skin is, how sweet your voice is— how your lips felt against his skin, sucking him. he can’t help but to reach down to palm himself— his chest starting to rise and fall visibly.

there was a brief pause, filled with the gentle sound of their breathing. you broke the silence, tone even more intimate. “sakura?”

“yeah?”

“are you touching yourself?” you ask, your voice is so soft— it makes sakura feel like it's okay to tell you the truth. but you almost sound amused.. it makes him wonder if it’s really that obvious.

his heart raced. “yeah,” he confessed. “i.. keep fuckin’ replaying it in my head.. you touchin’ me, felt good.”

“sakura,” your voice was a soft murmur, “i can almost feel you here with me..” he hears your voice crack.

sakura swallowed hard, his breath hitching slightly. “what’re you doin’?”

your breath was warm in his ear, even over the phone. “rubbing my clit..”

sakura’s hand grasps at his shaft through his boxers, almost like he’s telling it to stop. “fuck,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “that’s so hot. it feel good?”

“it feels really good.. but i wish to your cock instead..” you said. Sakura's almost taken back from how easily the filth leaves your mouth— that sweet voice.. it almost doesn’t fit. his breathing gets deeper, his hand trembling slightly as he reaches for the waistband of his boxers, hesitating for a moment.

“are you still with me?” you ask, voice was a soothing presence in his ear.

“yeah,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m here.” sakura pushes down his boxers, feeling the soft fabric glide over his skin. he slides the boxers down to the thickest part of his thighs, the sensation cooling as the air finally hits the sensitive skin on this cock, specifically the leaky tip making him shiver.

he wrapped his fingers around his cock, feeling its warmth and hardness in his hand. his grip was firm, the sensation immediately sending a jolt of pleasure through him. he started with slow, deliberate strokes, his hand moving up and down the length of his shaft. each movement was accompanied by a soft gasp as he savored the feeling. When he does this by himself it never feels this good— he’s fucking shaking.

“mmgh—! sakura..” you lay on your bed, the phone pressed to your ear as you listen to Sakura’s ragged breaths— his voice alone was enough to make you ache, but knowing what he was doing on the other end of the line made your pulse quicken with need. you started with slow, gentle circles on your clit, your hips bucking slightly against your hand, seeking more friction.

your fingers dipped lower, sliding through your wetness before pushing inside, you moaned softly, the sensation of your fingers filling you a sweet relief but it didn’t feel like enough. you picked up the pace, pumping in and out of yourself as your breath came in shallow, needy gasps.

“keep talking,” he gasped, his voice strained with lust. “i wanna hear you.” sakura's strokes became more rhythmic, his grip tightening. he could feel every ridge and vein beneath his fingers, each tug eliciting a surge of raw, primal desire. his thumb brushed over the sensitive tip, spreading the moisture that had begun to gather there, adding a slickness that intensified the sensation.

your breath hitched again, fingers moving faster. “’m so close, thinking about you touching me.. want to feel your hands on me, your mouth.. i need you to make me come.” your words were punctuated by soft whimpers and moans, each sound pushing sakura closer to the edge. you could hear the intensity of his strokes increasing.

“‘m almost therealmosttherealmost there..!,” you panted, her voice a desperate plea. “please, sakura, need you to come with me..!” with a final breathless cry, you felt her climax wash over you, your body trembling with the intensity of your orgasm. “s–sa–kura!” you gasped, your voice a mix of pleasure and longing.

“fuck. yes.” he groaned, his voice filled with raw pleasure. his breathing grew heavier, each exhale a mix of need and pleasure. the muscles in his arm flexed with each motion, a steady rhythm that drove him closer to the edge. he could feel the tension building in his body, a tight coil of desire that demanded release.

his strokes quickened, his hand moving with a sense of urgency. the friction, the heat, the intensity of his own touch brought him to a fever pitch. he could feel the impending climax, a powerful surge of pleasure that built with every stroke. with a final pull sakura reached his peak. his body tensed, every nerve ending on fire as the orgasm tore through him. his hand continued to move, milking every last drop of pleasure until he was left breathless and spent.

he went limp back onto his bed, feeling the aftershocks of his release, his body tingling with the remnants of pleasure. his hand still loosely wrapped around himself, he lay there, breathing heavily.

“holy shit..” he said breathlessly. you giggle on the other line and he hears a shuffle.

“can i see it~? they’re cute when they’re all soft!”

Incoming facetime call from (Name).

“wha?!”

© all content belongs to worldume 2024. do not, translate, modify or repost to any other platforms.

tag: @eevees-hobbies <3

[doumadono]

✨ SINFUL SUNDAY BITCHES ✨

Can we get some villain Bakugo corrupting pro hero reader?

Warnings: smut w/o plot, non-con elements, rough smut, pussy fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, fem prohero!reader, villain!Bakugo, semi-public, a bit of humiliation and degradation?, Bakugo being sardonic, a little of power play, forced orgasm

A/N: this request got the second highest number of votes during another Sinful Sunday poll I held. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA

The night was cloaked in darkness, the moon a mere sliver in the sky, casting a faint glow over the bustling city below. Neon lights flickered, casting eerie glows on the wet pavement. The quiet murmur of the city was interrupted by distant sirens, a reminder of the ever-present danger lurking in the shadows.

You were a pro hero, dedicated and unwavering in your resolve to protect the citizens of Musutafu. You stood atop a high-rise building, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the streets for any sign of the notorious villain who had been wreaking havoc recently. Katsuki Bakugo, once a promising hero-in-training, had taken a dark turn, abandoning his dreams of heroism to embrace a path of destruction and chaos. 

Your mission tonight was clear: apprehend Bakugo and bring him to justice. But as you stood there, the cold wind biting at your skin through your costume, you couldn't shake the unease that settled in your stomach. Bakugo was known for his explosive temper and unparalleled strength, and you had a feeling this encounter would be anything but easy.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion echoed through the night, shaking the building beneath your feet. You spun around, your eyes wide as you spotted the source of the blast: a plume of smoke rising from a nearby warehouse. Without hesitation, you leapt from the rooftop, and  made your way towards the chaos.

As you approached the warehouse, you could see the flicker of flames licking at the sky, the acrid scent of burning metal and debris filling your nostrils. You landed gracefully, your boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. The warehouse was in ruins, chunks of concrete and twisted metal scattered around the area. And in the midst of the destruction, standing amidst the flames like a demon from the depths of hell, was no one else but Katsuki Bakugo.

He turned to face you, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he recognized you. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who decided to show up. A little late to the party, aren't we?"

You clenched your fists, your eyes narrowing as you met his gaze. "Bakugo," you spat, taking a defensive stance. "I won't let you continue this reign of terror. This ends tonight. I'm taking you in."

Bakugo laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You really think you can take me down, princess? You're welcome to try, but I promise you, it's not going to end the way you think."

With a sudden burst of speed, Bakugo closed the distance between you, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. 

You reacted on instinct, twisting away and aiming a punch at his midsection, but he was faster. His grip tightened, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent you crashing to the ground, his body pinning yours.

"You're so predictable," he sneered, his breath hot against your ear. "Always playing by the rules, always so righteous. But you know what, sweetheart? That shit doesn't matter anymore. In this world, power is the only thing that counts."

You struggled beneath him, your heart racing as you tried to free yourself from his grasp. “Let. Me. Go.” 

But Bakugo's strength was overwhelming, his body a solid wall of muscle and raw power. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice a low, seductive whisper. "Tell me, little heroine," he murmured, his free hand trailing down your side, "Have you ever wondered what it's like to let go? To stop fighting and just give in?"

You gasped, your body reacting to his touch despite your determination to resist. "Stop," you pleaded, your voice trembling. "This isn't you. You're not a monster. Your mind is just clouded."

