#of course not everything is wantonly allowed

[irlkomaedanagito]

im gonna be so real u coulda stopped at "angel dust dating garfield" because that is bar none the weirdest ass coupling of all time 😭 i mean that in suuuuuuch a good way too its just so insane in such a good way

also fwiw as a sidenote i saw u followed me on ur main and since i noticed you acc care about shipping discourse i need to maybe advise that you take a closer look at my pinned. and also some of those aforementioned relationships because they do Not exactly fall under a proship dni person's standards of respectability and i am actively watching them happen

Being plural is like

Woah I’m glad that breakdown is over, I hope no one saw that.

The fucking Grinch: Yeah

[vixstarria]

A remedy for sleeplessness  

Alright, buckle the fuck in.

18+, smut, Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav, explicit, masturbation, fingering, overstimulation, clitoral stimulation, porn no plot

1,300 words

AO3

You tossed and turned, unable to sleep. 

Astarion had opened up to you by then, so sweet and vulnerable. About his past, everything that’s been forced onto him. About what it all meant. How he needed to learn his boundaries, figure out his real desires, learn what true intimacy was, learn who he was, outside of who he had been forced to be. You knew it wouldn’t be swift and simple, but you wanted to be there for him every step of the way.  

You thought it would mean taking a step back from anything sexual entirely, and instead spending more time talking, simply being with each other, cuddling, kissing, and maybe slowly reintroducing other forms of touch over time.  

Instead, in typical Astarion fashion, the man had simply embraced chaos.  

His trial and error recovery was anything but linear: he could barely keep his hands off you one day, then he would do no more than give you light kisses and hold your hand for days after that. His actions usually leaned more towards the latter, but you simply never knew what kind of day you were going to have with him. You were constantly on a guiltily hopeful edge.  

The simple truth was, you wanted him. You wanted him all the time. You wanted him to be happy, comfortable, secure, yes, and you were willing to wait as long as you had to, and take it as slow as he needed, letting him take the lead with as much or as little as he was comfortable with. But good gods, you craved his touch.  

And so, after another day of uncertainty, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.   

You had thought that Astarion, who was lying next to you, had long since drifted off when you suddenly felt his arms wrap around you from behind, his body pressing against yours. 

“My poor, restless dove. I have been neglecting you, haven’t I?"  

“I just can’t sleep,” you murmured back, but frankly even just this sudden proximity made your breath catch for a moment.  

“Too much on your mind, not enough in your body?” he teased. Was he trying to make you feel guilty..? No, that wasn’t like him, and his tone was too playful. Regardless, you couldn’t think of anything to retort with. 

"I... just can’t sleep.” 

“From pent up frustration?” he continued, nibbling on your earlobe. Did he just decide to torture you tonight?  

“It will be from frustration if you don’t stop that!” you hissed back. In response, he released a low, throaty chuckle and slid his hands beneath your clothes, fingers lightly tracing along your skin, making you shiver.  

“I’m willing to bet...” his voice grew dangerously low and husky. “That just from these thirty seconds of me touching you, you’re already sopping wet, darling. Hmm..?”   

All you could do was let out an involuntary whimper as one of his hands slid between your legs. You immediately wantonly opened your thighs as he did that, without a second thought. “So eager...” He let out a quiet, self-satisfied laugh into your hair.  He was, of course, right.  

“Astarion...” you gasped, part from desire, part in concern.  

“Let me take care of you tonight,” he purred in your ear, kissing your neck.  

“You don’t have to...” 

“I want to,” he whispered, slipping your undergarments off your body, until you were stark naked against his still clothed self, your back still against him as you laid on your side in his arms 

His hand was still between your legs, lithe fingers caressing you and spreading your wetness. You felt him hard against your hip through his pants, and tried to reach back and touch him, but he wouldn’t allow you. 

“Uh-uh, none of that or I’ll stop,” he teased. “Just let me do this for you. Lie back and relax...” 

You were too desperately aroused to argue. You closed your eyes and leaned back against him, letting him do whatever he wanted to your body. His fingers had been running up and down your slit, occasionally dipping inside you, but now concentrated on your swollen clitoris, as he slowly drew circles around it with a finger covered in your juices. His other hand was repeating the same movement on the tip of one of your nipples, lightly pinching it from time to time.  

You couldn’t help grinding your hips into his hardness, as you breathed harder, soft moans escaping you. 

“That is my favourite sound in the world,” he whispered as he picked up pace and pressure slightly, making sure his finger stayed soaked.  

It was such a simple, but exquisite and delicate movement – just one finger gliding over your bundle of nerves, just right, sending surges of pleasure all through your body. You were in bliss. And you were insatiable, wanting more and more. 

Astarion gradually stroked you harder and faster, as you quivered. You bucked your hips involuntarily, spreading your legs wider, your moans mounting. His other arm was now holding you tightly against him, as if you might try to escape.  

He was breathing hard too now, intoxicated with your pleasure. He kissed and licked a spot on your neck just below your ear, the spot he knew sent shivers down your spine every time, occasionally running his teeth along your neck. 

“Astarion...” you moaned. “You can bite me, if you want.” You wanted to give him something, anything in return. 

He hummed in acknowledgement but continued to only graze your neck with his fangs.  

HIs finger continued to slide over your clit. It was agonisingly sweet and you felt like you were holding on for dear life, breathless, your muscles tense, but you didn’t want this to ever end.  

As though reading your mind, he groaned in your ear: 

“You can let go and cum, my minx” Gods you loved his voice. “I will give you plenty more of these.” 

You finally allowed yourself to relax and be engulfed by the pleasure. 

Your orgasm came on in sweet, rolling waves, growing in intensity until you arched your back against him, gasping for breath.  

“That’s it...” 

He continued to caress your clit in a steady rhythm. You could just bear it without clamping your legs shut. You could feel your walls clenching in pulses, as you embraced and rode the sensation, reaching back to rake your hand through his hair, and crying out, unable to keep your legs from shaking. 

“Good girl...” 

Your whole body shuddered and you grabbed his hand between your legs, finally incapable of taking it any longer. You twisted and kissed him, hungrily. He returned your kiss as he continued to slowly stroke the length of your slit, staying away from your most sensitive area now. He licked you from his fingers once the kiss was broken.  

You sank and melted against his chest, regaining your breath, as you came down from that dizzying high. You idly wondered if anyone at camp had heard you, but were too spent to care. 

Eventually you lifted your head and gave him another kiss, still tasting traces of yourself on his tongue. 

“What about y-” 

“Shh, love, just sleep.”  

You burrowed into him, wrapping one of your legs around his, as he placed soft kisses on your head, running his fingers through your disheveled hair.  

“I still feel selfish,” you protested. He lightly bit the tip of your ear before holding you tighter.  

“Don’t. I loved every second of doing that to you... And the sound of those sweet moans will live in my mind forever.”  

You were drifting off as you heard him murmur: 

“And we have so many nights ahead of us...” 

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed, check out my other work

AO3

[jjungkooksthighs]

Not for the first time, her words have been drawn out of her. Like a spile has been attached to her, they flow away like water and no matter how many times she tries to force them back in, they continue to leave her empty of vocables.

His thoughts are there to fill her head, though. And based on them, she’d failed him many times over. Over and over, he had forgiven her. Had forsaken his own bruised pride just to satisfy her because he loved her so. It hadn’t been that he had simply let go of that or forgotten as she once thought he had.

How had she been so blind? So deaf to his warnings and teachings?

All those nights she’d spent underneath him while he’d. been mounted and thrusting his cock between her soddened folds with curses and possessed orders ghosting his lips… it had all been ultimately for her own pleasure.

All those stolen moments in the forest, the Elder’s Den, the Dining Hall, the Archives, the Forge, and even the Schoolhouse… he’d always caved to her pleas. Always. No matter how much a brat she’d been.

This male that could make her bend to his will with one single word.

This male that made the room fall silent when he walked in.

This male that commanded the whole of the alphas in the pack and took disobedience from none.

Somewhere down the line, the mundaneness of being obedient had become… tedious.

Lackluster.

Boring.

She had never been one who had liked monotony. It become tiresome and grey.

Perhaps that’s why she’d done it all along.

She’d simply wanted something different. She’d wanted to see what happened when she pushed him far enough that there was no more restraint. There was no more pained grunts of his control threatening to slip.

She didn’t entirely remember what happened the night she’d accidentally drank the aphrodisiac that had tasted exactly like he smelled. Black vanilla, aged pears, and blooming gardenia.

Only fragments of that night remained in her mind now. But in them, he’d been everything the innermost part of her- the part that would never actually tell him what she was too shy to admit- had wanted.

He’d put the mark of his teeth and hand everywhere. He’d made her legs go wonderfully numb and her neck, chest, stomach and thighs purple, red, and brown in the rough, hard claiming she’d begged for like a fucking prayer.

It had started against the wall, on his thigh, in the hallway right next to the front door. It had ended with her on her hands and knees on their bed as he’d fucked her from behind, the sheets torn to fucking pieces around her while she’d drooled pathetically- albeit wantonly-into them with his hand around her throat.

How she had not gotten pregnant that night, she had no idea.

The male before her does, though.

She’d pled for him that night to give her children. She’d told him she acted the way she did because she wanted him to lose what little control he had and give her a family so that he’d be hers forever.

