#like gentle touches sometimes sure

[anassemblageofpassions]

A fic will be so good and then dean Winchester will show too much emotional intelligence and/or sam Winchester will actually be communicating his feelings and it will draw me right out of it.

[screampied]

you always had a bad habit of falling asleep—not just anywhere though, but on sukuna ryōmen’s notorious throne. .

he hated it.

he hated how how you hogged up his space.

he hated how your near-quiet snores would echo through his poorly aged walls.

most importantly though, he hated how frustratingly cute you looked . . all scrunched up, curled up in a ball, and occasionally shivering a bit from the cool air that settled against your bare skin.

“tch..” he’d sigh, feeling his muscles ache with each step he took toward you. as usual, sukuna had just returned from some battle and here you were, always waiting for him to return. he’s probably told you over about a hundred times that you could have slept in his private chambers but no—you always preferred his throne. always.

you never told him, but part of the reason why you loved sleeping on it was because of his strong scent that always lingered on the piece of ancient furniture. a musky scent that you’d grow to always miss whenever he wasn’t with you.

“oi. you awake?” sukuna grumbles, and you shift a bit once he lifts you. you could hear him murmuring vexed curses under his breath as he positioned you to lean up a certain way. crimson-velvet eyes bore into your sleeping state and sukuna held back a snickering smile. “pft. ‘course not,” and you felt him starting to trod away with you snugly cradled in his broad arms. as sukuna made his way upstairs, he softly strokes a thumb underneath your nape. “brat. sleep in my bed next time. you’re gonna get back aches at this rate.”

despite his cold-hearted, rough exterior he was always gentle with you. only you. just you.

sukuna carried you in his arms like every other night—sometimes, he wonders if you do this on purpose. purposely falling asleep on his throne just so he could pick you up bridal style, bringing you back to his bed.

each step he took shook your entire body, and you let off a groan in your sleep from the abrupt bumps. “i know. i know little one. just a few more steps.” he rolls his eyes, secretly finding your slumbering state adorable. never in a million years would he ever admit it though.

as the wooden stairs creak—he continues to walk, occasionally looking down at you. right as he’s at the final groaning step, sukuna tenses a bit, feeling your head brush up against his soft exposed pecs.

his fleecy kimono was half open and you’re just buried in his arms, snuggling all against him like a needy cat.

the audacity. .

his pink slit brow furrows as he scoffs at the sight, bringing you inside his quiet spacious bedroom. gently, he starts to lie you down on the mattress but that’s when your arms wrap around him.

“eh? what are you-” sukuna grunts, and that’s when he collapses right against your chest. sukuna deadpans once your warm legs and arms sneakily snake around him—clinging onto him tight like a koala. “keh.. such a handsy pest, even when you’re dead asleep.” he clicks his tongue, letting you drag him further into the bed with you.

sukuna feels a strange feeling pooling near the very bottom depths of his heart.

it’s eerily strange . .

it doesn’t feel like the usual resentment, hatred, or even arrogance he feels toward others ‘below him’.

he finds himself melting into your tender touch, his chin gradually burying itself in your shoulder.

the soreness in his muscles started to subside as he was just on top of you—inhaling your sweet scent, stubbornly grumbling swears in your neck.

sukuna was feeling . . . soft.

he was so closely pressed up against you that he could feel the steady racing beats of your heart. each slow-paced ba-dump! that pumped out of your chest quickened by the second.

was . . he the one making your heart race?

sukuna heard how your shallow breaths significantly slowed, and your arms started to tighten more around his thick neck. he didn’t think he’d ever feel like this. whatever… emotion this was.

sure, he’s had to carry you up to his chambers so you’d sleep more comfortably lots of times but this- this moment felt more a bit different.

“i . . can’t sleep like this, y’know,” the demon breaks the silence, huffing at the awkward predicament he was in. sukuna was currently lying on top of you, hovering over you just so he wouldn’t crush your cute human body. with each longing second passing, he could already feel his limbs starting to ache from just idly hanging over you. “at least let me rest near the side.”

no reply.

sukuna scoffs again, realizing he’s practically talking to himself. but instead of responding with actual words—you cling onto him even tighter, your non-verbal way of saying ‘stay.’

“you’re even more annoying when you’re asleep,” he sighs, pinching his forehead. “fine.. i’ll- i’ll stay like this. here, with you. ‘s not like i plan to go anywher—” sukuna gets cut off once he sees you shifting a bit in your sleep again.

the silence was undeniably loud. with his lips mutely parting, he watches as you get more comfortable, letting off a few heavy exhales.

sukuna starts to ponder to himself. you looked so peaceful . . sound asleep.

he wondered what you were dreaming about. he was so busy staring at you while you slept that he didn’t even notice that he was starting to get drowsy himself. sukuna’s eyelids started to droop and he grunted, letting off an obnoxious yawn.

with watery eyes, sukuna stretches his arms before sinking his face back into your left shoulder. your warmth made him quietly purr into your neck. it was faint, but you heard it.

sukuna even mimicked some of your movements from earlier, softly rubbing his forehead against you as you held him close. “huh. this isn’t . . that bad,” he gruffly utters, his gravely voice pitching.

your chin rests on the top of his head, and sukuna gives you one last glance.

“i. . i love you.” he quietly whispers, thinking that just because you were asleep you couldn’t hear.

but- you did, you heard it all. every word.

little did sukuna know, you were actually wide awake the entire time. you woke up when he was carrying you up the stairs, but you just pretended to be asleep from that point up until now.

a small genuine smile curves on both sides of your crooked lips as your eyelids remain closed. in a sweet groggy voice, you instantly replied, “love you too ‘kuna. it’s about time you finally said it.”

sukuna’s eyes widen as his head quickly rises from against your chest. you’re looking down at him with very much open eyes now and the world’s smugest grin.

his cheeks—they’re burning, flushing with a rosy flamed color and you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna ryomen more embarrassed.

“you . . you didn’t . . hear that.”

“i definitely heard it.”

“ugh. i hate you.”

“i love youuu.”

“i��� love you too, stupid cheeky human. now go back to sleep. hmph.”

[cathnospam]

Bakugo likes when you trace and touch his scars

For a guy that constantly hates when people touch him ,he sure as hell doesn’t mind when you touch and rub around his marks on his right arm.

He’s not even left handed but he takes the sacrifice and struggles to use his left to text or write whenever you come beside him and poke and rub against his bicep. He’s sensitive on some areas even 8 years later, but he loves the warm comfort you bring when you do so.

Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it, your chubby cheek mashed against his arm, cuddled up by him like a cat and rubbing it up and down as you watch a show, he glances down at you and can’t help but feel his cheeks warm. You give this man cute aggression.

Some days you sneak in a few kisses on his hand. Though it’s scarred it’s never calloused, still soft and warm, it took some time for Bakugo to even get used to your clingyness, and you respected it. In the beginning, Every once in a while you’d ask “May I touch you?” Which, he’d never admit to but he appreciated your asking heavily, not a lot of people respect his boundaries to NOT touching him, but you always did.

Eventually he just told you ,”touch me whereever you want.” In his aggressive way, but you took heed and did so.

After finally getting comfortable you couldn’t stop touching and kissing him.

His skin was soft, he smelled amazing, and he always made you feel so safe. Just like he is now;

The snow is falling, the fire is burning, and it’s his day off, you’re laying beside him on the cozy big couch not even paying attention to the show but his arm and face, giving it little kisses and gentle touches, Bakugo humming every once in a while when you touch a soft spot on him. He doesn’t mind it all, he’s watching you through his phone, recording you lost in your own world of fascination with his skin—-because of course he has a staring problem just like how you have a touching problem.

[geneviveleocardius]

some husband material headcanons with simon riley

late-night garage dances are his quiet way of loving you. when the house is quiet and you’re both waiting for your daughter to get home from a party, he’ll pull you into a slow dance. he doesn’t say much, just rests his chin on your head as the two of you sway to soft music in the dim light.

if you’re too tired to shower, he’ll gently coax you into letting him wash your hair. his hands are rough but so careful, massaging your scalp in a way that makes your shoulders relax instantly.

when you’re at the beach, you trace your name on his back with sunscreen, leaving the rest bare. later, when the tan sets in and your name is etched on his skin, he looks at it in the mirror and smirks. he loves the quiet claim you have on him, even if he pretends to roll his eyes when you point it out.

simon takes his time applying sunscreen to you at the beach, even though he could be quick about it. he’s meticulous, rubbing it in gently over your shoulders and back, making sure you don’t miss a spot. “can’t have you burning, love,” he says softly. he always uses it as an excuse to trail his fingers along your skin, a subtle moment of affection.

he’s big on touch, even if he doesn’t always initiate it. his favorite moments are when you lay your head on his chest at night and trace the scars on his arms. he doesn’t always talk about them, but he likes the way you don’t shy away from them either.

he’s the kind of dad who stays up until he hears the door click after a late night out. he’ll mutter about the time under his breath, but he softens immediately when your daughter leans in to give him a quick hug before heading to bed.

if he hears you sigh in frustration while cooking or doing something around the house, he’ll quietly walk over, take whatever you’re holding, and finish the job without a word.

he doesn’t say it often, but he loves being domestic with you. folding laundry, fixing things around the house, or even grocery shopping together is calming for him.

simon keeps a picture of the two of you tucked in his wallet—a candid photo of you laughing. when he’s away, he takes it out to remind himself what’s waiting for him back home.

he’ll let you put ridiculous face masks on him during a lazy evening, even though he grumbles about it. “this better not make me smell like a bloody fruit salad,” he mutters, but he stays still for you.

he’s terrible at hiding his smile when he hears you laugh. even in the most mundane moments, your happiness is his favorite sound.

sometimes, he’ll sneak up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and sway you gently to a song only he can hear.

if your child ever talks back to you or says something disrespectful, simon doesn’t let it slide for a second. his voice is calm but firm as he says, “that’s your mum you’re speaking to. apologize—now.” he rarely raises his voice, but the weight behind his words is enough to make them realize they’ve crossed a line. later, he’ll sit down with them, explaining why respect is non-negotiable. “she does everything for us. you don’t ever treat her like that, understood?”

when you have surgery, simon steps into full caregiver mode, even though it’s not something he’s entirely used to. he carefully helps you into the bath, always making sure you’re comfortable and secure. his touch is gentle as he washes you, murmuring, “tell me if anything hurts.”

he dries your hair after the bath, combing it slowly so it doesn’t tangle. “you’re still as gorgeous as ever,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

he insists on carrying you to bed, even if you tell him you can walk. “don’t argue with me, love. you’re meant to rest.” he tucks you in, makes sure you have everything you need, and stays close by in case you need him during the night.

simon takes every opportunity to teach your child the importance of kindness, especially toward you. he models this by being gentle with you, always showing them how love and respect are expressed.

he’s a firm dad, but never unfair. when he has to scold your child, he always makes sure they understand why their behavior was wrong, but he’s quick to reassure them that he loves them no matter what.

during your recovery from surgery, simon takes over all the household duties. he’s not a great cook, but he’ll follow recipes to the letter to make sure you’re well-fed. when something doesn’t turn out quite right, he mutters, “bloody hell,” but doesn’t stop trying.

[xhyjin]

husband toji! who would try his best to spoil you, even when he’s struggling financially. you want a romantic getaway? don’t worry, because he’s already saving up, cutting corners wherever he can, just to see the joy on your face when he surprises you with the trip of your dreams.

husband toji! he isn’t the most romantic man, but he tries his best. when he notices the small smile on your face as you watch a man surprise his partner with flowers hidden behind his back, he makes a mental note. the next time he’s away on a mission that lasts too long, he shows up at your door with a slightly crumpled bouquet in hand, looking a little awkward but secretly proud when he sees your face light up.

husband toji! who loves when you fall asleep on him—not just because he enjoys running his fingers through your hair as you rest on his chest, but also because it’s the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of the two of you. with a smirk on his face in the photo, he sends it to shiu with the caption, “bet you don’t have a cutie laying on you right now.” it always earns him an immediate middle-finger reply from shiu, which only makes his grin wider.

husband toji! who never expected to find himself in this position again—so lovestruck and soft for you that it sometimes scares him. he’s torn between wanting to bare his soul to you and protect you from the weight of his past. he doesn’t know if he should tell you about his late wife and the son he left behind, afraid it might change the way you see him, but also yearning for you to understand the parts of him he’s kept hidden for so long.

husband toji! who knows it’s wrong, knows he should let you be independent, but he can’t help himself. when you think he’s at work, he’s actually following you from a distance, keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re safe. the guilt of shadowing you like a stalker eats at him, but the thought of failing to protect you is even worse. so, he watches quietly, torn between trusting the world and trusting only himself to keep you safe.

husband toji! who finds himself spending money on “useless” and “childish” things like cute plushies or clothes simply because they remind him of you. he’ll grumble about it under his breath, but the moment he sees your delighted smile when he gives them to you, he knows it’s worth every penny.

husband toji! who doesn’t prepare for missions by training or strategizing beforehand, but by taking a long shower using your body wash, your shampoo, your conditioner, and your lotion—anything that smells like you. he sprays your perfume all over his body and clothes, not caring if anyone (shiu) questions why he smells so feminine and sweet. the comforting scent of you clings to him like a shield, grounding him when he’s away and reminding him of the warmth waiting for him at home.

husband toji! who secretly adores when you ask for his help with the little things. need help putting on your necklace for date night? he’s already behind you, gently moving your hair aside, his fingers brushing your skin as he clasps it on, all while staring at you lovingly through the mirror. need help opening a jar? don’t worry—he’s leaning over you in an instant, taking the jar from your delicate hands and twisting it open with ease. before you can thank him, he dips a finger into the jam, tastes it, and smirks, “almost as sweet as you,” he whispers in your ear, walking away just as he catches the sight of your flustered reflection in the marble counter.

husband toji! who sometimes forgets the strength of his own body, so he’s always extra, extra gentle with you. whether it’s holding your hand, pulling you into a hug, or brushing a strand of hair from your face, he moves with deliberate care, afraid of even the slightest chance of hurting you. his touch, though strong, always feels like the softest embrace, as if he’s protecting something he treasures more than anything.

husband toji! who picks up your hobbies just to have more in common with you, even if they’re things he never imagined himself doing—like painting, baking, or knitting. at first, he fumbles awkwardly, grumbling about how “this isn’t his thing,” but before long, he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected. the real joy, though, comes from seeing your excitement as you share these moments together, making him realize he’d try anything if it meant spending more time with you.

husband toji! who, after a gut-wrenching moment during one of his missions, realizes he doesn’t want to do it anymore. he doesn’t want to risk his life when all he wants is to spend it with you. knowing it’ll be hard to convince shiu, he brings you along under the pretense that you’re just meeting his friend. as you take a seat beside him, your face glowing with excitement at finally meeting one of his friends, toji and shiu sit across and beside you, their expressions serious as they speak in coded phrases to keep you blissfully unaware of toji’s real job. toji glances at you, his heart softening at your smile, and silently vows to make his case to shiu—because you’re his reason to walk away from it all.

husband toji! who will gladly hold your purse without hesitation when it keeps slipping off your shoulder, or carry your heels in one hand while giving you his slippers to wear, walking barefoot himself without a second thought. he doesn’t care about the stares or the inconvenience—your comfort is all that matters to him, and he’d do anything to make sure you’re at ease.

husband toji! whose favorite hobby, out of all the ones he picked up from you, is coming home to find you asleep on his side of the bed, wearing his tee and boxers, clutching his pillow to your chest. he gently removes the pillow, replacing it with himself as he slides into bed, pulling you close. with his arms around you, he kisses your forehead and whispers softly in your ear how grateful he is for you and how deeply he loves you, even if you can only hear him in your dreams.

