#knee brace over tights. are you sure?

[stergeon]

i also write exclusively with fountain pens (cursive anon)

anyways i liked your recent comic, i feel like edelgard's cuteness is amplified by her short statue. makes me want to pick her up like a cat lol (says someone who is also short)

Byleth: Like a cat, huh...

Edelgard: ... can I help you?

Byleth: Tada

Edelgard: UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT

anon, you really shouldn't give her any ideas. for edelgard's sake.

[uhohdad]

(18+) König x Reader - Jealous of Your Sex Toys

WARNING: Implied Toxic Relationship Dynamic

You’re a grown woman. You are allowed to have sex toys - it’s expected even. And yet, you feel guilty. Caught doing something you shouldn’t have been. Body locked up and eyes wide as you stare down at the brightly-colored silicone sex toys resting in the flat of König’s massive palm.

“You don’t need these. I’m enough for you, ja?”

It’s a simple question - a yes or no question - but you both know there was enough strings attached you could spool it into a ball of abrasive twine.

You weigh your options.

‘Yes’ - No more sex toys for you. A life of relying purely on your fingers and him, clit never knowing the buzz of a vibrator again. Giving into his will and letting him control you to a degree that you know isn’t healthy.

‘No’ -

Well, you can’t say no.

Aside from how soul crushing you understand the weight of that word would be coming from you - it’s far from the truth. He is enough for you. More than enough - too big, even. Too insatiable. Too much of an ego to not leave you whimpering and covered in the evidence of finish after finish until you were begging him to stop.

Your hesitance is somehow worse than either of your impossible options. You should have just blurted the first answer that came to mind.

His brow quirks as his gaze continues to bore into you with sly, half-lidded eyes.

“No?” He asks, with a quirk of his brow and a thrilling glint of mischief in his eye.

You still can’t bring yourself to confirm or deny.

He nods in understanding, his giant hands wrapping around your sex toys, so little in his palms.

“That’s okay, mein Nervenkitzel Sucher,” He purrs, “I can share.”

Your shoulders brace instinctively, insides coiling as tight as that ball of abrasive twine, those attached strings getting more and more tangled with every silken word that rolls from his tongue. He says it’s okay - but it sure doesn’t feel like he means it. Choking you with those tricky strings.

The fistful of your sex toys - your misdeeds, your dirty, shameful little secrets - falls to his side. He approaches with precise steps until he’s between your knees, looming over you.

“I’ll show you,” He says with a dangerous crinkle in his eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile surely hidden underneath that mask.

You unintentionally shrink in on yourself in the shadow of his hulking, commanding figure. A calculated move. Not-so-subtly reminding you of just how small and defenseless you are in his presence. His voice drops, and those brows furrow, that smile surely faded behind the black fabric obscuring his face as he stares down at you intensely.

Your mouth has gone dry, your attempt at words - an apology, a flirt, a joke, anything - leaves you as nothing but a dried out squeak lodged deep in the back of your throat.

“I’ll show you how I share.”

-

“Kmph-Kmph!”

“Sh, sh. Isn’t this what you wanted, Blümchen? To keep both?”

You let out a truly pathetic whine, throwing your head back on the mattress. How many times have you cum?

You lost count, lost your very rationality, lost to him - the gift of bittersweet pleasure twisted into something unbearable.

“Greedy, greedy girl.”

Plugged, stuffed, and spread open. Your vibrator buzzes ruthlessly on your abused, swollen, throbbing clit at a torturous speed. Restrained by your own handcuffs, secured tightly to the headboard and keeping you from putting up the fight that would be useless anyway. There’s surely a metaphor hidden somewhere within this detail - but your thoughts are so clouded with arousal there’s no way you’d be find it.

Too much, too much, König, too much!

And while you know he knows exactly what you’re pleading, your mouth will never form the words - stifled by the drool-covered gag nestled between your lips.

His pumps in and out of you at a punishing pace, thick cock soaked with your arousal and disciplined hips snapping against the back of your thighs, ignoring the tears of pure overstimulation streaking down your temples.

He studies you with narrowed, unreadable eyes, watching you writhe. His stare lingers on your chest, arching and twisting beneath him as you fight the cruel pleasure between your legs. His stare is eerily cold for a man whose cock is being pleasured by a warm, tight cunt. You’re not even sure if he’s enjoying it, or if this is purely a lesson he must teach you in his eyes.

You know he’s trying to prove a point - to show you that you only need one or the other. Can’t you see? Both is just too much for a little girl like yourself to handle.

So choose wisely, little one.

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

[aotnumber1fan]

Jjk guys and whats gets them going

cw: intercourse (p in v), fingering, brief mention of bondage, grinding, boners, head (male and female receiving and giving), sex in public spaces.

a/n: can you tell who were my favs in this?? (Toge has me on my knees and Geto has me in a chokehold 🙁). All characters are aged up; 18+.

Itadori Yuuji - Ass

Itadori Yuuji, who just simply, loves a nice ass. He likes to have a nice hold on yours at all times– ofcourse, he won't, he's not a creep who cops a feel out of nowhere, but trust me when I say in every situation, there's atleast one part of his brain thinking about your butt. It's an instinct. Beside, he's your boyfriend, you probably think about... something about him in a sexual matter all the time. Haha. He loves ass.

You cupped his jaw softly as he pushed you on the bed, hands on your thighs so you could find your place on his lap, hands now on the plush of your thighs.. roaming north. You couldn't help but smile, as he paid no mind to his hands.

"What is it?"

As he said this, they were crawling up your skirt, and he was sporting a face so innocent you'd be oblivious to what he was doing if you weren't the one feeling it, you couldn't help but laugh– did he even know?

His hands were still lifting your skirt up, stopping at your butt, palming it as he tilted his head at you, only making you laugh.

"You have– no shame–!"

He smiled, pressing his lips to your collarbone, peppering feather light kisses as he rejoiced in the sound of your laughter, even though he wasn't sure if you were laughing at him or not, either way, he was just happy to be here.

"What's there to be ashamed of– Shit."

You finally stopped laughing, due the the multiple hickeys left by Yuuji's sly lips, and as you squirmed, he pressed you further into his lap, feeling the reason he cursed out of nowhere.

"Maybe that."

"Then... do something about it."

He cursed alot more that night.

Fushiguro Megumi - Voice

Fushiguro Megumi who can't get over the things your voice does to him. Always hushed but loud enough to be understood clearly, a sultry undertone only he can decode– he's the only one thinking about you in that way anyways. Megumi who loves but equally hates how one sentence a tone too suggestive from you has his pants suddenly feeling too tight– He can't get enough. It doesn't even have to be dirty!– Just say anything that can be taken the wrong way and if you take the time to look down, the effect you have on him will be pretty obvious.

Megumi accepted you in his arms, gently acting like a brace for your charged run at him, you haven't seen him in too long to even try and hold back, you knew he could handle it.

His arms helped you hug him more than he was hugging you, but the feeling of his hand on your back, pushing you closer to him was enough to let a wide smile and a fit of content sighs slip past your lips. Sounds that made Megumi's cheeks flush ever so slightly.

"I've missed you so much.." You sighed softly against the space between his neck and ear, leaving a chaste kiss right there. "Megumi."

"Don't act so surprised now.. You knew what you were doing." He muttered, almost incomprehensibly as he fumbled to unbutton your shirt, the bulge of his boxers and the haze of his eyes only serving to soak your underwear even more.

"Not my fault you can't help yourself.." He slid your blouse off of you so quick that you barely remember having it on, his warm, slim hands on your waist, then your thighs, eyes roaming on you, and your lips.

"You're right. I can't help myself, but you can." His pretty eyelashes fluttered down at you, leaning closer so he could press your back firmly to the bed, pushing his bulge against you, lips falling to your neck, a bit rough with his biting– but, if it gets the job done..

He fucked you pretty good that night.

Inumaki Toge - Mouth

Inumaki Toge who just loves your mouth. Your lips, the tint, colour, texture– the way it moves. It's a bit of a dirty secret for him, eyes always trailing to your lips whenever he talks to you, not even because he wants to kiss you, just because it's just so natural for him. Not that he doesn't want to kiss you, but sometimes it's just more fun to stick his fingers in your mouth and watch you suck them. it's a dirty secret for a reason.

Toge loves your mouth. In a sexual way and.. okay it's all in a sexual way– he just loves your mouth. He likes spoon feeding you food and watch you swallow whatever was on it, or maybe just randomly curl his fingers in your mouth, always sporting a dirty smirk during and after.

It always turns something in him on, but as much as he loves the team your mouth and his active imagination make, nothing beats your mouth wrapped around his cock, like right now.

"Mmn– Ah–" He covered his mouth, not just to save the ears of anyone near, but one slip up and he might put you in a coma, for literally fucking your brains out.

You looked up at him as you sucked him off against his bedroom door, eyes fluttering up to meet his which only drove him even more crazy, legs almost giving in as his eyes stayed on you, hips jolting forward, deeper.

Your head bobbed at a steady rythym, hand pumping what you couldn't reach, dick wet with your spit, small veins sprawled around, veins that you felt all so well, deep in your throat.

His whines and groans and grunts replaced all the curses he wanted to yell but couldn't– biting his lip– how much more could he take? He was so... so close.

But as soon as you made the decision to suck on his tip? Oh, he came undone so quick, thick strings of cum spilling in your mouth, on your lips, some on your nose and dripping down your chin.

"You cummed more than usual, did I do a good job?" You asked, tilting your head with a small smirk.

You wiped the cum around your mouth with your thumb and licked it off, analyzing the taste as– Toge's dick brushed your lip, his tip staring at you, hard again.

"Already?" It was less of a question, more a genuine plee of worry and shock, as you looked up to a blushing Toge, shrugging as he took your chin, and pressed himself in your mouth once again.

He got overstimulated, the most horrible best head of his life.

Okkotsu Yuuta - Hands

Okkotsu Yuuta who loves your hands. Whether you're tending to his injuries, or just brushing crumbs off his face, your fingers on him always results in a furious blush. His mind spirals, feeling so dizzy the way his blood rushes to his dick, it makes him feel horrible each time you innocently tend to him, but he isn't feeling so bad when he jerks off, imagining your hands instead of his. Except this time.. he didn't have to imagine.

Oh he felt so wrong– but he didn't want you to stop, he really didn't want you to stop.

It all started with the cinema staff, selling you tickets to one of their least viewed movies– ofcourse they had their doubts, a relatively young couple going to watch an unpopular movie, they knew the gist. But back then you guys really were just going to see the movie– Yuuta has been rambling about it all week, if anyone, his intentions were pure.

But he couldn't say the same now, his jeans unziped, boxers pulled down, your hand pumping his dick as he suppressed his moans, hiding his red face.

There was barely any other people, and you both were in the far back, nobody would see you guys; was your attempt at convincing Yuuta to let you give him a handjob, it didn't take much.

He was slowly getting louder, your thumb on his slit, rubbing his pretty, pink and sensitive tip, precum still dripping down his length to your hand.

"Shh, Yuuta, you need to quiet down." You leaned into him, whispering those words in his ear as he grunted, choosing to take matters in your own hands as you covered his mouth, feeling his moan on your palm.

"Mmn.. Come on Yuuta, you want to cum don't you? Then be quiet, cum all you want but stay quiet for me, 'kay?"

You pumped him faster, finally feeling him jolt as you rushed to angle his dick, away from himself, staining the back of the seat infront of him.