And what had he done?

He’d almost given that to her, too.

But the memories of her disobedience had been rampant in his mind when he’d taken his cock between her lips that night to silence the begging, her lust-filled eyes ever so often drifting to the box in the closet that she’d distracted him from.

Of course, while she’d been distracted in that, he’d been lost in her.

Perhaps she’d known that all along. Perhaps she hadn’t.

But one thing was certain: She fucking ate it up when he became feral.

Oh god, how she'd begged for him to put a child in her, desperate from her place under him as she'd writhed in the pleasure he had given her. She remembers the way her eyes had rolled to the back of her head in utter pleasure when he'd let his cock slip past her lips, allowing her to pleasure him just like he liked. Because, while she did enjoy the kick she'd get out of being a brat, she liked seeing pride light up on his face because of her even more. Just as much she loved it when he'd rail her into the fucking bed in his chamber, she loved the aftercare just as much, the way his hands would softly brush through her hair sending the butterflies in her tummy roaring, the warmth of his body radiating and protecting her like a cozy furnace. Yes, she does love it when he corners her against the wall with that handsome smirk on his face as he looks down at her by virtue of his much taller stature, and much stronger build. It is fucking hot. But, she loves it just as much when he'd carry her around with that beautiful smile on his face with soft, loving words hushed into her ear, taking care of her like how she'd always dreamt of.. she loved all of this just as much. She's always been an almost.. unnecessarily sensitive person. She'd been told so by many. The smallest of the gestures that could be counted as kind and affectionate make her tear up rapidly. Not once in her life had she expected to find such a giving and loving mate. And not once did she think she'd be the one to cause a drift in such a perfect, god sent relationship with the man who'd dedicated his entire fucking life to her. He'd faced so much all so that he could protect her. He'd been the one to shield her from all bad that had ever dared to threaten her, bearing all her scars as if they were his own. All so that he could continue loving her, asking for nothing in return but her undeviated love and respect. Her eyes flit away from for his for a moment, her thoughts spiraling away from the moment. He'd done so much.. oh so much.. all for her. All for the one that couldn't reciprocate even an ounce of gratitude or affection. All for the one that hides and lies. But, beneath all of the taunts her omega throws her way, she knows for a fact that she never meant for anyone to get hurt. She.. she never meant to hurt him. Tears fill her eyes to the brim, but, she quickly blinks them away, fighting hard against the stupid tears that try to push their way to the surface, taking a deep, shaky breath in along the process. She did the damage. She didn't earn the fucking right to cry. "..I.. I'm sorry, a-alpha.." she chokes out, gulping down the lump in her throat. "I.. I d-didn't.. " she shakes her head. "I didn't mean it,.. I did not mean to hurt you. B-but.. I did." "I.. I was wrong, sir.. I-." Her words are heavy. Far too heavy to make it out of her in one piece. "I know I haven't earned your forgiveness yet." she can't help the way she shrinks into herself, shame hanging over her shoulders, weighing her down now. "I.. just want you to know that.. I'm sorry."

She knows he doesn't want another one of her useless apologies. She knows that. But.. she can't help it. She needs him to know that she regrets it. She needs him to know that she will do anything to get through it. Even if it means denying her of pleasure that only he can give her.. or denying her his presence altogether- she.. she can take it. She can take anything as long as it means pleasing him. She can take anything as long as it means being able to stay with him.

Her thoughts flow freer than a river through their bond, her voice sinking in remorse the longer that she speaks.

Once, he would have forgiven her.

But the err of that choice had led her down the wrong path.

He needed to correct it.

He had to.

Without moving from his place on the lounge, he clucks his tongue in distaste.

“You should know better by now that I will not leave you to your own devices in punishment. That’s too easy.” He angles his head to the side, his sight fixing on her. “You’ll show me you’re sorry another way, female.”

[p-antomime]

— minors don’t interact.

— wc: 0,7K.

content + warnings: 18+, including: switch!kōtarō bokuto, mention of dry humping, creampie, pet names, marking, hickeys, mommy kink, mating press, kinda of rough sex, breeding kink, knotting.

pairings: hybrid!kōtarō bokuto x fem!reader.

my kinktober list!

Bokuto's eyes traveled down your sweaty, tired body and his mouth salivated as he watched your breasts rise and fall rapidly. You looked so beautiful with several bite marks running down your body, from your collarbones to your groin bones, of course to your breasts and belly. On some of these marks there were even a few isolated drops of blood coming out, especially the largest one on the right curve of your neck that Bokuto had used as a way to mark you by appointment forever to him and he couldn't be prouder of the work done on you.

You were his everything, no matter how many times Bokuto Kotaro looked into his own future, there was no way to imagine one without you, without your touch, without your presence, without the smell of your purely intoxicating essence. He belonged to you in every sense, be it sexual, physical, mental, psychological. He was yours, literally. In fact, he was not only "yours", you have to add: "puppy in heat", because that is exactly what Bokuto looked like before and now.

Before because he was desperately rubbing himself against your thigh and ass when it was time for you both to go to sleep without wanting to actually verbalize that he desperately needed your touch because he preferred not to bother his mommy with trivial things. And now because he was uncontrollably trying to pull back the reins of his own lack of control to enter your wet interior with his cock leaking pre-cum and making a mess.

— Mommy, can I... — Bokuto groaned as he felt yours walls squeezing him and pulling him closer and closer to the overwhelming orgasm that always proceeded a night when neither of you could sleep because your little puppy's heightened sex drive wouldn't allow it and he desperately needed to thrust himself over and over again into your warm, tight pussy to cum again and again until he ended up collapsing from exhaustion on your sweat-soaked body. — Can I move?

— Of course, my puppy, you can. — You replied stroking his gray and black strands of hair which, previously always brushed upwards, now lay messily downwards with a few strands sticking to his forehead from sweat.

As soon as Bokuto's hips started bumping against yours in a hallucinatory, primitive, bestial rhythm while he had you in a mating press position, your body started to move up and down against the bed sheets and it was impossible to control the loud moans in the form of your puppy's name from coming out of yours lips. He looked so beautiful like that, lost in his own pleasure, stretching yours walls without caring if it was hurting for you and if the next day when you woke up your hips were hurting to the point that you could hardly walk. He just wanted to cum and unload absurd amounts of thick white cum inside you, filling you to the brim of your womb, until your insides were unable to contain any more drops of his seed and ended up trying to leak a little at your entrance.

Eventually the headboard started banging against the bedroom wall and it was obvious that the neighbors would come to complain the next day, but who could blame your sex-hungry hybrid? Not you, not them. If Bokuto wanted to bury himself wantonly inside your pussy, you would let him, even if the next day the room dawned upside down.

Several "Mommy's" escaped from your puppy's salivating mouth and your hand went to grab the chain attached to the collar he usually always wore the week he went into heat to make it easier for you to control him, pulling him forward until you were staring directly into his half-closed eyes.

— Aww~, puppyboy, if you wanted Mommy's pussy that bad, y-you could have just asked for it from the beginning. — You said breathlessly, trying not to divert his attention from his end goal.

And the mischievous smile you cracked soon after was simply enough to make him moan loudly in a primitively lewd sound, buck his hips forcefully against yours in one deep thrust and pour his white, hot cum inside you. Of course he was knotting you, that was the purpose all along, the purpose of impregnating you until a low budge formed in the bottom of your belly because of how much liquid he gushed into yours walls.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sebastian convincing you to have another baby...

Pairing | Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary | Seb wants another baby, but he still has to convince you into wanting the same thing.

Warnings | smut, breeding kink, fluff, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of birth control, creampie, swearing, cockwarming

Requested ✖️

Y/e/d/n = Your eldest daughter’s name

Y/d/n = your daughters name

Y/s/n = your son’s name

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The idea of pregnancy gave you many things to think about, the gruelling and simultaneously tiresome journey had been one hell of a rollercoaster. The countless times (approximately two) that you had endured the swelling of your feet, and the divine hunger for the strangest combinations of food, had left you with three beautiful children.

First you had birthed a little girl, that sparked a new light behind your husband’s eyes, and reinvented his world. She was the princess he adored, and the one that you loved to watch Disney movies with, even if she insisted on Frozen every singular time.

And then, after her, you had a pair of perfect twins. They brought sound and restlessness to the household, after your daughter demanding that she wanted a sibling. Deep down, you had wanted more at the time too, but now, you felt as though your life goal was fulfilled.

Your family was everything that you had ever wanted, it felt as though you had been taken off an idealistic screen and transferred into reality. And if that had happened, you wouldn’t be one to complain, for all your greatest wishes had come true.

But if you were to ask your husband, he would make it very clear that he wanted more little devils running around the house. There was a joke that Evans and Mackie had with you every time that they saw you on set, clothed in a tight catsuit to fit your role. They would act amazed at the appearance of you not bearing one of Sebastian’s gorgeous children, their false shock earning laughs from your various co stars.

It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t open to the idea of another child to grow within your womb, however, it was more out of fear. You were well aware that you had been blessed with the birth of your lovely twins, though you were scared that you would endure the premise of double labour again, and it wasn’t exactly the kind of pain that you were willing to experience for a second time.