He chuckled darkly, his fingers sliding beneath the hem of your costume, teasing the sensitive skin of your tummy. "Oh, but it is me," he said, his eyes burning with a twisted kind of desire. "And deep down, I think you like it. I think you want it."

With a swift motion, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his dominance overwhelming. 

You fought against the pull, but the intensity of his touch, the raw passion he exuded, was intoxicating. 

His hands roamed your body, setting your nerves alight with every touch. "Feel that?" he murmured against your lips. "That's the real you, begging to be unleashed."

Your resolve wavered, the lines between right and wrong blurring in the heat of the moment. "Bakugo, stop," you pleaded, though your voice lacked conviction.

"Stop?" he taunted, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "You don't want me to stop, princess. You want to see just how far this can go."

You knew you should resist, should fight with everything you had, but you simply couldn’t.

Bakugo's lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he continued to speak, his voice a low, hypnotic growl. "Give in, heroine," he urged, his hand moving lower, tracing the curve of your hip. "Let me show you what real power feels like."

You bit your lip, an unwanted moan escaping your lips as his hand found its way between your legs, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your costume on your crotch. 

The sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and resistance that made your head spin. "Bakugo," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Don’t touch me."

He smiled against your skin, his fingers gently slapping your crotch. "Stop it," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck to your collarbone. "Don’t be such a prude. We both know you like being used. You whores all do.”

And in that moment, as your body responded to his touch, you realized that you were powerless to resist him. Katsuki Bakugo, the villain you had sworn to stop, was slowly and resolutely tearing down all of your defenses, pulling you into his dark, dangerous world.

"You think you can resist me?" he taunted, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "I know you feel it too. That darkness inside you, begging to be set free."

"Bakugo, this isn't right," you protested, shaking your head abruptly.

His smirk widened, a feral glint in his eyes. "Right or wrong doesn't matter now. All that matters is what you want. And I know you want this."

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours again, the kiss possessive. 

You tried to fight it once again, but failed. "Bakugo," you gasped when he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Say my name again," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "I want to hear you beg for it."

The command in his tone sent a jolt of primal desire through you, your body betraying your resolve. "Katsuki," you whispered, the name a plea on your lips.

He growled in approval, his hands sliding under your uniform again, fingers tracing the curves of your body. "That's it. Don’t be shy, princess."

In one swift motion, he tore at your clothes, the fabric yielding to his strength. 

The cool night air kissed your exposed skin, but the heat radiating from Bakugo's body kept you warm. 

His touch was relentless, every caress igniting a fire that burned through you. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "So eager, so willing. I knew you had it in you. Haha, you just can’t wait to have a villain cock in your cunt."

You gasped as his hands found their way to your panties, his touch both demanding and expertly skilled. 

He captured your lips again, the kiss deep and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"Bakugo, please," you whimpered after breaking the kiss, the need in your voice undeniable.

He chuckled darkly, his eyes flashing with triumph. "That's what I wanted to hear." With a swift, practiced motion, he lifted you like you weighed nothing, like you were nothing but a rag doll, pressing you against the rough brick wall of the warehouse. 

The sensation of the cool brick against your exposed skin made you whimper. Your breath hitched, your resolve wavering under his piercing stare. "Bakugo, this isn't —"

"Oh, shut the fuck up finally," he interrupted, his lips crashing down on yours to silence you. He smirked against your lips, his fingers tracing teasing circles over the middle of your panties. "You're already so fucking wet for me," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I knew you wanted this, little one."

He quickly tugged your panties down your legs, and without thinking much, you helped him take them off completely. A gasp escaped your lips as he pushed a finger inside you, the intrusion both shocking and exhilarating. He finger fucked you while licking the pulse point on your neck with the tip of his tongue, wet trail of his saliva painting your throat. He soon added another digit.

"Bakugo," you moaned, the sound of his name a plea on your lips.

"That's right," he growled, his fingers moving faster, deeper, each thrust stroking all the right places deep within you. "Let me hear you beg for it."

"Bakugo, please," you whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more. Even though it all felt wrong and he was only humiliating you.

His smirk widened, a feral gleam in his eyes. "Good little heroine," he murmured, adding another finger, the sensation overwhelming. "Feel that? That's me owning you." His fingers moved with relentless precision, hitting all of the sweet, spongy spots. His calloused thumb brushed over your clit at the same time.

Bakugo cupped your face with his other hand in a mockery of intimacy, his rough digits surprisingly gentle against your skin. His eyelids fluttered closed as he leaned in, the warmth of his breath hitting your cheek as he sniffed you. "Fuck," he murmured, almost to himself, "I could get used to this." 

You smelled so good, sweet and soft and clean — a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded him daily. It had been so long since he had been this close to a woman, and never one who was willing. The scent of you, the feel of your skin against his, it was intoxicating, a drug he hadn't realized he craved.

Bakugo kissed you again while fingering your tight pussy, the sloppy, wet noises so lewd that, involuntarily, you became wetter than before. 

You hated how your body reacted. 

His tongue swept over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He gripped you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold. 

You had never been kissed like this before.

Bakugo finally pulled his fingers out of you and dropped to his knees, hitching one of your legs up over his shoulder. The velvety skin of your inner thigh looked so delicious that he nuzzled against the bare area and latched onto it, sucking until he was sure you'd have a mark in a few minutes. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy was inches away from him, intoxicating and irresistible. Bakugo's eyes darkened with desire as he inhaled deeply, dying to make you cum in his needy mouth. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his hot breath ghosting over your slick folds before his tongue darted out, tasting you for the first time. The sensation was electric, his mouth working expertly, eager to draw out every moan, every shiver of pleasure from you. He latched onto your clit, sucking and flicking with a fervor that made your knees weak, his grip on your leg tightening to keep you steady. "Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He was relentless, devouring you with a hunger that left you breathless.

“B-Bakugo…”

A sound you’d never heard yourself make before forced its way out of your mouth as Bakugo ate you out in earnest, his tongue rubbing against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gave you no time to catch your breath. You wanted him to stop. And at the same time, you never wanted him to stop. Your hands twitched as you fought the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your trembling thighs. His tongue felt so, so good against your pussy. You had never been with a man who was that skilled in pleasuring a woman.

Bakugo curled one arm around your thigh, pulling his face away from your cunny just long enough to push his fingers back into your drenched hole, angling his palm to grind the heel of his hand roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm, wet softness of his tongue was enough to push you over the edge. You cried out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Bakugo's fingers as he worked them in and out of you.

"Fuck, that’s it, you little, pathetic whore, cum for me now or I'll have to blow your fucking useless head out," he growled, his voice vibrating through you as he rubbed the bulge tenting in his pants roughly with his free hand. His eyes were dark with desire, watching you come undone. Bakugo groaned, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh, before attaching his mouth to your pussy again. He drank in all of your juices, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as if he couldn’t get enough.  

You just came on the tongue of a villain. 

Bakugo looked up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, his chin glistening with your release. "You taste even better than I imagined," he said, his voice low and rough. 

Your legs felt weak, barely able to support you as the reality of what had just happened sank in. You felt oh so humiliated, but a part of you couldn't ignore the raw, undeniable pleasure that Bakugo had drawn from you.

He got back to his feet, and whispered against your ear. "Admit that you want me to fuck you right here, right now."

"Yes," you breathed, the word a desperate plea.

He didn't need any more encouragement. With a growl, he freed himself from his fitted combat pants, his cock sprung up free, resting proudly against his toned abdomen; the aggressive, red tip leaking precum from its slit. He positioned himself at your slimy entrance, the anticipation almost too much to bear. "You're mine," he declared, his voice thick with possessive hunger. “You’re nothing but a tiny hole I’m going to use however I please. You’re fucking nothing but a piece of meat.”