"M–Ah.." His muffled sounds coaxed you to remove your hand from his mouth. "Ah.. How... are we gonna clean that up?"

"Said the janitor."

You guys cleaned it up, Yuuta felt too guilty.

Gojo Satoru - Clothing

Gojo Satoru who just loves anything you wear. That's it. He's a simple guy, wear a skimpy dress and oh no, it's suddenly on the floor. Though he loves the eye candy, he isn't very patient in bed... You know that lingerie set you bought? Yeah, it's in a the pile of ripped clothing, full of many pervious lingerie sets... There really isn't any limit to his horniness, Just exist and this man is all over you.

Partys were very hectic. Drinking, games, weed, people making out in random corners in houses of... People he equally doesn't know of. But what he does know, is having you grind up on him while wearing a dress that leaves so little to the imagination, makes him feel things that can't be describes as less than insanely horny. He intends to do something about it.

"Woah.. No way you're already that wet– You want me that bad?" He laughed, bending you over the kitchen table. Nobody was there, and if someone did come, Satoru genuinely woud not care, too focused on fucking you to give any more fucks.

Your underwear was soaked, Satoru slipping them down your legs, smiling as one rub of your clit had you flinching, quickly thrusting two fingers in as he unbuckled his pants, stretching your pussy wide so he could fit, your guttural moan fueling his own, hands on your ass, spreading you as he pressed his girth into you.

He grinded his dick into you, thrusting slowly, starting off with a steady pace, your wetness lubricating his dick, sliding in and out of you so easily– fingers flicking your clit continuously as he moved in you. Your moans and the creeking of the table udnerneeth tempting him to cum right then and there, but no– no, this was way to good to finish early.

You guys got caught, and kicked out. But atleast you both finished 🤷🏿‍♀️.

Geto Suguru - Words

Geto Suguru who loves it when you talk dirty. Text him how bad you need him and he's already behind you, spreading your legs. Talk about how much you've missed him while trailing your hands on his chest and those hands will be tied together as he fucks you mercilessly (maybe a bit mercifully, he loves you after all). Imply anything and he will find the underlined want, he reads people well, and you're his favourite book.

"Mm– Ah- Suguru–!" You cummed in his mouth for what felt like the hundreth (fifth) time since you sent that text. You knew he got turned on by it but immediately ringing on your doorbell after one "I need you" text? This man was.. Something else.

His mouth worked wonders on your clit; kissing and sucking softly, tongue traveling in you resulting in his thumb replacing where his lips once were. His mouth and your cunt slick with your juices; previous releases– oh and don't forget how he worked his fingers. One finger stretched you– now imagine two of them– you could only take so much.

One hand was pressing your thigh against the couch, keeping your legs open as his other hand had two of his girthy fingers deep in you, thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his lips kissed the surrounding area– notably your inner thighs, eyes focused on your face.

Did he know how hot he looked right now? Your cunt clenched around his fingers and he smirked, only making you react further, fingers curling just the way you liked it, you made it so easy for him.

"You like that?" And you squirmed, Suguru internally noting that as a yes as his fingers moved faster, hand spreading your legs further open.

"Gonna need you to keep your legs open for me." He gazed down at you leaving a couple hickies your thighs, your thighs instinctevely closing but his grip was stronger, observing eye never leaving you.

"Come on, nothing to say?" He chuckled. "That's not what I read earlier, you need me don't you? Need me in you or my fingers? Want me to fuck you senseless or.."

He kissed your thigh up further, fingers moving at such a fast pace– Oh god you can't take much more.

"Mn–Ah–! Suguru G'nna cum– 'M so close–!"

"Yeah?"

He smirked, stopping, making you beg for release, taking a moment to revel in your desperate plees, before giving in and letting your cum on his fingers, bringing them up to his lips, murmuring something about 'way better than curses'.

"Open up."

His cum sokaed fingers teased at your lips, dripping down to your chin as you obeyed. He paused just for a second to look at your opened mouth, letting his mind run before pressing his index and middle finger deep in your throat, making you gag slightly.

"Suck my fingers."

You obeyed again, Suguru briefly muttering a 'good girl', proceeding to lower his head again, now with three fingers at his disposal.

Three fingers wasn't enough to prepare you.

Nanami Kento - Actions

Nanami Kento that just finds everything you do, insanely attractive. Walk in a certain way and he suddenly feels hot, tilt your head a bit too much and two hickeys will magically find their ways to your neck. Exorcize a curse too well, and his back will suddenly be littered with marks. It's not like he's horny all the time– you just give him no choice, not when the moment you see that glint in his eyes you're suddenly all over him. He doesn't make the rules, but you definitely abide by them.

Kento may be called a stickler for the rules but that's simply what he is. For one, he isn't one to partake in public indecency.

Gojo might, God knows Kento holds him to no standards. But he does hold himself to many, and fucking in a parking lot isn't something that fits in those standards. Not like he cares right now anyways, he's pussy drunk.

His hands were on your ass, your nipple in his mouth, licking and teasing as you bounced on him, your body above him, hips raised ever so slightly to fuck you aswell, breathy grunts leaving his lips.

It's not his fault that during your weekly night drive you decide to tease him. Sure, holding his hand isn't technically teasing, but– Come on, you were rubbing his finger so suggestively– pulling his hands from your thigh closer to your core– you can't blame him.

The car was feeling all too warm, his seat moved back to accommodate the both of you, his hand under the crook of your knee, raising your leg so he could–

"Mn‐Ah! Kent-ngh–!" He slapped your ass. hips rutting up into you, so deep but not deep enough– lewd squelching sounds muffled by the sound sounds your moans, having to brace yourself by holding onto the car door, anything–

"Agh–" He cummed, velvety walls getting filled with his warm seed, cock still in you so nothing could spill out, mouth moving from your sentive nipples up your neck to your lips, soft and supple, your cunt clenching around him, fluids meshing together.

"This was a one time thing. Next time will be in bed."

The next time, was in fact, not in bed.

[heejake-hoon]

Sunghoon helping you fall asleep by eating you out

warning: smut, mdni, the title is self explanatory..

You toss and turn restlessly, mind racing with the stresses of the day. No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to shut off your brain.

Beside you, Sunghoon stirs, cracking one eye open to peer at you blearily. "Can't sleep?" he asks, voice rough with exhaustion.

You sigh, rolling over to face him. "No," you admit, running a frustrated hand through your hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Sunghoon hums, reaching out to tuck a stray lock behind your ear, fingers lingering on your cheek. "S'okay. Anything I can do to help?"

You start to shake your head, but then pause, a thought occurring to you. Biting your lip, you slide closer, draping a leg over his hip suggestively. "Actually... I can think of one thing that always helps me relax..."

Even in the darkness, you can see Sunghoon's eyes darken with understanding, a slow smile curving his mouth. "Oh?" he murmurs, hand sliding down to palm your ass, pulling you more firmly against him. "And what might that be, baby?"

In answer, you push at his shoulders until he's flat on his back, swinging a leg over to straddle him. Sunghoon's hands automatically come up to grip your hips, thumbs rubbing teasing circles into your skin as you grind down against his growing hardness.

"Want you to make me feel good," you breathe, leaning down to brush your lips over his. "Want that talented tongue of yours between my thighs. Think you can do that for me, Hoonie?"

Sunghoon groans lowly, fingers flexing on your hips. "Fuck yes," he rasps, already urging you up his body. "Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Let me taste you, wanna feel you dripping all over me..."

You whimper, arousal spiking through you at his filthy words. Carefully, you knee-walk up the bed until you're hovering over his face, one hand braced on the headboard for balance.

Sunghoon doesn't hesitate, gripping your thighs and bringing you down to his waiting mouth with a low, appreciative moan. The first swipe of his tongue through your folds has you gasping, a full body shudder wracking your frame at the sensation.

He takes his time, alternating between long, flat licks and teasing flicks over your clit, working you up slowly but surely. It's not long before you're panting above him, rocking your hips shamelessly against his face as pleasure coils tight in your belly.

"Fuck, Sunghoon," you whine, free hand coming down to tangle in his hair, holding him in place. "Your mouth, god- feels so fucking good, don't stop..."

Sunghoon just hums in response, the vibrations making you see stars. He redoubles his efforts, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard, two fingers sliding into your dripping hole and curling deep inside you-

Your orgasm crashes over you without warning, back arching as you bite down on your knuckles to muffle your cry. Sunghoon works you through it, licking and stroking and prolonging your release until you're shaking, until you're forcibly pushing his head away because it's too much.

Carefully, you dismount, collapsing onto your back next to him and throwing an arm over your face as you try to catch your breath. You feel Sunghoon shift, and then he's gently prying your arm away, revealing your blissed out expression to his heated gaze.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. "I could spend hours between your thighs, baby. Love feeling you come apart on my mouth, love knowing I can make you shake like that..."

You hum contentedly, cupping his face in your palms when he pulls back. "Thank you," you whisper, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones tenderly. "I really needed that."

Sunghoon smiles, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. "Anytime, Y/N. You know I love taking care of you."

You can only nod, eyelids already growing heavy as the post-orgasmic haze settles over you like a warm blanket. Sunghoon chuckles lowly, shifting to pull you into his arms, your back to his front.

"Sleep, baby," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I've got you. I'm right here."

And with his solid warmth surrounding you, his scent enveloping you, the sound of his heartbeat steady and soothing in your ear. You've never fallen asleep faster.

-

Note: i hope i could summon him to help me fall asleep as well 😫 m going insane

[rcmclachlan]

"You've got to be joking." Buck reaches up and swats at the yellow clouding the periphery of his vision, which yields the very satisfying sound of metal jangling and the less awesome feeling of whacking the side of his pinky against something with a sharp edge. 

"I've never joked about anything in my life," Tommy lies, then lifts the measuring tape to Buck's cheek. 

Buck pushes the stupid thing away again and cups his hand over his cheek. "Now that's funny."

"Shouldn't be. I just said I don't joke. Evan, put your hand down, don't touch it." 

Making a face, Buck bats at the measuring tape again. 

Tommy makes a face right back. "Stop trying to spread the plague for a second and hold still. That's an order, Buckley."

"That's not what you said last night," Buck snarks, but he obediently tilts his head up and is only a little huffy about it. He also tucks his hands between his knees so he doesn't give into the temptation of smacking the thing away again, or reaching out to twist one of Tommy's nipples through his shirt for the simple thrill of being a brat.

"But it is what I said on Monday night," Tommy muses. His tongue peeks out at the corner of his mouth as he brings his other hand—gloved, the big baby—to gently steady the tape just under the boil on Buck's face. 

Even as pain briefly flares at the suggestion of something touching whatever has taken residence on his cheek, heat blooms in Buck's belly at the memory of Monday night. Monday night was good. Really good. He glances down at his hands, still safely held between his knees, and mourns for the hundredth time that the red lines from the ropes have completely faded. Next time, he'll make sure Tommy ties them tight enough to leave a mark that lasts. 

"So? Are you planning to hang a picture or something? Do we need to get a stud finder?"

"I have no problem finding studs on my own, thanks," Tommy says, then pokes Buck's forehead with a grin. "Look, there's one."

He's so charming. Buck wants to hate it so much, but all he can do is laugh and try to smack him again. Tommy retreats to a safe distance a foot away and his smug little smile gives way to concern. Buck already doesn't like what he's about to say. 

"That thing is almost three inches wide."

