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gojorgeous · 11 months ago

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"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!”

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.

“Yeah. Long day at work.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…

“So, what’s your technique”

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.

“Bet I could find out.”

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines.

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.

Fuck.

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.

Your lips part. “You knew?”

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.

But you have one thing on him.

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”

You freeze. He notices.

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.”

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @fushironi, @enchantedsylveon, @keiva1000, @complexivelovely, @httpstoyosi, @bbyxxm, @6kabuki.

link: 1k followers event

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

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risustravelogue · 1 month ago

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While You Sleep

◐ summary ◑

Wriothesley likes watching you sleep. Maybe he likes it too much.

◐ featuring ◑

Husband!Wriothesley, fem!reader

◐ tags & warnings ◑

minors dni, somnophilia (lol bet y'all saw that coming from miles away)

◐ a/n ◑

I just woke up from a nap when this idea popped into my mind. Might not be my best work, but eh. I needed to get this out there. Damn. My brain is Horny™️.

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

Wriothesley likes watching you sleep.

It started as an innocent thing. He’d kiss your face while you’re napping, and hold you tighter in bed after an all-nighter with his piles of paperwork.

But it grew darker after you got married.

His eyes would roam around your naked body, skin sweaty and marked by his fingers and mouth—fixating on your lips, then on your still-wet pussy. His mind would wander, fingers wrapped around his shaft, cock already hard from the fantasies he would have.

You should be thrown into a cell for having such a delicious-looking body, he thought.

And so he would play with himself night after night, accompanied only by the sound of your breathing beside him. This is enough, he thought to himself, no need to wake her up to satisfy my desires.

Until tonight.

You wake up from a wet dream to find your husband panting while holding you tight, his cock balls deep inside you. You moan when he bites your shoulder, startling him.

He stops and pulls back.

“Y-you’re awake,” he stutters. His icy blue eyes droop, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You should’ve done just that,” you croak.

“Sorry.”

You flash him a sleepy smile.

“It’s okay, I guess,” you decide. “I’m fine with this.”

His eyes perk up.

“You’re not mad?”

“Not really,” you shake your head. “I’ve known for a while. Actually liked listening to you moan to yourself at night,” you confess with a smirk.

He blushes. You chuckle and pull him down into a long, sweet kiss.

“Time for round two, don’t you think?”

the gorgeous mdni banner template by @/cafekitsune 💙

#minors dni #wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kurisu writes #lmao here ya go

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avis-writeshq · 10 months ago

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pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader genre: established relationship, SMUT warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT + BLOCK ‘#nightingale ..’ !! face fucking, drool/saliva, mean-ish dom!aaron, sub!reader, degradation, praise, ‘good girl’, dacryphilia anon: okay okay hear me out. aaron hotchner being stressed out from a case and you giving him the sloppiest head ever. completely unable to think or speak he just groans and fucks ur face :3 i need him so bad bye -🗽 a/n: now i don’t usually write smut but i couldn’t resist i’m afraid :( mdni banner + template by @/cafekitsune wc: 560

Aaron isn’t usually like this. He has always been respectful towards you, especially in bed, and he abhors the sheer idea of hurting you in any way. But today is different. He can’t help himself; Strauss has been on his back about paperwork and politics, the case that they were on ended with a suicide by cop and their usually smooth flight was interrupted by an unexpected bout of turbulence. His head spins as he enters his apartment, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as an aura of frustration follows him in waves.

He insists that it isn’t his fault. It’s not his fault that you sauntered up to him whilst wearing only his shirt– only his shirt– and asked him so sweetly if you could do anything to help him. It’s not his fault that you’re in this position with your head between his thighs as he grips your hair to guide you up and down his shaft.

You’re gagging and whimpering as saliva pools around your lips and the base of his cock, drooling all over his thighs and getting the waistband of his pants wet. The grip he has on your hair tightens as he pushes you down further.

“Look at you, drooling all over me,” he sneers, watching with satisfaction as your nose brushes against his pubic hair. “Are you that fucking needy?”

Even if you tried to respond there is no way for him to get a proper answer; not with the way he drags you up and down his thick shaft. Your tongue flattens against the underside of his dick while your fingers dig into the flesh of his thighs. He thinks you’re so pretty like this as you press sloppy kisses to his tip before taking it into your mouth again.

A heavy groan leaves his lips as your tongue swirls around the head of his cock and he forces you down once more, his hot seed spilling down your throat and out of the sides of your lips. He’s merciless as he fucks it further into your throat while you gag and tears run down your cheeks and off your chin.

“So good for me,” he praises as he thrusts against the back of your mouth through his orgasm. “Just like that, there you go, sweetheart, you’re my good girl.”

You manage to pull away after a while, leaning your head against his thigh while he runs his fingers through your hair. He hums softly, his eyes fixed on the way yours are glazed over while beads of white are splattered around the corners of your pretty lips. His dick is still half-hard and he brings one of your hands to wrap around it, fisting up and down slowly until it’s stiff all over again.

He’s holding you by the hair again, bringing your face down and having his tip prod against your cum-stained lips.

“You can keep going, can’t you, baby?” Aaron asks, letting his grip on your hair go to stroke your cheek with his thumb, just below your ear.

You manage a nod, nuzzling into his palm as the rest of his fingers hold you by the chin.

“Good girl,” he coos as you open your mouth to suckle on his tip one more. His head leans back against the couch as he groans at the sensation. “Just one more.”

reblogs are always appreciated !!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x reader smut #nightingale ..#thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson x reader smut #thomas gibson smut #thomas gibson #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader smut

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burntmarshmallowchishiya · 1 year ago

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Chishiya x Fem Y/N Smut Visuals Pt.2

thank u sm for the likes on part 1 i didn't expect this much like wow 🙊. i will be making a masterlist soon. hope u like pt 2 ♡

(you may need to have a twitter acc to watch it)

contains: slight spanking, costume lingerie, worship, p*ssy eating, and fingering.

you're chishiya's favorite kitty

he wouldn't show his soft side but his kisses show that he loves every inch of your body

he will claim what's his if he sees other men touching you

how you greet him when he returns home from work

Part 3 is HERE💫

return to the masterlist

border template and mdni border by @cafekitsune 🤍

#chishiya shuntaro #chishiya smut #chishiya x reader #chishiya x yn #aib chishiya #alice in borderland #chishiya x you #chishiya alice in borderland #smut visuals #twt links #twitter links #chishiya imagine #nijiro murakami #aib #x yn #fem reader #twitterlinks

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diaferia-dhades · 11 days ago

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Masterlist - Love and Deepspace

(F) = Fluff (S) = Smut(MDNI) (A) = Angst

**Titles with no links mean the work is still in process and will be published soon.

Xavier

Gardian de Lumiere -(series) Bodyguard Xavier x MC - MC is the daughter of the duke from the east. MC took Lumiere as her bodyguard, completely unaware of his identity. ON HIATUS One(F) Two(F) Three Four

Zayne

TBA

Rafayel

The Bounty on Our Heads - (series) Assassin Rafayel x MC - Humans are hunting Lumerians to keep as pets and use them as test subjects. Rafayel and MC find those who are responsible and bring them to justice. ON HIATUS One(F) Two(F, A) Three

Sylus

Queen of Onychinus - (series) Married Sylus x MC - Snippets of their life together as a married couple. One(F,S) Two(F, S) Three (F, S) Reyna(F) Reyna II(F) Tantrum(F,S) Jealousy(F) Jealousy II(F, S) Jealousy II.V(S) One-sided Argument(F) Just Tipsy(F)

A Past Glimpse of Hope(A)

Other

Luke and Kieran

Mischievous - (a series) Featuring the twins, Luke and Kieran, and their mischief.

One(F) Two(F) Three(F) Four(F)

dividers, templates, headers, and banners are from @/cafekitsune, @/saradika-graphics

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus fic #sylus fluff #sylus smut #xavier love and deepspace #lads xavier #rafayel #lads zayne #lads rafayel #love and deep space #zayne love and deepspace

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creepling · 10 months ago

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NSFW ALPHABET - DIGGER HARKNESS/CAPTAIN BOOMERANG

requested by @sweetnsaltyclussy. template cred @the-coldest-goodbye. mdni banner cred @cafekitsune.

tags. smut - MINORS DNI. digger harkness x gn!reader. switchy digger at times but mostly dom. deals with a lot of things but inolves themes of scentplay, exhibitionism, and rough sex.

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

Either gets sleepy or can go another round, there is no in-between. On the times he doesn’t pass out (and makes you cum multiple times), he takes a piss, runs you a bath and carries you around the house. When he passes out, he invites you to sleep in his arms. His head anchors your chest, snuggled into you like you’re a pillow, and you're trapped in that position until the morning.

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

Tits or ass man? Why not both? This man fucks like his life depends on it. He worships your body and has perfect access to every inch of you when you’re sitting on his lap. His hands grabbing your ass, his mouth kissing, biting, licking your chest and neck. The most taboo body part he likes is the armpits. Inhaling your scent and kissing down your sides, tasting your sweat, the nasty fucker can’t get enough of it.

The most obvious answer for his favourite body part of himself may be obvious, but I don’t think it’s his dick. I say this because he didn’t act smug when Deadshot commented on it. He wasn’t aware it was above average until later in life when he began having sexual partners. He thinks people are overreacting. His favourite part of himself is his chest and arms, mostly due to his tattoos. He’s proud of them and the story they tell. The way to win his heart is by stroking his arms and palming his chest.

But may I suggest your favourite body part on Digger? His nose – riding on it. That’s all I’ll say.

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

He can shoot a load. It’s thick and white and comes in large quantities. He likes tasting his cum too, especially when kissing you or eating you out after finishing in/on you.

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

Pantie sniffer!!! It’s an addiction at this point, and his ‘dirty secret’ was outed very early in your relationship. He is not so discreet about it, sometimes asking you directly for your underwear after sex or when you undress for a shower. Bonus points if he can make you cum in them and keep them afterwards.

Another one is that he fantasises about being a swinger. Fucking multiple people at the one time, not knowing who he’s fucking or who is pleasuring him. He was close to doing it during his bachelor days but chickened out at the last minute. He is too afraid to bring it up to you in case you think it’s him saying he’s not interested in you anymore.