[sttoru]

outlaw!toji who initially kidnapped you for money, to rob you from your valuable belongings, eventually forms a strange attachment to you. he can’t help but feel a faint twinge of guilt for robbing a pretty and delicate little thing like you.

so, he decides to let you return to your beloved family in town. though he does not let you go completely.

every now and then when toji is passing by the town you reside in - avoiding sheriffs and other people whom could possibly recognise him from the wanted posters plastered on every wall - he looks for you.

of course, you freak out the first time he sneaked up on you. however slowly yet surely, you let your guard down. the outlaw didn’t harm you in any way after all.

“how ‘re ya doin’, princess?” toji would always greet you with that signature, cocky smirk of his, leaning against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chiseled chest or his hands on his worn gun belt.

sometimes you reply quickly, but on other occasions you indulge him and continue the conversation. it’s often at night that he visits you, so you have less of a chance to get caught together.

you don’t know when or how toji found out where your family’s house is. he simply started showing up at your balcony once in a while, just to catch up. after a couple times, you even let him in.

those nightly visits swiftly turned into something more intimate. it feels so wrong yet so right. a dangerous criminal who’s killed hundreds, who had even kidnapped you one day, being invited into your bed— how scandalous.

though you can’t help it. his callused yet warm hands that touch your skin, his burly body that presses you into the mattress just right, his slightly chapped lips that nip at your flesh and leave marks. . . you don’t regret a thing.

especially when you’re both catching your breath after an intense encounter. toji’s muscular body, filled with countless of scars, blankets yours easily. his arms cradle you to his bare chest afterwards and all you can do is relax against him.

“i think i really hit the jackpot with ya, aye? may not have robbed ya of yer stuff that day, but i got ma prize money one way or ‘nother,” the rugged outlaw grins as he lights up a cigar and holds it between his lips.

you can’t even tell him off for smoking in your room. toji’s fingers massage your scalp so good to the point you’re putty in his hands. the scent of tobacco is also comforting. it’s one you associate with him, because he always smells like it. it’s always a combination of tobacco, nature, horses and gunpowder.

toji knows that he has to leave before anyone comes checking in on you, but he can’t leave you when you look so adorable, clinging onto him like a lifeline.

every time he visits, it’s the same exciting story.

when toji is in a more sentimental mood, he takes you out on a ride. he settles you on the back of his horse, speeding off into the sunset, letting you enjoy the view outside of town.

the beautiful freedom that comes with the life of an outlaw. the freedom of seeing nature in all its glory. you get to experience it all.

at times, when you’re out and about, he takes his chance and teaches you how to handle a gun. toji knows you’ve been spoiled rotten by your parents growing up, so you probably haven’t touched a gun a day in your life. that’s where he comes in.

“oi, watch out. yer gonna blow my fuckin’ face off, girl,” toji grunts with a faint chuckle as he notices your clumsy hand gestures while holding his revolver. it’s endearing, truly. he doesn’t yet understand why it warms his heart to see you try and shoot at the targets he set up.

what the outlaw loves more than that, is when you’re both resting against a large oak tree, with his head on your lap. especially after he gets back from a long and successful heist in a far away town.

toji often lets his cowboy hat cover his face while he naps and uses your thighs as the perfect, plush pillow. the gentle breeze only adds to the perfect moment.

when you take his stetson and put it on your head instead in a innocent gesture, he lazily opens one eye and raises a brow in amusement.

“oh? that yer way of telling me y’ want a ride?” toji teases before pinching your cheek. he loves seeing that flustered expression on your face when you’re once again reminded of the cowboy hat rule he taught you the other day.

toji never misses the opportunity, however. he sits up and leans back against the tree trunk, patting his thick thighs which he spreads lightly.

“hop on f’ me then, pretty. show me how good of a cowgirl y’ are, yeah?”

well, briefly said, it’s never a dull moment with outlaw!toji.

[dmitriene]

being simon's riley sweet wife, never does anyone, and he himself, thought he would end up as a married man, but the bond between you goes further than the common surname you wear on your heart and the shared gold rings on your fingers, allowing everyone around you to clearly understand that you belong to each other, neat initials carved into the inside of the ring, hidden.

a lamb and a knife, that's how your bond look in the eyes of others, but if usually a knife intends to slash and harm, simon is the blade that protects you, provides for you, his most important duty is to make sure that you don't need anything, entwined with comfort, for the sake of which he is ready more than to stain his hands with rivers of viscous blood, just so that you don't lift a single finger, because you don't need to, not with him.

the least you can do is wait for him, welcome him with a warm meal on the stove and tender kisses pressed against his bared face, you treat his fresh wounds with clean bandages, you help him wash himself when he's too exhausted to even utter a single word, and there's no way a proper husband can come home and not welcome his wife with a soft coos of gratitude, yet sometimes simon can't even find this needed strength within him to hug you against his chest, and you don't need it.

you know simon enough to know that there's no love in the words uttered, it's in what people do and what paths they are willing to take for you, and he is ready to move mountains, looking at you like a faithful dog, with a sparkle of adoration that is so intransient to the murky depths of his tired, amber eyes, the gentle touches of his calloused hands as he caresses your hands and cups the sides of your face, snuggling up to you in search of comfort, in search of love.

you complete the part of simon that he has been missing, allowing him to feel complete, worthy of the tenderness and adoration you show him, caressing his wounded body and burying your hands in his soul, not resisting his hungry, desperate kisses as he licks into your mouth, squeezing every curve of your supple, warm body between his fingers with longed greed.

and when you part your thighs to his swirling gaze, showing how wet and needy you are under your panties, pussy aching specially for him with oozing slick, thick palm cupping at your clothed mound to sprawl his fingers across the soaked cotton fabric, wedding band glistening under the light right between your puffy folds that twitch at the touch, simon knows you're the best thing that ever happened to him.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[bi-writes]

I think first make out session of Simon and his mail order bride happened because she wore sundress all day ~~ i'm a bit addicted to the way you writing Simon

mail-order bride

reader described as curvier/plus-sized 18+

simon has gotten away with a lot of things ever since he married you. he's kept a respectful distance; gentle touches, affectionate ones, sure, but it's been easy to brush off the itch in the back of his head ever since he scratched it just enough when he kissed you for the first time.

when the itch becomes too severe, he's been able to hide away for a little while; running it out of his system working out, shaking it off in the field, drinking so it quiets when he makes his way to the pub.

but it's gotten a lot harder lately to pretend he doesn't see you for what you are.

a pretty girl.

he tells you that you're pretty all the time. in the mornings when you're still waking up. sitting at the counter as you watch him make sandwiches for lunch. pushing the cart in the aisle at the market, picking out the right cuts of meat or seeing which crisps you both can enjoy for movie night. and you are pretty all those times, all the time, in fact, and you were pretty when he kissed you, too.

but fuck. you're also...you're also so fucking pretty.

simon kicks off his boots at the front door, holding a few paper bags in his hands from his trip to the store. the weather has been getting warmer, summer creeping by (his most dreaded season since it forces him to take off layers he'd rather keep), and you had been begging simon for some sweet icy treats and a water fountain for the cat (it'll keep her from drinking out of your water glasses, simon).

when he steps into the kitchen, you're coming in from the backyard, flowers in your hands that the neighbor must have given you.

and you're wearing the cutest little white and red sundress (and suddenly he doesn't hate summer so much anymore).

it's got a cherry pattern on it and puffy sleeves. the bodice hugs you until the middle, where it fans out in a pillowy skirt, stopping just above your knees. there's a soft bow tied around the back, but simon really can't help himself from his eyes that narrow in on your figure and how incredible you look with the sunlight behind you.

"hi, simon," you coo, and simon glares, fucking tease. he has an inkling you don't even know what you're doing to him, you can't, not with that sweet little smile and the way you rock onto your toes. you even tied your hair up with a bow, and simon can't help but feel like you're his little gift, all wrapped up just for him.

one he wants to pluck, unravel until you reveal whatever you've been hiding underneath it all--

"oh! look it! oh, simon!" you giggle, grabbing the bag from him when you see the box that pokes out of it. you pull out a sweet, red ice lolly, cherry-flavored, and you lean up on your toes to give simon a big, wet kiss on his cheek before sucking it into your mouth. "mmm...thank you...just what i needed, it's so warm today."

bloody fuckin' christ.

your tongue is so pink. it's sliding up the edge of it until you suck it back into your mouth, and simon lets out the shakiest breath. it's unlike him, and you turn to face him fully when you notice the way he's staring at you. he looks good today, dark denim jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt that stretches around his big arms, and your eyes dart to his tattoo sleeve for just a moment before you smile back up at him.

"what?" you ask him gently. "you want some?"

instead of offering him his own lolly, you simply tilt yours in his direction. he huffs, letting out an irritated laugh before he leans forward a licks a fat stripe up the side of the cherry ice.

you smile a little as he does, and you don't even realize your gaze has dropped. you're eyeing the way his mouth moves, taking in the hinge of his jaw and the light stubble along it and the scar that stretches across his whole face that you kiss sometimes when he falls asleep before you.

he groans a little as he takes a bite of the lolly, and you seize at the sound, dropping the lolly into the sink on accident as you scramble to look up at him. you stare at each other, lidded brown eyes just piercing into your own. you're quiet for only a few more moments before you're throwing yourself at him.

he nearly slams you against the closest wall. your back hits it firmly, rattling the pictures that hang there, and you throw your arms around his neck as he kisses you feverishly. his hands slide down your waist to your lower back, and you stand on your toes, his palms cupping your ass before he picks you up with ease, guiding your plush thighs to wrap around his waist as he holds you there.

you don't know how long you kiss against the wall, but you're breathless when he pulls away. you chase him, kissing along his nose, his cheek, any of the skin that you can get, and simon grunts lowly, cradling the back of your neck.

"we shouldn't," he mutters.

"why not?" you whine, and he hisses, looking into your eyes, hungry, big man, struggling to keep himself away from you. but it isn't what you want, you want him to kiss you, you want more, more, more--

you stand back on your toes, pushing him backwards. simon follows you, his hands bunched around the skirt of your dress as you walk him further into the living room until the couch hits the back of his knees, and he sits with a heavy breath. you bend to go sit in his lap, and simon curses under his breath, leaning his head back against the couch as your cleavage crowds his line of sight.

"fuckin' christ, baby," simon says lowly, running a rough hand over his face. he grunts when you take a seat in his lap, stretching your knees to straddle him, and you cage him in with your arms as you guide his chin back down so you can kiss him. you slot your mouth over his, kissing him lazily, and when you press your chest against his, he breathes out heavily when he feels your pebbled nipples through your dress. "fuck--fuck, fuck--"

"not yet," you giggle between kisses, and simon groans audibly as he slips two big hands under your dress and grabs both sides of your ass, his fingertips slipping under the lace of your panties so he can get a warm feel of you. you sit yourself down deeper in his lap, and you pull away slowly when you feel him underneath you.

he blinks his eyes open slowly, and you tentatively sit a little more in his lap, your eyes widening a little when you feel him between your thighs.

holy fucking shit--

"jesus," you stutter, and he looks away from you, ears reddening, and you're quick to cup his cheeks to bring his eyes back to you. you smile a little, leaning in again, and you press your forehead to his before giving him the gentlest grind of your hips. "oh--simon--" you kiss him again, soft, whispering against his lips, "s-so...you're so--"

"mhm," he nods, and you move so your lips are against his ear, giving him a light kiss where his jaw and neck meet.

"i'd say you're too big for me," you sigh, closing your eyes, "but i'm a riley now." you giggle. "'n we can handle anything..can't we, simon?"

"shit--"

you squeak a little when he wraps a hand in your hair and tugs, pressing your pelvis to his as he ruts his hips up against yours. you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he chokes on his moans, big arms keeping you pressed to him as he pants into your mouth.

he stills, face a little scrunched up as he sits there with you. you keep kissing him lazily, exploring the way he tastes, licking over his teeth and bottom lip, up until he pushes you just that much away and groans in frustration.

your eyes open, and you giggle, and simon smooths his hands up the bodice of your dress, his eyes blown wide as he takes in how pretty you look in it. pretty little angel in his lap, a nice weight to ground him as he tries not to think about the mess he's made of himself.