"W-Wait, seriously? That's like the size of a frickin' giant weta!" Buck reaches up to touch the thing on his cheek, which pulls painfully just from talking. 

"I'll make sure to use the arthropodic unit of measurement from now on." This time it's Tommy who smacks his wrist. "Evan, I'm serious, don't touch it. Actually, go wash your hands right now. I'm calling Eddie."

Buck drops his head to the back of the couch with a groan. "There's no reason to call Eddie! It's not a huge deal, okay? I was lightly cursed. Josh says I just need to take a bath in hyssop, vetiver, and wormwood." 

There's a metaphysical supply store near Sunset Boulevard that has everything he needs in stock. The employee who answered the phone was very helpful, and they made a good case for buying something called moldavite. 

The look Tommy levels at him is so incredulous that Buck kind of wants to take a picture of him and see if it'll go viral as the next big reaction meme. 

"Evan." Oooh, that's not one of the good 'Evan's. "No offense to Josh, but those are soup ingredients. I'm getting a second opinion. From a medical professional."

As if to punctuate that, Tommy shucks his gloves and pulls out his phone. Buck glowers at him and calls upon the days of Trojans' football plays past, because his coach always said his offensive tackle was a thing of beauty. There is no way Eddie can know that the little red dot from yesterday has ballooned into a monster, and he has no qualms about getting physical to stop that call from going through. 

But something must give him away—maybe the way he plants his feet on the floor, or how he braces his shoulders a little—because Tommy straightens up to his full height, points right at Buck's chest like he's about to cast his own curse, and intones, "Don't make me call Hen."

Buck collapses back against the couch like he's been shot. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I'll even make sure Howie's on the call. Do not test me."

"See if I ever suck your dick again," Buck mutters, even though saying it just feels like he's punishing himself, because his skill level has finally risen to meet his love for giving head. He's reached his final form of a human Dyson. It's moments like this that he wants to kick his own ass for not realizing he was bisexual sooner. He could've been sucking cock for years. Thankfully Tommy's dick is so big that choking on it feels like Buck's making up for all that lost time.

He tries to get a good sneer going but all it does is pull painfully at his cheek. He sucks air through clenched teeth. 

Bringing the phone to his ear, Tommy gives the sage nod of someone who just had their point proven and gestures at Buck's face. "There isn't a lot I wouldn't do for that mouth, but right now? That's not the threat you think it is."

This is so unfair.

"Hey, Eddie, you busy?" Tommy glances at Buck and his mouth twists into a sympathetic smile, even as he clutches his phone a little tighter. "I need your expertise. Well, Evan does."

"Evan does not!" Buck shouts.

Tommy rolls his eyes and turns his back, curling around the phone like he's about to start sharing state secrets. "Did you get a good look at his face when you were on shift yesterday?"

As a matter of fact, Eddie had gotten a look at it and declared it nothing more than a blind pimple, maybe an ingrown hair. And sure, it had been roughly the size of a pin head at the time, but it's honestly not that bad. 

"Uh, you could say that." Tommy pauses for a moment, listening to whatever Eddie's saying, and then spares Buck a glance over his shoulder. "I'm not sure 'infected' does it justice. It looks like it's seconds away from gaining sentience."

Buck grabs the throw pillow he's been sitting on and chucks it at him. 

"I appreciate it, man. See you soon." Tommy clicks his phone off and pockets it, turning around with a big, fake-ass smile. He's still stupidly hot. Buck throws another pillow at him on principle, which Tommy easily dodges. "He's on his way. He's even picking up lunch."

With a grumble, Buck throws himself sideways onto the couch and curls into the back of it. 

"You're pouting."

"You can't even see that," Buck pouts. "This is stupid. All I need is, like, a warm compress and Josh's curse-breaking bath bomb. And moldavite, I guess?"

Tommy heaves a sigh, and Buck tugs his hood until it covers his burning face, mortified. He knows he's being stupid about this, and if this were anyone else he'd have knocked them out and tossed them through the doors of First Presbyterian without a second thought, but this is different. And he hates that he's dragged Tommy into this and completely ruined all the plans they had for their shared 48 off, which was a scheduling gift from the gods and was going to involve so much sex and short rib. 

"Evan."

"Don't," Buck snaps, even though his name sounded gentle and sincere coming from Tommy's mouth. "I made this bed, right? I deserve to lay in it."

"Evan, you did nothing wrong."

When Tommy says it, he can almost believe it, but at the end of the day, Buck was the one who disturbed the spirit of poor Derek Bradley, age 57, murder victim from 1982 by opening his coffin and displaying him for three hundred kids to gawk at. To add insult to injury, Derek wasn't even the main attraction; Buck stuck him in the back with the paper mache spiders he got last minute at Party City. It's only right that Buck suffer for the indignity of being deemed a second rate decoration. Boils and pestilence seem fair in the grand scheme of things.

"I mean, I personally wouldn't have gotten Halloween decor off Facebook Marketplace," Tommy teases, then his voice sobers into bare earnestness, "but that doesn't mean you deserve boils and pestilence. It was just a freak thing. One that a medical professional can definitely handle."

Something gently begins stroking Buck's arm, making long, sweet sweeps, and all the muscles bunched in his back begin relaxing one by one until he's sinking into the cushions. Even when Buck's a general plague area, Tommy still can't stop himself from reaching out to touch. 

Warm with something it's way too soon to put a name to, Buck smiles and rolls over. And freezes. And looks down at the box of Kleenex in Tommy's hand, which he'd clearly been using to stroke Buck with. 

Whatever Tommy sees on Buck's face makes him crack a sheepish grin. "Hey, just because you don't deserve boils and pestilence doesn't mean you don't, you know, still have them."

Buck stares at him for a long, long time, and then finally says, "Kiss me."

"No."

"Kiss me, Thomas." Buck sits up, pushes himself to his feet, and then moans hauntingly, "Kiss meeee."

Snickering, eyes wide, Tommy shakes his head and takes a step back. "Ain't no way, Buckley. I'm ready to start calling that thing Marla."

It's got to be some movie reference, but Buck ignores it and shuffles around the coffee table, arms out the way in front of him like he's in Scooby Doo, groaning so loud it might actually wake the dead. "Kiiiiiissssss meeeeee."

Tommy's almost not quick enough to dodge him, mostly because he's laughing too hard, but he manages to vault over the chair behind him and make a break for the kitchen.

The ensuing chase only ends because Eddie eventually shows up, arms full of takeout from Fat Sal's Deli, and shouts over their cackling, "Oh fuck no, I did not sit through traffic on Highland Ave so I could be part of whatever this is! Get your asses down here or I'm leaving both of you to die!"

[introloves]

can we puh LEASE get a drabble or a one shot on that gojo undercut thing u posted im beggin on my hands AND knees 🙏🙏

you knew he wanted something from you. you could feel it in the way he folded his frame down against yours. borderline suffocating, a malformed pout stretched across his face while humming against your neck.

“what is it.” you wondered, tapping away on your laptop without so much as paying him any attention- wounding him further.

he scoffed, wondering how you could be so cruel considering the fact he was dying. his eyes painted against the sheen of gloss painted over your newly done nails.

pink.

they were pretty and pink, and oddly resembling a part of him you just loved sucking on. his ego absolutely through the roof with that fact. you hadn’t put up your usual fight when he suggested the color brushed over that acrylic.

“nothing.”

a lie.

he himself knew what he wanted, but he never gave it up easy. choosing instead to wander away from the back of the couch you were so prettily purchased on. walking to stand directly in-front of you- the laptop screen doing nothing to block the majority of his body. tight shirt tucked into sweats that were hung a little too low for your tastes to be casual.

eyebrow raising and huffing with the hint served on a silver platter before you. smiling knowingly while closing the device and setting it aside.

opening yourself up to receive the heavy weight of his body, an exclaimed huff of air leaving you when his arms braced your body. engulfing them with ease- face planting first into your chest and groaning like he’d just found nirvana.

lifting his face to really show up that pout. letting those arms wrapped around you leave the circumference of you to grab at your wrists and plant them firmly against the shortened hair laying against the lower part of his head.

giggling when you finally got the unspoken hint. taking those newly manicured nails and raking them through the translucent hair.

“nothing, huh?” you teased, finding it easy to follow along to his whims. it was him who had paid a pretty penny for your current set after all.

answered with only a groan- eyes shut tight while you traced your initials into the hair there.

a vein prominent along the curve of his jaw with the force of his clenching teeth, something inside of him purring with the fact that you were so well taken care of.

taken care of on his money, with the color of his cock head painted on your nails.

shamelessly moving his face to nestle further against you, hands grabbing at you with an intensity not in proportion to your actions. wondering why the singular act of you running the tips of your styled nails across the short hair of his undercut had him reacting like this.

“satoru?” you inquired when his breathing nearly heaved while he let the full weight of him lay against you. answered with another near incoherent hum.

“is this okay?” words giggled sounded just a little teasing- but you truly wondered if this was fine. you’d never seen his body react in this fashion- not unless he was buried deep inside of you.

and with that realization, it seemed like a veil had been pulled from your eyes. looking over the curve of his back, over the defined planes, and watching the shifting of his hips against the couch cushions.

glossy lips pulled into something that resembled a smile before bringing your nails back and running them over the surface with just a little more pressure. making sure to watch for any shift in his demeanor.

barking out a bell of a giggle when his body tensed, coils of muscle wound tight and with an intensity that would have scared anyone that wasn’t you.

“feels good?” you wondered, and he could only nod. looking up and marveling at the pretty face smiling down at him. choosing to stretch himself back up to his full height. looming over you with that same intensity highlighted seconds previous.

“yeah, that feels good baby.” satoru huffed, letting you see for yourself when those horrible, teasing, wonderful sweats detailed the throbbing outline of his cock.

“do you wanna feel good?” he wondered, not letting you answer before tugging down the front of his waistband. finding it funny how close in color the pink tip of his matched your fingernails.

[p0orbaby]

It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

summary: you’re the new physio, tasked to help leah one on one with her recovery; but lines start to blur the longer you spend with one another

warnings: none

a/n: i enjoyed this one. also trying out a slightly different style so let me know what you think

word count: 2.8k

-

Leah comes in every morning just after 7:30, always a little earlier than the rest of the team—well, what’s left of the team—who roll in around 8, give or take. You start noticing her patterns by the second week. It’s not intentional. It’s just that she’s hard not to notice. The way she slips into the room quietly, moving like a shadow, like she’s trying not to be seen even though she’s Leah Williamson and there’s something impossible about Leah Williamson going unnoticed. You’re not sure she’s aware of it, or maybe she is, maybe it’s part of the act, something people like her learn over time—how to balance being seen and unseen simultaneously. Either way, she always acknowledges you. It’s a brief nod or a soft “Morning” that comes out like a sigh. But it’s there. And you nod back because it’s professional, it’s polite.

You’re the new physio, brought in because someone higher up decided that ACLs are the new pandemic, and Arsenal’s hit hard by it. One by one, players dropping like flies—tears, rips, stretches that aren’t supposed to stretch. Someone needed to focus on rehab, on these slow and tedious one-on-one sessions. So, here you are. Your life has become a revolving door of knee braces, resistance bands, ultrasound machines, and cold compression therapy. A strange, repetitive kind of intimacy.

Leah is assigned to you. "Take care of her," they say. She’s a captain. She’s the face. There’s an unsaid urgency that comes with her, an invisible asterisk by her name. You feel it in every briefing, every passing mention of her progress. Everyone’s waiting for her return. Waiting for her to be fixed.