With a powerful thrust, he entered you, the sensation tearing a gasp from your lips. The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was intoxicating. He moved with a fierce rhythm, his heavy balls slapping against your pussy with every rough thrust he delivered. He yanked one of your legs up, wrapping it around his hips to find the better angle.

He could hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped so tightly around his dick. It consumed his every thought, his every desire. He wanted to live inside your pussy, to fuck your warmth every day, every minute. The feeling of fucking you raw was the best he had felt in months, a primal satisfaction that eclipsed everything else.

"Bakugo," you moaned, your hands clinging to his shoulders for support.

"That's right," he growled, his pace relentless as he hardly squeezed your boob through your sports bra. "Scream my name. Let everyone know who you belong to."

“K-Katsuki!”

The world around you dissolved into a haze of pleasure and desire, the only reality was the feeling of Bakugo claiming you, possessing you completely. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to meet his thrusts, his breath hot against your skin.

The warehouse was a chaos of fire and smoke, the heat from the flames slowly licking at your skin, but the inferno around you was nothing compared to the blaze between you and Bakugo. The firelight cast an eerie glow over his face, highlighting the intense, almost feral desire in his eyes.

“Such a good whore, taking my cock in her tight little pussy so fucking well,” Bakugo praised, licking a stripe of your neck, growling lowly into your ear.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you, each thrust pushing you harder against the wall. The rough brick scraped your back.

Every nerve ending was on fire, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming. 

"That's it," he growled, his pace increasing, the friction of his body against yours driving you wild. “That’s it, whore.”

You gasped at the insult, your leg tightening around his hips, pulling him deeper.

He angled his hips, hitting the sweetest spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes with the tip of his massive cock. "Right there," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "I can feel you clenching around me. That’s a good, little heroic whore.”

You nodded frantically, your breath coming in ragged gasps whenever the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. 

"Bakugo!" you screamed, raking your nails along his shoulders even though they were still covered by the upper part of his gear.

He swirled two fingers against your clit after slipping the hand that had cupped your boob earlier down to your slick pussy. 

You mewled like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation, and he laughed rudely.

"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself as deep inside you as possible, his cock pulsing and swelling as he came, filling you with his hot, thick release. “Fuck, take it, take it all, bitch.”

Your climax built rapidly as well. Your body tensed, the coil of pleasure tightening until it finally snapped when he came inside of you. With a cry of his name, you shattered, the pleasure overwhelming, consuming you utterly for the second time this evening. Your body convulsed around him, your pussy clenching and milking his veiny cock as he continued to pound into you. “Bakugo!”

“That’s it, little one, that’s it,” Bakugo cooed, his thrust sloppy until he stopped moving. He held you there for a moment. The slurping sound that reverberated in the air as his cock partially left your drenched pussy was obscene. Equally obscene was the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connected your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulled away fully. His rough hands were still gripping your hips as he watched with a wry grin how his cum dribbled out of your abused pussy.

"You're fucking mine," he whispered, his voice a rough promise. "There's no place you could possibly hide from me," he whispered. "I'll find you anywhere, little heroine. You are mine, and no one else, nor any other thing, will ever change that."

When clouds of primal lust faded away, clearing your mind a little, the humiliation hit you like a heavy hammer, threatening to crush you under its weight. You fought the urge to cry, the stress and fear coursing through you like a tidal wave. You couldn't tear up like a baby in front of him, couldn't show any sign of weakness. Even though you already did.

Frantically, you looked around for your panties, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to improve the upper part of your hero costume that was practically torn in half. But before you could find them, his low, mocking laugh reached your ears. You raised your head slowly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, as you saw him toying with them in his hand, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You looking for these?" he taunted, holding them just out of reach. "You should know better by now. Everything that touches you belongs to me too." He sniffed your panties, and then theatrically licked the damp spot in the middle with his tongue, making you shudder involuntarily. His grin widened at your reaction, a cruel satisfaction evident in his eyes. After wiping his cock with your panties, he tucked them into the pocket of his pants, adjusting his trousers shortly after with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. "I'll keep these as a little souvenir," he announced.

Bakugo took a step closer to you, his presence overwhelming as he helped you adjust your own pants. "Now, go," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. "Run to them and tell them that not only did you fail to stop and capture the infamous villain, but also moaned like a cheap whore when his cock was buried to the hilt in your wet pussy. I'm super curious about their reaction."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you nodded numbly, unable to form a proper sentence after you pulled up what was left of your hero pants. You turned around and walked away with a shaky step as you prepared to face the consequences of your failure.

[dickgraysonsbitch]

MOTH TO A FLAME — DICK GRAYSON X JOURNALIST!READER

3.3k words | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open !

summary: your relationship with dick grayson was history two years ago. as of yesterday, you were (not so) happily engaged to another man, and your relationship with him was swoon-worthy, but it seems like it could crumble like a house of cards. so when your perfect ex comes back into your life for help on a case, will you go back to him like a moth to a flame?

you’re just a moth to a flame.

you were engaged. you knew this, this wasn’t new fucking information, and you were supposed to feel elated, on top of the world, like you were on cloud nine or some other shit people in love said—wait, no. you were in love with your fiancé, or at least you tried to be. he was sweet, and he looked good, with his fluffy blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and lean figure. nerd hot. just your type, but why did it seem like as every day went on, you kept trying to convince yourself that this was what you wanted?

you stretched your arms before lugging yourself out of bed, grabbing your phone to check your messages, which you assumed were the reason that your phone was buzzing so much that it was about to fall off your dresser.

PHOTOS NOTIFICATION: november, 2021, AMUSEMENT MILE THEME PARK. do you want to share this memory with DICKIEBIRD 💙?

you pressed your mouth into a line, reminiscing. that was probably the best time you’d ever had in your entire life. you, dick, wally and artemis, eating cotton candy and popcorn at an amusement park.

“one more bite of food and you’re going into carnival crime territory, wally,” you sing, your voice carrying its signature teasing lilt. “then i’m going to win, and you’ll have to pay for everything.”

“just make your stupid boyfriend pay, he’s the billionaire!” wally's disgruntled groan came from a foot behind you, were he was still struggling on his second milkshake. sucker.

dick threw an arm around your shoulder, spreading a hint of warmth over your torso. he was, as you liked to call him, your personal space heater. “hey, it’s the son of a billionaire. and i’d much rather see my super sexy girlfriend beat my best friend’s ass.”

artemis grinned, her phone ready to snap a picture of when wally would undisputedly hurl like a toddler who had eaten too many gerber puffs. “me too, so hurry up, wally.”

the memory of dick throwing up because of the amount of sugar he had consumed in the short span of three hours almost had you laughing out loud, with your fiancé in the bed right next to you. god, you were so pathetic.

“something funny?” his low voice was next to your ear, and you could almost feel his breath on your neck, but for some reason, you wanted to push him away.

your breath hitched, and the guilt crept into your heart again. you were in bed with your fiancé, and you were daydreaming about your ex-boyfriend, who probably forgot your existence. dick was charming, but even you knew that he had a steady stream of people on call to fuck. one of the plus sides to being the hottest person in blüdhaven, you guessed.