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

Digger has had his fair share of sexual encounters, most of the body count accumulating in his twenties. During his time in Arkham, his sex life fizzled out, but his drive was unrelenting. Being with you is his way of unleashing the desires pent up in him, and he can get a little carried away. He fucks you fast with long, hard strokes, hands taking fistfuls of your hair or imprinting your skin. His endurance is unwithering. Do you think he’s out of breath or needs to slow down? You thought wrong. You have to remind him not to get carried away at the moment, and just one look at you brings him back to humanity. Sorry, love, ‘couldn’t help myself.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Digger is into anything that involves you sprawled out on a surface. That being a kitchen counter, desk, etc. He also likes fucking you against a wall with one of your legs hooked around his arm. Mostly positions that have you facing towards him and beneath him, so your body can take him fully and cling onto him.

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

He is not deliberately humorous, but sometimes his Aussie slang gives you the ick, especially when he refers to his balls as ‘goolies’ or calls his dick a ‘donger’ or ‘old fella’. He tries to avoid them while having sex, but he slips up now and then.

If you think goolies is bad, we also call ‘em jazz crackers.

Please, just shut up.

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

He is in the in-between when it comes to hairiness. Like this chest hair, the rest of his body hair is light and sparse, giving the illusion he has none at all. His pubic and ass hair is where it’s the most coarse, fading up into a snail trail and light flicks on his ass cheeks. He doesn’t pay much attention to grooming. Since his hair is light, he prefers keeping what is there.

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

He’s no Mr Romantic, but with the right person, he can go slow and steady, take a break from the ‘fucking’ for ‘lovemaking’, and remind himself he is capable of love if he allows himself to. That is only if he can muster it. Growing up in an unloving family, he struggles with displaying affection. When you are intimate with him, it’s as if he forgets how to move or talk. The feeling of his heart growing heavy is alien, and he recoils at first until he feels the warmth of your body, the light kisses on his face. No longer is he driven by a primal sex drive, this time the feeling is everlasting. He slowly eased himself into your nurture, soothed by your words. All you do is repeat, I love you, I love you, but it’s enough to move him to tears. So simple, it’s the bare minimum, but it means the world to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It is second nature to Digger, and it was his only form of pleasure in the Arkham years. One day his hand was not doing it for him, growing so used to it that it became useless. He looked around his cell, thinking about humping the pillow, until he spotted Pinky perched next to him. He lifts his beloved plushie and takes a while to debate his idea. Then eventually said, Fuck it. He only did it one time, and he couldn’t sleep with his beloved unicorn for a week after out of guilt.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He probably has plenty of kinks, but here are the main contenders. Digger gets off at the thought of getting caught. Touching you in public areas where someone can spot you at any time is his dream scenario. If you do get caught, he performs to the peeping tom, teasing you with his words. Looks like someone else thinks you’re hot stuff.

Digger is a bordering alcoholic and has been known to take drugs. Intoxicated sex isn’t somewhat of a voluntary kink but it comes with being with him. He knows what certain things to take to make sex feel good, and what to avoid that kills his libido.

Dare I say he is probably into roleplaying as well? He loves seeing you in costume, something skimpy and showing your best physical qualities. He doesn’t always commit to the scenario but will always relish how good you look in certain types of clothing. He particularly likes maid dresses, watching you bend over and clean as a form of foreplay.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

He loves car sex. The clumsiness, the restricted space, and having the car parked on a busy street. The steamy windows hide you from the public, but Digger will tease about wiping the condensation for everyone to see you (and do it if you consent). He also likes alleyways. If you go out for a drink and he’s dying to get in your pants, he will pull you into the dark, dingy lane because he can’t help himself. Bonus points if it’s raining, seeing you wet and bothered while he licks the raindrops dripping from your jawline. Getting you on your knees to suck his dick, your body concealed by a trashcan so you’re not seen by passers-by. The dirtier, the better.

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

Digger knows he is really into someone he likes their smell. He appreciates perfumes and colognes, but it is natural scents that turn him on. An artificial scent mixed with your musk, sweetening it for his pleasure. It urges him to taste you, bury his face into the crook of your neck and suffocate his senses.

He will also be turned on at the mere fact that someone is into him. If he can sense you getting flustered around him he will hound you like a dog. Face it, you want to see what old Digger’s all about. If you are submissive, he will be persistent, doing anything to push you over the edge and admit your feelings for him. He will take enjoyment out of how shy you get, showering you with compliments and become aroused as you unwind beneath him. He is also partial to being a power bottom, toying with your sexual confidence, and doing anything to get your attention. No matter his stance, if he’s turned on, he will always have that shit-eating grin on his face.

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

Digger outright refuses to hurt you, even if he has his loopholes. He likes spanking, biting, and roughhousing, but he will not slap, punch or tie you up. This is deep-rooted into his childhood, and some of the abuse has embedded into his kinks, but there are still actions that cause flashes of bad memories. He also doesn’t like to see you cry. If you don’t give him the safe word, he will continue but go slow and soothe you, kissing the tears and stroking your face. It’s alright, love, I’ve got ya. Cheer up for me, lemmie see that pretty smile.

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

He finds enjoyment on both sides. Giving is when he can have you at his mercy, liking the way you flush and squirm in his mouth and hands. He gets a kick out of making you orgasm and holds it against you, being all smug about it. Receiving is when all the attention is on him and he gives you all the praise, letting you know how well you take his cock, and how good you make him feel. He loves training your mouth for his massive size, encouraging you to take as much as you can, holding your face in place as he drools at the cock-hungry look in your fluttering eyes. That alone is enough to have him finish in your mouth, letting his hot cum stream down your throat and swallow every last drop.

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

Fast and rough, for sure. His roughness bleeds through depending on the day. If he’s had a rough time, or a robbery goes wrong, or he hasn’t seen you in months, he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth.

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

He pretends it’s not his thing, but it is definitely his thing. He is sex-driven, especially when you are in range. It is very common for both of you to disappear from a mission or a social setting just to release tension. Stroking his bulge or flashing a part of your body is enough for him to pull you aside and fuck his cum into you.

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

Consider Digger a ‘Yes Man’ when it comes to experimenting. This man will try anything that doesn’t exceed his limits. He is the one to suggest more than you are. Some of his suggestions you’re convinced he has invented himself, and some are so bizarre you don’t know if he is joking or not. Better to try everything at least once, is his motto.

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

If you make it certain you are one hundred per cent into him, Digger can last a whole night. There have been times were he exceeds you in rounds and (depending on your mood) you let him fuck you on the brink of sleep. He has Superman levels of sexual stamina and it can be difficult to match his energy, but he is more than satisfied to have another orgasm at the mere sight of you.

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

Digger is partial to a cock ring, more for convenience. It comes in handy for days when he wants to edge himself and make the orgasm more pleasurable. If you have toys, he is more than happy to use them. He would be very invested in which ones you own, and give you new ones to try out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Digger is the teasing master when it comes to words, taunting you with anything dirty that comes to his mind. In action, he gets too excited and wants to make you cum when you’re ready to, and fuck another one out of you. When you are teasing him, he acts like it's torture, but he is so into it. If you pull your hand away from his dick just as he is about to finish, he is almost screaming but gets too turned on. He loves the feeling of the build-up and will treat you like a brat or plead with you to keep touching him.

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

Certified grunter. He sounds like an animal. His voice grows hoarse matched with heavy breathing. In downtime moments like oral, his sounds are more like groans with sly chuckles.

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

On more than one occasion Digger has suggested a gangbang or cucking with the other members of the suicide squad. He has a plan in his head of the routine and how it would go down. If it was you and Harley, he wants to cuck and watch you fuck. If it’s with Deadshot or King Shark, he would want a threesome/gangbang. When Digger brings this up he passes it off as a joke, but you can tell it’s something he wants to do.

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

The canon speaks for itself. In my opinion, however, Digger is just above average, around 6-7 inches. He makes up the rest in girth. Also, the canon suggests he is not a ‘grower, not show-er’ type. What you see is what you get.

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

Inhumanly high. The man needs to be sterilised.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Considering he has come multiple times like he usually does, he is falling asleep right away. He is not the post-nut clarity type because he manages to pass out before that stage. He saves the pillow talk for the morning.

#digger harkness x reader #captain boomerang x reader #ssktjl #kill the justice league #dc universe #nsft alphabet #smut #fanfic

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kwanisms · 2 years ago

Text

The Library of Illusion — The Woodland Guard

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➮ elven guard!Yeosang × fem!Reader wc: 6.9k summary: Of all the places the fantasy section could have taken her, Y/N ends up deep in a dense woodland. While traversing through the trees, she sets off a silent alarm and alerts the Woodland Guard who take her back to their tree house village where she learns they are in the midst of a week-long celebration. Though she's not allowed to join in the festivities, she finds her own fun when an elven guard named Yeosang takes over guarding her cell. genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, high fantasy; non idol au, elven au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @seonghwalover @atinypurr @aikyubi @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads @toxic-babexe

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special tags: @thelargefrye @hwasangelbaby join my taglists! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry for this being late, I took an impromptu trip out of town and wasn't really able to focus on writing but I'm back hoke and ready to write again! I really like how this turned out. Initially, I hadn't planned on putting Y/N in a cell. She was originally going to join thr party but I like this direction better. Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. Header and banners made by me. Content and reblog banners made by my with a template made by @cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All my writings are ©️ kwanisms.

smut warnings: fingering (f receiving), edging (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it), use of pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart, princess, etc), unrealistic sex (multiple rounds, multiple f orgasms), dirty talk, dacryphilia, overstimulation, cumplay (Yeosang cums on her pussy & pushes some of it inside), and I believe that's all of them! Let me know if I missed anything.

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“You have to hurry.”

You pushed yourself up off the desk. “What are you talking about?” You asked softly, watching the way Seonghwa hesitated before turning to look at you.

“There isn’t much time left,” Seonghwa said again. “Not much time left for what?” you asked. “I didn’t think you’d take this long to get through the guardians,” Seonghwa started to explain. “You only have a small window to escape this place,” he added.

“A small window? What does that mean?” you asked again.

Seonghwa sighed, shaking his head. “From the moment you step foot into the Library, you’ve had exactly three days to get out,” Seonghwa continued, holding a hand up when he noticed you opening your mouth. “It’s been just over a day and a half since you entered this place,” he added.

‘A day and a half?’ you asked yourself. ‘How could it have been only a day and a half?’

“How?” you whispered. “How has it been only a day and a half?”

Seonghwa must have been waiting for this question.

“Time moves slowly once you enter the sections,” he explained. “Time in there progresses as normal but out here, it slows down. Almost to a crawl.”

You tried to wrap your brain around what he was saying.