"i assume you like the dress?" you ask, and when you laugh, simon can see the red on your tongue from the lolly. he knows if he kisses you again and sucks on your pretty tongue, you'll taste like that awful cherry, taste as sugar-sweet as you really are. simon leans back a little, propping you up on his thighs, shaking his head as he runs a big hand down his solid middle.

"well," simon mutters. "'aven't cum in my fuckin' pants since i was a bloody kid, so i'd say so."

"w-wha--! simon!"

you cover your eyes, overcome with shyness, with warmth, not believing really that anyone could you want that much. that anyone could really want you at all.

but when you laugh, he does, too.

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Tulpar crew most to least rough?

MOST TO LEAST ROUGH IN BED— TULPAR CREW.

warnings: suggestive

JIMMY

Jimmy is by no means,vanilla. He just doesn't get the point of fucking if it's not rough and hard or even painful. He bites like a rabid dog, so much so to the point of drawing blood. Jimmy doesn't necessarily care about making you feel good, as long as he's getting his own satisfaction, he is happy. Jimmy is a bed breaker. He isn't all that much into foreplay, but if he's in the mood, he'll do it. The nastiest dirty talker, will say shit so vile it might scare you. he doesn't care for safe words, he'll just have his way with you,how he wants, when he wants.

DAISUKE

Daisuke is a young, handsome lad whose libido is higher than the fucking sky, he isn't all that experienced which is exactly why he doesn't shy away from trying new things in bed. although he doesn't want to hurt you/ make you uncomfortable in the slightest, he unknowingly becomes hella rough when he's nearing his peak. Is also hella into marking you up, his high libido leaves you overstimulated. you're definitely having back aches.

SWANSEA

Swansea is a tired man, he likes taking his sweet time and doing it slowly, intimately. But that doesn't mean he hasn't got it. If he ever feels that he isn't pleasuring you the way you deserve to be, get ready for a wild night because this guy will show you a side of him completely unknown to you. He is experienced he knows how to make you feel good, he knows where to touch you to get the right sounds out. and if it ever came to that, he will break the bed.

ANYA

Anya loves to be taken care of,she loves it when you slowly, and passionately make love to her, slowly and passionately. she loves you being gentle, showing her that you love her in all the ways that make her feel good. But in all honesty, she also loves it when you make her back arch, and lips mewl by being rough. she loves scratching your back with her nails during missionary, she loves biting you, and being marked up by you.

CURLY

I know that I've put curly in the least curly tier, but that isn't exactly who he is. Curly is absolutely terrified of hurting you in any way or form, he only wants to make you feel good, he doesn't care for his own pleasure sometimes. He wants to make sure that you feel great, satisfied and happy. That's all that matters to him, but sometimes, just sometimes he lets his inner feelings lose, and rams into you like an animal in heat, curly is big, that isn't even up for debate. When he is into it he's into it. You'll be unable to wall for the next several days. But curly would feel so fucking guilty that he'll take care of your every need during those days, he promises to himself that he'll never do that to you ever again, because he simply just wants to pamper and protect you. but he sometimes slips and lets his lust control him, it happens very very rarely though,but whenever it does happen, you're not sure if you're complaining.

[ddejavvu]

bff james w no boundaries — his main love language is physical touch and that includes biting,, like 😭 you’ll just be minding ur own business n he’ll bite your shoulder or anywhere really.

hope ur doing well angel. ❤️

"Here, Remus," You offer up a spoon of blueberry tart to the teenage werewolf, unphased by now at the closeness of your friends. Perhaps at eleven you'd be worried about swapping cooties when sharing spoons, but now you're only worried about plumping Remus's gaunt frame up again before the next full moon.

You extend the spoon towards Remus but in doing so you have to bypass James who's sitting beside you on the bench. You'd expected him to fake a lunge for the sweet, but when he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into what's in front of him it happens to be the flesh of your arm.

"Hey-ow!" You yelp, and despite your word choice, it doesn't really hurt. It's more of a grasp than it is a bite, just enough force to pin your arm between James's infuriatingly perfect teeth.

"Prongs," Sirius's face screws up in what you're sure is a mix of embarrassment and confusion at his friend's behavior, but perhaps there's a slight possibility of fear there, too. Fear that James has become a cannibal and the boy with the bed next to his will suffer tonight.

"That's good." James retracts his bite as quickly as he'd dished it out, smacking his lips like there'd been something swallowed and enjoyed, "That's good arm."

"You're a freak." Remus drawls, finally taking the tart from your spoon and letting the flavors wash over his tongue, "Pads and I are supposed to be the biters. Deer are just supposed to run away from everything."

"That's not true." James defends his animagus with a passion while Sirius snickers across the table, "Deer fight with their antlers. Sometimes deer fight so hard that their antlers come off. And deer do bite sometimes, thank you very much."

"Only during mating season." Sirius references the copious research they'd each done into their animal counterparts, "Don't steal another page from the dog book and start humping her leg, Prongs."

"It is not my mating season!" James exclaims, just a bit too loud for the social setting you're in. Your cheeks are blazing but thankfully James is making a fool of himself enough that no one is studying you. "I'm simply overcome with the urge to sink my teeth into people when I'm feeling particularly fond of them. Y/N's making sure Moony's stomach isn't flatter than his ribcage, and I appreciate that. Only a good woman shares her blueberry tart. Hence," He grins, more of a baring of his teeth than a smile, "I bite."

He leans down to take a chunk out of your shoulder this time, and you feel the sharp-but-gentle pricking of his teeth even through three layers of clothing.

You have the time and the power to raise your shoulder and clock James in the teeth with your bone. But you refrain, and perhaps that's why Sirius finally latches onto you instead of James.

"Careful, darling." He warns, his own canines glinting in the candlelight above, "Deer can go rabid. I'd make sure you're not contaminated with his saliva if I were you."

"Too late." James grumbles around the meat of your shoulder, raising his head quicker than you can react to lick a fat, wet stripe across your face, "I'm not rabid, Pads. But I can see why you dogs do the licking thing. It's not bad."

"Yes it is." You decide, smearing away his sticky spit with the sleeve of your button-up, feeling the phantom sensation of his teeth on your skin, "And if you do it again I'll bite you back."

"Kinky, you two." Sirius kicks you beneath the table, a wicked grin on his face, "Remus, I think we should take our meal elsewhere. Prongs and Y/N are about to start necking right in front of the pastries, and that's not the glaze I prefer on my donuts."

[loveritas]

Kinktober Day 25 - Cuckolding with Sylus & Zayne

contains: nsfw content: (mdni), fempov, pnv (unprotected), creampie, cuckolding, established relationship (reader is sylus' wife), cheating? (it's agreed to), oral (receiving/giving), 69, come eating, masturbation

˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc: 4.9k

a/n: sylus is the cuck because i said so + let's ignore how behind i am right now

You had been married to Sylus for years. He was tender, attentive, making sure you were always safe and of course, a little possessive. Lately, though, there'd been an undercurrent, a tension of sorts, that you couldn't quite define. You didn't know where it was coming from or why, but it was there.

Then there was Zayne—your best friend and constant since long before Sylus came along. Zayne’s presence was different, his caring nature wrapped in an aloof, sometimes unreadable shell. He and Sylus tolerated each other well, their respect tentative at best, for your sake rather than any common bond between them. 

Lately, though, Sylus had been catching the subtleties: how Zayne would stare at you a beat longer when you laughed at one of his jokes, or how his hand would brush yours in passing with a gentle caress that made Sylus' jaw tense. He'd always been possessive, but never in a way that made you uncomfortable—until one night, when he told you something that managed to leave you speechless.

Sylus admitted he'd caught Zayne's glances, and instead of anger, he felt something more complicated-something unexpectedly charged. He thought aloud if he had a kink for the curiosity of seeing you with someone else, namely Zayne.

You were speechless at first. This thought of your husband wanting to share you-especially with Zayne-was surreal. But Sylus' vulnerability, as he spoke this desire out loud, called to you. Reeling you into his fantasy of the need to explore this side of himself and strangely enough yours. You’d felt the chemistry with Zayne, the unspoken current you'd ignored for your loyalty to Sylus. But now it seemed like a door opening to something new.

You felt the weight of Sylus' eyes on you from across the room, fixed with longing and tension. He sat in the corner of your shared bedroom, his hands bound behind him with Zayne's tie, his breaths shallow and strained. It had been Zayne's idea-to hold Sylus in place, to make sure he had no control over what happened next.

Zayne's hand rose to cup your face, his thumb brushing light over your lips, as if testing the waters. The warmth in that touch sent a ripple down your spine and you glanced over at Sylus-your husband-bound and silent, his chest rising in uneven breaths, his eyes wide with jealousy, hunger, and something darker that raced your pulse. He'd asked for this; now, as he watched the scene unfold, the intensity seemed to shake him more than any of you had bargained for.

I think you've waited long enough," Zayne whispered, his hand delicately turning your face to his. He leaned forward and kissed you lightly, a teasing kiss, the kind that would relish anticipation. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you close, as his lips hitched in the kiss and his warm breath stroked your skin. In every touch, it felt like melting into him, the excitement of this moment erasing the lingering doubts in your mind.

The kiss grew bolder, his hands moving with a confidence that sent a thrill through you. His fingers traced the line of your neck, down to your collarbone, each inch claimed with deliberation that felt almost reverent. You forgot everything but his touch, his mouth, the feel of his fingers, and the way he knew just how to make your body respond.

His lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that grew hungrier with each beat of your heart. Your hands, tangled in his opened shirt, pulled him closer, caught in a moment heavy with both anticipation and release. And still, beneath the desire, you felt Sylus' gaze, sharp and focused, like a steady heat against your skin.

Zayne paused, his lips inches from yours, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes as he turned back to glance across the room at Sylus. "Think he's holding up alright over there?" he asked with an edge of satisfaction to the tone that carried so clearly across the room.

Turning, you caught his gaze upon you from where he was restrained. He ran his tongue across his lips and managed a mumbled "Just… keep going." His eyes flashed between you and Zayne, his face a mix of hunger and restraint.

A low chuckle rumbled from Zayne as he returned his focus to you, pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. His hands gripped your hips with an urgency that felt possessive, his kiss deeper, almost claiming, knowing Sylus could do nothing but watch. The weight of Zayne’s body against yours, his hands sliding up your back, made you feel alive in ways that left you breathless. 

Being wanted by both men, feeling Sylus’ gaze on you as Zayne pulled you closer, filled you with a strange mix of excitement and thrill. Sylus was here to witness every moment, but it was Zayne who held control.

His lips travelled lower, each kiss deliberate, as he murmured in your ear, “I’ve always wanted this… to see you here, with me, like this. And now he’s watching me have what he can’t.” His voice dropped to a whisper meant just for you. “You like that, don’t you?”

A shiver ran through you, the unguarded thrill rising with each word. You did like it—the feeling of being caught between them, of being wanted so completely. Zayne’s lips pressed lower, leaving a trail along your collarbone, his touch lingering and unhurried as he traced over your skin.

You looked at Sylus, your heart pounding at the sight of him, bound and silent, his body tense, chest rising with rapid breaths. The raw arousal in his eyes was unmistakable, his own emotions fighting with every moment he held back, watching but unable to act.

Zayne’s hand slipped down your thigh, his touch teasing, deliberate, as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “He’s not going to stop me,” he whispered. “He wants this… needs this.”

Your mind grew hazy, caught between Zayne’s heated touch and Sylus’ unwavering gaze. Every second felt like an unspoken dare, testing your will and Sylus’ resolve. Sylus’ eyes were wide, pupils dilated as he watched, his chest heaving with each ragged breath as his own control began to falter.

With a smirk, Zayne felt your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling yourself closer as you let the thrill overtake you. His fingers brushed lower, tracing a line that felt both exhilarating and grounding as he murmured, “I wonder how long he’ll last… think he’ll come without being touched?”

Suddenly, you felt shy under Zayne’s intense gaze. He’d been your best friend forever; you’d never expected to see this side of him.

Zayne’s breath tickled your ear, his voice a low murmur, and each word wrapped around you with an intensity that felt almost palpable. The air between the three of you was charged, each look, each touch only heightening the simmering tension. Your heart beat faster as his hands traced along your waist, fingers playing at the edge of your clothes, sending a thrill through you.

Across the room, Sylus sat bound, a mix of control and surrender flickering in his expression. His chest rose and fell sharply, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of the chair with hands bound tight behind him. This was something he’d asked for, something he’d wanted—yet now, seeing Zayne’s hands on you was pushing him to an edge. His jaw clenched, and his dark gaze revealed the turbulent mix of jealousy, desire, and longing within him.

A smirk played on Zayne’s lips as he seemed to relish Sylus’ struggle, his fingers slipping just beneath the fabric of your shirt, grazing your skin with a teasing slowness. “See that?” he whispered, his voice a deep, provocative murmur, meant only for you. “He’s already so hard just watching me have you.”

A shiver ran through you as Zayne’s firm hold and Sylus’ intense stare stirred something deep inside. You let out a soft whimper, Zayne’s hand finding your skin with a gentle but possessive touch. The thrill of Sylus watching, powerless to intervene, mingled with the intimacy of the moment and brought out desires you hadn’t even realised were there.

Zayne met your gaze, and for a moment, the smugness softened, replaced by something familiar, something that reminded you of your shared history. Beneath everything, this was still your best friend—someone who knew you, someone you’d trusted with all of yourself. That quiet understanding brought its own charge, blending comfort with the newness of this intensity.

He kissed you again, more forcefully, with a confidence that claimed you in Sylus’ view. The kiss deepened, unhurried but consuming, and you found yourself clinging to Zayne, your body responding to his touch with every nerve awakened. You could feel Sylus’ gaze heavy on you, each one of Zayne’s movements met with a sharp hitch of breath from Sylus, the tension in his body unmistakable.

Zayne’s hand slipped lower, fingers hooking under your panties as he tugged them down just enough to tease you—and Sylus—with what was to come. He broke the kiss, leaning close, his forehead resting against yours, and in a breathless whisper asked, “You ready?”