Your first session with her is awkward. Stilted. You’re overly conscious of how she sits, her knee elevated, her eyes on the ceiling, like she’s counting the tiles instead of looking at you. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and that weird plastic-y scent that medical equipment always has. You ask her the standard questions: pain level, range of motion, any stiffness. She answers with one-word responses, tight-lipped. There’s a distance between you that you can’t quite figure out if it’s professional or personal. Maybe both.

-

Weeks pass, and the routine becomes muscle memory. You know when to push and when to pull back. How to make her laugh, how to coax her into stretching just a little more without her getting defensive. You start to notice the little things about her. Like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts after you adjust the brace on her leg, or how she clicks her tongue when she’s frustrated, a soft noise that barely registers unless you’re paying attention, which you are. You’re always paying attention to Leah.

It’s in the middle of a session that things shift. You’re guiding her through a series of exercises—balance work, stuff that’s boring but essential—and she’s sweating, biting her lip as she focuses on not wobbling. You’re right there, hands out, ready to catch her if she stumbles. She doesn’t, but the proximity is there. Too close, maybe. Your fingers brush her waist as you correct her form, and she inhales sharply. You freeze, but she doesn’t move. Neither do you.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice lower than usual, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the weight of her stare, those sharp blue eyes locking onto yours.

"Yeah," she says, but her voice sounds strained, like she’s not sure it’s the right answer. She’s not looking at you anymore, her focus now on the floor, her hands gripping the sides of the bench like she needs to anchor herself. The room feels smaller, the air thick.

You pull back, step away, putting space between you, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You can still feel the echo of her skin under your fingers, the heat of her proximity. You clear your throat, force a smile. "Let’s take five”

She nods, doesn’t say anything, just grabs her water bottle and takes a long drink, her throat working, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck. You turn away, pretend to be adjusting something on the ultrasound machine even though it’s perfectly fine, just to give yourself something to do, something that isn’t thinking about how her skin felt under your hands.

-

The next time around is more tense. There’s an unspoken tension now, like a line has been crossed, or maybe it hasn’t, but it’s close. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, every brush of skin. Leah doesn’t mention it, but there’s a change in her too. She flirts, subtly at first—offhand comments, jokes that land just a little too close to something more. You laugh, play along, because it’s harmless. It’s nothing. Except it’s not.

You catch yourself watching her more. The way her muscles ripple under her skin as she moves, the way her lips part when she’s concentrating, how her eyes flick to you when she thinks you’re not looking. You wonder if she notices you doing the same. You wonder if she feels it too—this thing simmering between you that’s becoming harder to ignore.

One day, after a session, she lingers. The rest of the team has filtered out of the gym, and it’s just the two of you, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound.

"Thanks for today," she says, her voice soft. She’s sitting on the edge of the bench, her knee still wrapped in the brace, but she looks more relaxed than she has in weeks. There’s something in her eyes, something you can’t quite read, and it makes your chest tighten.

"It’s my job," you say, but the words feel hollow. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks now, trying to convince yourself that this is just work, that this is just another injured player, another knee to fix. But it’s not. You’re not sure when it stopped being just that, but it has.

"Is it, though?" she asks, and her voice is lighter now, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A challenge.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"

She stands, slowly, her movements careful, deliberate. She’s close to you now, too close again, and you don’t step back this time. "I think you know what I mean," she says, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You don’t have an answer, or maybe you do but you don’t trust yourself to say it out loud. The air between you crackles with something electric, something that feels inevitable.

She leans in, just a fraction, and you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You could close the distance. You could kiss her, right here, right now, and no one would know. It would be easy. Too easy.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back. You force a smile. "We should stick to the plan. Don’t want to push the knee too hard too soon”

It’s a cop-out, and you both know it. The shift in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—the brief flicker of disappointment before she masks it with a shrug.

"Right. The knee," she says, her tone casual, but the tension is still there, hanging between you like a thin thread ready to snap. She doesn’t push it, though. Instead, she grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and heads for the door. But just before she leaves, she glances back at you, her eyes sharp, like she’s trying to figure you out, trying to decide if this is a game or something else entirely.

You stand there for a long time after she’s gone, the gym feeling too big, too empty. You can still feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body close to yours. You tell yourself it’s just work, just rehab. But deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

It’s never that simple.

-

The sessions after that are different. There’s a push and pull now, a tension that neither of you acknowledges but is impossible to ignore. Flirting turns into something sharper, more pointed, like you’re both testing the limits, seeing how far you can go before something breaks. But nothing breaks, not really. Not yet.

Then one night, you cross the line. It’s late, the training ground is empty, and Leah’s the last one in the gym. You’re both exhausted, worn down by weeks of slow progress, of frustrations mounting. The conversation starts off innocuous—something about her recovery timeline, how she’s feeling. But it shifts quickly. There’s an edge to her voice, a sharpness that cuts through the usual banter.

"Why do you keep pulling back?" she asks, and there’s nothing light in her tone now. It’s serious. She’s serious.

You blink, thrown off. It’s late, the harsh fluorescent lights above cast everything in this sterile, washed-out glow that makes you feel like you’re in a hospital, or some kind of waiting room where nothing feels real, nothing matters. Leah’s standing in front of you, close but not too close, not like before, but close enough that you feel it—the weight of her presence, the space she occupies, the air between you vibrating, charged with something neither of you is willing to name but it’s there. It’s been there for weeks. Maybe longer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You’re tired, too tired to come up with something convincing, and it’s the way she’s looking at you now, like she’s seeing through every excuse you’ve built up, every wall you’ve thrown up between you because you know you have to, because you’re the physio, you’re supposed to be the professional, the one who stays detached, clinical, objective. You’re supposed to care about her body, her knee, not the rest of her. Not this.

But the truth is, you do care, too much, and it’s bleeding into everything. Into the way you touch her during sessions, the way your fingers linger just a little too long on her skin when you’re adjusting the brace, or the way your pulse speeds up when she leans back on the bench, sweat glistening on her forehead, the tendrils of her hair stuck to her neck, and you wonder what it would feel like to brush them away. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s a line you can’t cross, but the line’s blurred now, so faint you can barely see it anymore.

Leah narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s wearing an old Arsenal training kit, the fabric worn and soft, the logo faded from too many washes, and you notice that she tugs at the hem of her shirt when she’s frustrated, twisting it around her fingers like she’s trying to keep her hands busy, like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something vulnerable, like she’s exposing a part of herself she doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. “You know exactly what I mean”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. You’re not stupid. You know why you’ve been pulling back. Why you’ve been keeping your distance. It’s because this—whatever this is—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s wrong in a way that’s hard to define but easy to feel, like a low hum in the back of your mind that you can’t shake. And yet, the more you try to stay away, the more you find yourself drawn to her. Like gravity. Like something you can’t control, no matter how hard you try.

“It’s not that simple,” you say, and your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. You’re aware of how this looks—two people alone in a gym, the air thick with unspoken tension, the kind of tension that feels like it’s been building for a long time and is about to spill over. You glance at the clock on the wall—it’s almost 10 a.m.—and you wonder how it got so late, how time seems to bend around her, how hours slip by when you’re with her but still, its never enough. There’s always more, always something unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Leah uncrosses her arms, taking a step closer. You can see the faint scar on her knee, the way the skin’s still a little pink, a little raw, and it’s a reminder of why you’re here, what your job is, but all you can think about is the way her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching. “I’m not asking for simple,” she says quietly, and there’s an intensity in her voice that catches you off guard. “I’m asking for honest”

The word hangs in the air, heavy, and you feel something in your chest tighten. Honest. You think about what that would look like. What it would feel like to stop pretending, to stop playing this game where you act like you don’t notice the way she looks at you, the way your body reacts to hers. You think about what it would mean to cross that line, to give in to what’s been building between you. The consequences. The fallout. The way it would shift everything irreparably, and yet, the thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You take a breath, slow, steady, trying to collect yourself, trying to find the right words, but they’re all tangled up in your head, a mess of things you can’t say, shouldn’t say. “Leah,” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence, because there’s no good way to say what you’re thinking, no good way to explain the way your heart speeds up when she’s near, the way your skin prickles under her eyes, the way your mind drifts to her at night when you’re lying in bed, staring into the darkness, replaying moments in your head that shouldn’t matter but do.

She’s watching you, waiting, and you can feel the weight of her expectation, the way she’s daring you to say something real, something that matters. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re tired of pretending, tired of holding back, but something inside you cracks, just a little, just enough.

“I’ve been trying to keep this professional,” you say, and the words come out in a rush, tumbling over themselves like they’ve been waiting to escape. “Because I have to. Because I don’t know how else to do this without—” You stop, shaking your head, because it sounds ridiculous, it sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is. “It’s not just about your knee,” you say finally, and it feels like a confession, like something you’ve been holding onto for too long. “It’s about everything else”

Leah’s eyes widen, just for a moment, and you see something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe, or relief, or something else entirely. She doesn’t say anything right away, but she steps even closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her sweat mixed with the scent of her shampoo, something clean and floral, and it hits you like a wave, overwhelming in its simplicity. You feel the pull again, stronger now, undeniable.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, and her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the haze in your mind. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

The words hang between you, suspended in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the gym, the team, the world outside this room. It’s just you and her, and the weight of everything you haven’t said, everything you’ve been too scared to admit.

Leah reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a spark that ignites something deep inside, something you’ve been trying to suppress for weeks, months. You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you disappears, and her lips are on yours, and it’s like everything snaps into focus all at once.

The kiss is rough, urgent, like it’s been building for too long and now there’s no stopping it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of her body against yours, the way her breath mingles with yours in the small, stolen space between kisses. It’s messy, frantic, like neither of you can get enough, like you’ve been starving for this and now you’re finally letting yourself have it.

You don’t think about the consequences, about what happens when this moment ends. You don’t think about the power imbalance, the lines you’re crossing, the mess you’re making. All you can think about is the way she feels against you, the way her fingers dig into your skin like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

[solbaby7]

Run

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: not edited, mentions home invasion, some swearing, violence, a bit angsty but fluffy at the end

summary: No one has ever once dared to try breaching the Night Courts walls—until now.

—

Nothing bad ever happened at your main residence in the Night Court.

Rhysand had been adamant that no one had ever once dared to try and breach these walls.

He’d said it so confidently; with such unwavering certainty that you’d never once questioned it. Never second guessed leaving open a window through the night or not always checking if you’d locked the front door behind you. It made you careless when wandering around the grounds with no weapons, brain on auto-pilot as you ran your fingers over the flowers Elaine and Lucien had spent all of Spring tending to together.

But the sound of glass crashing from down the hall was unmistakable and your brain scrambled to remember everyone telling you they’d all be gone today—that you and Elaine would be the only ones in the house until later in the day.

It had only been a couple of hours.

Elaine’s eyes snap to yours over her knitting needles when another crash sounds and now you can hear males voices; a handful of them overlapping against one another and you’re quick to jump into action. “Get up.” You snatch a sword from the display and anchor it between the doorhandles, wedging a heavy chair to the bottom for good measure before rushing over to the window. “It’ll be a little bit of a drop, so you’ll have to tuck your knees so you don’t break anything, okay?”

“You want me to jump out of the window?”