Being practically split in half once was bad enough, but twice, one instance straight after the other was bound to be the worst torture that a mother could be provided with. As you stirred your evening cuppa, watching as your kids were all huddled playing a board game after their dinner, two arms found placement around your waist, lightly tugging you back into a strong chest.

“Look at our babies.” Your husband mumbled into the crown at the back of your head, his fingertips rolling circles beneath your shirt. “Aren’t they the sweetest?” He asked, pressing a delicate kiss upon the back of your neck. The feeling of his stubble making your body shake wantonly, but you withheld from making sounds, not wanting to draw the attention of your children.

“When they’re quiet.” You agreed, watching as your eldest helped the twins with beating her. “They’re the most important people in my life, and then, it’s my annoying husband, who cannot stop trying to get in my pants for five minutes.”

“That’s called love; your husband loves you.” Sebastian stated, nibbling on your ear lobe as you ushered a sound of approval, clutching onto his hand that was firmly planted on your side, as his tongue traced the shell of your ear. “And I’m sure he’d love to show you how much, if you stop being mean to him.”

“Mean?” You laughed, taking a sip of your drink before spinning in his arms, allowing him to push you flush against the counter. “I can show him mean.” Biting your lip, you traced the seam of his sweats, that appeared to be all that he was currently wearing, brushing your hands up and against his well attended to torso. “But later.”

Seb groaned, leaning his head back, as he moved closer to you, pushing his thigh between your legs, glancing over your shoulder at the kids. “We could put them to bed right now, and then go to our room, then, you can show me how much of a horrible wife you are.”

“As much as I love that idea bubs, the twins need to be bathed, and you have to help your daughter with her math homework.” Leaning forwards, you pressed a kiss on his bicep, moving out from the entrapment of his arms, and lightly patting his ass.

“You know I was joking about you being mean, but now I’m seeing some truth behind my earlier words.” Sebastian plodded away, and towards the open living space, plopping down on the sofa, as he watched his offspring on the floor, smiling at their kindness to one another, though he was sure that tomorrow would be another story.

With one last look, you headed upstairs, going to the main bathroom, and began to slowly the run the tap. During the time you allowed it to run, you grabbed some pyjamas for your babies, as well as a couple of towels and flannels. By the time you had returned to the bathroom, and put everything down ready, the tub was half filled. And so you stopped the stream, putting in a tad of cold water before descending down the stairs.

“Honey, help y/e/d/n with her school work, I’m gonna get these two trouble makers ready for bed.” Your husband nodded as he pursed his lips, trying to ignore how you leant down to pick the twins up, pretending as through the top of your breast had not been caught by his eyes.

And with that, you got the kids cleaned and ready for the following day, meeting Seb at the doorway of y/d/n’s and y/s/n’s room, giving them each a kiss on the forehead before tucking them in for bed.

As you were walking towards your own room, Sebastian lifted you from behind, carrying you the rest of the way. “You can’t keep it in your pants, can you Mr Stan?” You laughed as he dropped you upon your double bed, him instantly kneeling at the end of it to peel your shirt off.

He trailed kisses along your legs, humming from the much desired contact, as his blue eyes flickered up at you. “That’s your fault, you deprive me.” He muttered against your skin, reaching his fingertips up higher to grasp at the sides of your underwear, pulling the material down.

Your husband blew hot air upon your pussy, grinning to himself as it instinctively clenched around nothing. As he moved closer, he breathed in your scent, rubbing the tip of his nose along your clit, before diving in to feast, sneaking his tongue through your slit, instantly prodding at your entrance, causing your head to wind back, and your hand grasp his hair.

“We should have another.” He mumbled against you, and you were almost too delirious to complain, although a light groan emitted from you, as you fought with yourself whether to let him continue eating you out and not respond, or do the responsible, adult thing, and speak about it.

With much resilience, you pulled his head away, licking your lips at his slick stained chin away, tugging him to be laid beside you. “Is that really want you want Seb?” You asked, biting your lip, wanting to hear his thoughts in hopes that it would relax you for the possibility of you bearing more of his children.

“Of course it is draga.” He answered, his icy pools making your own freeze, he cupped your chin, bringing your lips to his own, placing a few pecks upon your lips, before continuing. “I know that you’re nervous, but I will look after you every step of the way, like I have done both times before. Anyways, I feel like directors take a kick out of challenging themselves with making their actresses appear not pregnant, look at both you and Scar through the years.”

You nodded, understanding that your career wouldn’t take the brunt of things. “I want another but... I’m scared. Just, what if I have two again?” You rambled with your hands, and he clasped them between his own, pausing your panicked hand signals, and rubbing his nose against each set of your knuckles.

“The chances of that aren’t very high my love. But if it happens, then maybe this time you’ll let us call them Wanda and Pietro...” his words earned him a light eye roll and a tender hit on his shoulder, as he rolled on top of you, causing you to squeal. “Remember, don’t wake the kids.”

“Kinda hard when I can feel how hard you are.” You retorted, moaning as he began to suck at the spot on your neck that made your knees shake, his hands drifting beneath your shirt, as he began to raise the material up your torso, and over your breasts. You whipped the material over your head, discarding it as his attention turned to your boobs. “I’ll never get tired of these.”

He hummed, before leaning down, taking a rosey pebble to be captured within his mouth, sucking on it as his fingers fiddled with the other. “Seb, I just need you in me.” You prodded his hips with the heels of your feet, pleased when he leaned back, pulling down his sweats, so that his erection bobbed upwards, the head already leaking precum.

“You want a baby that bad?” He asked in a brisk voice, clambering back onto your awaiting body once again, grasping his base with his heavy hand, dragging his tip to circle around your clit. “Want me to fill you up, so that you grow nice and full with my baby.”

A furrow made its way onto your brow, as you held onto his biceps, lightly rolling your hips up against his leaking head. “Honey.” He paused his movements, staring carefully down at you, reading your expression. “I’m still on birth control.” You informed him, watching as his eyelashes fluttered, and he pressed down unto you again.

“A little practise never hurt gorgeous.” Sebastian spoke, slipping his cock into your entrance, sinking into you as you moaned out his name. “Fuck, so tight, even after three kids.” He groaned, putting his hands either side of your head, as he began to thrust in and out of your pussy, breathing heavily through his nose.

“So big.” Your hands grasped at his naked back, casting down to grasp his ass, causing him to suddenly buck deeper into you, emitting another series of moans out of you. “Love your cock.”

“Yeah?” The romanian smugly asked, his lips drifting up the tip of your nose, before running them back down to your own, biting onto your upper lip, as one hand continued to brace his weight above, and the other moved down to fondle with your clit, causing you to tighten around him, your eyelids blinking repeatedly. “You love my fat cock inside of you, about to pump you full of my cum?”

“Yes Seb, love it.” Your eyes screwed shut, tears slipping out the corner of your eyes, as he made his administrations harder, hitting his hips languidly against your own. “Love it so so so mu- ah - ch.”

“Cum angel. Coat my cock, pretty girl.” You complied, reaching your high, as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as your essence pooled around him. “Want me to make you round with my babe, want me to make you full of my cum?”

“I do, I do, I do.” You squealed, your breath hitching as he stilled for a minute, filling you with seed. “Fuck.” You breathed, your chest rising and falling, as he remained in your for a moment, before pulling out, but you stopped him, clasping his back with your sweaty hands. “Stay.”

“Okay.” Seb said tiredly, his skin flushed as he rolled over, so that you were laid on his chest, your head falling to below his chin. “So beautiful, you know that?”

“Mmh.” You hummed, drawing circles upon his skin. “I’ll come off my birth control tomorrow, then, we don’t have to just practice.” He leant down to press a long kiss upon your lips, sneaking his tongue through their natural seam, gently sucking on your own.

“That sounds more than good to me darling.” He stroked down your back with his talented fingers, pulling you closer again. You felt his dick twitch within you as he felt both of your mixed juices trailed down his balls, that huffed from the sensation.

[introloves]

Aone having a FAT crush on a tiny quiet barista at his new favorite cafe, they’ve memorized his order and even makes sure to keep his favorite seat open every morning for him- maybe they go to his school too but they never really talk? They kinda smile at him and wave in the hallways but never talk?