You nodded and he slid the fabric away, his fingers trailing a path that made you arch into his touch, craving more with each slow caress. Seeing Sylus react to this, watching his restraint unravel, brought a thrill that you could feel in every inch of your body.

A satisfied grin spread across Zayne’s face as he noted your response, his fingers moving purposefully, his touch exploring your thighs before finally running them along your glistening folds. He threw Sylus a quick, triumphant look, his voice barely above a murmur as he teased, “Look at her… already so eager for me.”

With precision, he positioned you so Sylus had an unobstructed view, every shift of Zayne’s hands carefully in focus for him. Bound in place, Sylus couldn’t tear his eyes away as Zayne’s touch deepened. Knowing you had this effect on both men, feeling their separate intensities, was an exhilarating power you hadn’t expected to feel.

Zayne’s fingers teased your entrance a little, before slowly pushing one inside, his touch confident as he found the perfect rhythm. You gasped as pleasure surged through you, your hips moving instinctively in response to him. He chuckled, his voice low with satisfaction.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his fingers circling with a maddening slowness. “Bet you’re dying for more.”

With a shift, Zayne reclined back on the bed, turning you around and guiding you so you were almost straddling his face. One hand gripped your hips as the other pressed on your back, urging you closer to his cock that was straining against his boxers. He gave a slow, appreciative smile, his voice thick with need as he whispered, “Come on, beautiful. Show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

You glanced at Sylus, his body was tense, muscles taut with arousal as he absorbed the scene, desire and frustration warring within his expression.

Zayne’s hands guided you down until your lips hovered just above him. You pressed a few teasing kisses to his clothed erection, before tugging them down enough to free his cock, long and pretty. Slowly, you lowered your head, tracing your tongue over his skin, tasting the warm saltiness of him. A low, satisfied moan escaped your lips as you took him deeper, inch by inch, savouring the way his breath caught and his head fell back, eyes slipping closed.

Just as you lost yourself in the rhythm, Zayne's mouth finally began exploring your pussy, his tongue exploring in slow, purposeful circles that made your breath hitch. Your lips wrapped around his cock and his tongue parting your folds created an electric rhythm between you, every touch a wave of pleasure that reverberated through your entire body.

Sylus watched, unable to look away, his own arousal plain, pressing insistently against his pants. His eyes were fixed on you, his expression dark with need, as if the intensity of what he felt for you were palpable in the room. A fierce blend of longing and envy seemed to coil in his gaze, growing with each muffled sound you made.

Zayne’s tongue circled your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you. His hands tightened on your thighs, steadying you as you rocked against him, chasing every wave, every shudder. The tension coiled tighter, winding deep within you as he continued, each touch pushing you closer to the edge.

You were dimly aware of Sylus, his breaths heavy and uneven, his eyes never leaving your face. You could feel his desperation, the silent plea in his gaze as you gasped under Zayne’s touch.

You moved in rhythm, your hips meeting Zayne’s mouth, each brush of his nose against your clit was a spark against your sensitive skin. Each touch, each taste, was overwhelming. And as his hands held you, his moans mingled with your own, it was a fevered exchange that blurred the world around you. You ran your tongue along his shaft, before returning to take him deeper, bobbing your head as much as you could from the angle. Each pulse bringing him closer, his hands pressing into your thighs with renewed fervour.

Finally, as your body strained for release, Zayne’s hand left your thigh, his touch easing back as he pulled away, his breath fast and his gaze full of promise. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I want to feel you cum around my cock.”

The words ignited something fierce within you, a trembling anticipation as you moved, shifting in a quiet ache for what came next. 

Zayne released your hips, and as you shifted, he quickly positioned himself behind you whilst you were already on all fours, his presence warm and solid. His hands moved over you, one sliding around your hip, his fingers finding your most sensitive spot, each slow circle a tease.

You looked ahead, meeting Sylus’ gaze, seeing his chest rise and fall as he watched, bound and captivated, his gaze hungry and unwavering.

Zayne’s fingers continued, slow and knowing, as he pressed forward, sliding his cock inside you with a steady ease that made your breath catch, filling you completely. The feeling of his touch, and Sylus’ dark, intense stare, held you suspended between them, every sensation amplified as your body moved in time with Zayne’s, grounded in him, but electrified by Sylus’ silent, longing presence.

In this moment, caught between their two worlds, every touch felt infinite, every movement a reminder of the power you held over them both, leaving you completely breathless, each sensation more vivid and alive than the last.

You arched your back, pressing your hips against him, craving more of that delicious intensity. Zayne responded eagerly, thrusting deep inside you with a powerful rhythm that took your breath away. He established a relentless pace, his fingers dancing over your clit, each thrust punctuated by the sound of his skin meeting yours, a primal slap that echoed in the charged air.

With a firm grip, Zayne shifted his hand from your hip to your jaw, tilting your head to face Sylus. The moment your eyes met, you felt a rush of heat. Sylus’ gaze was a storm of raw hunger, jealousy, and desire that ignited something deep within you.

“Look at him,” Zayne growled, his voice low and commanding. “See how much he wants you? How badly he wishes he could be the one inside you right now?”

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Sylus, lost in the intensity of his stare as Zayne continued his unrelenting assault from behind. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, eliciting gasps and moans that filled the room like a symphony of desire.

Sylus looked utterly consumed, his chest heaving with every ragged breath, an expression of fierce longing etched across his features. He appeared to be a man possessed, his own arousal evident as he squirmed against his restraints, his body betraying the desperation that simmered just beneath the surface.

“Zayne,” he gasped, voice strained and thick with need. “Please… I need…”

Zayne paused, his hips stilling as he turned to Sylus, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. You could see the triumph in his eyes, relishing the power he held over your husband. “What was that?” Zayne taunted, a playful mockery lacing his voice. “You need something?”

“Please,” Sylus breathed again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Untie me. I just need… I need to touch myself, fuck-”

Zayne's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watched Sylus writhe in his restraints. “What’s the magic word, Sylus?” he teased, thrusting deep into you once more, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body.

You cried out, the force of his movement making you lean forward, your body desperate for something to anchor you amidst the waves of sensation. Sylus’ eyes were wild with need, his breathing laboured as he fought to regain control.

“Please,” he gasped, desperation creeping into his tone. “I promise I won’t touch her. I just need… Fuck, Zayne, I need to touch myself.”

Zayne chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the room like a potent aphrodisiac. “And why should I let you do that?” he challenged, his fingers gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place. “Why should I give you any relief while you just sit there, watching me fuck your wife?”

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with a heady mix of lust and jealousy. Sylus squirmed against his restraints, the sight of you lost in pleasure, vulnerable and exposed, driving him to the brink of madness.

Zayne pulled out, his cock glistening with your arousal as he approached Sylus, and you whined as you felt the emptiness of his absence.

Leaning in close, Zayne brushed his lips against Sylus’ ear. “Beg for it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Beg for me to untie you, and maybe I’ll let you touch yourself.”

Sylus' breath hitched, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked up at Zayne. “Please,” he begged, voice strained. “I need… I need to touch myself. I promise I won’t touch her. I just… God, I need it so badly.”

Zayne chuckled darkly, amusement flickering in his eyes. He reached behind Sylus, finding the knot binding him, and with a sharp tug, he loosened it, granting Sylus his freedom.

Settling himself at the edge of the bed, Zayne spread his legs, inviting you closer with a sultry smile. “Come here, baby,” he purred, patting his thigh. “I want to feel you ride me, want to watch you lose yourself on my cock while your husband watches.”

You hesitated, glancing at Sylus, who was already palming himself through his pants, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over you. The thrill of being watched, of knowing he was so aroused by the sight of you with another man, sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your body.

With a deep breath, you moved forward, positioning yourself over Zayne’s lap. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you down onto his waiting cock. You gasped as he filled you, stretching you in a way that felt utterly exhilarating, even more so in this new position.

Slowly, you began to move, finding a rhythm that delighted both of you. Zayne's hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples until sparks of pleasure shot through you.

As you rode Zayne, your eyes locked onto Sylus’, watching him free his aching cock from the confines of his pants. It stood hard and glistening, the tip slick with pre-cum, and your mouth watered at the sight. Imagining tasting him, feeling him throb against your tongue, sent another wave of desire washing over you, causing you to grind down harder onto Zayne.

“That's it, baby,” Zayne groaned, his grip tightening on your hips. “Fuck, look at you, so desperate for it.”

His fingers dug deeper into your skin as he urged you to move faster, to give in to the pleasure coursing between you. “Tell him,” he commanded, his voice low and rough. “Tell him how good I feel inside you, how much you love being fucked by another man.”

You hesitated, glancing back at Sylus, who was now stroking himself faster, his breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. The sight of him so enthralled, so aroused by the thought of you with Zayne, sent another thrill through you.

“Feels so good,” you moaned, your voice breathy and needy. “Zayne feels amazing inside me, oh god—”

Sylus’ eyes widened at your words, his hand moving faster over his cock, his hips bucking involuntarily. “How good?” he gasped, his voice strained.

You bit your lip, locking eyes with Sylus as you continued to ride Zayne. “So full,” you moaned, rolling your hips in a sultry motion. “He’s stretching me just right, hitting all the perfect spots.”

Sylus’ eyes were glued to the sight of you, impaled on Zayne’s cock, his strokes becoming more frantic. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “You look so hot like that, taking his cock so well.”

“Good girl,” Zayne purred, his fingers urging you to pick up the pace, the intensity of his thrusts matching the fervour of your movements.

Sylus' hand moved faster over his shaft, each stroke deliberate and firm as he watched you. His breath was heavy, his hips thrusting in time with the rhythm you created, caught in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

Your breasts bounced with every roll of your hips, the soft flesh enticingly bouncing as Zayne kneaded them. The tension inside you began to coil tighter, pleasure building with every thrust, and you lost yourself in the sensations, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” Sylus groaned, his voice strained and urgent. “You’re so fucking hot, baby. Gonna make me cum just watching you.”

Zayne’s thrusts grew harder, more demanding, his voice low and filled with desire. “That’s it,” he growled, his words urging you on. “Take it. Take my cock. You feel so fucking good.”

The dual sensations of Zayne pounding into you and Sylus' heated gaze bore down on you, propelling you closer and closer to that sweet release. Your moans rose in pitch, more frantic as the tension coiled tighter within you.

“Fuck, baby,” Sylus gasped, his voice strained, “Gonna cum with you. I want to see you come on his cock.”

The sensation of Zayne thrusting into you, combined with Sylus watching, stroking himself to the sight, was almost more than you could bear. Your body trembled, muscles tightening as your climax approached.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your voice high and breathless. “Zayne, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Zayne commanded, his hand moving to your clit, rubbing in firm, deliberate circles. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock while your husband watches.”

That added stimulation was the final push you needed, and with a cry, you came undone. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking as you gushed around Zayne’s cock, urging him to join you in ecstasy.

Sylus sat there, utterly captivated, his hand working furiously over his cock, eyes glued to the intoxicating scene unfolding before him. You were lost in pleasure, unravelling on Zayne's cock.

And with a groan that rumbled deep in his chest, Sylus surrendered to his own release, his cum spilling over his hand and chest as he watched you completely consumed by ecstasy with another man.

Zayne's breath came out in ragged gasps, and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, feeling his cock pulse as he reached his peak. You could feel the rush of warmth as he filled you with his cum, an overwhelming sensation that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt him spill inside you, the thick release flooding your core and dribbling out and down your thighs.

Zayne’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he rode out his orgasm, his body jerking with each pulsating throb. “Fuck, that’s so good,” he rasped, his voice laced with raw desire. “Take it all, baby. I want you to feel every last drop.”

Exhausted and blissful, you leaned back against him, your mind hazy and body spent. Zayne’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pulled out slowly, his softening cock slipping from your well-fucked pussy. A shiver ran through you as you felt his release spill out, a tangible reminder of the pleasure you’d just shared. Sylus remained seated, his own arousal evident as he took in the sight of you, marked by another man.

As you lay there, panting and glowing, you sensed Sylus draw closer, the magnetic pull of your dripping pussy too tempting for him to resist. With a low, primal growl, he dropped to his knees at the end of the bed, his eyes dark and hungry as he locked onto your cum-filled hole. “Look at you,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “Taking Zayne’s load like a good girl.”

Before you could respond, Sylus’ hands gripped your thighs, parting you wider as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste the sensitive folds. The moment his warm tongue brushed against your over-sensitized clit, you gasped, your body instinctively bucking for more of that delicious friction.

Sylus moaned as he devoured you, his tongue exploring every inch, savouring the mix of your cum and Zayne's. The depravity of it all sent fresh waves of arousal coursing through you, igniting a fire within your already sensitive body. As Sylus pushed deeper, your whimpers turned to soft moans, the pleasure mounting in a way that was almost overwhelming.

“Too much,” you managed to gasp, fingers tangling in the sheets as you struggled to handle the sensation. “I can’t... please.”

But Zayne's hands were firm on your hips, keeping you open and exposed for Sylus’ eager mouth. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry command. “Let him worship you. Let him taste how good I made you feel.”

The vibrations of Sylus’ growl against your body sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, each stroke of his tongue pulling you closer to another peak. As Zayne’s hands roamed your body, teasing your breasts and rolling your nipples, the sensations became a blissful storm.

“Just relax,” Zayne encouraged, his voice dripping with approval. “Let him enjoy every inch of you. You’re such a good girl.”

With each flick of Sylus’ tongue and the soft, persistent pressure of Zayne’s hands, your body instinctively responded, rocking against Sylus’ face. The combination of their ministrations was intoxicating, building you up higher and higher, pushing you toward a point of no return.

Sylus’ fingers joined his mouth, teasing your clit while his tongue explored your depths. The mixture of sensations became too much; you could feel your climax bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “I’m close!” you cried, your voice breathy with desperation. “Guys, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Zayne commanded, his hand moving to your clit, rubbing in firm, deliberate circles. “Cum for us, baby. Let it all out while your husband laps it up.”