Another crash, one much closer and the panic you feel is all consuming but you force it away when you grip at her shoulders. This was the High Lady’s sister—Nesta’s most prized possession and you were certain she’d slice your head clean off your shoulders upon hearing something happening to her sister. “Elaine, you don’t have a choice. You need to get out of here and run—run for help. Find Azriel and the others and don’t stop until you do.”

Reality seems to set in when you’re collecting the layers of the bottom of her dress and bracing her arm on your shoulder as you ease her legs out of the window. “But,” Her eyes are frantic, heart hammering in her chest and you have to fight extra hard to seem calm; confident when you were honestly just trying to keep from passing out where you stood. “—what about you?”

A pause. “I’m going to distract them to give you enough time to find help.”

Elaine lets out a whine when the voices come closer and hers is barely audible as you’re bracing most of her weight out the window, doing your best to get her as low as possible before releasing her when you hear their fists banging against the door. “Please don’t make me leave you. If something happens to you, Azriel will—“

“You’ll just have to trust me.” You can hear the door creaking from the strain and you’re certain you’ve gotten her as low as possible without falling out yourself when you begin to loosen your grip. “Run, Elaine. Run and don’t stop until you’ve found him.”

The door opens with a bang but you’ve already turned around, body blocking the window to ensure they can’t see the bouncing pink dress frantically dashing across the garden. The sword is clutched tight in your grasp when you see them and immediately your heart sinks; there’s a lot more of them than you’d anticipated and a sob threatens to emerge off the sheer size of them alone but somehow you remain strong. You’re not sure what possess you to speak, the sword raising in warning as you stare each one dead in their eye. “I’ll give you one chance to turn around and leave.”

“Or what?”

A cool resolve settles into your body, heart rate lowering and senses focusing until you could hear a pin drop from ten miles away. Shadows slink over your figure, two coating your hands and two more stabilize your ankles and it only takes a few seconds to catch onto what was going to happen—Azriel had trained them for this, trained you for this. “Or I’ll show you exactly who lives here.”

They don’t believe you for a second, though you do notice one squinting at the darkness beginning to enclose over your fingers and it’s like you have no control over your own body. Most of them try and fail to get a hit on you, shadows guiding your hands to slice and dig and swipe your foot under their legs until they fell to the floor with a thud.

It feels like a dance—one you had to perfect or die and you could scream thank you from the highest of mountains to the clingy shadows that lingered back from their master. Their cool aura over your skin is grounding as they bend you to their will, forcing your legs to break off into a run before jumping to wrap your legs around the intruders shoulders and you can hear the oxygen leaving his lungs when you squeeze. You can feel the burn in your core when you heave your body up, thighs still clamping around his neck when you slam your elbow once, twice, three times against the top of his skull before his body crumbles beneath you.

Your knees are on the floor when another comes for you, sword slicing through the air and a grunt leaves you when a shadow pushes you down to duck before the sword can take your head clean off. You allow them complete control, a puppet submitting to the string attached to them as blood smears your clothing and stains your skin. Your hair sticks to your neck, blood spraying as the shadows ensured every swing of your weapon landed in its target.

A cry pulls from your throat when you turn, eyes frantic as you search the space to find no one but yourself remaining but you can’t seem to let the sword go. There’s so much blood; crimson red pooling in puddles near each slain body and your head whips around when you hear more footsteps. “In there—she’s in there!”

“Elaine,” Your voice croaks out and you hear the steps go faster until Azriel is standing in the doorway with cruel eyes; intent to kill clear until he sees you and it all fades away. “Don’t let her look.”

He nods wordlessly, urging a breathless Elaine away with nothing more than a look and his voice goes soft when he sees your hands shaking. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can let it go now.”

“She’s safe?”

“She’s safe, she didn’t stop until she found us.” Your shoulders relax at the words, body crumpling to the floor and he’s there to catch you before you hit the ground. You’re nose is buried in his chest, hands clutching at his clothes as the adrenaline subsides and your body begins to tremble but as Azriel holds you tight, muttering soothing words into your hair.

All he can do is look at the carnage.

The blood that stains your body but there’s not a single scratch. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

A laugh pulls free, the sound easing his worry and calming his rage. “I guess all that training came in handy after all.”

[gravid-transluna]

Same Boat

words: 1415

content: birth denial, fpreg

Danae would do anything for her partner. Their dates were always doting and private. With her menacing tattoos and biceps like knotted wood in her cuffed sleeves, she’d scared away any men looking to prey on her pretty little girlfriend. Even when she was pounding her with a thick strap, she always prioritized Leah’s preferences, made sure she was happy and drooling and sweetly stroked.

Their simultaneous pregnancies didn’t change anything. Danae was still Leah’s fiercest protector, even as her abs slackened and swelled, and her masculine body lost some of that refined muscle. Sure, it was a little hard to get around sometimes with that belly, but nothing Danae couldn’t handle.

When it came time for Leah’s labor, Danae did everything she could to make their home comfortable and relaxed. Candles, a hot bath.

“You didn’t have to go through the trouble,” Leah laughed, holding her own prominent swell.

She wore one of Danae’s old workout shirts and a slim pair of panties. The way the fabric stretched and slipped around her navel was an undeniable turn-on.

Danae smirked. “Anything for you, princess.”

She tried to avoid touching or stroking her own belly. For the past couple days it had been twinging with sympathetic contractions. She’d kept stoic through them, at pains to not stress Leah in any way before her birth.

The strongest contraction yet had Leah clinging to Danae, mousing her hands through her short locs. Their bellies were pressed together, both flexing, hard with contractions. Danae held Leah in her thick arms, bearing her own contraction soundlessly.

“Uhhhmf,” Leah groaned, sobbing. “There’s so much pressure, baby!”

“I know, baby,” Danae said, a little breathless. She massaged Leah’s overburdened back. “Breathe, now.”

“Ohhhh, oh, I CAN’T.”

Suddenly, fluid soaked both of their thighs. Leah’s legs trembled, weak and slender. Danae supported her, firmly grounded.

Danae left Leah squatting in the living room as she made her way to the kitchen, trying, failing to conceal her pronounced waddle. She returned with towels and dried the mess. On all fours, she suffered another contraction. What she hadn’t revealed to Leah was that not all the birthing fluid had come from her; Danae’s own water had broken. Her eyes widened slightly as her belly tensed beneath her—this contraction was accompanied by the strong urge to push.

Fortunately, Danae was stronger. She gritted her teeth and mopped up the rest of the puddle as the urge pounded through her. Every muscle in her body surged with effort and willpower.

Leah grunted. “I gotta push, baby! Oh, shit! I gotta push so bad!”

“Urgh. Hold it in,” Danae said through gritted teeth. She was speaking to herself just as much as she was speaking to her girlfriend. Sweat beaded at her temple. “Hold it in. Gotta check you first.”

Leah closed her eyes, managed through it with panty grunts. Her legs were permanently spread in a deep squat now. As though a switch had been flipped, she suddenly began to remove her shirt, hiking it up over her belly, then her head. Fully nude, her body glistened. She glimmered in a haze, heavy and feminine.

Danae was overcome with the same desire to strip, broiling in heat, her body sensing the closeness of the baby in her canal. She resisted, remaining in her tight undershorts and sports bra.

Danae positioned the towel under Leah, though her own knees were sore and could have used some relief. She painstakingly braced herself on one knee, dropped stomach resting heavily on her broad thigh.

“God,” Leah breathed, head thrown back. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” Danae said, quickly checking her. “I’ve got you.”

Her pussy was familiar as ever, as was Danae’s fingers inside her. She felt Leah’s slick vaginal walls clamp down on them.

“Ooh, I gotta push!” Then, squeezing— “Gotta—I’m PUSHINGGGG! Mmmfgh!”

“You’re good, baby,” Danae said, removing her fingers. She was still kneeling as Leah squatted deeply before her, bottom thrust in her face. Danae’s belly went hard again, as though encouraged by Leah’s furious pushing. Her face snarled and twisted, piercings raising and she flared her gums. The urge to push washed over her again.

Not yet, she thought. Don’t push yet.

Despite her efforts, her body was beginning to bear down against her will, slowly inching the baby through her canal.

Somewhere, dimly in her mind, Danae was in wonder. We’re feeling the same urges, the same stretch, the same weight. It was as though their bodies were one.

Eventually, Leah’s perineum began to bulge, red and irritated, then the head slipped into her pussy.

“Ooh!” She cried. The head was spreading her cheeks.

“Ugh,” Danae grunted. “Good—hrgh—good girl.”

She cupped the head. Birthing fluids spurted and dripped around it as Leah squatted into another groaning push, forcing the head to a full crown.

The sound of relief as Leah pushed was too much. Under Leah’s din, Danae quietly succumbed to her own body. She pressed her lips together, straining, giving in. Her powerful push immediately thrust the baby down between her hips. God, the head was huge. Leah’s hips had widened over the course of her pregnancy, something Danae had delighted in, but her own pelvis remained somewhat narrow, barely wide enough now for the coming head. Danae couldn’t worry about hospitals or stuck heads now, though. Even as she bore down against her tightly wedged baby, she kept her hand on Leah’s crowning pussy as the baby slowly parted and bulged her lips, spreading her open. Leah moaned, bending her knees, scrabbling for any bit of leverage. The skin of her pussy grew taut, an enraged red, then almost white. She would tear if it ripped through any further.

“Baby, you gotta—shi-i-it—you gotta slow down,” Danae demanded between her own pushing.

“I CAN’T, I can’t!!” Leah howled, so Danae pressed back into the crown, gently holding it in place as Leah pushed uncontrollably.

At the same time, Danae heaved with a huge, forceful push. Her well-muscled body exerted like a machine. She finally let loose a deep groan as she bore down, and the baby creaked and opened her pelvis. A wet bulge grew in her undershorts. They tightly contained the crown. Held fast, Danae and Leah were in the same boat.

“Let it come, ohhhh, please let it come out,” Leah was moaning.

Her pussy was stretching properly now, the blood returning to its color, and only at the end of her push did Danae realize this. She cursed herself, guilty for forgetting Leah for even a moment. She eased the counterpressure from her hand, and Leah screamed the head out.

“Check—ing—cord,” Danae gasped.

“Hurry,” Leah panted, mouth open, lolling her head.

Danae held her own pussy as she checked with one hand. Her undershorts were working in her favor for the time being, preventing the trickling crown from growing any wider.

“You’re good, mama,” she grunted. “Push our baby out now.”

Leah shuddered as the shoulders rotated. She shouted, and with a douse of birthing fluids the baby slipped into Danae’s waiting hands.

“Holy—shit, mama!”

Leah sank to her knees and took the baby, cradling. She looked up at Danae tenderly, smiling tiredly as their baby began to suckle.

Her eyes widened.

Danae had raised herself from her knees to a solid squat, thighs tensing, shorts tented with a crowning head. Her belly thrust hard on her midsection, and milk stained her sports bra. Even as she bore down like a warrior, she’d never looked more proud.

Then her eyes met Leah’s. She managed a smirk. “Guess it’s my turn now, huh?”

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Punished by the Shadowsinger

Headcanon - Azriel x Reader - Smut

After you take teasing Azriel too far at training, he shows you exactly how he feels about your insolence.

ACOTAR After Hours 🌶️

Warnings: This is filth, MDNI, 18+ only, rough deep-throating, prior consent given by parties involved

- You’d been teasing him all day, exaggerating every stretch at Valkyrie training just for his viewing pleasure

- You knew he couldn’t ogle you stretched out like that, he was a professional.