“uh, just checking the group chat. girl stuff, matt, you can’t see it.” your mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk, and you quickly stood up and walked towards the shower, rapidly checking the group chat that you opened up your phone for. curse dick grayson and his beautiful blue eyes, which were obviously the only reason you stared that that picture for so long. not the lovesick look he had on his face when looking at you, and definitely not his flirty smile when you made eye contact with him. that would be crazy, right?

maybe you should finally open the group chat.

rue: so how’d your night go?? 😉

annie: i bet she’s so tired that she can’t even walkkk

charlie: ofc she can’t, it’s matt myers!! he’s so fine 😩😩

the conversation then devolved into a discussion of which of matt’s photoshoots was the ‘hottest’, which should’ve made any other, self respecting friend group shy away from the conversation, but never rue, annie and charlie. no, they said that matt was too ‘sexy’ to be quiet about, and it was like they were waiting for you to mess up just to take your place. the sad part was that you wouldn’t mind letting them.

you had met matt, ironically, at a wayne gala that you were covering post breakup with dick, which was the only way that you measured time nowadays. he was hot enough to be… a rebound, and you were okay with that, until he started hounding you for a date. one date, two dates, and suddenly, a year and a half later, you were engaged. the next step, obviously (in matt's words), was the whole white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and living the rest of your days in your dream house. if it was so obvious, why did it make your stomach curdle like you had a flu? why did the idea of kids with matt, being bonded to him for life, make you want to toss your stupid ring at his face, pack your bags, and run? did he even know why your favorite color was dark blue? did matt myers know that the reason that the sapphire stone on your ring was because of dick grayson?

you glanced at your fiancé before looking at your phone and sighing. “matt, i'm going out for some fresh air.” your heart panged. maybe you should give matt some slack, because after all, he picked up the pieces of you after dick so abruptly left. maybe he was better than what you gave him credit for. maybe the two of you would work long term, and you could go the white picket fence with him. it couldn’t hurt. “wanna come with?”

“nah. get me some seaweed chips though, from erewhon. we ran out.” matt shot you a badly timed wink, which made you grimace, and in that moment, you realized a very disturbing fact. nobody could make your blood pump like dick grayson, and no matter who you were with, there would only be one man on your mind.

sighing, you quickly changed into a ratty hoodie and leggings, making sure you weren’t in some sort of nightmare dream that you weren’t able to get out of. because that was your dream, right? being engaged to an incredibly attractive, talented and kind person, and spending the rest of your life with him? you gave yourself a short pep talk in the mirror—“you are hot! everyone wants you! you are engaged!”—before slipping on your shoes and calculating the distance to blüdhaven’s nearest erewhon, which was an easy twenty minute walk away. maybe you could thank matt for the exercise that he was always hounding you to do.

step. step. step. your walk turned into the same banal rotation of the past year and a half of your life, always the same thing over and over, and the thought of what your life might have been like if you had just stayed clung in your mind like cobwebs. unwanted, unnecessary, but it made your heart ache just a little bit to get rid of them.

erewhon came faster than you expected it to, and you stepped inside, the chilly air hitting your face like a wall of ice, and you grabbed a basket, picking up those chips matt loved. he was safe. safe and comfortable, but why did safe and comfortable suddenly feel like boring and predictable?

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflective glass of the door, yearning to see the bright eyed, excitable girl that existed only a few years ago, but all you saw was… you. drained, unhappy, a permanent frown on your face. you attempted a smile, pulling your mouth from both sides, but the result was only a mix of a grimace and a clown’s toothy grin. you couldn’t smile right either.

your phone pinged, and a blue heart showed up on your screen. you hadn’t texted him in two years, but the icon still made your heart flutter with anticipation, before your squashed it like a bug under a boot.

DICKIEBIRD 💙: hey smartie pants! i need to talk to u about something important. let’s meet at 0900 at lux?

you bit your lip. the pros of this: you could finally get closure. dick grayson was hard to get ahold of, but maybe this was your chance to ask him—why did the two of you not work? was it you? was it him? or was it his true first love, nightwing?

you: hey. does 0930 work? i’m out running errands right now.

a beat.

DICKIEBIRD 💙: yeah! miss u lots, btw. see you then!

two hours later, after you had dropped off matt’s life-sustaining seaweed chips for a disgruntled “thanks, babe” in return, you walked into lux, your favorite sweater and skirt combo clinging onto you like a second skin. you’d worn a different, light blue dress on instinct, but you quickly realized that the dress you had picked out was dick’s favorite, so it immediately out of the question. shame, it was a damn hot dress.

“hey!” you heard a cheery voice from behind you. he said your name like it came off easy, like you hadn’t been each other’s confidants once upon a time. he said your name the way you wished that you could say his, with no meaning attached behind it. “it’s been so long, and you look great!” his eyes flicked to the stone on your left hand ring finger, and you could swear that his face fell the smallest amount, but if he felt anything, he didn’t tell you.

you didn’t have the same self control that he did. his name fluttered off of your tongue like a prayer, like he was a god and your only chance at salvation. “dick… um… hi. yeah, you look great too, but i guess enough people tell you that on a daily basis.”

“well, i hope you’re getting complemented just as much. what, your fiancé not doing it for you anymore, or is that just a pretty rock?” he grinned, his dimples highlighted by the dim light in the club. you suddenly kicked yourself for even showing up. how could he read you like a book by only looking at you for a minute or two, max?

your eyes widened, heart beating out of your chest. “uh, i mean… i’m engaged. matt. that’s his name. matt myers.”

as if reading your mind, dick’s smile fell, and he placed a comforting hand on your forearm. “hey, i didn’t mean anything by the pretty rock comment, okay? don’t stress, i’m not here to seduce you.” oh, dick. what you’d give for him to say the opposite. “i’m actually here about a case. not bruce related, by the way. my usual case partner on this one is having a little trouble, so i thought…” he shrugged, because telling you that you were a backup didn’t break his heart, not like being on the receiving end broke yours. it wasn’t a shatter, just a tiny crack to the ones that he’d been adding all this time.

“yeah, i can help you out. what’s up?” you tried to seem nonchalant, but maybe the pain seeped through your voice. you wouldn’t count it against your terrible emotional regulation skills, but a small part of you was itching to help—to get back into the routine that truly sparked fire in you, instead of the rabbit food conversations that had matt jumping around like it was Christmas.

dick pulled out a variety of manila folders, labeled with a variety of female names on them, and a type of flower. he pinched three different photos of the victims, you were assuming, who were mauled and then arranged into neat shapes, with their hands crossed over their chest like mummies, and a clean, crisp white flower placed on top of them. the flowers were all different species’, you noted, with some including a white rose, a white poppy, and a white petunia.

“what do you have so far?” your voice came off far too eager, far too fast and far too interested. no, this was a favor he was coming to you for, so why did it feel like you were a caged bird that could finally sing, stretch it’s wings and soar into the sky without inhibitions? dick pressed his lips together, running a hand though his tousled, raven hair. god, what you’d give to have the chance to do that one more time. maybe dick was right when he broke up with you, because if you couldn’t even control yourself when you had a fiancé, how did he know that you could handle being with him?

he hesitated—it was evident in the way that he froze before trying to say something again. perhaps he was also thinking about the other times that you helped him with his cases, spending late nights poring over pictures and elaborate pictures, only to end up watching the real housewives of beverly hills instead. or maybe he was rethinking, questioning, even, why he had even involved you in the first place. you wouldn’t hold it against him; you’d always been too interested for your own good.