“Like… a time vortex?”

Seonghwa nodded. “Exactly,” he replied. “Like a time vortex. You enter a section and time out here almost freezes until you return,” he added.

You looked around as you absorbed his words before an idea popped into your head.

“What about you?”

Seonghwa, who had turned away, turned back to look at you. “What about me?”

You gestured to him. “When time slows down here,” you started. “Does that mean you slow down too?”

A small smirk spread across Seonghwa’s face. ‘Uh-oh.’

“No,” he answered plainly. “I’m not a mortal. I’m not bound to your mortal time constraints. I can move about as freely as if time hadn't slowed down.”

You nodded quickly. “Right,” you answered. “I keep forgetting you aren’t human.”

The smirk on Seonghwa’s face spread. “If you keep forgetting, you’ll come to regret it.”

You looked up quickly to meet his gaze, his eyes flashing the same red color as they had before. There was something inherently dangerous about him but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“We’re wasting time,” Seonghwa said suddenly, turning away from you. “You have two doors left to choose from,” he explained. “Fantasy and adventure,” he continued before turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“Which do you want to visit first?”

Pondering on it for a brief moment, you settled on visiting the fantasy section first, looking up at the glowing purple sign above the door as Seonghwa moved to unlock it.

Turning the knob, Seonghwa opened the door for you. “Fantasy isn’t all fairytales and happy endings,” he started to say as you walked past him, stopping when he reached out to grab your arm.

You looked up to meet his gaze once more, the red gone and replaced with the usual blackness of his eyes you’d grown accustomed to.

“Fantasy is sometimes just as dark, if not more, dark than horror.”

His words were meant to be a warning but you couldn’t help smiling at him.

“I’ve faced aliens, spider monsters, bloodthirsty advisors, and criminals,” you explained. “I think I can handle what’s in here.”

Seonghwa hesitantly let go of your arm. “Just take care and tread with caution.”

You nodded and continued into the hall, not bothering to turn back as you heard the soft click of the door shutting behind you.

The dark and dusty aisle was lined with the usual wooden shelves full of books and papers as you walked, pulling your flashlight out to turn it on. The light barely illuminated the path before you but as you walked, you noticed the moment the wood started to disappear into damp soil.

‘Another cave?’

Continuing on, you noticed how the shape of the hall had become circular, the walls now packed soil as you kept walking, kicking small rocks and bits of dirt.

You noticed that the floor started sloping upwards and soon, you could see light filtering in where the tunnel seemed to turn upwards, almost like a—

“Is this a burrow?” you asked no one in particular. It seemed to fit the criteria and you suddenly were afraid of what kind of animal lived in this burrow.

Upon reaching the end of the tunnel, you glanced up and noticed the light peeking in from what you could only assume was the opening of the tunnel. You started to climb, grabbing onto roots sticking out of the dirt.

Climbing and clawing your way up the side of the tunnel, you got closer and closer to the opening until you finally pulled yourself out of the opening, blinking in the bright light of the sun filtering through the tops of the trees.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked around, noticing that you were in some sort of forest.

Unlike the dense jungle of the Science Fiction section, this was an ancient forest with twisted trees, thick brush that sprung up out of the leaf littered ground. The trees were old with many roots that dug into the ground and disappeared.

Getting up, you glanced back and saw you had crawled out of a gap between the roots at the base of a massive tree with a gnarled and bent trunk. The tree extended up into the sky above you, the branches spreading out to cover the area with a massive canopy of leaves.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy as a breeze caused the leaves to sway and dance. Tearing your gaze away from the treetops, you peered around the area once more, wondering which way you should go.

Deciding it would be best to start forward, you did just that, scrambling over roots, broken branches, and half buried boulders as you looked for any sign of life or the key.

Continuing on your way, you came across a deep cut in the forest floor where a river raged a good 20 feet below. Glancing back and forth, you noticed a massive fallen log serving as a natural bridge and made your way over to it. The center of the log had been hollowed out, creating almost a covered bridge.

Each step took you further and further from the rabbit hole you’d emerged from and deeper into the thick forest.

As you walked, you could hear the sound of nature all around you. Bird song and the sound of bugs. Even the deep croak of frogs could be heard as you stumbled along. As you looked around instead of ahead, the toe of your boot caught on a stone and you tripped, stumbling into a tree trunk which you used to steady yourself and find your footing again.

“Way to go, grace,” you mumbled to yourself. “Walk much?”

Looking down, you noticed your clothes were covered in dirt, no doubt from the climb up the tunnel and you quickly brushed yourself off.

Once you were satisfied you’d knocked most of the dirt loose, you continued down an unmarked path, a strong breeze blowing overhead, the branches swaying and creaking above you as you stopped to look up.

The air seemed to change and even some of the sounds of the forest ceased. ‘Oh god,’ you said to yourself. ‘Not again.’

As you came to a halt, you listened closely for the sound of anything you hadn’t heard before. Hearing nothing, you decided to continue on but stopped once again when you heard a loud snap followed by a light thundering sound.

Looking up, you jumped back just in time as a dark shape dropped from a tree above you, landing on the ground before you and standing straight up. Your eyes widened as you looked at the figure, which was joined by two more, surrounding you on three sides, trapping you.

Your heart hammered as you looked around at them, taking in their features. Stoic expressions, unparalleled beauty and… wait, are those pointed ears?

‘Are they… elves?’

Your question was answered when one of the figures turned his head to speak to the person next to him, showcasing his pointed ears. ‘Yep. That’s an elf alright.’

You watched as they spoke amongst themselves in a language you couldn’t pick up. It was unlike anything you’d heard but at the same time, it sounded very familiar. ‘Is that elvish?’

You watched in awe as they spoke with one another before one of the elves turned to look at you. The elves before you were all beautiful of course, but there was something about this elf in particular that seemed to take your breath away.

He was more beautiful than the others. He had silky black hair that fell in soft waves, barely reaching his shoulders. His eyes were dark brown and despite the piercing stare he gave you, his eyes were soft.

“Who are you?” A different elf, one with blond locks, asked suddenly. You were surprised as you shifted your attention to look at him. “I’m just passing through,” you answered. “I got lost in this forest.”

One of the elves, a brunet with long straight hair, exchanged glances with the blond but the one with black hair kept his eyes on you. “We should just get rid of her,” the blond said softly but still loud enough for you to hear.

‘Get rid of me?’

The brunet shook his head. “Can we even do that without orders?” The blond shrugged his shoulders. “Who cares? She’s just a dumb mortal.”

The raven haired elf finally spoke up and you could have sworn you died and went to heaven. He sounded like an angel.

“No,” he replied softly. “We must take her back.”

The blond groaned, clearly annoyed. “You’re such a killjoy, Yeosang.”

You watched as the whispered amongst themselves before finally turning to look at you. “Can you walk?” the one named Yeosang asked. You nodded silently. “Oh great, she’s mute,” the blond said, rolling his eyes. You furrowed your brow.

“I am not mute,” you snapped back, surprising both the blond and brunet elves.

Yeosang smiled. “That will teach you to rush to conclusions Paeral,” he said, a hint of amusement to his voice. The blond looked annoyed but said nothing. “Since you insist we must take her back, we better get going.”

Yeosang nodded as the other two elves started walking ahead. Yeosang escorted you as more elves brought up the rear. “What is your name?” Yeosang asked as you were led to a stone pathway.

“Y/N,” you replied, scrambling over a massive root and following the path behind the brunet elf. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Yeosang said as he followed closely behind you. “I am Yeosang.”

The walk to the elves home didn’t take long and you were surprised by how close to their kingdom you had been before. Yeosang stayed behind you the entire time, more than once reaching out to steady you as you lost your footing on the uneven path.

“You are not the most graceful,” he noted with a chuckle as he helped you stand once more after you tripped over a stone path piece. You shook your head. “Normally I’m not this clumsy,” you replied. “I swear.”

The walk led you to a large wall made of trees and thick shrubs, standing at least 10 feet tall. A gateway in the trees opened up and you were escorted inside, your head turning every which way to try and see everything you could.

The gates were closed behind and you were suddenly left feeling nervous about your surroundings. You’d been brought to a man of power before though that had been a lord and not a king.

The blond and brunet elves led the way to the base of a thick tree where a spiral staircase began, winding around the trunk of the tree and climbing up. You followed them up, Yeosang bringing up the rear as you climbed higher and higher into the treetops.

The stairs finally stopped, a wooden landing that connected to a wooden rope bridge and led to another walkway. You looked around as you walked, noticing how there was an entire community of wooden walkways and what looked to be treehouses in the canopy.

You continued on, walking from walkway to walkway until you were being led to the largest treehouse, looking up at it with a mixture of apprehension and fear. Inside, you barely had time to adjust to the low lighting and register the interior before you were being led to a pair of elves who sat in ornately carved wooden chairs which you correctly assumed were thrones.

The King and Queen watched you with mild curiosity as the elves leading you knelt down, showing their respect. Feeling like you were sticking out, you bowed quickly, not entirely sure how you were supposed to act.

The bow must have been well received because the king began asking you all sorts of questions, ranging from asking your name and where you came from to how you found yourself in the forest.

You tried to explain everything to the best of your ability without sounding completely insane, opting to leave out the Library of Illusion altogether. Whether or not the King and Queen bought your story was another thing entirely.

“It’s an incredible story to be certain,” the King said, turning his head to look at his Queen who said nothing, merely nodding her head. “Incredible indeed,” she added. “And I don’t believe she is a spy.”

You relaxed slightly, glad they didn’t see you as a spy or a threat. “Still, to be safe, she will be imprisoned for the time being.”

‘Well shit.’

True to their word, the King and Queen had you imprisoned in one of the many treehouse cells. The brunet elf, who you learned was named Falenas, was assigned to keep watch over your cell.

After being led from the King and Queen’s treehouse, you noticed that far below you in the lower treehouses, as well as on the forest floor, a party seemed to be taking place. It took some convincing but finally, you got it out of Falenas.

You sat on the edge of the bed, head in your hands when you heard a voice and looked up.

Through the bars of your cell, which was really just a single room treehouse far from the others, you could see Yeosang speaking to Falenas. After speaking for a small moment, the brunet looked back at you through the bars before turning back to Yeosang and nodded.

You watched as he took off and disappeared while Yeosang take his place.

‘What is happening?’

You got up slowly and walked over to the door. Taking the wooden bars in your hands you leaned against the door and peered out to see Yeosang now sitting in the seat previously occupied by Falenas.