- His shadows, however, were not.

- They reported exactly how deliciously arched your back was, the way the curvature of your spine met the curve of your ass so enticingly.

- Yes, his eyes were on training but that feather in his jaw and those whirring shadows told you just how in for it you were.

- The moment the last trainee left, he apparated directly before you, growling “You’re coming with me.”

- Not that you would have resisted but he gripped your wrist anyway, winnowing you straight to your shared bed chamber. Your leathers vanished in a moment, his as well.

- “How many taps, Y/N?” He ground out, tone predatory.

- “Three” you whispered.

- “Louder, Y/N. This will not be a gentle experience for you.”

- Your core turned molten at the threat in those words. “Three taps and you stop.”

- “Nice to see you have it in you to be a good girl after all” he mocked.

- Your eyes blew wide as he pushed you back onto the chaise.

- “Touch yourself for as long as you can.” He spoke with a saccharine grin.

- You didn’t have time to contemplate what he meant before one leg was braced on the seat of the lounge to your right and the knee of the other was propped on the back of the lounge to your left.

- “Open” he commanded, and you did.

- He gave a few cautionary thrusts into the warmth of your mouth, reveling in the little moans choking out of you as he did.

- You were lucky to be given the warm up thrusts, knowing that though half his length was filling your mouth now, the rest would be down your throat momentarily.

- You let out a whimper at the friction of your finger rubbing circles on your clit.

- “Aw,” he cooed “feels so good touching yourself like that doesn’t it?”

- You could only let out a hum as his thrusts quickened, inching deeper.

- “Sure didn’t feel good having to remain professional while my shadows lusted over that perfect fucking ass of yours.” His voice turned to a growl and you loved it.

- A riled up Azriel meant a vocal Azriel, and despite the harshness of his words - he would stop the moment you gave him those three taps - relaxing you further.

- Looking up, you could see the cut of his abs contracting with his thrusts, a scarred hand reaching down caressing beneath your jaw. “Ready for this, little Valkyrie?”

- “Mhmmm.” You hummed, silver already dusting the corners of your eyes.

- “Remember your taps if you need them baby.”

- You gave him a squeeze of reassurance, fingers digging into a muscled thigh. You were ready.

- And if someone walked in on you in that moment, they would have seen Azriel’s wings tucked in tight, his firm, rounded ass moving in time with the thrusts of his cock fucking your throat so deep that you couldn’t breathe.

- Your fingers were no longer able to rub your clit as they dug into the cushions, trying to keep yourself from sliding down the chaise.

- Azriel’s primal groans sent vibrations through you, the lack of oxygen making you light headed in the most erotic of ways.

- You gagged, throat contracting around his thick shaft, sending him over the edge. His hot release shooting down your throat.

- Azriel immediately pulled out, a long string of drool connecting your mouth to his shaft.

- Hopping off the chaise and kneeling down, he looked into you eyes with love and adoration. “You never tapped.” Catching your breath, you gave him a small smile, shaking your head no.

- “Fuck, Y/N. You are something else.” He shook his head in astonishment. With that he scooped you up and carried you to the bed.

- Laying you down gently he climbed over your naked form, those hazel eyes boring into yours with love. “Promise me you’ll let me know if I ever take things too far?”

- You grinned. “I promise. You’ll never break me. I trust you.”

- He gave a gentle smile in return. “Ready for your reward?”

- You bit your lip, the corners turning upward, giving an eager shake of your head, “Yes”

- Bringing a broad palm to the side of your face, his nimble fingers brushed a loose-strand of hair behind your ear. “Good.”

- And with that he moved down the bed and feasted on you like a male starved, bringing you to climax three times.

[uhohdad]

(18+) John Price x Reader - Spanking ♡

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

John Price absolutely believes in corporal punishment :(

If you’re acting like a brat, he’ll remedy it by throwing you over his knee, holding you tight while you try and squirm away. Locking you down with a sturdy arm over your waist and a leg slung over the back of your knees as you thrash and throw demands you’re in no position to be making.

“What are you doing?! Stop it!”

“Oh no, sweetheart, you’ve been begging for this.”

He’s not afraid to manhandle you, roughly yanking your pants down to your thighs and bunching your panties up to expose your plush ass to him.

The first open palm strike that lands makes you gasp, intensifying the kicking and writhing in his unforgiving grip. He doesn’t fold, keeping you steady with a rigid hold to give you a matching handprint on the other side.

“It’ll be easier for everyone involved if you just let it happen.”

His hits aren’t too painful, but they are hard enough to leave behind a stinging bite that compounds with each strike. John knows it’s not just about the pain - it’s about the humiliation of being bent over his knee with your pretty panties and ass on display, knowing anyone in the vicinity could very well hear your embarrassing punishment. It’s a clear reminder of who’s in charge and what will happen if you step out of line again - that back talk will not be tolerated, because all you are to him is a little girl who doesn’t know her place.

“Cap-Captain!”

“S’okay. You need this.”

His hardened, experienced palm has no problem navigating your squirms, landing his slaps to the height of your ass without fail, alternating sides to make sure he leaves you with an even burn.

You sputter and squeak hit after hit, the repeated, intimidating crack of flesh-on-flesh echoing throughout his office. The crease of your middle is forced against his thigh and your body lurched forward under the force of each increasingly strict swat. His disciplined and evenly-timed strikes have you braced for the next impact before it even lands. You find yourself fighting the pain instead of him, your hands scratching at his legs and your thighs wriggling to expel the stinging sensation his hands bring.

“There we go, that’s it. No need to fight it. You know you needed it.”

His smacks have steadily turn merciless, the pain of his stern hands much harder to swallow. His pace quickens, giving you less time to recover between the burn of each relentless swat. While you’re choking on your own gasped breaths and the broken high-pitched whines coaxed from your throat, you finally give into him. Submitting to his will and lulled by his rhythmic strikes, your mind gone blank, unable to focus on anything other than the next anticipated bite of his unyielding hands.

Reduced to a drooling, limp, sobbing mess splayed across his thighs, his free hand no longer keeping you from thrashing, but offering soothing rubs on your back as he rounds out his final harsh smacks, each sure to elicit a cry and leave behind a handprint. A tender hand follows his last hit, smoothing over your welted backside while you whimper over his lap.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re all done.”

You can’t find it in your right mind or your trembling limbs to pull yourself up anytime soon, but John forgivingly fixes your panties for you, his careful fingers brushing across your warmed, punished ass before he gently tugs your pants back up. He gives calming, feather-light strokes over your sore backside, waiting patiently for you to find your bearings.

You can’t look at him once you slowly bring yourself to a sit, tears welled in your eyeline and your face just as warm as the evidence of your punishment. When he prompts an embrace, though, you all but throw yourself into his arms, burying your burning face into his chest while he holds you tight in his strong arms. From your hiding spot, his words are just a vibration against your cheek.

“Are you my good girl now?”

When you give a silent nod into his shirt, he hums in approval, tracing his fingers up and down your back until you’ve calmed down. He makes you promise him you’ll behave before he sends you on your way with a gentle pat on your backside and your pride in his reddened palm.

John will pretend he didn’t notice the puddle of arousal that stained your pretty panties after your spanking, so long as you pretend you didn’t notice the strain in his pants that had been flush against your side from the moment he put you over his lap. ♡

♡ UHOHDAD’S DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

[hitomisuzuya]

SUZUUU HII!! I don't know if you remember, but I was the one who requested about Scaramouche camboy, so I was wondering if you could write a little more about it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Fingering. Degradation. Praise. Cream pie. As always, consensual participation.

I absolutely can❤️ I got a little carried away and self indulgent.

You were now a constant presence during Scaramouche's livestreams. There was a particular request for you this time: for you to wear only thigh high black stockings.

Your legs were spread, your back to Scaramouche's chest, facing the camera. One arm braced you against his chest, the fingers of his other hand squelching in and out of your cunt.

You rested your head back against his chest, your eyes rolling closed as three fingers consistently hit your sweet spot, making tears sting in your eyes. Your legs shook as you bucked your hips up, nearly breathless as pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes.

"Makes for an obedient slut, does she not?" Scaramouche purred, looking at the camera for a moment, chuckling when a moan of protest keened from your throat as he pulled his fingers from your pussy. It was soon silenced, shaky moans sounding as his fingers played with your throbbing clit.

Responses of agreement popped up in the chat box, some of them saying they enjoy the way you moaned when Scaramouche degraded you. His eyes flicked up to read the chat box, slowly rolling your clit between his fingers before your pussy sucked them back in.

"I promise you her greedy cunt was clenching around nothing," He confirmed, increasing the pace of his fingers as his eyes scanned more of the comments:

"Make her cream like the good girl she is."

"Make sure she thanks her master."

You squirmed against his arm, tilting your head up to nuzzle into his neck as you started to twitch from your approaching orgasm. Your hand flew up to grip his arm, your fingernails digging into his skin the tighter your walls clamped around his fingers. "Scara! Scara, I'm gonna..gonna!.." You barely finished your sentence before your orgasm washed over you. You gripped his arm tighter as you shook.

Scaramouche fingered you lovingly through your orgasm. "Look at you, quaking for me like a good girl," His tongue flicked along the shell of your ear, rubbing his thumb around your clit as he praised you.

"What do we say?" He purred, licking his fingers before pushing them inside your mouth.

"Thank you, Master," You moaned, curling and lapping your tongue in worship on his fingers as you sucked.

"Get on your knees and elbows, kitten," He said, making you gasp in pleasure as he gave your clit a light smack.

Your head spun a little as you did as you were told. Scaramouche turned your head to side so you couldn't muffle your cries into the pillow. You whimpered blissfully feeling the soft sting of his hand across your ass. "Cry like a good girl and tell me how much you want my cock," He commanded, stroking and pumping his aching cock.

"I want it! I want your cock so badly, please!" You pleaded, drooling as you felt the head of his cock press and drag across your clit. You grinded back against it, letting out a strangle cry of pleasure as he hastily pushed his cock inside of you.

His thrusts were merciless, his hips pounding feverishly into yours. His fingers gripped your hips, his cock pulsing as he pounded himself inside of you. You clawed at the pillows, melting as his cock nudged accurately into your sweet spot.

"Fuck, I abused your pussy with my fingers and you still feel fucking tight. What a perfect slut," Scaramouche moaned, caressing your hips in appreciation for the way you obediently pushed back against his cock.

"So good..so good!" You moaned loud and incoherent, melting into his tightening grip on your hips.

"That's it, slut. Babble and enjoy my cock," Scaramouche groaned, his body shuddering as your walls squeezed around his cock.

His name tore from your throat in a scream as your second orgasm hit you. A few minutes later, he pulled out of you, warm cum spurting onto your cunt. He fingered his cum inside of you.

Scaramouche gave everyone a few minutes to drink in your fucked out expression. "Thank you for watching. I'm gonna clean her up and treat her to a long back massage," He cut the stream and focused on tending to you, starting with a soft kiss to your lips once you rolled over onto your side.