“close to nothing. no prints, no dna, just these flowers, whatever they mean. i wanted to know if you could reach out to shy of your sources—see if they know anything. they’ve been helpful before.” his voice sounded tired, not the usual, cheery voice he pasted onto himself. it made you feel a bit better, if you could call it that, that he didn’t feel the need to pretend to be the golden wayne child in front of you. or maybe you were delusional in your belief that he’d even let his facade drop.

you bit your lip, and twisted the dark blue engagement ring on your finger absentmindedly. “is this a nightwing problem, or an officer grayson problem? because that makes a difference in which sources i use.”

dick grinned, and you were mostly sure that it was genuine, with a flash of teeth distracting you from the issue at hand (which was more like the issue on your left hand ring finger) but dick had always had that effect on you. “thinking about breaking the law, future mrs gr—future pulitzer prize winner? to answer your question, if you think about it,” he started, “it’s a both problem.” his face fell, and the wide smile that was there moments ago disappeared so fast that you almost thought that you imagined it. “they’ve started personally targeting people in my family. cass and damian both noticed a tail when they were walking out in the city, and i would be worried if they weren’t, you know, the deadliest people in gotham, but if anything happened to them, i don’t know if i'd be able to forgive myself. or worse, alfred…”

the look on his face is anguished, as if he’s imagining a lifetime of pain being inflicted on his family, and you know that he’s rather take it himself than let anything happen to them. “dick, don’t worry, okay? alfred is probably more dangerous than anyone in your family combined, and i say that after i've met cass and steph. nothing’s going to happen to them. we’re going to find this psycho, then we’re going to get justice for the victims and their families.” you reach out to touch his arm, but the moment your skin makes contact with his, you pull back like his forearm was on fire.

nodding, he looks back up at you, his eyes filled with an admiration you haven’t seen in quite a while. “yeah, i’m overreacting, right? and it’s not like they won’t be able to defend themselves. cass could probably kick my ass on one of her bad days.” he shudders. “she’s awesome and all, but scary as hell.”

you laugh, finally at ease, not on edge about what you’re saying or about to do. “yeah, well, clearly you’ve never seen her in the same room as a full english breakfast. i remember this one time that she came over to our apartment after patrol, and this was at three o’clock in the morning, okay? she walks in, starts getting the eggs out of our fridge…” your eyes catch a glimpse at dick’s face. he’s smiling, his face satiated and truly… happy. how long has it been since you looked like that? the earlier morning comes into your mind, and you stammer, recollecting how you looked in the glass of the fridge at the store. like a broken woman rather than the girl that you used to be.

now it’s dick’s turn to take your hand into his, and rub it gently, the way that he always used to do when you were nervous before taking one of your tests in university, or when you utterly messed up cooking dinner. it meant that he was here for you, that he would be there no matter what, but a small part of your brain wanted to question him nonetheless; if he had left you before, he would leave you again. that was the rule, the past precedent that he had kept for himself, and if he had wanted to stay, he would’ve.

his thumb brushes over your engagement ring, the one that you and forgotten even existed and now felt heavier on your finger than a ton of bricks, the one that your fiancé had given to you as a token of trust. you couldn’t break the one promise you had left, but clearly, dick must have been thinking the same thing. he pulled his hand away the moment he touched the ring, and looked at you with a guilty expression. “so… how long have you guys been…”

“last night.” you said, not an ounce of warmth in your voice. there never was, when it came to matt. it was more like a dry tone of obligation than anything else.

dick’s eyes widened, shame seeping into his expression. “i'm so sorry, sw—i mean, you shouldn’t be here on your engagement day. we can talk some other time, or i can send you—”

“if i didn’t want to be here, dick, i wouldn’t be.”

“good to know.” he smiled, before turning his attention back to the folder in his hands. “hey, i have to go. we’ll keep in touch, alright?” he stands up, about to lean in for a hug, but you stick your arm out, ready to shake his hand. cold and impersonal, but it wasn’t like you were doing a good job of that in the first place.

the two of you settle for a half hug-half handshake combination, somehow making the situation more awkward than it already was. he send you a crooked grin, and it cements itself in your brain, another blip of dick grayson in your grey life. maybe… maybe this isn’t a bad idea after all, and maybe you could rein in your emotions just to see a little more of him, his dark blue eyes haunting your dreams like an apparition. you could sacrifice that and so much more just to have his eyes in your life.

“see you later, right?” you smiled, the muscles in your face contracting in that direction for the first time in a few weeks, perhaps. oh, the things that he did to your poor heart. he waved, mouthing a quick bye to you before picking up a call on his phone, and you could hear a stern ‘jason’ before he vanished, out of earshot, out of sight, but not out of your mind.

you started on your path back home, deciding against taking a taxi when the fares would be the highest. maybe it was just an eerie coincidence on your part, but you swore that there was something behind you, a pair of eyes tracking your every move. you would have cast it aside as paranoia, but it was sending a creeping shiver up your spine, terrifying you to your very bones. perhaps that is what happens when one works on a murder case.

you brushed it off, but the feeling of eyes on your back did not dissipate.

ooh spooky right? does anyone fancy a part two for this one or nah?

[azurelyy]

Let's see if I've been shadowbanned by tumblr for not posting in forever. Also, let's see if this gets flagged for me not knowing the TOS anymore LOL. I know most of my followers are here for Naruto content and I am so sorry that this fucking vampire elf has taken over my brain so much that he's the first thing I've written about in forever!

Title: A Bloody Affair

WARNINGS: NSFW beneath the cut. Period oral. F!reader. Astarion goes feral. Fem!reader. Established relationship and slight Act II spoilers. This is just a drabble(ish... I got carried away lmao), but I haddddd to. I’m aware this has been done to death (no pun intended).

His vermillion eyes were darker than usual as you all sat around the firelight, enjoying a hot meal after an unusually hard day of travel. Specks of orange flickered in his gaze like shooting stars through Avernus’ red-hot sky. His hands were tightened into leadened fists by his sides, his lips formed together in a thin line. He’s hungry, and he’s not even trying to hide it.

Amused, you tilted your head to the side, exposing the faded bite marks from when you last allowed him to feed on you a few weeks ago.

“Everything alright, Astarion?” You hummed. “You look pale. Well, paler than normal.”

Astarion laughed, a dark and twisted thing that left your stomach in knots. Would you ever learn to stop teasing him? It only ends badly for you. Every. Time.

“Me? Oh, I’m just fine.” His eyes slowly trailed down your body, locking onto your midsection before flicking back to your face. “You, however,” his fangs glistened in the pale moonlight as he smiled. “You look a little… hot. Too close to the fire, perhaps? Your cheeks are absolutely flushed, my dear.”

And they were. Knowing what the two of you had agreed to out on the battlefield earlier. Awaiting the moment everyone else fell into a deep slumber while you had to sit there, your thighs clamped together as thoughts of Astarion’s tongue ravishing at your core filled your head… It was torturous. Worse than anything Loviatar could come up with.

Karlach scoffed and playfully covered her ears. “Guys! No flirting around the bonfire, pleeeease. It’s hard enough I’ve gone so long without touching someone. I can’t sit here listening to you two flirt all night on top of it.”

You laughed and whispered a soft 'sorry' while Astarion merely hummed his acknowledgement. The rest of the evening was a blur, your mind occupied elsewhere entirely. Finally, when the sounds of snores filled the air and the last of the firelight flickered away, you got up from your bedroll and slowly made your way to Astarion’s tent.

The flap was left partially open and you found Astarion fumbling with a book. He looked distracted, almost like he wasn't reading it at all. The moment you got to the tent entrance, his eyes were upon you - dark, hungry, lustful. You smiled, heat creeping its way up your neck and cheeks, as Astarion swiftly closed the book and tossed it aside.

“Don’t tell me I have to invite you in, darling,” he drawled. “Come here.”

He reached his hand out and you took it gently as he guided you to sit down in his lap. He sighed and nosed his way up the side of your neck, gently swiping his tongue along your still-healing fang marks. His arm wrapped around your midsection, pushing your back against his chest. He's cold, and a small shiver snaked its way down the entirety of your spine as he chuckled a low, "Sorry, pet."

Sweet kisses made their way from your neck to your jaw, until Astarion gently nipped at your earlobe, his free hand slowly roamed up and down your body, squeezing and grabbing at your stomach playfully.