THIS IS SO CUTEEEE!!!!! nd bc im me i turned it into smut :( sowwy

— first times + big dick aone, embarrassed abt his size + size kink + brief summary of aone x reader’s relationship before we get to the smut + hard smut towards the end + f! reader

he wouldn’t say anything, he couldn’t say anything but you’d know by the way he he’s always mumbling when he gets to the counter, eyes shying away from your own, hands shaky everytime he’d hand you money, 2.25, every morning for his favorite cup of tea.

it’d always take you a couple seconds to put yourself back together, your own shaky hands tenaciously putting together his drink, perhaps making it with extra care.

he’d usually come alone, but on rare days there’d be a couple other faces. one in particular with brown sleek hair, would push him to mumble out words other than, ‘thank you’.

the teasing laughter and bright red coloring to his face was a dead giveaway. you’d only mess with your friends like this if there was crushing involved.

it’d make you burn up at the thought that he had a crush on you, he’s so big and intimidating and at first you’d have your guard up everytime he stepped inside, a looming presence not hard to notice.

but as the days went by, you’d see how much care he’d put into things. he’d take time to clean up his booth, make sure to recycle his cup, and always shyly nod his head towards you in a silent goodbye. on days where he feels especially brave, aone leaves a flower, one that he thinks most closely resembles your beauty.

on those days, when its your turn to clean the tables and you see a single, delicately picked flower, your heart thumps loudly in your chest.

you’d started falling for him before long.

and of course the dating starts shortly after.

you swear you’ve never felt love before him. he’s everything you needed, a nice security in an otherwise tumultuous and very scary world.

he holds you with arms that are twice as thick as yours, could squeeze you tight enough to hurt so very easy, but instead cradles you to sleep with so much care.

hands that work tirelessly, calloused, veiny and wide touch your face with a delicacy that doesn’t come naturally to someone of his size. he works at it, works at making sure he’s careful.

and you appreciate it, you do, but when you see him open jars for you with ease, reach over your head to pluck whatever you need from the top of shelves in stores, pick you up with no groan or strain, it makes your mind wander.

everything with him is so easy, so you don’t know why, when you’re slick between the thighs, throbbing with want for him, he makes it so hard.

he refuses your advances, pulls you off with a sad smile and jumbled words of,

“he’s not ready.” when you can clearly see he’s hard behind his pants.

it makes you cry, wondering if you’re not good enough. was the flustered flirting, kisses, and confession all just a big joke?

your tears break him, he hurriedly explains that it’s him. he won’t hurt you, can’t, refuses to.

“what are you talking about.” you hiccup, whipping away the tears.

“i just...” he sighs, running a palm down his face.

“i’m too big.”

your jaw nearly drops at that. the heat of embarrassment and lick of something hotter burns at your neck and tummy.

you’ve never heard or seen a man shy away because of his size, usually they boast and brag and have very little to boast and brag about.

you tell him it doesn’t matter, you want him. eyes wide and pleading, hoping he doesn’t shy away because you want him so bad.

his resolution is broken, he’s attracted to you after all. but you’re so small, so cute and plush and curvy in all the places he wants to sink his fingers into.

“i’ll be gentle.” he thinks when he finally grabs you, pulling you onto his lap.

he doesn’t miss the way your mouth shuts closed when you feel him, hips giving a small push against him to make sure you aren’t imagining him like this.

the kissing starts, fevered lips painting eachother in spit, shy moans leave the both of you.

foreplay is skipped, you’ve both held back long enough, and you wouldn’t let him anyways.

“not a good idea.” aone mumbles, but you don’t listen. you want him now.

one again you push at his weak spots, everything he does, he does to please you. but you make it seem that it’s quite the opposite, you want what he wants.

and aone is anything but an aroused man with a cute, soft, tiny girlfriend beneath him.

the first meeting of his cockhead against your leaking, twitching hole has him clench his teeth, hand placed heavy over your tummy to still your hips.

“it’s going to hurt.” he reminds you, but you still don’t care.

“i want you.” you breathe, it makes him hiss.

there were many steps you’d both taken together to get where you were.

from the first time he saw you at the café, bustling around with a smile that tugged at his heart, to a couple minutes ago, when you panted wantonly into his ear about how much you fantasized of him burying himself in you to the hilt, watching your eyes roll back as he pushes in is his favorite so far.

he’s not that expirienced, but knows that the growing wetness dripping onto his thighs with every squelch of your pussy as he sinks in is a good sign.

“g-god. nobu, you’re so big.” you chant.

he knows, he warned you.

but it’s not a bad thing, he thinks, because with just a few pumps in, the stretch he gives you, along with hips brushing against your clit, you’re already creaming around him.

he doesn’t blink the whole time you do, zeroed in on the shake of your thighs, fat squishing him against you, pussy equally trying to milk him of his own.

he thinks the best thing to do is to stay still and wait until you’re okay.

aone knows you are when the talk starts back up.

you can see the sweat glisten against his chest, you know he’s holding back, giving you shy thrusts once more.

it’s good, the same shy, tentative thrusts just made you cum so hard you couldn’t hear for a second, but there’s a hint of raw power he’s holding back.

“takanobu.” you call to him with a shaky voice.

he responds with a worried glance.

“use me.”

he looks at you in disbelief,

“n-no. i’ll hurt you.”

your hips rut, swiveling around the very hard cock of him in absolute desperation.

“i want you to hurt me.” you say. and he sees red.

there’s a tinge of fear at the hardened gaze he gives you, he moves you with an ease, making a show to grab your hips in both hands, lifting you off the bed as he kneels down.

he does as he’s told, moving you how he wants, impaling you down on his big cock over and over, watching the soft parts of you jiggle with the intensity of it, meeting the fat of your ass and thighs with harsh slaps. he digs already darkening splotches the shape of his nails into you.

you can do nothing but scream, trying to hold on to the bed so you don’t slam into the creaking headboard. but you don’t really have to worry, even now he makes sure to keep you from moving away from his pounding.

you can’t feel your legs with the second orgasm that takes you, knees lock and pussy once again creaming all over him while he drills into you.

this is what you wanted, your own pleasure being driven by aone. just like everything else, he makes sure to take care of you so good, your cunt numb and fucked open by the time he’s done.

he pulls out to cum all over your pussy, there’s so much.

he finally comes back to you with a noise that sounds apologetic.

“i’m sor-“ you cut him off before he can say anything, grabbing his face in both hands with shaky arms thanks to him.

“don’t.” you begin, telling him that it’s okay to not be careful, something he’s always been.

you let him know that with you, he doesn’t have to tip toe, that in the safety the two of your shared, he was free to do everything those who didn’t know him whispered about him. he was allowed to be mean, allowed to use those muscles he’s built, allowed to be scary.

finishing with a kiss to his lips,

you’ve loved him since he left you flowers at work, and you’d still love him even after drilling your pussy into submission.

[notquitecanon]

Spiked punch // Jasper Hale x Reader

I had snap chat memories from prom and I want to make out with a vampire cowboy

TW: alc mention , no NSFW just a lil steamy, heavy handed pg13

It was cliche really, how you snuck away from Forks High's prom with Jasper Hale. Pressing your smile against his lips behind the venue as you leaned back against a wide Oak tree that would hide the two of you from both party goers and chaperones alike. You were sure you were going to wrinkle the front of his suit with how desperately you were grasping it to keep him close while he briefly indulged you. It was very human- very teenage hormoney human.

Beautiful dress, perfect date, good music, better company, pleasantly spiked punch bowl (emphasis on the pleasantly spiked punch bowl)... Everything was perfect as you deepened the kiss, heart rate picking up, movements becoming frenzied, closing the limited distance between you until Jasper made a noise deep in his throat somewhere between a growl and a groan.

"Jazz..." You whined breathily as you felt him pull away from you like he always did, gentle at first but when the breeze hit you and your eyes fluttered open- the human facade was shattered, seeing as your boyfriend had made it ten feet away and halfway up a tree in under five seconds. It took a moment for your human eyes to find him.

Jasper was always careful with you, like one wrong move and you would kill over. He was careful when he drove you places. He was gentle when he would pick you up or run with you, and held your hand like it was made out of million year old glass. He was cautious getting too comfortable lest he slip up. Which was why, things never got anymore heated than he allowed, and thanks to that pesky power of his he always knew exactly when to cut things off before you got too... eager.

And as usual, he was waiting to give you that scolding golden-eyed glare as you tried to calm your breathing and wild flush, carefully smoothing the hair Alice had spent hours fixing. He didn't appreciate that you were decidedly more determined tonight- nor did he appreciate how easily he was considering folding when you gave him those innocent eyes.

Jasper had to look away before he scooped you up and ran halfway to Canada with you, but you read his discipline as something else. Immediately your emotions went from tempting to him to breaking his heart as he felt the deep streak of rejection and embarrassment coursing through you. You thought he didn't want to kiss you against that tree until you couldn't think straight?

"(Y/N), you don't know how much I want to, believe me, you have no idea," He tried assuring you, dropping out of the tree and forfeiting a little of the ground he covered. Just close enough to catch your hand in his and press the softest kiss against your knuckles as he let you feel just how much he loved you and wanted you.

"Then why not? Jasper, I trust you." You sighed, taking a few steps closer and lacing your fingers through his so he wouldn't be able to flash away again- not without taking your hand with him at least. The blonde dipped his chin so he could look down at you while you looked up at him through your lashes, "Completely."

"I appreciate the faith, but you're seriously overestimating my control, darlin'." He reminded you, taking another two steps back so there was at least some space between you and him even if he was still rubbing circles on your knuckles with his thumb. Jasper had to use every ounce of discipline from his 160 years to pretend that the pout on your lips wasn't effecting him. Not to mention the way you'd danced with him, smiled at him, flirted with him- and ESPECIALLY ignoring the gorgeous dress Alice had you in.

"And, I think you're seriously underestimating yourself." You argued defiantly once again closing the distance between the vampire and yourself. He gave you a stiff, warning look as you copied his earlier gesture, painting his knuckles with an ironic red smear from your lipstick, never breaking eye contact- but this time your eyes had gone from temptingly innocent to flashing dangerously.