[heejake-hoon]

Enhypen hyung line when you ask them to spit in your mouth (mdni)

Heeseung: You're on your knees, Heeseung's cock heavy on your tongue as you look up at him through your lashes. He's got one hand fisted in your hair, the other braced against the wall as he fucks into your mouth shallowly, jaw clenched tight as he tries to savor the feeling of your warmness around him. Pulling off with a filthy pop, you nuzzle into his groin, mouthing at his balls before licking a stripe up the underside of his shaft. "Heeseung," you rasp, voice already wrecked. "Want you to spit in my mouth. please…" His hips jerk at your words, eyes shooting open, a low groan rumbling up from his chest. "fuckkk" Heeseung rasps, fingers tightening in your hair almost painfully. "You can't just say shit like that, jesus." But he's already hauling you up, gripping your jaw before forcing his mouth into yours. You whimper into it, clutching at his shoulders for balance as he licks into you possessively, tongue fucking deep and dirty. And then he's pulling back,letting you fall again on your knees before angling you how he wants , gathering saliva in his mouth before letting it drip past his lips and into yours. You chase it immediately, moaning at the depraved intimacy of it, swallowing it down greedily. Heeseung curses, his hand coming up to grip your throat, tilting your chin up so he can watch your mouth work. "So fucking filthy" he marvels, voice low. "So fucking filthy, Fuckk." He groans, taking in your flushed face as you lean on his hand. "Please, Heeseung," you whimper, nails biting into his shoulders. not sure yourself of what you are begging for. "More, want more" He snarls, walking you back towards the bed with intent. "Oh, sweetheart,I'll use you alright," Heeseung promises, already shoving at your clothes. "Gonna paint your tongue with my cum." he says as he shoves his fingers on your mouth, pressing them on your tongue as he watched you with hunger in his eyes.

Jay: "You want me to what?" Jay asks incredulously, sure he must have misheard you. There's no way you just asked him to- "Spit in my mouth," you repeat, chin tilted up defiantly even as a pretty blush stains your cheeks. "I want you to spit in my mouth while you fuck me, Jay." your eyes looking at him innocently as if you didn't ask him to do the filthiest thing in his life. He stares at you for a long moment, shock warring with arousal in his gaze. "Fuck, Y/N," Jay finally grits out, hands flexing at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for you as he studies you expression, hissing when he saw no hesitation in your eyes. "fuckk, baby. You really want me to do that?" In answer, you step into his space, nimble fingers working at the button of his jeans. "Yes baby, please" you whine, leaning up on your toes to ghost your lips over the shell of his ear. "I want you to own me, Jay. In every filthy, degrading way you can think of." Jay's control snaps like a rubber band. With a low growl, he fists a hand in your hair, yanking your head back and exposing the long line of your throat to his hungry gaze. His other hand palms roughly at your breast, tweaking your nipple through your blouse and making you gasp. "You want me to claim you, baby?" he asks, voice pitched low and dangerous, jaw clenched in a way that has heat pooling between your thighs. You nodded, arching into his touch wantonly. "Yes, Jay, please- want you so fucking bad-" He kisses you then, hard and deep and filthy, teeth catching on your bottom lip and tongue delving past the seam of your mouth demandingly. You clutch at him, moaning as he grinds his hardness against your core. Jay gentles the kiss gradually before pulling back, a string of saliva connecting your lips for a heated moment. Holding your gaze, he gathers the wetness in his mouth and leans in slowly, letting it drip past his lips and onto your waiting tongue. You shudder at the taboo thrill of it, swallowing his spit down eagerly before surging up to lick into his mouth, chasing the taste of him. Jay groans lowly, his dick twitching hard,hands already working at your clothes with clumsy fingers. "Fuck, the things you do to me," he rasps, walking you back towards the wall and pinning you there with the weight of his body.

Jake: "Y-you want me to spit… in your mouth?" Jake stammers, eyes wide with shock even as his throat bobs on a hard swallow. You nod shyly, looking up at him through your lashes as you palm him through his sweats, feeling the way his cock twitches at the suggestion. "I want all of you, Jakey," you murmur, leaning in to press a line of teasing kisses along his jaw. Jake groans, head tipping back as his hips jump into your touch. "Fuck, baby" he rasps, fingers tangling in your hair almost desperately. "You can't just- fuck. You're serious?" In answer, you tug down his waistband just far enough to free his aching erection, giving it a long, slow stroke from root to tip, making him throw his head back in ecstasy "Dead serious," you breathe, thumbing over the leaking slit and making his breath hitch. With that, you drop to your knees, gazing up at him with heavy-lidded eyes as you stick out your tongue invitingly. Jake swears colorfully, the hand in your hair tightening convulsively as he stares down at you in awe. "You're going to be the death of me," he mutters, his heart beating so fast at the sight of you this submissive and needy for him. He gathers saliva in his mouth,slowly, giving you time to change your mind, before he leans down and parts his lips, letting the wetness drip onto your waiting tongue. You moan at the first touch of it, the depraved intimacy sending heat pulsing between your thighs. You swallow his spit down eagerly, making him curse under his breath before taking his cock into your mouth, suckling at the tip as your hand works the base. "Oh god" Jake gasps, hips bucking forward involuntarily. "bab-by, you're so- ah-" You hum around him, taking him deeper and swirling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, his groans and whimpers only encouraging you to go harder. When you pull off, it's only to kitten lick at his slit before looking up at him with pleading eyes. "More," you rasp, nuzzling into his groin and nosing at his balls. "Jake, please- want more, use me like- like your own personal fucktoy-" He makes a strangled noise, torn between arousal and disbelief. But in the end, his desire wins out and Jake is hauling you up, spinning you around and bending you over the back of the couch. "You want me to use you, baby?" he asks lowly, yanking your shorts down and smacking your ass hard enough to leave a handprint. "Want me to fucking ruin this greedy little cunt?" "Yes," you moan wantonly, wiggling your hips in invitation. "Yes, Jakey, please- do whatever you want to me-" He curses again, lining himself up and sliding home in one long, hard thrust. You keen at the sudden fullness, walls clenching down around him greedily as he starts to move, setting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. Leaning over you, Jake spits on his fingers before reaching around to rub tight circles over your clit, the filthy sound of it joining the obscene slap of skin on skin making you head spin"This what you wanted, right?" he pants, snapping his hips faster, harder. "Wanted me to fucking defile you like the dirty girl you are?" "Yes," you sob, pushing back to meet his thrusts as the pressure inside you builds to an impossible height. "Yes, Jake, more, fucking ruin me, I'm so close-" "Gonna come on my cock like a good little slut?" he demands raggedly, pinching your clit almost painfully, making you let a scream. Your release threatening to hit you like a truck. "Do it, Y/N. F-fucking soak me"

Sunghoon: "Spit… in your mouth?" Sunghoon repeats slowly, eyebrows raised as he stares at you, somehow not surprised from your command but still asking you nonetheless "You want me to- fuck, Y/N. That's…" "Filthy?" you finish for him, crawling into his lap and looping your arms around his neck. "Dirty? Degrading?" He swallows hard, hands coming up to grip your hips almost reflexively. "Well… yeah. All of the above." he nods to himself, watching as you lean in close, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you grind down pointedly against his growing hardness. "What if I want to be degraded?" you breathe, reveling in his sharp inhale. "What if I want you to fucking defile me, Hoonie? To use me, ruin me, claim every part of me in the dirtiest way possible?" you whisper, feeling him growing under you. Sunghoon groans lowly, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. "Fuck, Y/N," he grits out, hips rocking up to meet yours, his eyes are already blown black with lust. You smirk, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging just shy of painful, the way you know makes him crazy. "Show me," you challenge breathlessly. "Show me exactly what I'm asking for, Sunghoon. I want it. Want you, any way I can get you. Please…" He stares at you for a long, charged moment before his eyes goes dark and hungry in a way that has heat pulsing between your thighs. And then he's flipping you over, pinning you to the mattress with his hips as his mouth comes down on yours in a brutal kiss. Sunghoon licks into you filthily, fucking your mouth with his tongue in a hungry way, one of his hands coming to wrap around your throat before pulling back just far enough to gather saliva between his lips. You know what's coming but it still makes you jolt when he lets it drip past his teeth and onto your waiting tongue. The sheer dirtiness, has you arching up into him with a needy whine, already aching for more. Sunghoon chuckles darkly as you swallow his spit down eagerly, chasing the taste of him. "Fuck, look at you," he marvels lowly, fingers coming up to trace your slick, swollen mouth. "So desperate for it, aren't you baby?" he mocks "Love being used,huh? love letting me do filthy shit to this perfect body." his other hand squeezed one of your boobs tightly, as if to emphasis his words You gasp at the action as he leans down to bite at the hinge of your jaw, marking you. "Yes, Hoonie, want it- want you to fucking wreck me, shit-" He growls, a sound of pure animal hunger, and then he's yanking at your dress roughly, tearing the fabric in his haste to get you naked. "Gonna fucking ruin you," Sunghoon promises, his own shirt joining yours on the floor. "Gonna spit on this pussy before I eat it, suck my cum out of your dirty little cunt and feed it back to you-"

-

fuck is it just me or is it hot in here *fanning myself* Please leave some feedback *_*

[leclerced]

“you sure you can fit all of me? it might hurt.” with charles please 💖 BUT WAIT LET ME COOK reader is like doubtful when he says it because charles seems like “average size energy” but then shes crying at the end 😊😍 SORRY FOR THE WORD VOMIT 😭🙏

sorry she didn’t make it to the end until she cried ):

Charles had her whimpering and begging from his fingers within minutes after he pulled her into the guest room. Fucking a friend of a friend at a stranger’s house party isn’t how he planned to end the night, but he wasn’t going to stop when her fingers tugged on his hair as she rocked her hips against his hand. “Cha, I want more. Don’t wanna wait.” His gaze flicked up from where he was fucking her with his fingers and met her eyes. He blinked slowly at her, thinking about how tight she felt around his fingers and how she surely couldn’t take his cock after less than five minutes of foreplay.

He huffed above her as he scissored his fingers in her tight hole, “You sure you can fit all of me? It might hurt.” She clenched around his fingers and he felt his cock twitch at the thought of feeling her tight cunt around him.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she laughed, men were always so fucking cocky for no good reason. “I’m not a virgin, Cha.” Her eyes drifted down his body, staring at the bulge in his tight jeans. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe he could be packing, but he was only four inches taller than her and he was acting like he was hot shit when the bump in his jeans wasn’t anything impressive. It wouldn’t be the first time she was disappointed by an average man who talked up his game before fucking her, and wouldn’t be the last.

He laughed as he pulled his hand from between her thighs, “If you say so, cherie.” If she was going to laugh at the idea of not being able to handle his cock, he was going to prove her wrong. Her hands were pulled from his hair as he flipped her over and jerked her hips up so she was on her knees, “If you’re going to act like a whore when I’m just trying to make you feel good, I’m going to treat you like one.”

She braced herself on her hands and knees and began turning to look back at him as she heard the rustling of jeans being taken off, but his hand slid up her back and pushed down between her shoulders so she’d collapse into the mattress, her arms buckled and her cheek pressed into the duvet cover. She arched her back and pushed her hips towards him, “Cha-“ Before she could finish, she felt the head of his cock press against her entrance and in one sharp thrust he bottomed out. Her voice cracked as she moaned his name, her mind fracturing as she tried to adjust to the sudden stretch between her legs. She blinked away tears as he began fucking her without giving her proper time to adjust and she gasped, “Fuck- I- fuck, Jesus Christ.” Everything burned suddenly and she couldn’t breathe as she was overwhelmed by the feeling of his thick cock rushing in and out of her. He could have warned her at least.