You let out a heavy sigh, drawing his attention. “What are you doing here?” you asked softly, looking at him. “I let him go join the feast,” Yeosang answered softly, turning back to what he was working on when you interrupted him.

“Don’t you want to join the festivities?”

You heard him scoff. “No,” he answered. “I don’t really care for parties.”

You watched him as he stood still, looking away from your door. “Parties aren’t that bad,” you murmured. Yeosang glanced back at you. “I find them dull,” he explained. “An excuse to get drunk and make a fool of oneself.”

You snorted, shaking your head.

Yeosang turned to look back at you. “What’s so funny?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “Have you ever been to a party?”

He nodded, looking mildly confused. “You must just be boring,” you said with a shrug. Yeosang scowled. “I am not boring,” he answered. You raised a brow at him. “Not boring, huh?” you asked, leaning against the door, pressing your chest against the bars.

You noticed the way Yeosang’s eyes darted down to look at your chest before back up to your eyes. Had you blinked, you would have missed it.

But you didn’t. ‘Interesting.’

“Can you prove it?”

Your question must have caught him off guard because he blinked at you expressionlessly. “Prove what?” he asked. You rolled your eyes. “Prove you aren’t boring,” you replied. “Pay attention, Yeosang,” you added playfully.

His cheeks turned a soft pink and he turned to look away again. “I have no reason to prove anything to you.”

You sighed heavily. “See? Booorrring~,” you retorted, pretending to yawn. Yeosang looked back at you. “How am I supposed to prove I’m not boring?” he asked, turning to face you, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the outside of your cell.

“Do something unexpected,” you answered. “Something you’d never normally do.” Yeosang watched you, eyes narrowing as he contemplated his options.

He was right, he really had no reason to prove anything to you. He didn’t know you and you didn’t know him. He could just ignore you until the end of time.

Then why did he feel so compelled to prove you wrong? Why did he feel the need to show you he wasn’t boring in the slightest. ‘I can have fun if I want,’ he thought to himself. Eyeing you, Yeosang sighed, pushing himself up from the wall of the cell and pulled the keys from his pocket.

“Get back,” he ordered, taking enjoyment in the shocked look on your face at the sudden gruffness of his voice. “Yes, sir,” you said softly, stepping back a few paces and watching as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“Uh, I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here,” you said, fighting the urge to smirk as Yeosang looked at you. “They won’t care,” he answered, shutting the door and hanging the keys by the door. “Just don’t make a dash for the door. I’m putting a lot of trust in you right now.”

Sitting down, you leaned back against the mattress as he walked over. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered as the raven-haired elf slowly climbed onto the bed, hovering over you. “I sense you’re being sarcastic,” he said softly. You shook your head.

“No,” you replied. “I’m really not.” Not giving him a chance to reply, you reached up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing your lips against his. Almost as soon as his lips met yours, his hands were on your body, pulling at your clothes gently.

Your back hit the mattress as he kneeled between your thighs.

“What is this?” he asked, inspecting your shorts. You propped yourself up on your elbows. He was running his thumb over the metal of your zipper. “It’s a zipper,” you explained, causing him to look up at you. “A what?”

“A zipper,” you repeated. “We call it that ‘cause it makes a sound like ‘zip’ when you tug the little pull up or down,” you explained, showing him the little metal zipper pull.

Yeosang leaned over you, forcing you back as his hands made quick work of your shorts, undoing the button and zipper. “For never having seen a zipper before,” you said breathlessly as his lips moved down the side of your neck. “You sure seem to know how they work.”

Yeosang snorted but continued to kiss and nip at the skin of your throat.

His hands pushed your shorts down, groaning when he saw you weren’t wearing anything underneath. “Is it customary for your people to not wear undergarments?” he asked, one hand moving up the inside of your thigh.

“I just forgot them,” you breathed. “Normally I wear them though.”

Yeosang smiled as he moved back to kiss you, lips hovering inches from yours.

“Lucky me,” he murmured before taking you in a messy, rough kiss.

You let out a whimper as you felt his fingers find your clit with expert precision, drawing slow but hard circles against the nub. “Spread your legs,” he mumbled against your lips.

You did as he instructed, spreading your thighs further apart. “And keep them there,” he added in a deep, gruff voice, fingers moving down to tease your entrance. Your hips chased his fingers as he pulled them away.

“Patience,” he muttered when you whined in protest. His fingers were back on your clit, dragging out slow, torturous motions as he watched your face, brow furrowing and your bottom lip being pulled between your teeth.

“There’s no one around us,” he whispered, tips of his fingers dancing back down to your entrance, spreading your wetness. “Let me hear you,” he added.

You let out a long sigh as his fingers sank into your aching core, exploring your velvety walls and curling against the soft gummy spot that had your back arching with each pull.

“That’s it,” he murmured when you let out a moan. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

Another curl of his fingers had you moaning wantonly, desperate for him to move faster. The slow curling and rubbing was driving you insane. “Faster,” you begged, one hand moving down to grab his hand, your fingers encasing his wrist. “Please move faster.”

Yeosang chuckled in your ear. “Faster? You’re so impatient,” he mumbled, lips brushing against the lobe of your ear. “You want me to draw this out or stop?”

Your eyes shot open. “No, don’t stop!” you protested. Yeosang smirked at your reaction. “Then don’t rush me, Y/N.”

He continued to tease you with torturously slow drags inside your walls, curling his fingers slowly just to watch the way your lips parted as you begged him for more. “The more I tease you,” he said in a husky voice. “The wetter you get.”

“Yeosang, please,” you whimpered, unshed tears sparkling in your eyes.

“It hurts.”

His fingers stilled inside you. “It hurts?” he asked. “I’ve hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No,” you whimpered. “I just need to cum. The pressure,” you explained. “S’too much.”

Without warning, Yeosang’s fingers moved inside you, curling against that same gummy spot with a renewed vigor. The overwhelming intensity of the change in pace caused the previously unshed tears to spill, rolling down your temples.

“Fuck!” you gasped, grabbing his wrist as his fingers worked your cunt open with ferocity. “Since you’re so impatient,” he chuckled, stopping to scissor his fingers inside your wet walls. “I’ll just have to skip oral. When you whine about not getting any, remember that you asked for this.”

You didn’t care at this point. You just wanted his cock inside you. You wanted the tension to snap and for release. You’d been begging for it and he was finally going to give in to your pleas.

Yeosang was quick to rid you of the rest of your clothes, undoing the buttons of your blouse and pushing it off you and throwing it to the ground. “Take this off,” he ordered, tugging on the strap of your bra.

You were quick to do so as he pulled on the fastenings of his own clothes, shrugging off the jacket he wore and causing you to freeze. Whatever you had expected under his clothes was certainly not this.

The guy looked like he was very slender and maybe slightly toned under his clothes but what sat before you now was an extremely toned body, throwing your completely off guard as Yeosang's hands moved to undo the ties of his pants.

He looked up, noticing your frozen posture and glanced down before looking back up. “What?” he asked. “Something wrong?”

You shook your head and quickly rid yourself of your bra as he finally undid the last fastening of his pants and let them drop to the floor. Your eyes wandered of their own accord, taking in his physique. He looked incredible before the clothes came off but afterwards, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out, your fingers brushing against his toned stomach.

“You…” you trailed off, missing the amused smile on his face. “You’re like… jacked, holy shit,” you whispered. Yeosang tilted his head curiously. “What’s jacked?” You glanced up from your position to meet his gaze.

“It’s like saying someone is ripped,” you explained. You watched as his head tilted in the opposite direction, almost like a puppy which would have been humorous had you not been aching to have his cock inside you.

“Muscular,” you finally answered, eyes glancing down to his cock. You had to resist the urge to groan from the sight alone. It wasn’t the largest you’d taken but it was still an impressive size and girth. Your hand moved from his stomach, fingers wrapping around the shaft carefully.

Yeosang’s eyes fluttered shut, lips parting in a soft gasp as you started working your hand along his length. You pulled your hand back before spitting into it and resuming the same stroking motions, watching his face.

“What’s wrong?” you murmured, a smirk forming on your face. “You were so eager to have your cock inside me before,” you continued, slowing your hand and watching the way his chest heaved with each labored breath.

“What happened?”

Something snapped inside Yeosang. One second he was completely at your mercy the next he had you on your back, thighs spread as he kneeled between them, taking his cock in his hand and guiding the tip to your waiting core.

“I’ll make you regret those words,” he said in a low voice, looking up from where your bodies were about to meet to lock you in a heated gaze. “We’ll see,” you retorted, a smirk still on your face.

Yeosang held your gaze as he slowly sank his cock into your wet cunt. You broke first, eyes rolling back as he sank his entire length into you, your walls fluttering as they hugged him in.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, feeling his cock deep inside.

“You should probably hold on,” Yeosang said, his voice slightly strained. You opened your eyes to look up at him. “Why?” His expression morphed into a smirk.

“Once I start,” he began, pulling back to give you a shallow thrust. The feeling of his cock dragging against your walls slowly had your toes curling. “I won’t stop until we’ve both cum.”

Without another word or warning, Yeosang pushed your thighs against your stomach, rolling his hips and setting a heavy, relentless pace. Each thrust had his cock brushing against your sweet spot, the same spot he’d mercilessly teased earlier while fingering you.

It was clear he knew what he was doing, angling his thrusts for that spot specifically. “Holy shit, Yeosang!” you moaned, back arching as your first orgasm approached. The tension that had been building up to this moment finally came crashing down as you came with a loud moan, walls fluttering around the elf’s cock. He simply smirked down at you as he fucked you through your high.

You finally opened your eyes, breath shuddering as you made eye contact.

“I told you to hold on, Y/N,” he said. “You’re in for a long night.”

He somehow managed to pull more orgasms out of you, leaving you breathless and weak as he rolled you onto your back. “I’m so tired,” you whimpered. Yeosang leaned over your back, pressing soft kisses to your cheek. “Do you want to stop, love?”

You shook your head. “You haven’t cum yet,” you answered. Yeosang chuckled lightly, pressing a couple more kisses to your cheek before moving to kneel between your spread thighs.

“Lift your hips for me, angel,” he said softly. You shakily pushed yourself up enough for Yeosang to shove something soft under your stomach and prop your ass up. “This should be more comfortable,” he murmured as he scooted closer.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he added as he ran his hands over your ass and up to grab your hips. “Okay,” you breathed as you felt the head of his cock push into you, making you groan. “Just lie still for me, princess,” he murmured, taking your hips in his hands.