The intensity was suffocating, and with a cry, you shattered into pure bliss, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Sylus lapped at your release, his eager mouth prolonging your pleasure, coaxing every last drop from your body. Zayne held you tightly, supporting you through the aftershocks of your climax.

When the waves of pleasure finally ebbed, Sylus pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. He leaned up, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, and you could taste yourself on his tongue—rich and intoxicating. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and crevice as he deepened the kiss, claiming you with a possessive urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

You melted into him, surrendering to the heat of his touch. It felt both filthy and undeniably right, the three of you entwined in a web of passion and desire. As the final echoes of your orgasm faded, the three of you collapsed onto the bed, limbs tangled and bodies slick with sweat.

Zayne lay back, arms wrapped around you as you nestled against his side, head resting on his chest. Sylus sprawled beside you, his hand possessively resting on your hip. For a moment, the room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the three of you basking in the afterglow of shared pleasure. Zayne’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, soothing and gentle, while Sylus nuzzled into your neck, peppering soft kisses along your pulse point.

With a low chuckle, Sylus murmured, “Round two? Where I get to actually join in this time.” You shivered at the promise in his words, your body responding to the heat of his touch. Zayne’s arm tightened around you, drawing you closer as he whispered, “I’m down for that.”

taglist:

@l0v3m3-p13as3 @hishearttohave @williamafton26 @kentochronicles

@jays-adventure3 @nctislifue @eeveedvck @needtoloveoutloud @yowumi

@sweetpo1son @betelgeuse420 @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

@kaeyeahsworld @sukunadckrider @ladyackermanisdead @szired

© lovesculprit ↣ do not copy or translate any of my works

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: idol!reader getting injured (arm), accident mention, smut, fingering, oral (f. &m. rec), ovulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, handjob, attentive sex? (due to reader's injury), dirty talk.

staff!seungcheol who’s got that severe look, eyes attached to every inch of you like he’s memorizing it. he’s standing close, flashlight in hand, checking every damn speck of glitter on your face like he’s planning on personally suing each one that doesn’t sparkle just right. like you're some kind of precious artifact he needs to make sure is flawless. there’s this faint crease between his brows as he leans in, like he’s got a checklist of your entire existence in his mind, murmuring “lemme see, hold still,” like you’re the one shifting around with his hands practically cupping your face. the makeup artist’s just nervously holding her breath in the background.

doesn’t even flinch when he sees the tiny smudge, just calmly points it out while you try not to roll your eyes. “needs fixing,” he says, stepping back only when he’s satisfied, waving the makeup artist over with a quick hand gesture.

“alright, open up,” then there’s staff!seungcheol who’s already one step ahead, holding up that tiny spray bottle of propolis like it’s the holy grail of vocal cords. he gives you a knowing look as you open your mouth for him to spray it down your throat. “don’t choke on it this time,” he says, like you didn’t just cough last night but committed a fucking crime. the spray hits your throat, sharp and herbal, and you pull a disgusted face.

“that’s awful, seungcheol,” you croak, trying to rub it off your tongue.

“and it works,” he fires back, deadpan, already watching you like you’re gonna start talking back too loud. but there’s this smirk tugging at the edge of his lips, like he’s clocking the way you’re fussing.

staff!seungcheol who’s already got a scrunchie on his wrist just for you, flicking it like a badge of honor when the fashion team rushes in, hands full of fabric and pins. “back up,” he tells them, waving them off like some sort of bodyguard-turned-stylist. he steps in, gathering your hair up with this weirdly gentle touch, pulling it back like he’s done this a million times. and he has. you’re used to the low murmur of his voice, saying stuff like “look down,” or “tilt your head,” pulling your hair back as you rip off one outfit, practically wrestling yourself into another.

and yeah, he's seen it all, seen you stripped down to a bunch of mismatched pieces of clothes, practically naked with pins and sequins scattered around. he’s the only one who gets to stay in the room when it’s time to swap outfits, hands moving steady over zippers and hooks without batting an eye. he’s too professional for that.

but sometimes you’ll catch the way his eyes flash, quick as anything, over your bare shoulder, the curve of your waist, or the bend of yourback. lingering just a second too long before he’s tugging fabric back over you. “hold your arms up,” he says, voice so steady it’s almost annoying, but there’s this barely-there flush on his face, one he probably thinks you don’t notice. only once you're decent does he call in the fashion team again, his hand lingering on your shoulder just a second longer, like some silent encouragement.

“think i’ll survive tonight, boss?” you shoot over your shoulder as he tightens up a corset, his fingers brushing your back.

“if you can keep that mouth of yours shut for two minutes, maybe,” he mutters, yanking the laces just a little too tight.

staff!seungcheol who seems to have every little detail about you learned by heart, right down to the shade of foundation that works best under stage lights and the exact temperature of water you like before singing. he’s like a walking encyclopedia on “you,” this intense manager who somehow knows you better than you know yourself some days. it’s kinda crazy when you think about it—how much attention he puts into the smallest things, like checking your posture right before you step onto the stage, brushing an imaginary dust speck off your shoulder, or even noticing when you’re tired just from a tiny slump in your stance. there’s this wild, almost comforting feeling in knowing someone’s watching that close, picking up on what you need before you even have to say it.

staff!seungcheol who doesn’t just care about the professional side of things but pays attention to you as a whole person. you’ll be pacing before a show, a mess of nerves, and he’ll pull you aside, hands firm on your shoulders, telling you to breathe, to ground yourself. “hey, it’s just one show out of many,” he’ll say, like he’s reminding you that this isn’t the end of the world. sometimes, he’ll even pull out a joke, something random to get you out of your head, his voice warm, more calming than he probably even realizes.

staff!seungcheol who’s a human wall when it comes to fans or any kind of chaos. he’s got this built-in radar for spotting trouble in a crowd, and the way he just moves through people, ushering you along like he’s a bodyguard instead of just your manager—it’s unreal. you know the crew’s got security, but it’s always him who stands closest, always him who angles himself slightly in front of you, making sure nothing gets in the way. he’s not overbearing, either; it’s this subtle, constant thing, like he’s built to be in tune with you and the space around you.

and it’s not just the big stuff. like, he’s a fiend about the little things, too. if he sees you adjusting your outfit or tugging at your sleeves, he’s immediately there, straightening the hem or re-pinning a loose detail. he’s the kind of guy who’ll silently hand you a tissue if he sees a tiny smudge of lipstick on your teeth, or he’ll have that emergency stain remover in his pocket just in case you spill something on your outfit last-minute.

staff!seungcheol who somehow makes you feel both overprotected and ridiculously independent. he’s right there if you mess up, catching you before you can fall—literally and metaphorically. he’ll laugh about it after the fact, maybe make some quip about how you owe him for always “saving your ass,” but in the moment, he’s solid as hell, totally serious. it’s like he lives for making sure everything in your world runs smoothly, yet he’s always subtly pushing you to handle things yourself, too.

then, there’s the crazy amount of trust he has in you, even though he’s like the over-prepared captain of the team. like, he’ll go through the checklist with everyone—makeup, wardrobe, lighting, sound—and he’s triple-checked it all, down to the damn microphone battery. but when it comes time for you to perform, he just gives you this look that says he knows you’re gonna kill it, and in that weir silence, it’s like he’s handing everything over, telling you without words, “i’ve got the logistics; you just be you.”

staff!seungcheol who, when you’re touring his hometown, suddenly seems way more focused on making sure you’re comfy than anything else—an entire list prepared, of all the places he wants to show you. but first, there’s the “family dinner” situation. he’s practically droning with nerves as he introduces you to his family, calling you his boss, and you’re just gritting your teeth, whispering to him with a grin, “seungcheol, quit it—i told you, just my name.” he just smirks, playing it off, even if it’s clear he’s a little embarrassed, especially when his mom starts calling him out on every little thing he used to do as a kid.

staff!seungcheol who, thanks to your fans, has become practically famous on his own. every time you two walk through an airport, you can hear them calling his name, practically chanting it at this point, pointing out “the hot manager.” and there he is, looking away, rubbing his neck or practically burying his face into your shoulder

he’ll tug at your sleeve like a kid hiding behind their mom, he gets especially flustered when you turn it on him, all smug, saying, “y’know, i must be the luckiest one here, getting to have a handsome manager like you walking me around.” he rolls his eyes, a rare laugh slipping out as he mutters something sarcastic, trying so hard to brush it off, but you know he secretly loves it, the tips of his ears going pink.

and it’s not just for show. once you’re on your off time after a show, seungcheol’s literally all over the place, making sure you don’t lift a finger. he’s there, picking up menus, already knowing what you’ll want and what to skip (yes olives or goodbye olives). he’s at the counter, practically fighting to swipe your card before you can even think about it. it’s like he’s taken the whole “manager” title to heart, as if your well-being is his full-time mission.

he’s got this sixth sense for how you’re feeling too. the second you’re showing signs of exhaustion, he’s hunting for a place to sit, guiding you to a cozy bench or a shady spot under a tree like he’s found the red dot on a map. he even maps out little stops he thinks you’d like, you can’t even remember the last time you needed to decide on where to go.

staff!seungcheol who’ll walk around the city with you, way more relaxed now that he’s on familiar ground, all while pointing out tiny things he remembers from his own life. he’ll say, “used to skip class and hang out here,” or, “this place has the best coffee.” and it’s casual, but you can see how he’s sharing a bit of himself with you, almost like letting you in on these little secrets.

he’s the same guy who’ll quietly, without a word, take off his jacket and drape it over your shoulders when the night air gets too cold, muttering something like, “can’t have you freezing out here,” while you just laugh because he’s the one walking around in a t-shirt in the middle of the night now.

staff!seungcheol who watched you perform on the backstage through the reflector and in the second he sees you stumble, heart pounding harder than it should as his instincts kick in before he even thinks—he’s moving, pushing past a cluster of crew members and ignoring the calls of the other staff, all his attention zeroed in on you. the moment he reaches you, he’s crouching down, there’s this tremor in his voice as he says, “hey, stay still, don’t try to move,” reaching to gently check your injury while his jaw is set tight, his hand firm yet shaking ever so slightly.

he’s not even sure if it’s because he’s furious at the award organization for being careless or just terrified that he saw you go down at all. there’s this split second where he holds you, practically hovering over you protectively, and when you hiss in pain, his hand moves gently, brushing hair out of your face. “i’m so sorry, it’s gonna be okay,” he mutters, his voice way softer than he means, almost sounding choked.

and that’s when it really hits him—this worry clawing its way up his chest, tearing through the professional armor he’s kept on so tightly. all the stuff he’s tried to ignore, to brush off as “just his job,” it’s all boiling over now, searing him. because the sight of you hurt, struggling to get back on your feet, it’s affecting him way, way more than it should. he’s clenching his jaw so hard he thinks it might break, like he’s trying to hold back this tight feeling in his throat, but it’s too late. all he can think is this can’t happen again, this can’t happen to you.

“look at me, alright?” he says, his voice steadier now but barely. he’s doing everything to stay calm, but his hand is still on your shoulder, squeezing just a bit tighter than usual. “i’ve got you. we’re gonna get you checked out, and you’re gonna be okay.” it’s like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is you. when you try to shrug him off, muttering that you’re fine, he doesn’t even flinch—just picks you up like he’s done it a thousand times before, ignoring any protests, keeping you close to his chest as if letting you go is an option he just can’t entertain.

walking off stage, you’re half-leaning against him, but he can’t look at you without this flood of guilt hitting him. why wasn’t i there faster? he keeps thinking, like he could’ve somehow prevented this whole thing if he’d just been a second sooner, a second more vigilant. he knows it’s irrational, but the thought eats at him. with every step, the weight of what he’s feeling presses harder and harder, making him realize, damn, this isn’t just the job anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

and now, backstage, with you in his arms, his mind’s racing through a million scenarios of what could’ve happened if the injury had been worse, if he hadn’t been there. it’s almost infuriating, how much he cares, and for a split second, he feels like he can’t breathe, like every single barrier he’s tried to put up to keep things professional has just crumbled into dust.

when the medical team comes over, he still can’t bring himself to fully let you go. he steps back just a bit, giving them space, but his hand’s still resting on your shoulder, thumb unconsciously tracing soft, slow circles like he’s grounding himself in knowing you’re still right there. he catches your eye, the way you give him that reassuring smile despite the pain, and he feels this indescribable surge of… something he’s afraid to name, afraid to admit even to himself.

you’re talking to the medics, brushing it off, laughing even, and he’s half-listening, locked in his own head. he’s known all along he’s cared about you, sure, but seeing you hurt, actually holding you like this, it’s made him realize it’s different now. this is something deeper, something he can’t hide behind a professional mask or dismiss as just his responsibility. you’re not just his artist-boss not just the person he’s assigned to take care of. you’re everything—everything he wants to protect, to keep safe, to make sure stays as perfect and unbreakable as he sees you.

staff!seungcheol, who practically moves in with you after the injury, showing up almost daily with bags of groceries, adjusting the pillows on the couch just right, and doing anything he can to make your life easier while you’re stuck on this forced hiatus. he’s meticulous as always, organizing everything, but he still lets you do the simple things on your own when possible. he knows how much you hate feeling dependent on anyone, even him, so he keeps it balanced. still, every now and then, he steps in—like now, as you awkwardly try to pull on your pajamas with your one good arm, refusing to ask for help but struggling all the same.

“you’re gonna tear the sleeve,” he murmurs, chuckling softly as he crosses the room, gentle hands helping guide your arm through the pajama top like it’s nothing. “and before you say anything, you don’t need to feel embarrassed, alright?”

“yeah, easy for you to say,” you grumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as he adjusts the fabric against your shoulder, the familiarity somehow making it worse. he’s done this a million times on tour, yet here, in the privacy of your own home, with your messy pajamas instead of a flashy stage outfit, it feels… like a shame. hard to ignore.

he just shrugs, glancing at you with a small, reassuring smile. “you’ve got nothing to prove to me. trust me, i’ve seen you through worse—like that one time in paris when you twisted your ankle and tried to walk it off anyway?”

“ugh, don’t remind me.” you roll your eyes, but the memory actually makes you laugh a little. “that was your fault for letting me go out in those ridiculous heels.”