Charles couldn’t help but enjoy the shudder that wracked through her body as he teased, “I thought you could take it baby.” She whined, her hands grasping at the sheets as he set a bruising pace. She couldn’t think straight with how full she felt, she couldn’t stop breathy moans that fell out in little ah-ah-ah’s as he fucked the breath out of her with every thrust. He grinned and squeezed her ass, “That’s it, baby, feels good doesn’t it? Like my cock fucking you?”

She could barely get the words out as she stuttered, “You- you’re so- big.” The last word was moaned as his cock hit her g-spot and he felt her pussy fluttering around him, somehow impossibly tighter than it already was. He finally looked away from her abused cunt and to her face, shocked to find tears running down her cheeks as she pressed her face into the sheets to muffle her moans.

Charles’s hand found it’s way into her hair and he pulled her back so her back was pressed to his chest, and his free hand slipped around to the front of her body to rub her clit. Her entire body jerked when his fingers found the bundle of nerves between her thighs, she would have collapsed back down in front of him if he wasn’t supporting her with his grip in her hair. It was all too much, the feeling his fingers on her clit and his cock fucking in and out of her, stretching her in ways she had never been stretched before. His hand pulling her hair as his mouth found her neck so he could sink his teeth into her flesh and leave a pretty bruise. She couldn’t even warn him before her orgasm hit her and she spasmed around his cock, her jaw went slack as he fucked her through her orgasm. The pleasure quickly overrode into pain and she tried to pull away from him, “Cha- too sensitive, it hurts,” she whined.

He slapped her clit and growled, “You said you could take it, so shut up and take it.” He released his grip on her hair and she fell forwards again, face pressed into the pillows as he continued fucking her and she moaned, taking his orders like the good girl he knew she was from the moment they were introduced hours before.

[corynation]

˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗

toxic!theo drabble

18+ tags : (smut, mirror sex, jealous theo)

toxic!theo who would glare down at you at a party, anger coarsing through his veins at the sight of you talking with the hufflepuff headboy. his fists clenching as you threw your head back, laughing way too hard for his liking. shoving his drink into mattheos hand as he practically growled he was leaving. his footsteps heavy as he approached you, grabbing your arm, tugging you away from the other boy, his jaw clenched tightly as he spoke lowly. “shes fucking done here. suggest you leave before i make it hard for you to.”

toxic!theo who would not speak a single word the whole walk to his dorm. his bruising grip on your arm enough words in itself for you. the nerves flying through you being blinded by the undeniable ache settling into your core. sure it was wrong to find his anger so hot but you just couldnt help it. knowing the whole reason you talked to the insufferable hufflepuff was to get a rise out of theo. a small smug grin plastered against your face as you eagerly awaited for what was in store.

toxic!theo who would pin you against the door the second you enter his dorm. his hands braced on the sides of your head, his own dipping down near you. his mouth frustratingly close to your skin as he whispered into your ear, not daring to touch you in any place. “you think its funny to pull shit like that piccola? having fun pissing me off?” and when you nod in response theo fucking looses it. his hands falling to your hips, gripping you tight as he walks you back to the bed without another word. the back of your knees hitting the mattress harshly as you fall back, softly bouncing as you land. a small giggle escaping your lips at possibly the worst time as your stomach fluttered. theos narrowed eyes staring down at you hungrily, watching as your tits bounced with the movement, his head shaking as you giggled.

toxic!theo who would have you completely naked, knees on the bed and back against him. your head falling back against his shoulder as he mercilessly pounded up into you. continuously hitting that one spot with a rhythm so sweet it made your eyes squeeze shut. complete bliss taking over you as theos hands held you up by your tits. fingers softly rolling over your hardened nipples, only adding to the pressure building within you. the room swallowed with nothing but the sounds of your moans and the music of his unrelenting pace. his head dipping to your neck, planting rough sloppy kisses as he gripped your chin tightly, forcing your head up, his deep voice vibrating off your skin. “look at yourself amore, look how good i make you feel.” your eyes opened almost immediately, completely hypnotized by his husky voice. a deep moan shamelessly leaving you at the sight in front of you. your eyes falling half lidded as you watched the mirror closely. seeing every thrust of theo disappearing into you, watching as his hand kneaded your tit, his other holding onto your chin tightly. his eyes meeting your makeup smudged ones through the mirror, looking at you as if he was permentaly engraving the image in his head. the look of you oh so ruined at his hands, completely handing yourself to him, driving him absolutely insane. his lips traveling up your neck as he nipped onto your ear. speaking so close to you you could feel his voice within your body. “tsk tsk, youre enjoying this a little too much bella. you like watching me fuck you like a slut hm? no one can fuck you this good, never gonna need anyone else.”

nothing like smut for a coming back post i guess?? anyway this is my first time actually writing smut so hope its… somewhat enjoyable??? idk toxic theo has unfortunately had a horrid chokehold on me.

[crushmeeren]

❆ Master List Link

Everyone involved in this aged up/18+.

❆ Note; JUST a reminder that this work involves ⋆ * CONSENSUAL ⋆ * drunk sex, enjoy. [ FEM READER ]

It’s late Christmas Eve, although technically it’s really early Christmas morning. It’s close to 2:00 am when you and Megumi stumble in through your front door. You’re a bit too loud, a bit too clumsy, and you’re giggling at every single stupid joke that comes out of your boyfriend’s mouth.

It’s too fucking hot in your home and as soon as Megumi can get the front door shut and locked with his wobbly fingers, you peel off your coat. There’s a layer of chilly sweat covering your arms and you fling the jacket carelessly onto the back of your couch as you pass by. You brace a hand on the wall, letting it guide you as you attempt to shuffle one foot in front of the other just to get to your bed.

Your cheeks are practically little balls of flame and and sweat annoyingly beads on your forehead. A dull throbbing starts up behind your eyes. It’s like an ice pick to the temple, not to mention your limbs lag as if in a video game and you have to squint to see anything.

You vaguely make out the sound of Megumi tripping behind you and slamming his shoulder against the door frame on his way down the hall. He lets out a whiny “ow,” and you can’t help but giggle.

“Careful Gumi.” The words come out only slightly slurred as you flip the light on. He snickers in response and hums in agreement.

“Oops,” he whispers cutely, but you’re not sure why he is. The dark haired man was obnoxiously loud a mere 10 minutes ago.

Your mind refocuses on the singular task of shedding off your suffocating clothes right the fuck now. So you do, even slipping off your panties, because why the fuck do you feel like you’re boiling in a soup right now?

Either way, you manage to get completely nude and face plant into your soft sheets. Your head spins at the abrupt change in direction and you groan. You lift your head up slowly and begin inching your way to your beloved pillow and flop down on it ungraciously.

A soft sigh of relief spills out of you once you finally stay still and the cool air from the air conditioner dances over your back. You seem to remember you’re not alone and try not to feel nauseous as you twist your neck to look at Megumi, curious as to what he’s doing.

You watch him pop out from under his crew neck sweatshirt, only in his black boxer briefs now. All his pale skin is on display and the lean muscles of his stomach clench as he twists to get the shirt off.

A thick warmth swirls in your belly instantaneously and the only thoughts filling the space in your brain and pushing at your skull is how attracted to him you truly are.

“Megumi….c’mere, please,” you request, words muffled by the pillow. His eyes widen when he trails his eyes over your naked frame. Megumi stares at the curve of your ass for too long before his gaze flits back to yours.

His cheeks are dusted bubblegum pink, his eyes hazy, but he sends you a dopey smile and nods half heartedly. He barely remembers to turn the light off.

You can’t see where he’s at in the dark but then he’s slipping under the blanket and pulling you under until he can comfortably press his too warm frame to yours. His arms settle around your waist from behind and he shoves a leg between your thighs, digging his chilly toes under your outstretched calf.

Your pussy aches when you realize he’s lost his briefs and his half hard cock is pushing into your lower back.

He’s so soft and slender fingers tickle the skin of your ribs and you just really want him inside you right fucking now. Fire blazes through your belly and it’s not from the alcohol you consumed.

Your heart thunders against your rib cage and you tug on his wrist urgently.

“Megumi,” you murmur. “Want you so bad, can we have sex? Please?” Your thighs clench tight around the knee in between your legs. Megumi’s arm squeezes your waist, breath catching.

“You sure sweetheart?” He whispers, low voice husky in your ear. Still, he slides his hand down your stomach, through the patch of curly hair below your belly button and places two deft fingers on your clit. He circles it slowly, tight and precise as a shiver shakes down your spine.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “C’mon baby.”

You reach a hand down to hold his wrist, not stopping him but wanting to feel the way his bones shift as he teases your clit.

He doesn’t hesitate, he lays you out on your back and slides in between your legs, settling on his calves. His cock is hot and full when it drags over your thigh, precum slick on your skin.

You wrap your fingers around his shaft when he plants his hands by your head. You drag the warm tip through the lips of your pussy and you both moan desperately. Megumi apparently can’t help himself either, because all at once he’s shoving his cock inside you and wrenching a gasp from your chest.

“Fuck! Megumi!” The raw stretch is intense, setting your blood alight and you dig your nails into his shoulders from the slight ache in your pelvis.

“Baby,” Megumi whines, voice high pitched and breathy as hell. As if he needs more, as if he’s overwhelmed with the desire to fuck you into the mattress but he’s hanging on for your sake. He lowers his head and buries his face in your neck, snaking his arms under your back and over your shoulders to grip tightly.

“Go ahead Megumi, it’s okay,” you murmur, lacing your fingers into his pitch black hair and holding his face securely to your throat. He pulls his hips back shallowly before thrusting back in.

The whole world starts to move in slow motion with him, your brain turning to mush as Megumi rolls his hips and drags his cock in and out smoothly. Your thighs fall open so he can move easier and he digs his nails into your shoulders and presses plush lips to your neck.

Megumi moves fluidly, tilting his hips up so he can strike your g-spot with each thrust and you cry out his name like a chant.

Megumi huffs into your throat, warming your skin and you tug brutally on his hair until he hisses. He throws his weight into his thrusts, not any swifter, but enough to get you even more cock drunk than you were.

“Sweetheart,” Megumi pants. “You’ve gotta cum, you’re so tight and I-I’m going to cum,” he all but whines. You nod and then your eyes are rolling back in your head when he starts snapping his hips frantically.

The added sensation of your nipples sliding over his sweat slick chest pushes you to the edge. He whispers about how much he loves you, begging you to cum on his cock and you can’t take it.

Your pussy flutters, the ominous knot that had built up behind your pelvis shattering as you cum. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as your entire body goes taut and you turn your face into his cheek as he works you through it. Megumi moans throatily.

“Oh. Oh god. Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.”

Your muscles relax one by one as he babbles, becoming pliant underneath him as he continues to rock against you. Megumi whines and then he’s pressing into your pussy to the hilt while his cock jerks and he fills you with sticky warm cum.

You both lay there for several minutes, chests heaving in tandem to attempt and catch your breath. Megumi’s forehead digs at your sternum and you scratch at his scalp affectionately. Unfortunately your head is still fuzzy and you’re sure you’re about to pass out due to how content you feel.

You’re reminded how much you love Megumi when he tries to be somewhat coherent enough to turn you both on your sides so you face each other. Megumi pulls your soft blanket up to cover your waists and settles in on his pillow.

Neither of you make a move to clean up. Instead you lazily slip a leg over his waist and his warm palm meets your thigh instinctually. Megumi kisses your forehead and you hang on to consciousness long enough for the two of you to exchange I love you’s.

You’ll deal with the mess in the morning.