“(Y/N)-“ his voice was strained as he watched your display- but he didn’t tell you to stop nor did he remove himself from the situation. He kept perfectly still as you tugged yourself closer to him, heels (or punch) making you stumble flush against his chest. Not your original goal, but you could work with it.

From this angle, you could press another soft kiss right above the collar of his dress shirt- no doubt designer, he wore it better than any model-right where his pulse point would be if he was human. His hands went to your hips and you expected him to push you away, but he didn’t, only holding you where you were.

So you moved to your next target, the marble point of his jawline which clenched under your lips. You paused, even in heels you couldn’t reach any further without Jasper’s cooperation. Even in heels, he was easily a head (if not more) taller than you. You couldn’t help it; you breathed a giggle against his neck, momentarily resting your cheek against his chest.

"Darlin'." His voice was somewhere between begging for more and a warning. When he pressed his lips roughly against your forehead, you guessed he opted for more. So, you wrapped his tie around one of your hands and tugged twice- not harshly, as you knew he wouldn't budge if he didn't want to, no matter how hard you pulled. This was more of a request.

To your surprise the blonde adhered to your wordless request, tipping his face down to you- golden eyes narrowing in on yours as he watched you with dark, curious eyes. Now with his lips in reach, you kept your grasp on his tie, holding it flush against your chest as if that would keep the vampire where you wanted him. With your free hand, you reached up and caressed his beautifully cold face- from the perfects Cupid's bow of his lips to the sharp outline of his cheekbone. Your heart couldn't help but soften at how he leaned into your warm touch before you leaned forward for his lips. One of his hands came up, gently guiding your chin as his eyes instinctively closed.

When you were close enough to almost feel his lips, you diverted to his cheek before pulling a little bit away with another innocent smirk. Jasper gave you a look of both disappointment and betrayal.

"Not so fun is it?" You hummed, dropping his tie in favor of smoothing out the wrinkles on his suit. It took a moment to work out the wrinkles you'd caused before taking the chance to slowly drag your hands down his chest. As chest turned to torso, you slipped your hands under his suit jacket which pushed your chest flush against his as your wandering hands started climbing back up his back.

"Sugar."

That was new. Jasper's voice was low and still warning- but this wasn't his usual warning- no you were treading into new exhilarating territory. Well, Jasper would probably use the words wantonly, stupidly dangerous. He'd never used this name or tone with you, and his eyes never flashed like that. Both signs you were heading in the right direction.

Gingerly, your hands snaked back around front before going around his neck. Jasper's perfect eyebrow quirked as your fingers started twisting and tugging the blonde curls at the base of his neck.

Suddenly, your back was against that tree again, plush moss protecting your skin from the rough bark as your mind processed what had happened. In a split second, Jasper had flipped you around, pinned you to the tree, and had both of your wrists pinned above your head with just one of his hands. All the while, he kept a careful watch on your emotions- exhilaration, love, and now that you'd realized what happened, shock. Jasper shook his head to the side, "A healthy dose of fear could do you some good."

"I'm not afraid of you, Jas." You whispered, breathless as your eyes flicked between his and his lips. Craning your neck, you caught his lips with yours and surprisingly he didn't pull away. The gentleman he was, he even let you maintain your illusion of control as he kept with you pace even as he held you captive.

You steadily moved yourself against him, lips in synchrony, chest flush against him only separated by a couple layers of fabric. Eventually, you couldn't keep the tempo you wanted if you kept straining up to his lips. A high pitched half whine, half moan escaped your throat that pushed the vampire over the edge.

With a low growl, he dropped your wrists in favor of hoisting you up like a bride- not that you minded as your arms fell neatly around his neck. Your forehead fell against his cheek as you struggled to catch your breath, "See, totally in control."

Smiling, you pressed kisses from the corner of his mouth down his jawline and then down his neck. Your faith in him was always astounding, more than he deserved. He could hear and feel your heavy pulse, smell every hormone, feel every emotion, and see the flush creeping up your neck. He could do this, he would never hurt you. This time, the blonde smirked even though you couldn't see it.

"You just brought yourself a death wish, sugar."

And with that, his lips attacked yours with aa fervor he'd never dared have before.

Thank God for spiked punch.

[yanderenightmare]

ik this is like maybe... taboo on a yandere blog, but say the Bakugo's still yandere and the darling is afraid, but just not enough to feel positively disgusted... could we like (points finger guns at each other and taps, rub the tip of my foot into the ground, scratches the back of my neck, shy smile) could we get a soft kiss? Bakugo and a soft kiss, still Bakugo but soft, idk you do it best!

yandere ! BNHA fluff

goodiebag WARNINGS: FLUFF, obsession

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

There she was. Looking like victory, looking like that sweet deserved prize you can taste on your tongue right before barreling over the finish-line, eager thrill and heart-blown triumph and such soft bliss once you stand on the other side, out of breath and forgetting everything else in the world. 

He’d been so good, so fucking perfect these last weeks, the best, just like he’d promised, just like he’d vowed, and now he would finally get that taste, that ambrosial taste, allowed to bask in it, to roll it around his tongue, run it through his teeth, finally feel it between his hands, rake and dig his fingers into it. 

He had been sweet and soft and kind. Well-behaved; refraining from getting into fights with whomever dared look at him in a manor he deemed wrong and calling randoms on the street alike his best mates unsavory names. Even boyfriendly; asking her about her day, opening up and telling her about his day, what he was feeling, scared beyond his wits throughout it all, free-falling and so very uncomfortably vulnerable, yet always met with a soft warm landing when she’d place a hand on his cheek, kiss his forehead, smile at him, answering him with equally squishy details he had no idea he even liked hearing until hanging off of each and every syllable, feeling that monstrous urge to rip his heart from his chest and stomp on it, make it bleed instead of flutter with that stupid ticklish tingling she’d cripple him with.

But he’d kept his ground, manned the posts, kept the beast at bay, roaring and clawing inside the cage of his chest, allowing the girl to softly tame the rabid hound with cotten-soft hands petting his head. 

His foot was only barely subdued from shaking in vigor as she swung her leg over his thighs, positioning herself on his lap when the credits to what movie they’d been watching started rolling, soft music playing sweetly in the background, black screen throwing the room into an intimate dark, one that calls for certain things you do in the night, and hopefully dark enough to hide what positively red rouge tinted his cheeks as he felt her press down on where something was sleeping beneath the layers of his clothes.

He was beyond ready, beyond starving, hands so very frigid yet still with a practiced touch remained steady and deceptively calm as he placed them on her hips, grabbing onto the ample soft skin found at her waist, suppressing the urge to squeeze and settling for messaging in slow careful meandering strokes with his thumb. 

He felt like attacking, like pouncing and trapping, like ripping clothes off, but knew that wasn't the way to win this particular fight.

His hand stirred again, ascending, perhaps too wantonly, but she didn't seem to mind as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers with labored finger-pads tracing her jaw, thumb swiping over her lips, cupping her chin, thumb and index-finger pressing into the plump squishy flesh of her cheeks, making her pout. He couldn't hold back the impulse that sent his tongue to swipe over his lip, but found quickly a way to save himself from the lacking display of control. “Are you ready?” He asked, as though actually giving her a choice, voice as calm as he could muster it, trying to withhold the strained timber of hormones that fought so badly to be released.

“I’m ready.” She managed to say weakly, her head bowed to look at him, eyes big and beautiful and glorious as he drank in her gaze. 

He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, pulling her in with a gracious touch when leaning in to kill the space between their lips. Smoothly brushing his stiff lips against her pillowy-soft ones, slightly parting to receive another meeting, and again and again with more and more pressure, quite like the increasing drumming of their pulse. 

He pulled away to search her eyes, realizing he’d maybe been squeezing her neck to harshly when wrapping his hand away from holding her chin, before pushing his lips back onto hers, kissing her more earnestly and desperately than before. The arm kept around her waist moved, also in favor of rising to head-level, gently cupping her cheek as he deepened the kiss. Letting out a ragged gasp as he pried her mouth open, she leant back on his lap, away from his boyish needy hunger and his tongue slipping inside her mouth and tangling with hers. She was still as a statue then, her face held between his hands, unsure of what to do now that the boy had claimed full control, unsure of what she wanted to do. Then, against her own will, did a tiny meager whimper escape her mouth, making him pull away with a soft rugged chuckle, gently stroking her cheek with his knuckles. “Shh, Pumpkin, I won’t bite.” He promised, cooing softly at her, his nose touching hers. Red eyes glinting, pooling with black, predatory heat within them causing a surprisingly pleasant shiver to slide up her spine, though not withholding the squeal of panic as he maneuvered with the speed and tactful precision of a true hero-course student, spinning them around and dropping her carefully on her back, now looming above her, with tenfold more control of what he had earlier.

His index finger stroked her chin before raising it for her to look up at him... or maybe for him to look down at her. For him to enjoy seeing her flushed red in all her bashful glory. It was a different feeling than seeing her smile and laugh, different from looking at her in hope she’d look back at him, no longer chasing but having his prey caught, ready to sink his teeth in, different, but nevertheless... still good. His other hand stroked a wisp of hair behind her ear as the locks had gone wild in the tumble of his actions, groping her face to lean in closer.

He pressed his lips against hers again, and though surprised and with a heart beating like a hummingbird, she slid her own hand around his waist, the other tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, legs climbing up on his back, hooking over his hips and pulling him closer.