He resumed the same relentless and unforgiving pace from before, making you wonder where his stamina and self control came from. From behind, his cock dove even deeper than before. Your fingers curled into the sheets, burying your face in the linens as Yeosang pounded into you from behind.

Your moans and whimpers were muffled, allowing you to hear Yeosang’s groans and grunts. “Feels so good,” you heard him groan. “I could fuck you all night.”

You cried out as he thrusted a little harder. “Let me hear you, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “There’s no one around us.” You raised your head slightly, moans slipping out with each thrust, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the hut.

Your walls clenched around him as you came again with a keen, toes curling and fingers digging into the sheets. He didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you through it. “Y-Yeosang,” you sobbed, tears starting to spill from your eyes.

“Does it feel good?” Yeosang asked, voice breathless as he slowed his thrusts to rolls. You nodded, whimpering with each roll. “S-so good!” you moaned. “You gonna cum for me again?” Yeosang asked as you tried to shy away from his strokes, overstimulation taking a hold.

“I c-can’t Y-Yeosang,” you whined. “S’too much.”

Yeosang let out a little huff. “Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head again. “Don’t stop!”

Taking your confirmation, Yeosang resumed thrusting hard and fast, making you gasp and cry out. Your moans turned into screams of pleasure, tears still falling down your face. “Fuck, shit, oh god,” you cursed as another orgasm crashed over you, your thighs shaking as your walls squeezed and hugged Yeosang’s cock.

“That’s it,” you heard him grunt. “Keep doing that, baby.”

If you had been counting, you would have realized you reached a threshold of orgasms. Yeosang had given you sixteen orgasms, which was more than the previous guardians combined.

It wasn’t until you were crying, tears streaming down your face and screaming that he delivered your final orgasm before finally giving in to his own pleasure and chasing his high, cumming on your swollen pussy.

You whimpered as he used two fingers to push some of his cum inside your walls ‘for safe keeping’ he jokingly said. You tried to move but found your legs wouldn’t respond. Yeosang noticed and immediately reached around to lift your hips and pull the cushion out from under you, tossing it aside and lowering you to the bed.

You whined, wanting to roll onto your back but found you had no strength.

Yeosang heard your whines and chuckled softly. “Here,” he whispered. “Let me help.”

He rolled you carefully onto your back. “You need to sleep,” he whispered, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I can’t sleep,” you murmured. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Yeosang contemplated for a moment before giving in.

“I will stay.”

You passed out not long after and woke up to find you weren’t the only one asleep. Sometime after you passed out, Yeosang had cleaned you up and put your clothes back on and had also managed to dress himself.

You looked around, eyes landing on his ring of keys hanging by the door. ‘Perfect,’ you thought to yourself as you carefully got up, glancing back to make sure Yeosang was still asleep. He was fast asleep, looking so peaceful and serene that you almost felt bad for leaving.

Almost.

Tiptoeing over, you took the keys off the wall as quietly as you could. Your eyes caught a glimpse of something that stood out on the ring and you smiled, realizing that Yeosang was indeed the Guardian as he carried the special key with an insignia for the fantasy section.

You removed the key and used the cell key to let yourself out. Closing the door, you reached in between the bars to hang it back up, glancing back to make sure the coast was clear.

Before you could withdraw your hand, a set of fingers closed around your wrist, making you jump and turn back to the door. Yeosang had a hold of your wrist, glaring at you. “What are you doing?” he hissed as you tried to pull free.

“I have to get back to my world,” you whispered. “I came for this,” you added, holding up the key. Yeosang’s eyes narrowed upon looking at the key in your hands. “That’s why you seduced me?” You looked up at him.

“I did not seduce you,” you replied. “You flirted with me and came into my cell. Just because I wanted it doesn’t mean I seduced you,” you added.

“If anything, you seduced me.”

Yeosang opened his mouth to retort but froze, realization dawning on his face.

“You’re right,” he finally said. He slowly let go of your wrist. “If you’re going to get out of here,” he added. “I’ll take you.” You nodded, watching as he pulled the keys down and let himself out.

“Where do you need to go?”

You wracked your brain before remembering the tunnel. “Do you know the giant tree with the burrow in the base?”

Yeosang nodded. “We call that Wyrm Burrow,” he explained. “That’s where you need to go?” You nodded. “That’s where I came from,” you answered.

The look on Yeosang’s face was a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “If I had more time, I’d explain,” you said, taking his hand. “But I really don’t have the time. If I don’t get back to my own world, I may never get home.”

Yeosang nodded, taking a firm hold on your hand and dragged you away from the hut, taking a different path than the one you were led in. “There’s a back way out of the village,” he explained as you peered over the railing to the forest floor where the celebration you’d heard earlier was raging on.

Yeosang led you to a set of stairs that spiraled down a tree, keeping a firm hold on your hand as you reached the base of the steps. You watched as he looked around before hurrying to hide behind a tree, dragging you with him.

You made your way from tree to tree until you reached the back wall separating the village from the forest around it. Yeosang pulled back a hidden door, pushing you towards it.

“Follow this path. When you reach the fork, go right. Then when you see the deer statue, turn left off the path and walk straight back. You’ll find the Burrow,” he whispered. “I cannot come with you. I have to cover for you.”

You took his hand as he looked away before looking back to meet your gaze.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

Yeosang grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

“If I had my way, I’d never let you leave,” he said after pulling back, handing you a small light. “Now go!”

He gave you a little shove before the hidden door fell into place, leaving you standing in the dark forest.

Despite the feeling in your stomach, you forced yourself to follow his directions, taking the path and keeping to the walkway until you finally reached the fork in the path like he said. Taking the right path, you continued, keeping your eye out for the statue he mentioned.

It took several minutes but you finally spotted it and turned to the left. The wood was dark, a light mist settling over the ground. ‘No turning back now.’

You started into the thicket, climbing over fallen trees and thick roots that twisted like snakes and disappeared into the dirt.

Leaves and twigs crunched under your feet as you walked, following the straight path you’d set on until the big tree finally came into view. “Finally,” you wheezed as you sped up, clambering over the logs and stones until you reached the base of the thick, gnarled trunk.

The hole at the base was dark and uninviting as you peered in, using the light to look around. As carefully as you could, you lowered yourself into it and slid to the bottom of the tunnel with a mild scream.

Once at the bottom, you got up, dusting yourself off and started the long trek back to the door. As you walked, you could hear a ringing in the distance and turned around to look behind you. As far as you could see, the tunnel was empty but the light only allowed you to look back so far.

You continued on, pressing forward and ignoring the piercing ringing in your ears.

‘Probably just the silence,’ you figured.

At least until you heard the rumbling shift and the ground beneath your feet shook. You tried to keep your balance as a mini quake shook the tunnel, dirt falling from the ceiling. “Okay,” you murmured as the quake subsided and you steadied yourself.

“Time to go!”

You hurried as fast as you could, not wanting to run and risk a cave in. As you walked, the soft thump of your feet on the dirt turned into a thud as you stepped into the wooden floor and you breathed a sigh of relief.

It only took a couple more minutes to reach the door and before you could open it, it opened before you. Seonghwa pulled you through the door, dragging you out of the tunnel and pushing you aside before slamming the door.

When he dragged you into the room, you’d lost your balance and fallen to your knees, the key falling from your hand and clattering across the stone floor.

“What is your problem!?” you shouted as you looked up at him. Seonghwa turned to look down at you, mildly surprised you were shouting at him.

“What’s my problem?” he asked. “Did you not see that thing following you?”

He held up a hand to silence you before you could speak. “No, don’t answer that,” he said suddenly. “Obviously you didn’t see it,” he continued, stepping over you and kneeling down to pick up the key. “If you had, I wouldn’t have needed to rescue you.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the door, the illuminated sign now off. You looked back to Seonghwa as he inspected the key before turning to look at you. He stood up straight and walked over, stopping just before you.

“Here,” he said softly, offering his hand. You looked up at him before taking it. He pulled you to your feet easily. “Are you alright?”

You nodded silently. “Good,” Seonghwa said, turning away and climbing the steps up to the desk where he placed the key next to the others, leaving one empty space.

You turned your head to look at the last Guardian door before you could finally access the restricted section and be free from the Library.

“I think I don’t need to ask where you want to go next,” Seonghwa said as he watched you walk over to the door.

You turned back as he walked over, pulling out the keys and unlocking the door.

“The final Guardian,” he said, hesitating. “Are you sure about this?”

You nodded, looking up to meet his gaze.

“Just open the door.”

#cultofdionysusnet #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez x reader #yeosang scenarios #yeosang imagines #yeosang fanfic #yeosang angst #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #series: library of illusion

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always-andromeda · 1 year ago

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Professor!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 3268

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + dark academia + “I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ I’ve loved this man literally since I was thirteen…so it’s inevitable that I’d be writing something absolutely fucking filthy for him in my twenties…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), gaps in age and power, mutual masturbation, little bit of panty sniffing, a singular use of Y/N (I'm sorry, I hate it too but it was necessary), usage of pet names (sweetheart), general manipulation, slight praise kink, obvious disclaimer: the dynamic in this fic is just that, fictional, and should not be practiced in real life!! let me know if any other warnings are needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

You’d rarely had luck receiving any sort of grace from your professors. Sure, there were a select few that only wanted to see you succeed. However, more often than not you seemed to encounter sadists who decided to take their kinks out on exhausted college students. But you were convinced that Professor Winchester wouldn’t be like that.

For starters, he’d always been challenging but never malicious. Despite the fact that you’d registered for his Norse Mythology course with the assumption that it would be easy college credits, you quickly learned that his assignments were difficult. Every week there seemed to be about a hundred pages worth of reading, frequent essays, and an emphasis on class discussion.

Oh, did he love those class discussions. While most were less than enthusiastic to contribute to lengthy examinations of Eddic poetry at eight in the morning, Professor Winchester seemed to be none the wiser of this.

He was always squinting over his thin wire framed glasses, surveying the class. He’d stand at his desk, brushing his long hair behind his ear while looking over papers. When he’d listen he’d purse his lips and tilt his head, expression rife with genuine interest. In all of these moments, he was the most gorgeous. But more than that, you were fascinated with his mind.

Professor Winchester knew this material like the back of his hand; was able to pull references and quotes from various pieces of literature at the drop of a hat. He was the only professor who could ever give notes that were actually helpful on essays and he’d always been generous with handing out extra credit assignments. Which is what you aimed to obtain on this visit to his office.