You moaned gently, running your fingers through his silver locks. Astarion's breath hitched in his throat and he slid his hand down to your thigh. His arousal poked into your ass and you rocked in his lap gently; teasingly. His hand became more desperate as he grabbed at your thigh, thrusting his hips gently. You turned your head and ghost your lips over his, meeting his gaze.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he stared at you. You twisted his hair round your index finger and smile up at him wantonly. The two of you hadn't been intimate since his confession a few weeks ago. You have let him feed on you since then, but never initiate anything sexual. You wanted him to do it. Wanted for it to be organic. He was the best thing that had happened to you in a long time, and you wanted him to know it; to feel it; to be unable to deny your love for him.

Astarion kissed your forehead tenderly, his sweet mouth cool to the touch against your heated skin. He had been surprisingly gentle with you since his confession. Weary, you knew. He had to fight against his instincts every day, doing what he could to unlearn his past behaviors of doing someone else's bidding. It was going to take time, you knew that. You were okay with it. But when he looked at you like this, when he kissed you softly, it made your heart melt completely. You loved him. You'd never say it first, of course, but the feeling was undeniable to you now. Gods, he was going to fucking ruin you.

His mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. His tongue parted your lips and hungrily dominated the kiss as Astarion flipped you over, pushing you down onto his bedroll. His hands were everywhere - in your hair, on your stomach, rolling down your sides. Yours did the same, needily pawing at his body as you wrapped a leg around his waist and gently clawed at his shirt trying to get it off.

He broke away, his tongue sliding from your mouth slowly. His breathing was ragged, not as controlled as it had been in the past. You realized he's letting go, not forcing himself with you. He's being... real. It's so sweet you nearly ruined the moment by blurting out a stupid confessional right then, but as if sensing your anxiety, Astarion simply smirked devilishly.

"You look beautiful," he whispered. "And you smell even better. I'm going to enjoy tasting you tonight." His voice was sultry and hypnotic, practically intoxicating. You squirmed under him nervously as he adjusted to his knees and leaned over to unhook the latch of the tent, leaving you both immersed in nothing but the flickering candle light.

He was back over you in an instant, untucking his shirt from his trousers and over his head, tossing it to the corner of the tent. His body never ceases to amaze you. His skin is made of pure moonlight, pale and annoyingly perfect, with abs that would put even the most acclaimed gods to shame. Astarion winked and pushed his knee to your inner thigh, spreading you open like a tome as his hands glided across your body.

Your heart thundered within your chest as he stripped you of your undershirt, delicately removing the straps like a present. The sting of the cold night air hit your exposed nipples and they puckered from the temperature change. Astarion's practiced hands moved up the length of your arms, guiding them up above your head and he captured your wrists together in his grip, trapping you under him.

He kissed his way down your temple, your cheek, your neck; gently licking his way down your exposed flesh until his tongue rolled around your areola teasingly.

You glanced down and met his burgundy gaze. His pupils were completely blown out with lust and he continued watching you as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, allowing his tongue to swipe over it gingerly. With a loud gasp you closed your eyes, letting the sensation of his tongue completely overwhelm you. His hand dragged its way from your wrists and his thumb and index finger grip your other nipple as he suckles hard, causing your hips to buck and another garbled moan to fall from your traitorous throat.

A wet 'pop' echoed through the tent as his mouth released you. Astarion growled, actually growled, as he slid his hands up your arms again and gripped your wrists, harder this time.

"Hush now, my sweet," his words were sugary but his tone commanding. "I don't want you waking the whole campground. If you do it again, I'll have to force you to be quiet. Understood?"

You nodded in response.

"Sorry, Starry," you whispered. 

He had started making work of dragging your trousers down the length of your legs but stopped abruptly at your apology.

"Don't be sorry, love," he said. "Just don't do it again."

You were way past the point of being turned on - you were practically going mad with arousal as he removed your pants and slowly kissed his way down the length of your stomach. You kept your hands placed above your head, nervous about what he may do if you dared to touch him. It was exhilarating. Filthy. The blood at your core was dripping to the rag placed between your thighs and your pulse quickened as Astarion's mouth worked its way towards your cunt.

Lust-stricken and dizzy, your vision blurred as he gently pulled down your panties with his index fingers, testing you. He was working slowly, playing with his food. Such a tease.

You squirmed beneath him and clenched the muscles in your thighs, eagerly anticipating his mouth against your sopping pussy. A chill ran down your spine as your panties were fully removed, and you suddenly became all too aware of what was about to happen. You peered at the silver-haired man above you through your eyelashes and were pleased to find him entranced by what you were sure was a bloodied, messy affair and your panic decreased ever so slightly. Of course a vampire spawn wasn’t going to shy away from some blood… no matter the source. 

"You know," you did your best to keep your voice calm and gentle. "That we don't have to do this if it's too much, right?" Even though Astarion was the one to propose this little midnight rendezvous, you couldn't help the small sting of fear from creeping its way to the forefront of your mind. You didn't want him to feel any pressure. And you now knew how hard intimacy was for him. You couldn't believe how blind you had been before; how obvious the façade he put on for you was in hindsight, and you weren't going to allow him to put himself in a position like that again. Not ever.

A low chuckle rumbled from the man below you and you almost passed out from how good his breath felt against the thin veil of fabric covering his mouth from where you needed him most. You tried to shut the thoughts of your arousal out as you waited for his answer, but it never came. Instead, he responded with his tongue gently sliding filthily down the blood-stained cloth that was slowly being removed by his deft hand. Astarion’s voice was nearly indistinguishable to you as he ripped the cloth away, pure gravel.

“If I didn’t want to,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your entrance. “Then you wouldn’t be naked in my tent, love. No more talking now.”

His tongue zig-zagged its way through your pussy before you had a full chance to take in his response, and a loutish moan escaped from deep within your throat as the air was filled with a symphony of lewd slurps. His breath was icy from how aching and seething your cunt was for him, and chill after chill overcame your body with each swipe of his practiced tongue. 

He moved your legs to his shoulders as he continued lapping at you like a dehydrated mutt, completely feral for you. Your thighs clamped against his head and you dug your nails into the pillow, clinging desperately onto something to give your soul purchase to the Earth lest it be transported to the fifth dimension. His arms looped under your thighs and he sunk his nails deep into your flesh, marking you as his while he continued licking you desperately. His mouth was rolling over your folds and sucking at you raunchily - every single move he made was audibly wet and absolutely filthy. It was amazing. You were afraid he might lose control, and you almost yanked at his hair to rip him off you, but his tongue slowed then and rolled up the length of your cunt before circling your clit. 

You whined greedily as you rocked your hips, trying to maneuver his tongue to your engorged nub without permission. Astarion immediately withdrew his tongue then, licking his way down to your inner-thigh and kissing your slick skin before piercing you with his sharp fangs. A frosty sensation shot through your bloodstream and you gasped loudly, tangling your fingers into his hair just as the frigid pulses from where his fangs sunk into you melted to an almost unbearable fever. 

Astarion’s nails were embedded into the soft skin of your hips as he drank from you. Your heart banged against your chest like a prisoner trying to escape from their cell and you were certain it was loud enough that it could be heard by the entire camp. Just as your grip started to loose on his hair, his fangs were replaced by his tongue swiping at the small punctures on your thigh. 

“Such a lovely little treat you are,” Astarion hummed, punctuating it with a final kiss to your thigh. “Thank you.”

Thank you. It was so sincere. So intimate. Two words, yet they held such power over your heart. His mouth was against yours again and your core was burning for him. You were needy. Desperate. Your hips thrust up towards him and he pulled away with a hum. 