She felt his lips curl up into a smirk. His hand splayed on her stomach, having crawled up her shirt to rub circles into the soft skin of her belly, as he gently buried his other hand in her soft silken hair, pulling her head closer to his. 

As he drew his mouth from hers he started kissing a trail of pecks down her jaw, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, drooling with such suppressed lust he groaned into the dip between her shoulder and neck, unsure if he could hold back once he started feeling the blood rush and pump and fuel down to his length, unsure if she was ready to take all that he wanted to give her, unsure if she was willing to give all he was going to take.

[yslkook]

flower boy

pairing: seokjin x reader summary: you're seokjin's favorite flower. word count: 1.8k warnings: face sitting, ropeplay, one mention of deflowering a/n: meant to be a drabble of the just like magic couple, but can be read alone.

Seokjin has been gone for the last fifteen minutes and really, you should be worried. But you’re too enthralled with the scene around you- the quiet sound of silence throbbing in your ears. A faint breeze floats across your face as you take all of the photos you can of the mountainside around you. Snow capped peaks surround you, kissing the sky ever so slightly.

The moment of serenity is broken by your husband sprinting towards you as if he’s committed a crime. With slightly pink cheeks, he huffs and puffs to regain his breath. You raise an eyebrow, wondering if he has committed a crime-

“Are you in trouble?” You ask warily, “Should we start running?”

“W-what? No,” Jin protests, “I mean, maybe-”

“How unfortunate,” You say, eyeing the flowers in his hands with interest, “What’s that?”

“For my beautiful wife, the queen of my heart,” Jin says dramatically, “The apple of my eyes, all of the above. Stole some flowers for your hair.”

“For my hair,” You repeat flatly, though your heart is fluttering. You don’t recall the last time you had something as innocent as flowers in your hair.

“That’s what I said, sweets,” Jin grins, tucking a few plum blossoms in your hair and a bright, pink azalea behind your left ear. “Wow,” He murmurs, “My gorgeous wifey. Let me take a picture.”

Despite your grumblings and protests (you feel so awkward standing alone and posing for a photo with flowers in your hair. But it makes Jin so happy, his lips pulled into a wide smile and his eyes crinkling at the sight of you, that you can’t help but smile, too.) Of course, the pictures of you come out nicely. Jin always has a way with the camera when it comes to you.

You ask him for photos with you, too. But you get distracted and end up kissing him, right there against the bridge. Jin holds you steady and close, arms tight around you as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You softly moan into his mouth when he squeezes your ass. Melting into him is so easy, the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It’s easy when he makes you feel like you’re on a cloud, slowly swaying in the sky amongst swirling, sweet dreams with him and only him.

When he pulls away, he bites your bottom lip with a grin.

“Do I look pretty,” You murmur raspily. Loose petals and leaves float with the wind, getting stuck in his hair. Jin’s eyes are bright and brown, shining against the budding darkness of the setting sky.

His eyes turn just as dark as the backdrop behind you.

“Always, baby,” Jin murmurs, "My favorite flower." He is absolutely mesmerized by you on a normal day, but being alone with you here, in between the stoic mountains and with flowers in your hair. You’re breathtaking.

“I feel pretty, with your flowers,” You confess. Your words are shy but your lips are twisted into a smirk and your eyes drip something dark. He only grins lazily right back at you, as if daring you to say what he knows you’re thinking. Seokjin is a force of nature on any given day, with a sharp smile, easy eyes and a straight spine. His words are chosen carefully for anyone who isn’t you. You, who can read him like a book without opening your eyes.

Jin only takes two steps closer to you and dips you for a sharp kiss. You cradle his cheeks, pulling him in as close as you can. The concern that someone may see you both is a concern that tickles the back of your mind, but how can you focus on it? When your husband kisses you as if you’re made of flames and embers, and he just wants some of your warmth?

“Seokjin,” You sigh, your breath fanning across his cheek.

He hums, “Wanna go home? Lemme show my flower wife how much I love her?”

“Are you going to deflower me?” You laugh and Jin throws his head back in laughter.

“Think it’s too late for that, baby.”

Seokjin is a man of many words, and as it turns out, he shows you nothing. He’s lying beneath you, fully bare and with only a self-satisfied, smug smirk on his stupidly handsome face. You wish you could say that you had given him something to smirk about, but he’s making fun of you.

Because you’re so impatient, and he’s filled with nothing but patience. In most instances, it’s a great thing. That he balances and mellows out your impatience. But not in this case.

You whine, rolling your hips against his but he gives you nothing. He can’t even touch you because he had begged you to tie him up with the special purple rope at the back of your closet as soon as you had entered the threshold of your bedroom-

“Please baby, I want you to ride me until my soul leaves my body.”

Tying him up to the headboard of your bed is nothing new. In fact, him acting like this- smug, lazy and almost bored is nothing new either. He only shows this part of himself to you when there are rings of neatly coiled purple rope around his wrists, his chest, his waist and his thighs.

“What’s the matter, baby,” Jin drawls, “You need help?”

He doesn’t even tug on his restraints. He looks so comfortable like this, save for the reddened tint of his cheeks. It had taken you so much convincing to allow yourself to tie him up like this. You had watched tons of videos to learn exactly how to tie the knots perfectly so as to not hurt him. The last thing you ever want to do is hurt Jin in any way.

Even now, you still hesitate sometimes. But seeing him like this. Open and vulnerable, so deliciously spread for you with his cock hanging heavy between his thighs...wrapped up all pretty with the purple rope (that he’d picked out months ago. By now, your fingers are incredibly familiar with it).

You choke on your saliva. His golden skin ripples with your gentle touch on his belly, over the trail of hair at his navel. Fuck, he’s beautiful.

“I look good, right, baby?” Jin breathes, lips jutted into a pillowy pout, “Fuck, take some pictures and show me.”

“But I wanna cum,” You complain, “You don’t even care how wet I am-”

“Oh? I don’t care?” Jin asks, his voice silky smooth. He gestures for you to move, to adjust and sit on his thigh. You gasp when the rope around his thigh brushes your clit. Your hips rock slowly as your eyes flutter and your pussy jumps- it always surprises you. How good the rope can feel against you.

“Good girl,” Jin murmurs. You want him to touch you, hold your hand, but this is good, too. “Keep going, baby. Why don’t you touch me too, huh? Gimme some attention-”

Jin groans when you stroke his cock with shaky hands. “Yeah,” He says dreamily, “Fuck-yeah, like that…” He sighs, the sound strangled as his back arches with your touch. Somehow, you find your rhythm while grinding your clit along the rough edges of the ropes tight around his thigh and stroke his cock in the same movement.

“You look so good, baby,” Jin rasps, “Fuck, I wish you could see. I love you, you’re everything and you give me everything…”

You whimper at his words, feeling your belly start to tighten. Jin can tell that you’re close, your breaths are staggered and you squeeze his thigh tightly as you swing your hips against the rope. It’s rough against your clit but each catch of it against your skin makes you gasp, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head.

“Cum, baby, you’re so close,” Jin coos, “Cum all over me, all over my thigh. My pretty wifey’s gonna cum? She doesn’t even need me to cum, does she?”

“N-no,” You glare at him, “Always need you.”

“Is that so? Show me then,” Jin demands softly. You notice him tug at his restraints.

“Look,” You mumble, lifting your hips up slightly. He groans when he sees your glistening pussy and you wonder if he knows that your clit is throbbing for him. You not so subtly smear your wetness on his thigh before he stops you.

“Come sit on my face,” He rasps, “Lemme see that pussy, baby.”

“Fuck, finally,” You mutter, earning yourself a playful glare from him. As soon as you descend over his mouth, your thighs on either side of his head, he groans wantonly before sniffing deeply and licking your wetness easily. Your hips rock against his face, coating his lips and his chin with your wetness as he drinks up what you give him.

His tongue is ruthless, warm and wet and soothing in your pussy and he drags it out. You think Jin even spits in your pussy, but you hardly even hear it with the sounds of his noisy mouth against your equally noisy pussy.

You hold Jin’s hands, which are tied together at the wrist against the headboard above him. You’re tempted to untie him for your own selfish reasons, to feel his big hands on your heated skin, to feel him smack your ass.

But you know how much he likes this so you simply hold his hands in the restraints. Jin looks up at you in that way, that way where he’s looking at you as if he wants to absolutely, divinely devour you and tenderly brush your hair all at the same time.

You're beautiful with or without flowers in your hair, he thinks.

“Fuck, I love you,” You say, “You look so good like this, baby, fuck. Look at you. My handsome boy. So good for me.”

You’re close, so fucking close, you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. Jin is relentless- he knows how to get you there, how to twist you inside and out. He moans into your skin, curling his lips around your clit just a few more times…

You’re thrown over the edge and it washes over you in powerful waves, a sharp moan of his name pulling out of your throat. You curse, looking down at him and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He still looks so smug, but his cheeks are flushed.

Pulling yourself off of him, you lay on top of him and kiss him slowly, languidly. Jin scoffs into your mouth and you pull away in surprise.

“What?”

“You gonna ride me or what?” He asks bluntly and you swat his shoulder. But nevertheless you straddle his hips and climb on top of him.