You looked through the glass of his office door and saw him inside, working diligently at a dark oak wood desk. Taking a deep breath, you turned the doorknob and entered.

The hinges squeezed but Winchester seemed so fixated on whatever was before him that he only raised a finger, indicating for you to wait. So you did. Awkwardly. You rocked slightly on your heels, your stomach starting to twist in time with the movement. God, he looked like a dream lit by the stained glass banker's lamp as he graded papers.

In another world you could see him coming home from a long day, his body warm behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Smelling like black coffee and pencil shavings, you'd adoringly close your eyes, taking in his scent and ask him how his day went. He'd hum in contentment when resting his chin on your head; you're his rock, his soulmate, the reason he stays sane despite dealing with probably hundreds of students and the frustrating dance of academic bureaucracy.

It's a fantasy that broke the second Winchester glanced up and said with a hint of surprise, "Miss L/N! Come in, have a seat," he nodded towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

Relieved that he can pick you out among the sea of students from his classroom, you move forward until you reach the chair. You set your bag down on the floor and settle into the worn leather of the seat as Winchester eyes you expectantly.

"What can I do for you this afternoon?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "Actually, I was hoping that you could help me out with something."

"Oh, what might that be?" he furrowed his brow.

"Um..." you started. "I'm sure you noticed that I didn't do too hot on the last exam."

"Ah, I did," he said simply.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I was surprised, actually." Winchester opened up one of his desk drawers and sorted through some files before pulling out a packet you recognized as the exam you'd taken the week before. "You seem so engaged in class discussion and you've been doing well on everything else. This...this felt rushed. What happened?"

The soft expression of concern on his face only increased your shame. In all honesty, you'd wasted half the exam time away staring at him. He'd worn a red sweater over a cream colored button up that day. Then he'd rolled up the sleeves before handing out the exam papers. It felt stupid to admit that you'd been distracted by his goddamn forearms.

But you had been. You couldn't resist watching him as he'd circled the room, keeping an eye out for cheating. With his arms folded behind his back, you got the best look at the back of him. His long legs clad in khaki. Strong, tanned forearms corded with prominent veins. Shoulder blades pushed back confidently as he walked. Everything about his solid stature had your mind far, far away.

You'd been good at making sure your daydreams wouldn't get the better of you. But this time, before you knew it, Winchester was glancing down at his watch and announcing that you had fifteen minutes left for exam time. You had no choice but to rush through the rest of it, writing down answers that hardly even made sense just to fill in blanks.

Now those answers laid before you, condemning you to a low D– that dragged down your entire grade.

"I honestly couldn't tell you, Professor. I thought I studied enough but I guess not."

Though you'd attempted to laugh off his concern, Winchester obviously wasn't budging. "But these are rookie mistakes. Number fifteen for example. Where do the gods live?"

"Easy. Asgard."

"Right, but here you marked down the answer for Valhalla," he slid the paper around so you could look at the question.

Sure enough, there it was, your frantic pencil marks filling in the bubble for the incorrect answer. Damn.

"And that's just on the multiple choice questions," Winchester continued, flipping through the pages. "You barely followed any of the directions for the long answer questions. Your response to the short essay portion was a paragraph too short. And it was too unfocused."

Unfocused is right, Professor Winchester.

"I hate to say it...but I was a little disappointed."

The sting of tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. So you cleared your throat and blinked them back quickly. Voice trembling, you answered quickly, "I'm sorry, Professor. I wasn't on my game and I thought I'd pay you a visit so I could plead my case. I'm willing to do any kind of extra credit assignment. I don't care how much work it is. I'll do anything to fix my grade because I really want to do well in your class and–"

Winchester raised a hand, urging you to stop. Then he spoke, "Listen, I can see how badly you want this. So I'm going to make sure you get it. Just...let me think."

With that, Winchester rose from his seat and began to gather the papers that littered the surface of his desk. He stacked them neatly before opening a different drawer and laying them inside. After he closed the drawer, he made his way around the desk. You tried not to look at him as he made his way around the room, especially not when you felt his hand brush against the back of your chair. But you couldn't not notice when he drew the shade on his door's window and closed the blinds to his window, leaving the room dim save for the yellow light of his desk lamp.

Once he'd made his round, he returned to his chair and rolled back, leaving a massive gap between himself and the edge of his desk.

Then he did something else you didn't expect.

He patted the wood and said, "Come. Sit on my desk. Let me look at you."

You almost wavered on the direction when he cleared his throat expectantly. That brought you to your feet and compelled you to settle waveringly before him.

With his lips in a tight line, Winchester studied you. He tilted his head every few seconds, letting his eye flicker from your uncertain expression to your body. You sat up a little straighter in an attempt to satisfy his observation of you.

You weren't quite sure what he was doing, but it made you nervous; made you vulnerable in a way you weren't used to.

"I may have one extra credit opportunity that I can offer. Special. Just for you."

"Yeah? What do you want me to do?"

"Well, you can start by spreading your legs."

Your eyes went wide. "Professor Winchester, you're not–"

He cut you off quickly, "First, after office hours, you may call me Sam. Second, I'm not going to touch you. I'm simply asking you to give me a– a presentation," he decided.

"What kind of presentation?" you asked.

Your feigned innocence made the man chuckle softly. "The kind of presentation I'm sure you give in your dormitory bedroom every night."

There wasn't an ounce of jesting on his face, but still you played dumb. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Sam." His name felt foreign yet familiar on your tongue. Probably because you'd whispered it many times before in the exact scenario he'd described.

"I'd hoped you'd tell me the truth about why you were so distracted during your exam. But since you haven't been forthcoming, I guess I have to spell it out for you, haven't I?"

You swallowed hard and blinked nervously.

"You thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" he chuckles again. "It's hard not to notice when one of your students, especially one so beautiful, is practically drooling all over their table."

The scraps of flattery were evidently working on you as Sam smiled when you fiddled with your fingers in your lap as your skin got all warm and tingly. So he kept going.

"Besides, you're too intelligent to do this terribly on something you should've aced. Maybe you wanted to fail it. You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to waste your time, I was just–"

"You weren't wasting my time. Wasting your time is continuing this pointless back and forth when you could instead be proving yourself."

"Proving myself?"

"Yes. Spread those legs...and earn your grade," he ordered.

Breathing in and out slowly, you did what you were asked. The knots in your stomach told you this was wrong. But the smile of approval that slowly grew on Sam's lips said that this was exactly what you both needed.

You'd never been more embarrassed to be wearing a skirt. One the fabric pooled around your hips, it only framed the damp patch on your underwear. Perhaps part of you had wanted something like this to happen. Because your pussy was already pulsing after simply being observed behind the cotton curtain that soaked up her anticipation.

"Very good," Sam breathed out.

"What do I do now?" you asked.

"Just...play with her. Show me what you like to do to make her happy."

You nodded, then pursed your lips as you thought. If you were going to present to him...you might as well go all out. So you shifted each of your thighs around, pulling down your underwear until your bare ass was planted on the desk and the garment was caught on one of your ankles. You lifted your left and held it out gently, the panty hanging in the air a little below Sam's face.

"Take them," you said. "Visual aid."

He smirked lazily at the offering before pulling them over your shoe, being careful not to actually touch you. Sam balled them up before bringing them to his nose and slowly breathing in the scent. You could tell he enjoyed it thoroughly as he let out a deep sigh from within his chest.

"With how wet these are...it's good to know you were prepared even for a surprise presentation. I knew there was a reason you're my favorite."

His words went straight to your cunt as a few drops of slick leaked from your hole and landed on the dark wood beneath you.

"Go on," Sam urged, gaze flickering to the drops of you on his desk. "She's waiting. And so am I."

You began to treat yourself with the same level of care as you did when you were alone. One of your hands reached up your shirt and you cupped one of your tits. You kneaded the flesh for a few seconds before focusing on the nipple, pinching it until it pebbled and poked through your shirt. The action made your breathing turn ragged.

You finally let your other hand travel south, bringing warmth to the soft skin of your thighs. Wanting better access to yourself, you pulled your leg up, resting a foot on the desk itself. Then you reclined back and let your fingers roam where they wanted.

Using two fingers, you spread your outer lips, only exposing yourself to Sam’s scrutiny even further. The cool air hitting your most vulnerable part, you shivered as goosebumps erupted across your skin. You looked up at him, gauging his approval of your performance.

“You’re doing so well already, keep going,” he encouraged, hardly concealing the arousal that clung thickly to his tone.

You took the praise with pride. It emboldened you enough to slip your two fingers between your folds to gather up some of the slick. You couldn’t help but feel mortified as you involuntarily gasped when your digits brushed slightly against your clit.

Sam let a quick puff of air out his nose. “Sensitive?”

“Mhmmm,” you whined.

“Bet you can’t even touch that pretty clit directly without crying, huh?”

You nodded.

“Then be gentle. I want you to last for me.”

You took that to mean that he didn’t want you touching yourself there yet. So instead you switched to focusing on your entrance. It wasn’t often that you went straight for penetration. Rarely did it bring the kind of relief you craved.

But you had the feeling that Sam would want to see it; to see your fingers filling yourself up and stretching you out.

With your fingers practically pruning already, you pushed one in ever so slowly. It took a second to adjust to the slight pressure, but still you began to carefully pump. The slick squelch only intensified when you slipped another one in and sped up your movements.

Though the pressure increased and built up tension in your belly, you could already tell it wasn’t going to go anywhere. You bucked your hips pathetically against your own hand, trying to get deep enough to hit your g-spot. But no matter how far you tried to probe, it was useless. Your fingers simply weren’t long enough.

Your eyes went wind, catching sight of something that most likely could reach that spot inside you. While you’d been fucking yourself, your professor had undone the button and the zipper on his pants and slipped himself out. There he sat, your panties in his hand and wrapped around the thick length of his cock. The angry red tip poked up and out of the fabric with each slow thrust. And you could already tell based on how long his strokes were that you’d most likely be able to feel him poking against your belly from inside you. The idea made you moan and throw your head back.

Sam swiftly reprimanded you, “Ah, remember your eye contact. I want you to look at me.”

Shame spread over your body. What the fuck was going on? Were you really fingering yourself on his desk right next to papers that he was surely going to return to students? Was Sam really fisting his own cock with your underwear? And were you actually enjoying this?

“Sweetheart,” Sam’s self control faltered slightly with the name. But it grabbed your attention nonetheless. “I need you to look at me. Let me look into your eyes when you make yourself come on my desk, alright?”