“you’re the one who insisted they looked good,” he teases, smoothing down the collar of your pajama top as if that final adjustment could make this whole thing feel less awkward.

it’s only a few minutes later, as you’re both sitting at the dining table, the food he’s prepped steaming and smelling way too good, that he seems to pick up on the shift in your mood. you’re quiet, picking at your food, trying to ignore the ache in your back and the faint, familiar discomfort building up, reminding you it’s that time of the month—again.

“you feelin’ alright?” he asks, studying you with that same, observant gaze. he reaches over, pressing a hand to your forehead to check for a fever, but you instinctively pull back.

“i’m fine,” you reply a little too quickly, shrugging him off as you try to mask the irritation in your voice. but you know he’s already suspicious. he’s been keeping track of your recovery, and since your doctor had him install that app to sync with your cycle and show schedule, he’s way too aware of these things.

you glance at the notification before he turns the screen down. you groan, “god, i hate that you’re this observant.”

he chuckles softly, “comes with the job..”

“yeah, well… it’s just—look, it’s… i’m on my second ovulation since this stupid injury,” you admit, cheeks heating up as you glance away. “and i can’t… y’know. can’t do anything about it. feels like i’m losing my mind.”

he’s silent for a moment, probably a bit stunned, and you peek up, expecting him to laugh or maybe even crack some joke, but his face is serious. finally, he clears his throat, and his voice is so quiet you barely catch it.

“y/n, you—you could’ve told me. if this is, like, getting to you, there are… other ways.”

your heart races, both from his words and from the way he’s looking at you, and you try to shrug it off with a half-laugh, but your voice wavers. “yeah, and what? you planning on giving me a hand?”

he doesn’t laugh. “if that’s what you need.”

“cheol… whatthefuck?”

“don’t want you suffering alone. if you need me, just say it,” he murmurs.

and in that moment, with him sitting across from you, earnest and willing, you realize maybe you’ve been holding back more than just your pain.

staff!seungcheol watches you carefully, still as a statue except for his hands, which are gripping the underside of the table so hard you swear you can see his knuckles turning colorless. he’s waiting, practically holding his breath, watching every small shift in your expression, and you know he’s waiting for any sign you’re second-guessing. but all you can think about is how much you want him. your eyes slip shut, and you let out a shaky breath, the idea of him, his hands, his mouth on you making you dizzy. when you open your eyes, you meet his, still fixed on you.

you don’t even realize you’ve let out a soft moan until his lips twitch into a faint smile, and he pushes back from the table, coming around it with measured steps. “you sure about this?” he asks, he’s close enough now that you can see every detail of his face—the stray strands of his hair falling across his forehead, the slight flush on his cheeks, the sharp cut of his jawline.

“cheol, please?” you murmur, because god, you need him to close this space, need him to touch you.

he doesn’t need to be told twice. he scoops you up, carefully laying you back on the bed, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles as he moves higher, taking his time. he’s studying every reaction, every small sigh or shift, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. he glances up one more time, giving you a moment to stop him, but when you nod, his fingers hook under the fabric, peeling it down slowly.

“fuck, you’re drenched,” he murmurs, as his fingers dip between your thighs, gathering the wetness that’s practically dripping, and spreading on your clit. he raises an eyebrow, glancing at you with a smirk. “been waiting for this?”

you squirm under his touch, cheeks flushing as he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his stubble grazing your skin as he trails his mouth higher, breath warm as he hovers above the wet cunt, your pussy clenches, making a wet sound, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again.

“stay still for me,” he whispers, before his mouth finally, finally connects, and the first touch has you gasping, fingers fisting the sheets. his tongue is slow, and you can feel his tongue sucking your juices inside his mouth. mortifying, delicious. you can’t help but arch your hips toward him, wanting more, but his hands press down on your thighs, holding you in place.

he pulls back just enough to murmur, “turned on?” and his fingers slide in, curling faultlessly as he starts moving, his mouth resuming its work on your swollen clit in a way that makes you disoriented. he doesn’t let up, alternating between teasing you and giving you exactly what you need, fingers curling tight, making the wet sounds louder, pressing against that spot that has you writhing.

“god, look at you,” he whispers, voice rough in your ear as he presses his fingers deeper, his breath hot on your skin. “you’re soaked, y/n. dripping all over my fingers… you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

your hips move instinctively, grinding down on his hand, but the way you’re shifting causes a sharp pain to shoot through your arm, making you gasp.

“hold on, wait,” he says immediately, pulling his fingers out, his other hand already moving to your side, gently easing you back down. his eyes scan you for any sign of discomfort, and then he places his hand firmly on your chest, palm pressing between your breasts as he pins you to the bed, keeping you steady. “just like this, okay?” he murmurs, fingers slipping back inside you, his thumb circling your clit. “you can still move down here, but let me do all the work.”

your breath catches as he holds you down, the feeling of his strong hand keeping you in place making you stumble breaths. you’re completely at his mercy, pinned under his hand, unable to do anything but grind against his fingers, and with every thrust, every word he murmurs, you’re spiraling further, faster.

“you’re so perfect like this,” he whispers against your skin, moving his fingers deeper, rougher. “such a mess, taking me so good… you’re gonna cumm for me? yeah? that’s it, just like that…”

your orgasm hits hard, your body clenching around his fingers, thighs trembling, and his hand on your chest keeps you from arching too much, grounding you as your entire body pulses he holds you steady, whispering soft, filthy praises into your ear as you come down, his fingers finally slipping out but his hand staying over your heart, steady and reassuring as your breathing slows.

you look up at him, the aftershocks still tingling, and he gives you a soft, satisfied smile, brushing his thumb gently over your collarbone. “now that’s my good girl.”

seungcheol hovers over you, his face an inch from yours, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. your breaths are shallow, still struggling to steady, and without another thought, you lift your neck and press your lips to his. he melts into it, kissing you deeper, tongue brushing over yours in a way that makes your skin tingle. he’s careful with his hands, keeping his wet fingers from your hair but awkwardly gripping the pillow, while the other hand slides down, lightly brushing over your chest.

“fuck… cheol,” you mumble into his mouth, feeling almost embarrassed by the way your body’s reacting. the word just slips out, and then it’s followed by, “want your cock so bad. just… just give it to me, please.”

he pulls back, and you’ve never seen that look before—his lips parted, brows raised, the most i-want-pussy-so-fucking-bad face you ever saw. he shakes his head softly, voice a little raspy, “you know i’d ruin you if i could right now,” he says, breath catching. “but it’ll hurt… don’t wanna push it too much.”

“please, cheollie,” you murmur, giving him a sly, knowing look. “you’re gonna be careful with me, right? just… give me a little. i need you so bad, been thinking about it all day…” your voice trails off, and you feel his hand grip a little tighter, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your chest through the thin fabric of your pajamas.

he takes a shaky breath, a low groan slipping out, and suddenly, he’s sliding off the bed, hands trembling just enough for you to notice as he pulls his shirt over his head. his skin is warm, tan, muscles rippling as he unbuttons his jeans, and you can barely breathe as he pushes them down along with his underwear, freeing himself. his cock is thick, flushed a deep pink at the tip, and the way he’s stroking himself, like he’s savoring every second, has you practically drooling.

unable to resist, you tilt your head up, parting your lips, tongue out as you bat your lashes at him, silently begging. he’s already at the edge of the bed, and he lowers himself, the weight of his cock pressing against your lips, and you can’t help the moan that escapes. it’s warm, heavy, and you lean forward just enough, taking him between your lips, letting your tongue glide along the underside.

he strokes a hand over your cheek, thumb grazing just beneath your eye, and his face looks wrecked, like he’s fighting every instinct to just take control. but he holds back, lets you set the pace, lets you tease with your mouth, your tongue swirling over his tip, tasting every inch of him.

you take his whole length in your mouth, sucking him slow, then pulling back to focus on the tip like you’re savoring the best thing you’ve ever tasted. you hear his breath catch, and when his knees falter, his hand grips your shoulder, the sound of his hissed “stop… stop,” barely reaching you over the rush of your own heartbeat. you pull back, licking your lips, watching his eyes go dark as he catches sight of his precum shining on your mouth.

he climbs back onto the bed, sliding between your legs, and you shiver as his rough hands smooth over your thighs, steadying himself, each touch leaving a trail of heat on your skin. his tip brushes your clit, slick and throbbing, and his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut like he’s holding himself back, muttering to himself as if he’s praying to keep control, like he knows he’s on the edge of just losing it. “what a fucking idea, seungcheol.” you can practically hear him thinking, fighting to keep the restraint that’s barely holding on by a thread.

but you want him to break just a little—so you reach down, your smaller hand wrapping around him, tugging him gently, aiming him just right. his eyes snap open, catching you in the act, and he’s on you in a second, his large hand covering yours, guiding himself to press against you, so close but not quite there yet. his forearm braces beside your head as his face hovers above you, dark hair brushing your forehead, and you feel the heat of his chest pressed to yours, your nipples tight against him.

a giggle escapes frpm you, bubbling up from the tension, aroused and just a little wicked, and his gaze sharpens. he bites his bottom lip, a smirk playing on his face, and asks, “think it’s funny to watch me suffer, huh?”

“me?” you bat your eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. “wouldn’t dream of it… i’m just thinkin’ how it’s almost cute how fucked you are already. big, strong seungcheol, lookin’ like he’s about to cry before he’s even all the way in…”

he laughs, pushing just an inch further inside, making you moan, eyebrows scrunching as the heat between you builds. “gonna make you take back every word, babe,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of threat and promise, breath warm against your cheek.

you can’t help yourself, smirking up at him. “well, you better prove it then, baby. or i’m gonna have to tell everyone you barely held up through a single round.”

“oh, you think that’s how this is gonna go?”

and with that, he presses forward, sinking in deeper, your mouth dropping open as he fills you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him.

your walls tighten around him, barely able to take him in, but your body’s greedy, slick and warm, desperate to pull him in even further. your calves wrap around his ass, urging him, and in one move, you tug him, forcing him deeper, filling you completely. you cry out, head rolling back, but seungcheol groans, nearly collapsing onto you, his hand catching himself before he lands too hard.

“what the hell are you doin’,” he pants, shaking his head, his voice all gruff as he looks down at you. “you’re crazy, you know that? what if i’d fallen on your arm?”

you smirk, unashamed, reaching up to tug him down closer. “couldn’t help it… i needed all of you,” you murmur, voice dripping with need, your walls pulsing around him. “need you so deep you’ll still be there tomorrow.”

he laughs, but it melts into a growl as he starts to move. “you know i can’t take it too fast with you today.” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. “but damn, you’re tight.”

your hips tilt up, meeting him, matching the slow grind, and you look up at him, gaze heavy-lidded. “bet you’ve been thinking about this,” you purr, your fingers trailing down his chest. “probably losing it in that dressing room, thinking how wet i’d get for you.”

“fuck, don’t start with me,” he grits out, his hips faltering for just a second as you clench around him, and you can feel him twitch inside, pulsing as your words hit home. his hand finds its way to your neck, not squeezing but just holding, grounding himself as he slowly fills you over and over. “goddamn, y/n..”

“oh, i know,” you say, breath catching as he leans down, lips brushing yours, barely ghosting as his hips keep that steady, perfect rhythm. “i know exactly how you look at me, seungcheol. like you wanna destroy me.”

his breath hitches, and his hand flexes on your neck as he groans, forehead pressing against yours. “careful what you ask for.” he warns, voice low, but you pout up at him, lips pressing into the slightest pout, all needy.

“i don’t think you’re really up for it, anyway. maybe i need someone who can give it to me for real,” you murmur, words practically melting into his ear, and he stops mid-thrust, his eyes flashing as he studies your face.

“you’re pushin’ it,” he says, voice rough as he resumes moving, but you keep the playful look, barely biting back a smile as he grits his teeth. “if you didn’t have that arm to worry about, i’d have you crying right now, you know that?”

“oh, i know,” you coo back, dragging your nails down his back, just enough to make him hiss. “but what about now? all you can do is hold back ‘cause you’re too scared of hurting me. maybe it’s you who can’t handle it, huh?”

the muscles in his jaw tighten as he leans in close, hips still rolling into you with a slow, maddening rhythm that makes you squirm beneath him. “trust me, i could handle you just fine,” he murmurs against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “but you’re so damn tight right now, i’d probably split you open if i went harder.”

“maybe i want that,” you whisper, your voice breathless as you shift your hips, taking him even deeper, feeling every inch stretch you with each slow grind of his hips. “maybe i want you to fuck me so good i forget my own damn name.”

seungcheol’s resolve nearly snaps. he groans, his hands gripping your waist to steady you, his thumb brushing along your ribs, and he lets out a shuddering breath, muttering under his breath. “god, ovulations are somethin’ else,” he says, voice cracking, clearly fighting for control. “you’re wet wet—like i might drown in you, damn.”

he lets out a low chuckle, his eyes clouded, almost in awe. “look at this mess,” he murmurs, pulling out just slightly to feel how soaked his length is before sliding back in, feeling your warmth close around him, every muscle clenching down on him, pulling him deeper, your eyes rolling back. “you really think you can handle it if i just… give you what you’re beggin’ for?”

you arch up against him, that challenging spark back in your eyes. “why don’t you just try me?”

he lets out a slow exhale, hand moving from your waist to cradle your face as he picks up the pace, still careful but with a bit more force this time, making you gasp. you whimper, nodding at him to continue, the tension building with each deep stroke, and you can see the satisfaction flash in his eyes as he keeps his rhythm steady, watching the way you start to fall apart beneath him.

he pulls out slowly, just enough to let you feel every ridge, every vein along his length, before pushing back in until his tip is pressed snug against your cervix, making you gasp. the pressure alone makes your head spin, and you can feel his balls, soaked and heavy, pressing against you with each movement, sticky with how drenched you are.

“you still think i’m not giving it to you right?” he taunts, his voice dipping low as he watches your face, one brow lifting just slightly, teasing. “you wanted it rough, didn’t you?” he grins, dragging a hand up your thigh, holding you open for him. “tell me, where’s that attitude now?”