It’s your turn to be smug when a broken moan slips out of his mouth, his plump lips parted as you sheath your velvety walls around his leaking cock.

“You good, baby?” Your voice is syrupy sweet, the same way your honey is slick around his cock. He can only nod weakly at you. “Get ready for the ride of your life, hubby.”

tags: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[melodyofmbaku]

There Will Be No Tears (Chapter 1)

⚠️Warning: I won’t be continuing this series, just placing it here for posterity.🙏🏾 Thanks for understanding. 

Prompt: “Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: So Much ANGST The boy squirmed slightly as you deftly lifted his sleeping form from his crib and nestled him in your arms. You smiled softly as you stared at the carbon copy of your husband swaddled in your arms. You couldn’t deny it, he was handsome. You placed a soft kiss to his cheek, and whispered sweet words of praise in his ears. You noticed a tear sliding down your cheek and quickly lifted your hand to wipe it away, swallowing deeply and repeating the mantra you had created to comfort you during trying times – there will be no tears. You turned and lifted the large baby bag you had packed earlier in the evening, hoisting it over your shoulder. It was full with supplies that would last a few days as you journeyed outside of your husband’s kingdom to a quiet and unsuspecting location, until you had found a place and settled down. You had decided that you and your son would live away from the palace, and have nothing to do with royalty. You’d live a quiet life, the way you used to before you met him. Maybe settle in the River Tribe, somewhere discreet, where you could find peace.  You didn’t want any trouble. You took one last look around your 1 and a half year old son’s room, noticing the large rocking chair T’challa had bought for you the moment you he had discovered you were pregnant. You smiled at the memory – a small smile. The mantra played on repeat in your head. there will be no tears. You hurried out of the room closing the door quietly and began your walk to the west wing of the palace, where you would make your exit. Your eyes took in the architecture of the palace that had been your home for close to 3 years, you would miss it. It was where you had met T’challa. You had loved him, married him, and conceived your beloved son together in the walls of this building. How could you not miss it? Unfortunately, it was also the place that witnessed the breakdown of your marriage, the walls had heard every argument, saw every push, heard every insult, but worst of all it had heard your cries. The cries that had emitted from your lips as you realized that your beloved husband, the king had a lover. A lover who wasn’t you. You remembered the day you found out like it was yesterday, and you probably would for the rest of your life. __ You had woken up in the middle of the night and he wasn’t there. It wasn’t surprising for you to wake up with him gone in the middle of the night, He was king after all. He had a duty to his country and it was a job that did not give him the privilege of getting his 8-10 hours of sleep. Often times he would work through the night. You would always feel him slip back into bed as the sun rose, to kiss your cheeks and pull you close to him once again, returning just in time to spend a few minutes with you as you woke up. If you woke in the middle of the night and missed his presence he could be found in his office, huddled over a stack of papers, with a steaming cup of herbal tea to his side and his glasses on the tip of his nose. Sometimes you would watch him through a crack in the door and go back to bed, your heart content that he was fine. Other times you would give a little knock on the door and let your presence be known.   He’d always welcome you in with a smile and pull you into his lap, leaving you with a kiss on your forehead. If you were really adamant, you’d manage to convince him to come back to bed, and he’d oblige. Every now and then you got comfortable in his lap and let him work as you slept for the duration of the night. This time was different. You had left your bed with a peace offering of herbal tea in hopes of resolving the quarrel that had you both going to bed with your backs facing each other. Instead of seeing T’challa huddled over a stack of papers  you were met with a sight that would change the course of your relationship and Wakanda forever. You saw your husband, with his back facing you as a woman had her hands planted on his desk and her figure arching into his body. “You are my peace.” He said into the woman’s hair, as his arms rested loosely around her waist and his nose was buried in her hair. It was those words that broke you the most. He littered her neck with kisses as she reached back and ran her fingers through his coarse hair. Your husband’s hair. The whole scene made you sick to your stomach and you couldn’t help yourself as the saucer and teacup that held his favourite herbal tea slid out of your hands and crashed onto the polished marble floors of the palace. You were stunned for a second before you turned your back and walked hastily back to your quarters. “Y/N!” he called frantically. He murmured a few words to the woman in his office, took a few hurried strides across the room and closed the mahogany door of his office quietly. He then started his sprint towards you and grabbed your wrist pulling your body to him.   “Y/N…” he said as his voice trailed off. He ran his fingers through the coils that sat atop his head – something he did when he was frustrated. “I’ve been going through a lot, it’s been hard on me you know?” He expected you to say something, but words couldn’t escape your lips. there will be no tears.  You had thought that the increasing number of fights you had been having could be resolved by couples therapy, or communication, anything. You were wrong. This moment made you realize that nothing would solve this broken marriage, it was bigger than you. What you did know is that you wouldn’t have your son growing up in a loveless family, with puppets as parents. Finally, your found your voice. It was wobbly, and you didn’t know how he would take it but you tried anyways. “T’Challa?”  A beat. “ I think we should… I don’t think we should… I can’t –“ you couldn’t finish your thoughts as he interrupted you. “Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” He whispered as the grip on your wrist tightened. His head hung low, and he couldn’t look at you and instead chose to focus his sight on the floor. You took note of the pressure on your wrist, nodded and composed yourself. You pulled your wrist from his grip, smoothing the front of your night dress, and made you way back to your chambers. This time, he didn’t return.  But you knew. You couldn’t stay. Your upbringing and dignity wouldn’t allow you to. You wouldn’t be a puppet queen. You couldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature. __ Weeks had passed since that night and you still operated on auto-pilot. You bathed, burped and played with your son as if nothing was wrong. You went to all your scheduled meetings as the queen, you picked out the linens for the dinners that were to be held in that quarter, you had lunches with T’Challa’s mother, you painted your nails, and braided your hair like you usually would. You spoke to your husband as if nothing was wrong. Replying when he asked you questions that he already knew the answer to just to get you to speak to him. “Y/N? Are we attending the Festival of Harvest this year?” he asked while looking at you expectantly looking for anything – something to indicate your anger. You busied yourself with the laundry you were folding and replied in an even tone “Of course, we attend every year don’t we? Why would this year be any different?” This year would be different. By the time the Festival of Harvest rolled around you and Kweku would have left the palace, never to attend another festival again. Prior to the discovery of his infidelity your interactions had been very different. You were bickering back and forth about almost everything. He would spend a few hours a day playing with his son but ignoring his wife. Often times he’d find you and plop Kweku on your lap and say “He needs his diaper changed, you can return him to me when you’re done.” When you questioned why he couldn’t change his diaper, he’d say “It’s the least you could do Y/N, you’re his mother.” In a condescending tone that you’d never thought would leave the mouth of your husband, your Challa.  He would wait for you outside his nursery, and swoop him out of your arms when you exited the room without a word of thanks, and hurry along his way. When you expressed your tiredness while dealing with Kweku, juggling your palace duties, and trying to be a good wife at the same time, he’d simply ask “Y/N, could it be that you’re just not trying hard enough? You must learn to manage it.” T’Challa was never physical with you. Just dismissive, and condescending, and cold. This wasn’t the man you married. Whenever you expressed your concerns about his behavior he’d roll his eyes at you and try to placate you like a child. “If you’d just do what I suggest, you wouldn’t be getting yourself upset over nothing Y/N. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones still swirling about in your system but I’m sure Shuri can help you out if you need it.” With these comments you’d just get more and more heated, which would result in many slammed doors, and a lot of raised voices. You could put up with the arguments, you could fix that, but giving himself to another woman? You couldn’t forgive. You knew you had to be objective with your exit. Though T’Challa had always been sweet to you until recently, he had the capacity to be cruel, he was the Black Panther after all. You wouldn’t put it past him to keep you in the palace as a captive if you made any attempts to leave him, especially with his son. During sex he’d let you know it was he who was dominating your body with skill that made you cry out wantonly every time. “You’re mine Y/N, say it!” he’d growl into your ear, and you would say it, because it was true. __ Your sons whining took you from your thoughts, and you remembered you had to be swift. There was only a small window that would allow you to leave undetected. You had been planning this for weeks. Waiting for the perfect moment. T’challa was gone on an annual hunting trip where many of the  Dora Milaje would accompany him as he wouldn’t be in communication with the palace for 3 days. A lot could happen in 3 days. Today was day one, and you had planned to leave today as it would give you the most amount of time to get as far away from the palace as possible and leave undetected. The palace was still guarded, but loosely, and you knew all the blind spots. Perks of hanging out with Shuri in your down time. You snuck out the side door in the west wing, which led to an unsuspecting dirt road, spotting the cab you had arranged for idling in the shadows. Having already placed your small luggage in the cab before going back to retrieve your son it only took you a moment to settle yourself and a sleeping Kweku in the car.  “What’s your destination?” the cab driver asked you curiously looking at your cloaked figure in the rear-view mirror. You took a deep breath and steadied your voice “Take us North, I’ll tell you where to stop.” The driver nodded his head and began the journey turning on a shitty American station that played pop music and country.   You’d never forget this day. To you, it was monumental because you had managed to pull it off but it was also the day when you turned your back on your duty, your kingdom, your husband and your crown. When that realization struck you, the tears slid down your face disobediently. No matter what, you vowed to never look back

[yinses]

savory euphemism

gojo satoru rating: m ( a lot of implications)

rqst: hope it makes sense! but he what if gojo had a lover who he accidentally turned into a curse when he rejected her death sort of like yuta did but bc he’s stronger she absorbs enough of his energy to make her a special grade but she doesn’t remember him :( and just likes killing but he can’t bring herself to exorcise her so he lets her do some of his curse missions just so she gets her fill and not go after ppl. basically pain all around. craving some angst in this chilis tonight

a/n: i did what i could! hope it meets your expectations. 

he should have just killed it. put you both out of misery.

your spirit- the same part of you still drifting somewhere in the abyss, must hate him. he despised himself for putting you through this- making you this monster.

fate was cruel to him. making this curse into your image: your smile, voice and even some of your mannerisms but ripping away anything that tied it to him in memory. the only thing that kept it close was that intrinsic bond that tethered them together.

he made the mistake of calling it by your name too many times, ignorant enough to think that he could somehow bring you to the surface. it was you after all, born from the ashes of your death. in the end, he’d only made the noose around his neck. it built on his frustrations, learning lyrics of manipulation that they sang in his ear whenever he thought about killing it for good.