“Greedy little thing tonight, I see,” he teased. He smirked down at you and kissed your cheek before moving his mouth once again to hover over your entrance. Two nimble fingers pushed into your core as Astarion’s tongue glided swiftly over your clit. An unfamiliar sound erupted from your chest, a high pitched whine, before his free hand was clamped over your mouth. 

“Shut up.” He commanded, and you were done for. Your hands tugged at his hair hysterically as his tongue circled your clit with a brutal slowness. There was no decency left in you. You were nothing but a husk, awaiting Astarion’s mercy of allowing you the pleasure of coming all over his sweet tongue.

Your teeth sank into the skin of his hand while he fucked you with his mouth. He was loud; slurping and sucking at your pussy like he needed it to survive. The air in the tent was unbearably hot. Your skin was sticky with sweat and your lungs hardly had any oxygen left. Astarion pulled back slightly, his fingers pushing in and out of your entrance with lewd squelching sounds as he demanded, “Look at me.”

Without hesitation, your eyes fluttered open and you watched as he dived his face into your cunt again, his gorgeous eyes locked onto yours. You tried to speak but he only clamped his hand harder over your mouth as he continued lapping at you, the flat of his tongue firmly planted against your clit. The familiar coil in your stomach tightened and then released harshly as you orgasmed, your entire body squirming in delight. Astarion moaned through your orgasm, the timbre of his voice sultry as he drank you in like the most lavish of wines.

“Fuck,” you groaned when Astarion released your mouth. He seductively pulled his fingers out of you and licked off the mess you made on them with a smile before he maneuvered himself to spoon you. 

“Wait,” you said, “I wanted to-”

“Hush, love,” he assured. “I promise I’m content with everything. I want you to be comfortable now. Will you stay with me tonight?”

He nibbled at the top of your ear as his arm wrapped around your middle and brought your body close to his. You hummed and nestled into him, allowing him to be your protective barrier. Being this close to him wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed to be this close to him forever. He was security. He was warmth. He was home.

You nodded as you felt yourself start to succumb to the unbearable drowsiness from the day, but you clung to his hand in yours as his finger painted pretty pictures on the skin of your stomach. 

“Goodnight, love,” he whispered. “And thank you.”

“For what?” You mumbled, doing your best to fight against the fade of sleep.

There was a brief moment of silence as you listened to the sound of your heartbeat steady itself. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. Astarion nestled his face closer, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek and right as you started to drift away, he said the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“For being mine.”

Thank you for reading! If you made it this far, be sure to drop a like or a reblog to support my work <3. I have tons of other stuff on my page if you want to give it a read. This was my first Astarion piece, but I'm sure they'll be plenty more to come because this man singlehandedly got me out of my writing slump!

[lavandulawrites]

Caerulea

Yandere vampire Gojo x reader

This has been in my drafts since forever.

Synopsis: you see a peculiar man at a party and meet him again when you’re on your way home

Masterlist

Warnings: biting, drugging, lemme know if I’m missing something

Word count: 1561

Ice blue eyes had been following you around the entire evening. Their colour outstanding and alluring, as if they were able to cast a spell upon you that lured you in. They were eerie. The owner of said eyes was a tall man with hair as with a snow. His face was excruciating handsome to the point he looked otherworldly.

His lips twisted up into a playful smile. Revealing pearly white teeth. When he widened his smile as he chuckled, you could see his pointy canines. He winked and disappeared into the crowed. How he managed that was truly a mystery for a man his size.

The night was filled with laughter and horrible music. As the party started to near its end, you decided to venture home. You had only had two glasses to drink and you weren’t drunk. Which was something you probably would be grateful tomorrow morning. You had felt that it would be unwise to drink when you made eye contact with the white haired man. Why you weren’t sure, but you knew well enough to trust your gut.

The streets were empty save from some drunk business men and a couple of students. The asphalt was wet from the earlier rain making the light from the neon signs that adorned the many buildings, reflecting in the water like liquid gemstones. Tokyo really was a beautiful city. A taxi drove by causing water from the puddles to splash onto your clothing. You cursed after it in anger.

A gachapon machine caught your eye. You had been on the lookout for a new Sanrio keychain.

You inserted some coins and turned the wheel. Out popped a light pink plastic ball. You opened it with eagerness. My Melody. You smiled as you studied the little pink keychain.

The sound of footsteps snapped you out of your little trance. You turned around and you almost dropped your keychain at the sight of the white haired man. His pale eyes scanning your features. Emotions you couldn’t place swirled within his eyes.

“Cute keychain” his voice playful.

“Thank you” your voice low. Your eyes darted across the street. The man in front of you have you a bad feeling and you wanted nothing more than to leave.

As if noticing your discomfort he spoke. “I take it that you’re heading home?” he took a step closer. “So am i” his eyes almost hypnotising you in their endless blues.

You knew you should’ve just kept quiet and walked away, but something compelled you to answer him truthfully. “Yeah I am” you couldn’t avert your gaze form his.

His smile widened. “Want to walk together? It gets dangerous at night , you know” his grin sharp. “I am Gojo Satoru, but you can call me Satoru” he winked.

“Okay… I am [Name]” you forced a smile. He didn’t comment on you not sharing your last name, but his eyes narrowed slightly in disappointment.

“What a beautiful man” he hummed. His hand snaked around yours as he dragged you away from the gachapon machine. His hold on you tight.

You two walked down the street in silence. You had asked him how he knew to way to your home, but he only brushed you off. Your intuition told you to not question him further. His hold on your arm didn’t waver one bit.

The sky suddenly opened and rain poured down on the street. Satoru quickly dragged you underneath the roof of a bus shed. “My place isn’t too far away” his eyes flickered to your neck and then back up.

You hesitated. It was not wise to follow a stranger to his home and especially when he gave off such unnerving vibes. “I’m not too sure if I should…”

At your hesitation his eyes darkened. “Why not? You’ll get sick out here. Plus it’s only till the rain stops” he pulled you closer. Too close. You could feel his breath fan against your face.

You swallowed as you weighed your possibilities.

“Come oooon… I can make you some hot chocolate if you would like? I really pride myself with being the best hot chocolate maker I know” he chuckled. His blue eyes glinting with mischief.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his weird comment. “Hot chocolate does sound good…” you were quite cold even though it was summer. The rain that poured endless only made you shiver more.

You don’t know how he managed to fully convince you, but he did. His flat was a penthouse and huge. It was filled with different luxuries and beautiful paintings adorned the walls. The interior was a fine mixture of traditional Japanese design and dark classical style. In a way he had made it work, and beautifully so.

Satoru was busy making hot chocolate while you took in your surroundings. You hadn’t asked what his profession was and you wondered that maybe he was one of those who didn’t have to work.

“Here you go” his jovial voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Satoru had made two cups with hot chocolate topped with cream and marshmallows. It smelled heavenly and you couldn’t help but sigh. “It looks so good!”

He chuckled as he clinked his mug against yours. You took a sip and your senses was overwhelmed by the delicious taste. It was truly the best hot chocolate you had ever had.

“Wow! This is amazing!” your tongue darted out to lick away the cream that had formed on your upper lips.

The white haired man chuckled at you excitement as he took a sip himself. “I am glad you liked it. As I said, I am truly the best hot chocolate maker” he winked playfully.

“Your flat is really nice” you waved your hand in the air.

His smile widened and your eyes caught what resembled sharp fangs. “Thank you. It’s one of my prized possessions” his voice melodic and his charm otherworldly.

Before you knew it your mug was empty and you were feeling rather sluggish. You and Satoru had talked about all and nothing and he was exceptionally easy to talk with.

Your eyes felt heavy and you leaned your head against your arm that rested on the kitchen table. Your back fell limp against the kitchen chair and the last you saw before your mind slipped into unconsciousness was the icy eyes of Satoru.

Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of a cold breath fanning over your neck. You were met with the sight of snow white hair that tickled your cheek. Satoru. You suddenly snapped out of your haziness as you sat up in what you now noticed was his black couch.

He laughed softly against your neck. “You finally regained your senses, huh? Good. I want you to be awake” his voice deep.

You blinked in confusion at his words. “What is going on? What are you doing?” anxiety laced in your words.

Satoru slowly rose his head. His eyes boring into yours with a whirlpool of emotions. “You are so adorable when confused. Ya know when I saw you tonight, I had to use all my strength to hold back. It’s really dangerous going around and being so goddamn cute. So careless” he sighed with a lazy smile. His large hand gently cupped your cheek. His thumb ran over your slightly trembling lips.

“Sator-”

“Shushhhhh” he pressed his thumb hard on your lips.

With a blink of an eye he pinned you flat against the couch, his mouth hovering over you neck. Your heart was beating fast as you cried out.

“Don’t worry darling. I mean you no harm. If I did you wouldn’t have found yourself here. If anything I am more like your guardian angel” he smiled down at you with a gentle smile that almost made you forget everything.

You could hear him inhale which was accompanied by a sigh. “God you smell so good…” his voice a low groan.

“What are you doing?” your voice was weak with panic laced within each word. You were shivering as you tried to regain your strength.

“Something I have wanted to do for months” he chuckled slightly.

A sudden pain exploded your nerves as he dug his fanged teeth hard into your neck. You cried out as you tried to push him away. You could feel him sucking your blood from your wound. It was a feeling you had never experienced.

Gojo chuckled at your attempts of pushing him off. “There’s no way you would ever manage to push me off. Though I must say your attempts are rather cute” he said before he dove back in with his teeth.

He drank from you for what felt like an eternity. After a while he slowly pulled away. His icy eyes looked back at you with hooded lids as he wiped away the blood that coated his chin with the back of his hand. “You taste so much better than what I imagined” he sighed as he licked his lips.

A cold hand stroked your cheek in a soothing manner. “To think that I almost let somebody else have you… Now that would just be foolish” he tilted his head.

“I should just keep you here. For all eternity. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” his smile soft and his eyes filled with love that ran deeper than the deepest sea.

[bookwormjust]

Imagine: Azriel’s Anger and Tender Care

The townhouse was quiet, the sun setting behind the mountains of Velaris, casting the city in a warm, golden glow. You lay curled up in your bed, the sheets tangled around you as another wave of pain rippled through your lower abdomen. The blood cycle for a fae was no small inconvenience; it was a brutal, relentless agony that left you feeling drained and raw. You had spent the past few days in and out of restless sleep, trying to endure the pain without letting it spill into the bond you shared with Azriel.

You knew he was away on a mission—one that required his full attention and skill. The last thing you wanted was to distract him with the visceral suffering of your cycle. So, you buried the pain deep, locking it behind a wall within your mind, hoping to shield him from the worst of it. You had become adept at masking your side of the bond, keeping the aches and discomfort at bay whenever he tried to reach out. You didn't want him worrying when he had bigger things to focus on.

But as the days dragged on, your strength waned. The pain was a constant companion, sharp and unyielding, and no amount of hot water bottles or herbal teas could ease the discomfort that wracked your body. You hadn’t left the house, save for a quick trip to the kitchen to grab some bread and fruit when you could muster the energy. Your wings ached, heavy and stiff from lack of movement, and every breath felt like a test of endurance.

You were so lost in the haze of your pain that you didn’t hear Azriel return. The sound of the door opening was muffled, your senses dulled by exhaustion. But the moment he stepped into the house, you felt his presence, a comforting warmth brushing against your mind. He was back—safe, sound, and home.

Azriel’s footsteps were quiet as he made his way through the townhouse, but you could feel the tension in him, the way his shadows flitted restlessly around him as if sensing something amiss. He paused at the doorway to your room, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling in from the hallway.

“Y/N?” he called softly, his voice tinged with concern as he took in the sight of you curled up on the bed, your face pale and drawn.

You tried to sit up, forcing a smile despite the pain that rippled through your abdomen. “Azriel, you’re home,” you said, your voice strained but grateful. You tried to mask the discomfort, but even you could hear the faint quiver in your tone.

Azriel stepped closer, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him—the uneaten food on the bedside table, the way you were clutching your stomach, the fatigue etched into every line of your face. His shadows darted around you, their touch cool and soothing as they brushed against your skin, sensing the pain you were trying so desperately to hide.

“You’ve been like this the whole time?” he asked, his voice low and tightly controlled, though you could hear the simmering anger beneath his calm exterior.

You nodded reluctantly, biting your lip. “It’s just my cycle,” you admitted softly. “It’s been… rough this time, but I didn’t want to bother you. You had the mission, and I—”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings shifting slightly in a way that betrayed his frustration. “You didn’t want to bother me?” he repeated, his voice rising just enough to show the edge of his anger. “You’ve been in pain for days, and you didn’t let me know?”

“I didn’t want to distract you,” you tried to explain, reaching out to take his hand. “I knew you’d worry, and you needed to focus—”

“I always worry about you,” he cut in, his tone fierce and unyielding. His hands, usually so gentle, gripped yours tightly, the tension in his fingers a stark contrast to the careful way he usually held you. “I can’t stand the thought of you suffering alone. I should have been here.”

You winced, the guilt of hiding your pain from him twisting in your chest. “I’m sorry, Azriel,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “I just… didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Azriel’s expression softened at your words, but the anger still simmered just beneath the surface, a dark fire that refused to be extinguished. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Not ever. I want to be here for you, especially when you’re hurting.”

He let go of your hand and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. His shadows coiled around you both, a protective barrier that seemed to shield you from the world outside.

“You should have told me,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he pulled you into his arms. “I hate not being here for you.”

You nestled against his chest, letting the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart soothe the pain that still lingered. “I know,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel’s wings wrapped around you, cocooning you in a soft, protective embrace. You could feel the tension slowly ebbing from his body, the anger giving way to a deep, abiding concern. He held you close, his hands rubbing gentle circles on your back, easing the ache that had settled into your muscles.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice softening into a tender plea. “I’ll get you anything you need—food, water, whatever will make you feel better. Just… let me be here.”

You nodded, feeling the tears prick at your eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief. Relief that he was here, that he wasn’t angry with you but angry at the situation—at the pain you had endured without him. “I just need you,” you admitted softly. “Just you.”

Azriel’s hold tightened, his wings wrapping more securely around you as if to shield you from the very world itself. “You have me,” he promised, his voice fierce and unwavering. “Always.”

He spent the rest of the evening tending to you with the utmost care, bringing you warm broth and helping you drink, adjusting the pillows behind your back to make you more comfortable. His hands were gentle as he massaged the tense muscles of your abdomen, his touch radiating a soothing warmth that eased the worst of the cramps.

Every now and then, his shadows would flit over to check on you, as if sharing in Azriel’s need to make sure you were okay. They whispered against your skin, their cool touch a comforting contrast to the heat of your fevered body.

Azriel stayed with you through the night, refusing to leave your side even for a moment. When the pain flared up, he was there, his soothing words and gentle touch providing a balm that no medicine could match. He held you close, his wings cocooning you both in a protective shield, and for the first time in days, you felt truly safe and comforted.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner,” Azriel whispered as you drifted off to sleep, his voice heavy with regret. “But I’m here now. And I won’t let you go through this alone again.”

As you fell asleep in his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his wings and the steady comfort of his presence, you knew that you would never have to hide your pain from him again. Azriel was more than just your mate—he was your protector, your comfort, and your safe haven. And with him by your side, you knew you could endure anything.