This was about more than fixing your grade. This was about pleasing him…by pleasing yourself. And as you returned his look, you were all in.

Under his watchful, half lidded, hazel eye you allowed yourself to focus on your aching clit which laid in wait like a pearl beneath the hood of skin covering it. Carefully, you pulled that hood back before lightly spreading some of your slick with a finger. You let the skin settle back in place over the sensitive nub before going straight to work.

You began to rub slow circles on the hood and finally properly moaned. It took only a few seconds for the muscle memory of your nightly ritual to kick in as the pleasure started to mount. Finally, all of that pressure in your core had some actual weight to it; a weight that was already beginning to roll in shallow waves over your whole being.

"There you go, sweetheart. Let me hear you loud and clear. Don't wanna miss a single sound from you," Sam groaned and you caught how the grip he had on himself tightened, how his pace quickened.

While rolling your hips against your hand, you pulled up a side of your shirt, exposing even more of yourself to him. Now he could easily see one of your tits rise and fall with your staggered breaths. He could see how the ball of fat dimpled under your fingertips as you squeezed and pulled at your hardened nipple.

Both sources of simulation had you whimpering breathlessly, "Sam, I-I'm so close– Let me come, please?"

Sam glared and asked through gritted teeth, "That's not my name. What do you call me in class?"

"Professor?"

Sam nodded darkly.

You took the cue quickly and begged helplessly, "Please, professor, please let me come–" you were cut off by the sound of your pleasure starting to push you over the edge.

Sam left you teetering, staring right over the border of this boundary. That boundary being an ethical nightmare that you had no clue how you'd navigate. But you wanted to be good for him; you craved his approval.

And thankfully, Sam gave it as he groaned, "There you go, good girl. You can come, you've got permission."

With that, you arched off the desk and burst with glorious clarity. A thin stream of your arousal drooled from your entrance as you rubbed yourself through the enormous implosions and the small aftershocks that followed. Your head was heavy with the fog of pleasure and you wanted to hang it back, give it a break.

But still, you were determined to keep your eyes on him, even as you pulled your fingers away from your trembling cunt and stuck them in your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the wrinkled digits, soaking up every bit of yourself that you could.

Any sort of professionalism Sam had been trying to maintain up until that point shattered completely when he rolled his chair forwards. Closer to you now, you looked down into his soft eyes and watched how his normally objective stare went personal; emotional. He looked at you with the kind of admiration that made your heart flutter with pride.

He took his hand, placed it on your knee, and spread your legs further. His touch was so light, so soft that you could help feeling electricity dance along your spine.

"I thought you said you wouldn't touch me?" you whispered, only a hint of a smug smile tugging at your lips.

Choosing his words as carefully as ever, he explained, "That was before I decided that you needed some of my...guidance."

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic

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the-xolotl · 8 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰১𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓໒꒱‧₊˚

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲?

⟢ Thundering Rain - Rafayel x Reader ; Love and Deepspace | sfw, domestic

⟢ Dusk Meets Dawn at Twilight - Lucifer x moth!OC Vésper ; Hazbin Hotel | sfw, angst

⟢ Songbird, Sing Me a Song - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | sfw, singing for him

⟢ What a Bloody Mess ! - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | nsfw, mdni

⟢ A Taste of Darkness Itself - Alastor x Reader x Shadow ; Hazbin Hotel | nsfw, mdni

⟢ Worshiping At His Feet - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | nsfw, mdni

✧ What I Think Your Hazbin Fav Says about You - Mini analysis ; Hazbin Hotel | sfw

✩ Bring You to Heaven - David Shaw x Reader ; Redacted Audio | nsfw, mdni

✩ Darling Can I Be Your Favorite? - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | sfw, one-sided affection

✩ It Hurts Being Nothing, It’s Worse Being Something With You - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | sfw, unrequited love

✩ Morning Kisses - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | sfw, fluff

✩ Sweet, Soft Shadow Man - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | sfw, fluff

✩ Take It Right - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | nsfw, mdni

✩ Rising With the Sun - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | nsfw, mdni

ᯓ Peeping-Drone - Alastor x Reader ; Hazbin Hotel | nsfw, mdni

ᯓ Three’s Not Always a Crowd - Alastor x OC x OC ; Hazbin Hotel | nsfw, mdni

♪ By the Sea: Rafayel - Rafayel ; Love and Deepspace

♪ Being in love with Xiao - Xiao ; Genshin Impact

♪ Angel & Davey's shared playlist - David Shaw ; Redacted Audio

♪ LIGHTBRINGER // HELLRAISER - Lucifer ; Hazbin Hotel

♪ HELL'S NOON RADIO SHOW - Alastor ; Hazbin Hotel

{LUCIFER FICS HAVE BEEN PUT ON HOLD}

Fuzzy Duck, Ducky Fuzz. - Lucifer x moth!OC Vésper | nsfw, oral sex ; 54% Progress

Taking a Bite Off the Forbidden Fruit. - Lucifer x fem!Reader | nsfw, morning sex ; 2% Progress

Look at You, Doing Such a Good Job. - Lucifer x fem!Reader | nsfw, punishment w/ happy ending ; 53% Progress

Kinky Lucifer Headcanons. - Lucifer | nsfw, headcanons ; 43% Progress

❦ Please check out my blog intro to get to know me and my content ! Hope you see you around often pookie <33 ❦

—

⤷ Word dividers made by ME using cafekitsune’s template ~ღ Please give proper credit if you take or use these dividers.

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schrodingers-romy · 1 year ago

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Silver-Tongued Devil [Usagiyama Rumi x Reader]

Pairing: Usagiyama Rumi x AFAB!Reader Word count: ~3,200 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: You somehow end up as the sacrifice for an incompetent cult. The demon they summon is not at all what they nor you expected.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Cults. Reasonably graphic depictions of violence and blood. Reader is injured (not extensively) but healed. AFAB reader; genitals are referred to by fem terms but no other gendered terms are used. Graphic Smut (MDNI). Strength Kink. Cunnilingus. Weird demon tongue. idk.

Notes: 3rd fic for Strange Lovers (my little monster!character x reader series for October)! Please ignore this was a day late i had such writer's block for this and i don't know why. I'm not sure if this is good or not honestly I just want to not have to look at it anymore. Mdni banner template from @/cafekitsune

I have the absolute worst luck, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps you had broken multiple mirrors in the past. Did breaking multiple mirrors mean the seven years of bad luck was worse, or was the period of bad luck just longer?

You supposed it didn’t really matter, but how else would you end up like this: hogtied and gagged in the middle of a red painted pentagram, surrounded by what sounded to be frat boys in cult getups.

One of the little fuckers had ambushed you on your way home with a handkerchief soaked in chloroform. Next thing you knew, you were tied up in the middle of the woods, surrounded by a bunch of college kids in dark robes chanting Latin.

You had no idea why you specifically were picked. You had a feeling it was just because you were the first person they had been able to grab; you weren’t sure whether that was better or worse than being specifically chosen.

So far, they hadn’t done anything to you other than knock you out and tie you up. Unfortunately, at least one of them must have been really good with rope, because you couldn’t budge an inch. All your screaming amounted to nothing more than a few quiet, unintelligible sounds through the gag. And just because they hadn’t done anything major to hurt you yet, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t. They had no problem with kidnapping you; you doubted your purpose in their demonic ritual summoning or whatever was just sitting there looking distressed.

The chanting had been going on for what felt like hours; yet however boring it was, your anxiety kicked back up drastically when they stopped.

The cultists stopped circling, and turned to face you. One of them, presumably the leader because of his unique blood-red rope belt, stepped forward until he stood right in front of you, close enough to kick if you had the freedom to do so (which unfortunately you didn’t, no matter how much you tried).

In a loud, booming voice, he started up another chant, different from the first. And then he pulled out a wicked looking blade from the shadows of his robes.

You tried to get away; you tried to scream. You could feel your muscles straining against the ropes, but they wouldn’t shift. The gag kept your voice to a mumble even as you tasted iron in your throat from your shrieks.

It was all futile. He crouched down, holding the knife above you; the blade glinted red in the light of the fire. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for pain.

The stabbing you expected didn’t happen, but you were not spared from agony. He roughly cut away the fabric of your shirt around your stomach, exposing it to the night air; his canvas. Slowly, excruciatingly, he began to carve a shape onto your skin; some sort of crescent moon, maybe; you weren’t sure, too busy screaming from the burning pain of it.

When the knife finally paused, you sobbed in relief. It still burned; you could feel the blood flowing and dripping onto the ground, both too-cool and too-warm feeling at once. But at least there were no new wounds made.

You drifted in and out of awareness, missing the cult’s final chants, but you did not miss the culmination of the ritual.

Once the final words were spoken by the robed figures, a violent bolt of lightning lit up the forest blinding white. The thunder followed immediately after, so loud it caused your ears to ring.

Your eyes took a minute to readjust to the dim light of the torches, and then you saw her.

You noticed two things about her right away: one, she was beautiful; two, she was utterly inhuman.

Her general figure was humanoid…if humans were seven feet tall. Her skin was a human shade of brown, yet her eyes were crimson red with slit pupils. Her broad, almost cocky, grin revealed shining white fangs. Her hair was pure white, hanging around her face in long braids. It was interrupted by the curling black horns emerging from her skull, and the rabbit-like white ears springing from the sides of her head.

She only wore draping gold jewelry, which seemed to drip down her body like liquid, covering her most private parts delicately. This allowed you full view of her muscles. She was built like a Greek statue: thick arms, prominent abdominal muscles, and thighs that could probably crush a man’s skull like a grape.

She radiated power. If you weren’t writhing on the ground in pain like a tortured worm, you would be cowering.

The cultists do cower a little, trembling in their robes. Finally, the one with the red belt steps forward.

“O Great Miruko, High Demon of the Moon, please accept this humble offering,” he said, gesturing to where you lay. “As per the summoning, we only request one day of obedience in exchange for the blood of the sacrificed.”

The demon tilted her head, never dropping her wide smile.

“So you losers thought you would have control of me with this ritual?”

Her voice wasn’t quite what you expected; it was human-sounding at first, if loud, but it echoed around the trees in odd ways, making it sound like thousands of whispers repeated her words. It was…unsettling.