“it’s—it’s…” you trail off, breath hitching as he thrusts again, slower, letting his hips roll so he’s as deep as possible, and you can’t help the shaky whimper that slips out.

“what was that? i couldn’t quite hear you,” he murmurs, voice smug as he leans down, kissing your jaw, your neck, every inch of you that he can reach while still keeping that maddeningly slow pace. “you were talkin’ so big before, and now look at you.”

“i… i can take it,” you stammer, clutching at his shoulders, though the words barely come out with how your voice keeps faltering, his rhythm somehow leaving you more breathless with each thrust.

he chuckles, brushing his thumb across your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. “that so? ‘cause you’re already all teary,” he points out, a hint of affection in his tone, even as he keeps that teasing look in his eyes. “am i really that deep, baby?”

“y-yeah,” you manage to whisper, but your voice wavers, and he grins wider.

“tell me what you need, then,” he says, his hips moving just a fraction faster, the sound of skin meeting skin growing louder, wetter, echoing through the room. “tell me what you want so bad.”

“need… need you to make me cum,” you whimper, the words tumbling out, barely audible. “need to feel you.”

he huffs a little. “you’re falling apart just from this? and here i thought i had to really work for it.”

“i—i can take more,” you manage to gasp out, your body responding to his every movement. “just… just give it to me, seungcheol.”

he shakes his head, smirking as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “you really think you can handle it? with that arm and everything?”

“you know i can!” you protest, trying to keep your voice steady, but your hips betray you, rolling against him. “i’m not fragile, you know? just—just don’t stop.”

“is this what you’ve been craving? sum' good cock to make you cum?”

“yes, yes, god—yes!” you whine, the heat pooling in your belly, threatening to spill over at any moment. the sounds of skin slapping together mix with the sweet squelch of your wetness, making it even more intense.

“fuck—my balls are practically soaked from you. you like how that feels, huh? my cock in your sweet little cunt, makin’ a mess of you?”

“you’re so deep, it feels too good—”

“you okay? i’m not hurting you, am i?”

“no, it’s… it’s perfect,” you manage to breathe out.

“what do you think? you think you can handle more?” he asks, almost a growl as he quickens his pace just a bit, sending your mind spinning even further. “or are you just gonna cry for me?”

“shut up!” you whimper, tears finally spilling over as he hits that spot inside you.

“too good, huh?” he teases, biting his lip to stifle a groan as he watches your face contort with pleasure. “do you think i could make you cum like this?”

“yes! yes, just like this!” you gasp, the words tumbling out of you as you feel the familiar tension building in your core. “oh god, seungcheol—”

“what do you want to say?” he presses, leaning closer. “i want to hear you, babe. tell me.”

his thrusts become more insistent, and your body instinctively responds, clenching tightly around him as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

“that’s it, baby,” he encourages. “let it go. i want to feel you cum around me.”

“seungcheol, i—” your voice catches in your throat, your body convulsing as the pleasure overwhelms you completely, every thought dissolving into pure ecstasy. the world around you blurs as you finally let go, and all you can manage is a soft whimper as you surrender to it.

his eyes widen, watching you, makes your heart race even more, and as you tremble beneath him, you feel him pulse inside you, the sensation of his cock sending you spiraling deeper into that sweet oblivion. “my girl..” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as he rides you through it, feeling your walls contract around him. “so fucking beautiful.”

staff!seungcheol who’s always attentive, watching you as you recover from your last high. he knows how much you need him, but he’s also so damn careful, ever the dedicated staff member. even as you beg him to keep going, to let him cum deep inside you, he hesitates.

he slips out of you, but you’re not ready to let him go. raising your hand, you grab him by the cock, your fingers wrapping around him with a tightness that makes him gasp. “what the hell? oh fuck!” he exclaims, almost stumbling forward as he’s pulled back toward you. his voice shifts from reprimanding to moaning, the scold dying on his lips as he feels your hand start to stroke him.

“i just want to make you feel good, too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you give him a few slow, teasing pumps, enjoying the way his hips instinctively thrust forward, chasing the pleasure you’re giving him.

“you’re gonna get yourself hurt,” he warns shaky, his hands gripping your wrist, but there’s no real force behind it. he’s clearly enjoying it, his breaths coming faster as you continue to stroke him, your fingers gliding effortlessly over his length. “you shouldn’t—”

“shh,” you hush him playfully, biting your lip as you watch his expression morph into one of pure desire. “just let me do this for you. i want you to feel good.”

“god, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that,” he groans, his voice trembling, but the way you’re working your hand up and down, your palm brushing the sensitive tip, it’s too much.

“then cum for me,” you whisper, a seductive promise in your tone. “i’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me. let go.”

staff!seungcheol, who can’t resist the way you look at him, all teasing yet so earnest, the way you squeeze him with just the right amount of pressure, your hand slick with your cum and sure as you stroke him.

staff!seungcheol, who gives in because he can’t help it, because every part of him is craving you, has been for so long. his hips jerk, thrusting up into your hand with a roughness he usually holds back. his eyes are dark, fixed on your hand working him, and he bites his lip, trying to keep himself steady, but it’s no use—you’re so close, whispering his name, brushing your lips over his with every stroke, and he’s already too far gone.

“i can’t hold back when you look at me like that.”

you laugh deliciously, the sound bubbling up from your chest as you lean in, licking his lips.

staff!seungcheol, who can’t hold back any longer, feels the heat rising in his cheeks as he realizes he’s about to spill over. his breath hitches, and just like that, he’s cumming—hard. it’s a mix of deep, throaty moans and soft whimpers escaping his lips, echoing in the quiet room. your belly and fingers are coated with him, and you can’t help but grin at the sight.

“yes, just like that! keep going, let it out, look at you, all moaning like a little slut. how does it feel?”

“shut up,” he mumbles, half-heartedly trying to glare at you, but his eyes are glassy, the words only making him blush deeper.

you smirk, lifting your hand to your mouth, where his cum glistens on your fingers. you start to lick it off, each slow drag of your tongue making his breath hitch in his throat.

staff!seungcheol who’s mortified, wide-eyed as he grabs your wrist, halting your movements and making your tongue stay out, eagerly waiting. “no, no, don’t do that!”

you pout at him, eyes big and pleading, your voice coming out in the sweetest “please?” he hesitates, visibly torn, but eventually lets go of your wrist, swallowing hard as you close your eyes and bring your fingers back to your lips. the way you lick it all up slowly, savoring each taste with a big-ass smile, drives him crazy. it’s like you’re teasing him all at once, every nerve in his body alive with the sight of you, so effortlessly and unapologetically indulging yourself.

staff!seungcheol who’s at a complete loss, his eyes wide as he watches, helplessly captivated by the way you move, the small smile on your face showing just how aware you are of his reaction. he shifts, clearly trying to gather himself, but you notice his fingers flexing at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to pull you close again.

[screampied]

✩ㅤ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, vırgin nanami, cowgirl, praise, size kink, premature ejac, mdni.

virgin nanami loses it once you tell him to ditch the condom.

“sweetheart, i—” he’d swallow, choking up on his words once cool air settles against his skin. he swallows, chewing on his bottom lip once he feels a brand new feeling. the rubbery latex wasn’t blocking him anymore, and he groans once his swollen tip smears up against your entrance. soaked, he grows quiet once he looks down to see your dripping pussy hovering over his reddened frenulum that’s tearing up with glossed pre-cum. “god, ‘s warm,” the blond sucks in a single quickened breath as a curling pout twists against his lips. “a- are you sure?”

“ ‘m sure, baby,” you whisper up against the hot shell of his ear. he’s so warm, his entire body arouse with temperature all because of the sweet sound of your voice. the center of your palm rubs against his cheek and he leans into your touch. metaphoric heart eyes form in his eyes as they dilate, his own thumping heart beating out of his chest. “ ‘s okay, inside.”

“f- fuck,” nanami’s head gradually tosses itself back, and with quick alignment, he’s back inside. he kisses his teeth once he feels the real thing, your silvery walls massaging around him. the glossy sweat that pours onto his skin shines against his body glimmers brightly. he groans, letting off a soft whine once he feels the brief tightness grow snug. “you’re gonna make me—”

and within seconds, he’s cumming, hard. nanami barely even last a second after you take off the rubber, and he’s an entire mess. with a firm grasp, he’s reanimating your hips with his hands as you slowly jerk and move. “please,” he gently pierces his teeth into your neck, shivering breath ghosting against your skin. “don’t stop, s- show me how to feel good, please.”

his words were like a broken rough whisper — you pause, staring into his eyes and he’s sincere.

nanami’s heavily panting, beads of sweat racing down each sides of his forehead. fawn kind eyes bore into yours before he glances down at your sprawled out legs. “so pretty,” he hiccups, and even his touch was delicate. he was always gentle, he didn’t want to hurt you. a few thick padded fingers drag and scurry down your hips before his lip quivers. “i- i want you, i want more.”

“so have me then,” you coo against his ear, the tone of your voice more teasing than anything. as your hips start to salaciously rock into him again, you grab onto both of his wrists, trying to guide him. “there we go, ‘ken,” you whisper, and you can hear a bundle of wanton whimpers leave from his lips—never has he had a feeling like this, ever. he was so weak from your touch, your body heat, your taste. as your fingers tenderly brush against his, you make him cling onto your rickety waist. “hold me, like this.”

nanami groans, and he’s still sensitive, very. he just came, ribbons of balmy hot seed shoots deep into you and it’s warm. it makes both of his ears ring and he only wants more, more, more.

“okay,” he replies in a husky voice, and you can see blond shaggy strands of hair glue across his forehead. “o- okay,” he repeats, his tone dropping a bit lower. the bed mercilessly creaks as your rocking accelerates, his bulbous tip jabbing around every part of your cunt. once you show him how to touch you, he just can’t keep his hands off of you. “i dreamt about this for so long, sweetheart,” and he watches your pretty lips contort into an amused simper. “s- sorry, is that too dirty?”

“it’s fine baby,” you plant a kiss near the inside of his neck. a long breath gets caught in his throat. he’s about to say something else but he pauses, pouting deeply. cute, he’s embarrassed. nanami’s cock continues to rummage through your doughy insides, so much pressure that you feel it everywhere. your sappy folds squelch within each solid thrust before your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. “you dream about me?”

“sometimes, yeah,” he huffs, and the irregular unkempt thrusts slowly transform into pure blissful sync. nanami looks so pretty, he’s losing the more you bounce on his cock. so good, his jaw tightens and he’s feeling every vein in his body prod. you were starting to grow dumb as each second past and your moans only grew louder right with him. nanami’s head buries itself into your neck before he lefts off a frustrated whine. “it’s hard not to when you’re so pretty,” and his voice cracks at the end. you feel the tip of his tongue swirl around near your collarbone and you gasp. “god, you’re even prettier inside t- too.”

“yeah?” you whisper, creating a trail of sloppy kisses down the slip of his exposed neck. he’s moaning more at your touch. you feel his beefy thigh start to bounce before his palm squeezes against your bare ass. “you gonna cum for me again, kento? ‘s okay, be a good boy ‘n make a mess for me.”

a sheepish smile stretches against his lips, though instead of sheepish smile—it’s more of a pussy drunk one.

as you stare at him, his dimples poke against both sides of his cheeks and he’s getting lost into the way your hips twirl around him. “your good boy, mhm. all yours, ‘m gonna cum a- again,” and his voice lowers significantly. your clit’s profusely getting thwacked and mashed up against his fattened tip and it’s so appetizing. with nanami’s soft mousy eyes flicking backward until it’s nothing but pure white in his sockets, he gives your ass a soft spank. “k- keep riding me like that ‘n i’m gonna fall in love.”

and it’s right as he said that — he came again.

this time it’s a lot more. it’s thicker and languidly, you feel it spew out in velvety strips. his entire base was flaccid and he’s just idle inside of you. nanami’s whimpering underneath you as his legs finally collapse. you watch him fall back against the cushioned pillows and he’s so flustered. “mhh,” he grouses as multiple jittery pants leave from his lips. nanami wraps strong burly arms around you, holding you close. “stay,” he rasps, still hearing the sloshes of his dribbling cum trickle in and out of you. he’s shivering, his teeth shattering and he’s never felt more sensitive. he’s definitely in love.

“okay,” you nod, feeling him hide his head into the crook of your neck again. he’s so clingy—but you didn’t mind, and his warm breath tickles against your skin. you get a brief scent of his rich cologne scent that drives forevermore drove you weak. sitting up to press a chaste kiss against his twitching ruby lips, you whisper shakily. “good boy.”

and nanami’s eyes were so half lidded, your praises—he couldn’t get enough of them. seconds later and he’s still pouring into you deep, painting your gummy walls with his pristine-white color. with droopy eyes and flapping long lashes taking in your beauty, nanami whines. “more, don’t stop fucking me,” and you let off a gasp once he suddenly lifts you off his lap, lying you flat on your back. you land with a soft ‘oof’ before he spreads your legs, gazing at the satiny masses of cum that race down the crevices of your thighs.

“please,” and you moan once he drags his tongue up your legs, stopping towards your puffy clit. “teach me h- how to eat this,” and his eyes rove towards your slobbering cunt. you feel butterflies build up in your tummy before nanami’s quite literally drooling right before you. not only was he probably in love, he was also hungry.

“please mistress.”

[coqvttes]

୨୧― KINKTOBER: ❝KNOCKED UP❞ ― KENTO N.

― ꒰ BREEDING ✰ KINKTOBER M.LIST ꒱ ―

୨୧˚ synopsis: after getting turned on from seeing you being domestic in the kitchen, your doting husband is definitely not stopping until he's sure you're pregnant !

୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw 16+ only, breeding, p in v, petnames, praise, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!kento, fingering, tummy bulge, creampie, teasing, lmk if i forgot anything!