The cultists seemed to agree. Their leader flinched visibly when the demon spoke. “Y-Yes. According to the ancient tome—” he said, pulling a beat-up leather book out of seemingly nowhere, “—we started the ritual on the right phase of the moon, we recited the proper chants, evoked the correct name, provided the sacrifice for consumption…everything is correct. As per the ritual’s rules, you are summoned to the mortal plane to do our biding for a full day, then you return to the hell from whence you came!” He was starting to sound frantic by the end of his tirade.

The demon crossed her arms across her chest, emphasizing their definition. “Well, you’re almost right…except for the most important part.” She stepped closer, and bent down dramatically at the waist to look the cult leader in the eyes. He scrambled to step backwards; this caused his hood to flip back, revealing a face that looked both scared and young.

The demon seemed amused by his fear. She smiled, cruelly, baring sharp teeth at him. “The one who gives the blood is not the sacrifice…they’re the one with control over me. Not you.”

She stood up again, stretching to her full height. “I’m not ‘contractually obligated’ to give you shit. All the power resides in the poor person you have trussed up like a ham over there.” She gestured to you, finally making eye contact. You shivered at the glowing red gaze.

“So, hon, want me to take care of these guys for you?” she asked, focus still entirely on you.

You were frozen for a second. Your brain was spinning. You still didn’t fully understand what was going on…but you would like your kidnappers gone. So you gave the smallest nod, all of the movement you could manage.

The demon smirked, returning your nod, and then she was a blur.

Your head span just trying to watch her; it seemed like only a second before all of the cultists were knocked out cold from the force of the demon’s lightning-quick kicks and punches.

Once she had taken care of them, she crouched down over you to run her hands over your bindings. Under the caress of her large hand the ropes and the gag dissolved into puffs of smoke.

You raised your tingling arms up to your mouth and coughed. Your throat still felt terrible, and coughing too deeply flexed your abdomen, causing the cuts to light up with pain again. But your limbs could finally regain blood flow.

You looked up at the demon, who was still staring at you. You had a hard time meeting her gaze; instead you looked out towards the cultists lying on the ground. “…are they dead?” you rasped.

“Naw. Just going to be unconscious for a long time. Didn’t think you would want me to kill them all. I mean. I can if you want me to though.”

“Um… no, that’s fine.” No matter how crazy this weird cult was, even if they wanted to sacrifice you, even if they had no problem kidnapping and hurting you…you wouldn’t want their deaths on your conscious. You couldn’t do that.

The demon shrugged. “Okay then.” She seemed much less intimidating and more casual now, even though she still loomed above you.

You tried to swallow, wincing when your raw throat protested the action. “So…what now?”

“Well, I am at your bidding, for a whole twenty-four hours. Then I can go back to hell…I never introduced myself, by the way. I go by many names, but you can call me Rumi.”

You stammered your own introduction.

Rumi gave you a broad grin, teeth flashing. “I’m guessing the first thing you want from me is for me to heal your wounds?”

Your voice had a hopeful tilt to it. “Can you do that? Please?”

“Aww, sweetheart, how could I say no when you ask so nicely?” she purred.

You could feel heat in your cheeks. You’re honestly surprised you still have enough blood for such a silly reaction to her words.

She chuckled, and moved so she could slip both her hands between your lower back and the ground. She lifted you up as she leaned down, until you could feel her breath on the sting of the cuts.

You weren’t sure what you expected her to do. Maybe whisper some sort of weird Latin chant and then the cuts would just disappear? But you would have never predicted what she actually did.

Rumi opened her mouth…wide. Out came a tongue between the glinting teeth.

Her tongue was long, and flexible, the end almost triangle-shaped with the way it tapered to a point. It dripped saliva onto your stomach, and you flinched.

You let out a shrill noise of surprise as Rumi uses her strange tongue to lick at your wounds.

Her spit almost seemed to leak into your cuts, causing them to close and disappear before your eyes as she lapped across them. Soon, the pain has disappeared from your abdomen, replaced by the wet, warm feeling of the demon’s tongue. She continued to lick long after the cuts were gone, removing every spot of blood from the soft skin of your stomach.

You felt flushed and tingly. You would have liked to attribute that to whatever strange demon magic was in Rumi’s spit, but you couldn’t quite lie to yourself that much. You’re ashamed to admit it, but the feeling of Rumi’s tongue on you is almost…erotic. The wetness on your abdomen was emulated by the slowly growing wetness in your underwear.

You couldn’t help but squeak in embarrassment at the realization. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it) Rumi pulled away, tongue retracting back into her mouth like a snake.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“Yes,” you said, before losing yourself to another coughing fit. Your stomach was as good as new, no remnants of the strange carved symbol remaining, but your throat was still raw.

Rumi made a disapproving noise. “Well, it seems like you’re not all fixed up, hon. Something happened to your throat, right? Let me help.” She shifted her arms under you until she was holding you in a seated position, bringing your head closer to hers.

You felt as if your face was radiating heat. She was no less beautiful up close. It was hard to have such a lovely face right by yours, especially after said lovely face was just licking your bare skin.

Rumi removed one hand from your back, to press a single calloused finger against your bottom lip. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You should have protested, but the pet name in Rumi’s soft, low voice made your head feel fuzzy. You opened your jaw.

Your mouth was soon filled with the demon’s tongue. Your eyes closed on instinct, feeling her lips press to yours in a facsimile of a kiss. You had never had a kiss like this, however; her tongue slithered down your throat, filling it and your mouth up to the brim. You would have choked on it, but the soothing feeling of her saliva healing your injured throat made you relax enough for it to slip past your gag reflex.

It almost felt like you were being throat-fucked by Rumi’s tongue; at the mere whisper of that thought, you let out a moan around the slick appendage inside you.

To your disappointment, she immediately pulled back. Once you realized what you had done, you felt like you were going to faint. You reopened your eyes, almost dreading to see Rumi’s expression.

Your breath caught when you finally saw her. She had an almost…endeared expression on her face. It would have been sweet, if not for the sultry darkness of her eyes.

“Aww, honey, you like my tongue?” Her voice was hoarse, and you shuddered, face nearly radiating heat.

She laughed at your flustered expression. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

You let out a low whine, less of arousal and more out of sheer mortification.

Runi’s smile sharpened. “You know, I can do lots of other things with my tongue, if you’d like. After all, I am at your bidding.”

While the first sentence made you feel like you had been lit on fire, the second one doused your flames a little. “I don’t want you to do something because I’m making you do it…if you don’t want to do anything, you don’t have to. No matter how I feel.” You felt a little sick at the thought that you could force her to do something like that if she didn’t want to.

“You’re so sweet, honey,” Rumi said, chuckling. “But I promise I want to just as much as you do.” Her voice dropped lower at the last part, almost to a growl, and you shuddered in her arms.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Rumi, as her figure suggested, was ridiculously strong.

She ripped your pants and underwear off like it was tissue paper. She hoisted her arms under you, maneuvering you like a ragdoll until you were in her preferred position. Your legs were hooked over her shoulders, your hands gripping her horns in a weak attempt to stabilize yourself as she lifted you until your pussy was level with her mouth.

You could feel Rumi’s smirk against your sensitive inner thigh. You couldn’t make yourself look down, lest you have to acknowledge your position and the way your cunt was dripping.

“Sweetheart.” A quick flick of her tongue against your clit, making you gasp. “Look at me while I eat you out.”

You reluctantly made eye contact with her. “That’s it baby,” she cooed.

You watched as her tongue slipped out of her mouth once more, the thin tip reaching out to lightly caress your clit. Even though the touches were almost nonexistent, each sent a flow of heat up your spine.

Your legs squeezed rhythmically around Rumi’s head every time her tongue teased at your nub. Your arousal kept building, filling your whole body with sticky heat, yet it wasn’t enough to push you towards any type of climax.

You didn’t notice you had begun to whimper, softly, but Rumi did. She finally took pity on you and started to lap at your cunt in earnest.

The first lick went all the way from your hole to your clit, dragging the broad part of her tongue through your wetness. She let out a rumbling moan once she got a proper taste of you, and abandoned her teasing completely.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as she licked and sucked at your pussy without mercy. Rumi was too caught up in eating you out to chastise you for this. Anyway, closed eyes only made the sounds louder; the obscene slurping noises from combination of your slick and her spit, and both of your moans, yours echoing and hers muffled against you.

You let out a shriek as her skilled tongue wormed its way into your dripping hole. You were so wet from your arousal and her saliva that she had no trouble working the appendage deep inside of you, deeper than you thought possible. She pulled you closer to her face, until her lips were pressed against the soft folds of your sex, and you thought you could come right then.

But this wasn’t the height of your arousal. Not yet.

She then started to move her tongue inside of you.

It felt like Rumi was desperate to taste all of you, the way her tongue squirmed inside your pussy. Every sensitive spot was rubbed against the rough parts of her tongue, and then soothed by the slicker parts. She was basically fucking you on her face at that point, powerful arms bringing your body away from her just to pull you back and impale you on her tongue. Every time your cunt met her face again, she would grind the bridge of her nose against your clit, sending another spark of pleasure up your spine.

Your body felt almost unreal. No longer did you have control over yourself; instead, Rumi did. You were like her little doll, a pretty little thing she could pick up and play with effortlessly.

The pleasure was so intense that you struggled to simply open your eyes without slipping back into mindless bliss. You wanted to see her, though, and so you forced them open, squinted and teary as they were.

Bringing your gaze down to her, you could see her eyes were black with arousal as they peered back up at you. Her entire face was soaked, slick and dripping from your cunt’s juices. She looked utterly bebauched.

The view made you come on the spot.

If you weren’t a doll before, you were now; your entire body went numb from your orgasm. It was like a never-ending series of delicious shocks travelling through your nervous system. Rumi hadn’t halted her movements, even as you soaked her face even more with your come. Your pleasure stretched out longer than you thought possible before your nerves started to turn painful. She stopped once your whines started becoming less come-drunk and more overwhelmed.

Almost lovingly, she laid your dazed form back down onto the ground, still cradling your head. It took you a few moments before you were even aware of your surroundings again.

In that time, Rumi had moved to straddle your head, hovering above your face on her knees. One hand was stroking your cheek softly, while the other held up the delicate chains that hung from her waist, revealing her own glistening cunt to you.

“You were so good for me, baby,” she said, voice husky. “D’you wanna return the favor?”

There was no world in which you wouldn’t want more of her.

“Yes please,” you murmured, opening your mouth.

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #usagiyama rumi x reader #rumi usagiyama x reader #miruko x reader #miruko smut #usagiyama rumi #rumi usagiyama #miruko #bnha #romy can write #strange lovers event #afab reader

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