୨୧˚ wc: 1.4k (sorry it’s not proofread)

your doting husband, kento just couldn't help himself when he saw you fussing around in his little kitchen. the enchanting smell of fresh pancakes had stirred him from his sleep in the bedroom, and he wondered what you were up to when he noticed that his wife's spot on the bed was empty. appearing in the doorway of the kitchen in his briefs, he freezes as he sees you prancing around in the kitchen. taking in the sight of you. 

there you are, sporting the linen workshirt he wore yesterday, styled with your cute little apron over it. clearly, you aren't wearing anything underneath the shirt, save for your cute lacy panties that he just loves so much.

he ponders if he should just take you right there. bend you over the worktop push those panties of yours to the side and make love to you like last night. you just look so gorgeous and domestic like this, waking up early just to change into HIS clothes to cook him HIS breakfast in HIS kitchen. how can he resist the temptation? god, sometimes he thinks you do it on purpose just to rile him up. and it works. 

"good morning, kento," the sound of your sweet voice forced him out of his perverted thoughts and his eyes met with your gentle ones. you were holding a delicate plate of freshly made pancakes, just for him with that sweet smile on your face. warmth filled his heart as he looked at you with adoration and lust. 

"g'morning, darling," he says in that sexy morning voice of his. your mouth almost waters at the sight of him. hair tousled, shirtless and a tired smirk on his handsome face. he notices the way you stare at him and he doesn't know how it happened but he's approaching you, pulling you in by the waist for a sweet kiss, sealed with passion and devotion. 

"you look too good in that shirt and cute little apron of yours," he groans, hands slipping down your hips to grab onto your arse. you squeal as he unexpectedly lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your palms flat against his chest. 

"w-what about breakfast?" he chuckles at your concern and grins. 

"who needs breakfast when i have you, hm?" he chuckles, carrying you back into the bedroom, you giggle as he plops you down on the bed, climbing over you. his fingers play with the strands of your hair before he speaks.

"god, you're so perfect in my shirt. so pretty for me, hm? all mine, aren't you?" his fingers slide under the shirt as he kisses you, caressing you tenderly before moving up further to grope your tits. he smiles into your lips as he feels how hard your nipples are for him, pinching and tugging at them gently, eliciting a choked whine from your throat.

"all yours, kento," your voice is breathy, so desperate for his touch. he skillfully unbuttons the shirt and peels it off of you, letting the cool air blow over your now bare torso. your fingers tangle in his blonde locks as he envelops your nipple in his warm mouth. you mewl softly from the stimulation whilst he gazes at you through his eyelashes, you look so heavenly like this. 

releasing your wet nipple he moves lower down your body. as he spreads your legs, exposing the wet stain on your panties, he chuckles. he ducks down and presses his lips against your clothed cunt. his pointer finger slips under the lace, pulling it down your legs, revealing your needy cunt.

"fuck, darling, let me put a baby into you, hm? make you mine forever? would you like that?" he asks, his slender fingers, slipping into your hole slowly. you nod profusely, choking on your words as he stuffs you full with his digits. sliding them in and out of you slowly, he curls his fingers to tease that sweet spot inside of you that makes your walls clench around him.

"use your words, sweetheart." 

"yes, yes! wan' your babies, kento. wan' it so bad. wan' to be yours forever-!" you babble mindlessly, completely unaware of how much your words are affecting him right now. the thought of having kids with you and how much you want it too, makes his dick so hard. his heart is beating fast as the phrases truly sink into his mind.

with that, he withdraws his now slick-covered fingers, before lowering his head down, capturing your plump lips with his. your hand moves down between your bodies to palm his bulge through his briefs. he pulls away from your lips and groans with how painfully hard he is and he tugs his briefs off, dropping them onto the floor carelessly. 

your eyes are fixated on his cock that yearns to be inside of your warmth. he pumps his length a few times, drops of precumming spilling out of his sensitive tip as he slowly lines himself up with your drooling entrance. you mewl out lewdly as he pushes himself in, filling you up completely and your palms fly up to his shoulders for purchase. 

your thankful he prepped you a little bit earlier otherwise you're not so sure if you could take him in one go like this. after a few heartbeats, he rolls his hips slightly, his pelvis rubbing against your puffy clit and you moan softly. 

he picks up the tempo, his thrusts now faster and harder as the room echoes with the sounds of your pleasure and the bed creaking. his strong arms move your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders, making the position more intimate but most importantly, making it easier for him to go deeper.

his eyes are fixed on the way your cunt keeps sucking him in, the way you can see his bulge in your tummy and the way you look at him with those adoring doe eyes. he dips his head down to seize your lips in a kiss.

the kiss was gentle and innocent compared to the sinful actions being committed with each of his powerful thrusts. with every single drag of your tight cunt against his dick, constantly clenching around him deliberately which forced out a long string of groans as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"k-kento!" 

he dotes on the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name in a choked whisper, your nails clawing down his back. your cunt pulsing around his cock. your juices spilling from your hole as he thrusts into you like there's no tomorrow.

“that feel good, darling?” the rumble of his voice against your ear makes you shiver slightly. 

"can't wait to see your tummy swollen with my babies in you, you'll look so gorgeous."

“mmm—!” moans and whines bubble up in your throat as a response to his teasing words. the thought of having his children makes your mind go fuzzy and your heart swell. you want it more than anything. 

“i love you, sweetheart,” he coos, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. his husky voice, how close his lips are, the lust evident in his gaze, it all makes your mind go fuzzy. 

"i love you, kento! love you s'much!" you cry as you cream around his cock, cunt tensing around him which pushes him over the edge too. he lets out a broken moan as his warmth fills you up. he stays inside of you for a few moments, not wanting his cum to go to waste. 

"mmm, can't wait for you to get pregnant, sweetheart," he confesses, pulling you into his arms as he lays down on the mattress.

“i think the pancakes are cold,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him through your lashes and he chuckles down at you.

"that's alright, darling... i've already had my meal, haven't i?"

oh yes, he has...

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ all works belong to © coqvettes 2023. i do not give permission to claim, translate or copy any of my works. reblogs are appreciated!

[remlionheart]

MDNI. aged up characters. ✩࿐࿔

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁₊˚⋆

you're half-asleep, snuggled into the safety of megumi's comforter as the weight of the day slowly starts to disappear, your worries and stress lost to the feeling of his touch. it's rare that sleep takes you this easily, but tonight, it's holding your hand so tightly you can't stop your body from softly twitching against his as your mind slips further into its dreamy abyss.

a small smile cuts across his face when he notices the way you ease into him. his fingers are featherlight, drifting along your skin with all the delicacy in the world as they create hazy patterns across your collarbone and along the back of your neck, his nails just barely grazing your scalp the higher up he goes. he's warm, he's always so warm and perfect when he's holding you like this, making the rest of the outside world melt away with his presence alone.

your thoughts are scattered, comfortable but blurred by how relaxed your body is when you feel his breath start to fan across the nape of your neck, his hand carefully sliding between your thighs as he presses the sleepiest kisses into the side of your neck. you shift again, your eyes struggling to stay shut as he lulls dizzy little nothings into your neck, "relax, okay? just let me take care of you."

you give him a small nod, letting yourself settle into his touch, the palm of his hand firm but gentle as he coaxes your legs apart. "i know you had a long day." he whispers, electricity suddenly flickering across your skin as his fingers tentatively spread you.

his voice feels like silk, low and entrancing with the way it wraps around you so effortlessly. "i want you to let all of that go and focus on me–," your back arches as he continues to leave light kisses scattered across the top of your shoulder, his words only pulling you further and further into his orbit. "focus on your breathing. focus on my touch. focus on this, the way this feels–"

you can't help the heady noise that escapes you when his fingers dip into you, instantly finding that spot that you can never quite reach yourself.

"right there, yeah?" you can hear the faint smile in his voice as he presses into it again with adoring precision. "it's always right there, isn't it?"

you don't have to say anything for him to know the answer, your walls clenching around him gives him all the confirmation he needs. there's never been anyone else who's known you this entirely– who's known exactly how and where to touch you the way that he does. it's almost overwhelming sometimes, how much pride he takes in making you feel this good.

"you make the prettiest noises, y'know that?" his praises only draw more of them out of you, his thumb drawing blissful circles around your clit as his fingers continue on with the same tantalizing pace. pumping in and out of you in a way that makes the edges of your vision start to blur.

"there it is." he groans, his teeth just barely sinking into your neck. "doin' so good for me, keep going."

"m– megumi," you whimper, your body grinding against his as he holds you steady.

"i know, baby." he soothes, "i know. you don't have to say it, just let me feel it okay?"

your breath catches in your throat, your thighs suddenly locking his hand in place as little tremors begin to ripple through them. your walls comply with his command, squeezing his fingers so snug that you're not even sure how he manages to keep his rhythm, but he never breaks it.

his voice is the only thing keeping you tethered to the room, the rest of your mind succumbing to the hazy bliss he's lead you to as your core begins to desperately unravel around him.

"such a perfect girl, cummin' all over me like this. how'd i get so lucky, huh?" his freehand finds the side of your face, turning your head towards his as he hovers above over you.

your lips meet his eagerly, your tongue swirling against his with fervor as he holds you, continuing to spill out pretty little reassurances in between breaths. your hands wrap around the collar of his shirt, pulling him in as close as you can while he helps you ride out the last few waves of your orgasm.

there are stars in your eyes by the time he finally pulls out, your chest heaving as your surroundings slowly come back into view. none of it matters though– not the day you had or the rest of what exists outside of the room. the only thing that matters is the way he smiles as he kisses you, the tender warmth of his hand under your chin. the way his midnight gaze lights up in even in a dimly lit space just from looking at you.

the only thing that matters, is him.

"you know i think you've got it wrong," you whisper, "i'm the lucky one."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁₊˚⋆

[misswynters]

Headcanons: Sevika as your partner

Sevika as your lovely partner (lesbian wife)

warnings: nsfw themes below the banner, fluff

She will 100% be loyal to only you and take care of you.

Sevika has a soft side that she only shows around you. She’ll deny it if anyone else mentions it, but you catch her looking at you with a gentle, almost protective gaze. She’s not always good with words, but her actions (ex. making sure you’re comfortable) speak louder.

Sevika’s naturally protective and will go out of her way to take care of you in small, endearing ways. She’ll remind you to drink water, make sure you’re eating enough, and will even get a bit grumpy if you neglect yourself.

Behind closed doors, Sevika loves it when you lean into her or snuggle up on her shoulder. She’ll casually drape an arm around you while watching something together, or pull you onto her lap when you’re alone. The moment anyone else is around, though, she’s back to her gruff self.

After a long day, Sevika loves just lying in bed with you, talking about anything and everything. She rarely opens up, but at night, she’s more vulnerable and lets you in on her thoughts and memories of growing up in the Undercity. Those quiet moments are when she’s the softest and most open.

Sevika has learned a few recipes over the years and will occasionally surprise you by cooking a simple but delicious meal. She loves watching your face light up when you taste her food, and even though she’d act nonchalant, it clearly makes her happy to see you appreciate her cooking.

Sevika has a secret stash of pet names just for you, like “sweetheart” or “love.” Her voice goes a little softer when she calls you by them, and she usually tries to keep them reserved for quiet, intimate moments. But you’ve caught her murmuring them under her breath more often than she realizes.

She tries to keep up her tough exterior, but sometimes you catch her doing little things like gently brushing a stray hair from your face or adjusting your clothes to keep you warm. When you point it out, she just grunts and tries to change the subject, but it’s clear she’s letting her guard down with you.

Sevika gives you these soft, almost awed looks when she thinks you’re not paying attention. It’s as if she can’t believe someone as sweet and kind as you has a place in her life, and she’s quietly grateful for it.

Sevika knows how to take charge, and she’s not shy about it. Whether she’s guiding you with a firm hand or whispering orders into your ear, she makes it clear that she’s in control. She loves seeing you respond to her authority and takes pride in knowing you trust her to lead.

She doesn’t flaunt it, but Sevika can be a little possessive. She’ll wrap an arm around you in crowded places, keeping others at bay with a glare. When she’s with you, she makes sure everyone knows you’re hers without saying a word. There’s something reassuring and thrilling about her subtle displays of ownership.

Sevika exudes a quiet confidence that makes you feel safe and wanted. She’s incredibly attentive, learning every little thing that makes you melt and using it to her advantage. She’s slow and thorough, making sure you feel every touch, every kiss, knowing exactly how to leave you breathless.

Sevika loves taking her time. She knows exactly how to make you flustered with lingering touches and meaningful glances, enjoying every little reaction. Whether it’s a hand on your lower back or a low whisper in your ear, she’s a master of the slow burn, watching your anticipation build until you’re practically begging for her attention.

Her voice drops an octave when she’s in a dominant mood, each word wrapped in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. She knows the effect it has on you, and she’ll use it to her advantage, murmuring softly but firmly as she takes her time with you, savoring every moment.

Sevika may be strong and powerful, but she’s also incredibly careful with you. She holds you with a gentle firmness that makes you feel secure, as if she could shield you from the world. Her hands move with precision, every touch deliberate, giving you the perfect balance between strength and tenderness.

Sevika is unafraid to give you all her attention. She watches your reactions as you take her, focusing on what you need, and isn’t satisfied until she’s sure she’s left you thoroughly happy and exhausted. It’s an intense, almost possessive attention that makes you feel cherished and adored in a way that leaves you craving her touch.

Oh! also she has a playful side to her dominance, often teasing you just to see how much you’ll blush or squirm. She loves making you flustered with a smirk, reveling in the way you react to her touch or voice. It’s her way of showing her affection and keeping things light-hearted even when she’s completely in control.

Like in my previous writing, she’s into biting! it don’t matter where you bite her. on her shoulder, hand, etc. SHE WILL ENJOY IT!! (trust me!)

Her favorite positions (with strap) would be the mating press and missionary. If it’s a quickie then i’d say standing up. AND 69. can’t forget about that. She be eating you out more than you would. Absolutely wild

Using a hexcore strap whenever she wants to, though there could be an occasional switch where she would ask you to use it on her. Especially when she’s feeling lazy.

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