“toru, toru, don’t you miss me?”

“wont you be sad if i’m gone?”

then it would dance away, teeth clicking with laughter.

it was a haunting reminder that he never deserved you, he couldn’t even honor you properly on your deathbed.

but fuck, you-it- retained so much of your beauty, even out there on the battlefield as it ripped through curse after curse. letting it fight was like feeding, allowing it to consume and destroy to its heart content so that it wouldn’t turn on humanity. it was the only way that he could keep you, the same selfish wish that manifested the abomination in the first place.

the cruelty it poses seemed to be reserved for him. the curses he descended it upon may as well have been paper figures as it tore through their beings. it didn’t play toy them, not like it tormented him. didn’t draw out their turmoil.

when the last curse disintegrated, it turned to him, a small pout tugging at the mouth.

“those were boring, lets play more.”

it always wanted to fight, needing to expend its energy to remain satisfied.

he bites through a smile, eyes tense behind his blindfold. it blinked up at him with all the expectations of a child begging for more allowances. he doesn’t remember you being this innocent-dependent- and there are times that he doesn’t know what to do with it.

gojo chuckles bitterly, shoulders sinking a little further. “you’re going to ruin my image if i keep taking you on killing sprees. i’m efficient but if i start looking like a workaholic it might cause suspicion.”

not that it already wasn’t. the concern hadn’t disappeared after your physical body was long gone. there had been a shift in his being- just small enough to disrupt the flow of cursed energy trapped within him. the cursed manifestation of your soul weighed in on his own store, filling it with malignant thoughts that threatened to crack his facade.

he tolerated less than he use to. jokes not falling as easily from his lips. the only good thing to come from it was that he was able to direct most of it towards the elders. gojo was already strong but it made him appear more dangerous, though that wasn’t necessarily a positive.

“so no more work. lets play.”

right, ‘playing’. the euphemism used for when it fed on his own cursed energy in the most unconventional ways.

the field was empty of any other being, cursed, mortal or in between.

gojo leaned forward and brushed his nose against theirs. his eyes closed and prayed fervently to a god in hope that he wasn't sinning as he covered ‘your’ mouth with his.

it knew that human affection was his weakness, piercing the void in his heart with echos of sweets whimpers and moans from his past. this is when it duplicated you the best. almost identical in the way it made it’s body shuddered against his, trembling yet wholly invulnerable.

and he became intoxicated with how ‘your’ hands clutched his shoulders, as it hungrily parted ‘your’ lips and struggled to breathe as its domain bled out and surrounded him. it felt like he was floating in the same waters that took you away from him.

sometimes he wonders if this curse was the one who pulled you under.

wouldn’t that be ironic?

broader hands, soft and gentle, mapping out the feminine contours and pushing the shirt above ‘your’ navel. it had the curse breaking apart and gasping wantonly against him.

writhing.

quiet moans and desperate whines.

what a dirty little thing it made you. the visual tightening his crotch in a way you never had.

throwing its head back, looking at him with half-lidded eyes and letting those beguiling eyes yank him further down into the depths of ecstasy.

gojo smiled bitterly all to himself, brushing his expert hands over their body and making it jerk achingly against him in expectation.

he became addicted to this poison as it drew strands of vitality from him.

still desperately wanting you, wanting to protect what he made, wanting to do everything that it desired, because underneath it all he was still a broken man latching onto a fantasy.

of course, he knew that it needed him like oxygen, like sweets, like savory bean paste daifuku and sticky dango.

and he needed it too, like sleep and sanity.

maybe he was never meant to be in love.

[cowboycostume]

Through the Night (1.1k, T)

ao3 link in the rb

After eleven hours on the road, Dean pulls into the parking lot of a motel in Pennsylvania. He could push a little farther, they could make the trip in two days’ drive, but he wants to keep this to himself for a little while longer. He wants to enjoy this, the first few days together, the first few nights, as whatever they were grows steadily into what they are now.

The neon vacancy sign glows brightly through the window, outlining Cas’ profile in ethereal blue. He’s been asleep for nearly an hour, head pillowed on a rolled up jacket, one hand stretched towards the driver’s seat. Dean takes a picture — creates a real, physical memory of this night, of the tenuous boundary they’re halfway across.

The motel is the same as thousands of others Dean has stayed in over the course of his life. Same weird no-color carpeting, same dingy bedspread, same kitschy artwork on the walls. Today’s room isn’t as garish as some of the others have been, but the stale scent of nights past is just as prominent. 

Cas still appears half asleep when they walk in, but the way he looks at the king bed is akin to reverence. Dean has just enough time to wonder idly if that’s how Cas looks at him, before the full force of that gaze is leveled toward him. And maybe it’s because everything is out in the open, maybe it’s the dawning realization that Dean had gotten them a room with a single mattress, but Cas seems enrapt as he moves closer — awed as he threads his fingers back through Dean’s. 

“There’s only one bed.” It's stating the obvious, stating something he already knew, but Dean can’t help the way his heart speeds up at the implication. At Cas making the implication. 

“I could request two queens, if you’d—”

“Don’t you dare.” 

The way Cas studies him reminds Dean faintly of alleyways; of long looks under neon lights; of mouldering houses and rain coming in through the windows; of lights exploding overhead and the whistle of wind through aged wood. Then Cas is kissing him, hungrily, desperately, and there is no longer space for other thoughts. He feels his knees knock against the edge of the bed, allows himself to be pushed down. 

Cas hesitates above him; hair disheveled, face flushed, eyes dark and wild as they rake along his body. Dean reaches out, cards his fingers through dark hair to rest at the base of Cas’ neck and pulls him forward. It’s as though all he had been waiting for was permission. From the moment they reunite, Cas is unrestrained; hands working Dean’s jacket off, knees bracketing his hips, fingers sliding over any uncovered skin they can find. 

Layers of clothing hit the floor, shrugged off of shoulders and pulled over heads; hands run over every new inch of skin as it is revealed, grasping at hips and arms and waists. Dean is almost overwhelmed. He’d never thought this would actually happen; never thought he’d be able to hold Cas without the spectre of death hanging over them; never thought he would know the feeling of Cas’ bare back under his hands without the barrier of blood.

He wants to memorize every spot that makes Cas gasp, everything he can do to hear that throaty groan again. This feels like his first time; the same mix of anticipation and raw, untamed desire coursing through him. Cas catches his mouth in a bruising kiss, rocking against him wantonly. When he pulls away to work his way down the column of Dean’s throat, the shift in angle sends electricity dancing through his veins, just enough to make him crave more.

  Afterwards, Cas curls around him, one leg slung across both of Dean’s, chin resting on his shoulder, an arm warm across his chest. Dean idly traces patterns against Cas’ spine, content for the first time in recent memory.

“I remade this body once.” Cas’ lips brush against the shell of his ear as he fits his hand around the curve of Dean’s shoulder. “And I thought that meant I understood what it was to know you intimately.

“Did you know in Enochian, the words for ‘love’ and ‘worship’ are inextricably linked? We were only taught to understand love in context for what we should be feeling for our superiors, for the absent presence of God. For millennia, I thought that in order to love, I had to devote myself to something. But when I was human, I learned the difference between understanding and feeling. That there is a difference between love and devotion.”

His tone isn’t accusatory, but the hot rush of guilt floods Dean’s body anyway. His hand stills, a thousand inadequate apologies building in his mind. 

“I’ve forgiven you, Dean.” Cas murmurs against his shoulder, “If this is going to work, you need to learn how to forgive yourself. We’ll both have to learn.”

What did he ever do to deserve this? To have someone love him despite a lifetime of mistakes? Dean swallows against the lump in his throat, bites back the urge to shy away from the tenderness of the moment.  Cas deserves better than that. He deserves the truth.

“I’ve been workin’ on it. After you—” Christ, it’s hard to say. Even now, with Cas in his arms and very much alive, he can’t bring himself to say the word. “When you were gone, I started sorting through a lot of my crap. We finally got out from under Chuck’s thumb, but I was still living in the prison he’d made for me.

“I’ve spent so long being afraid, man. I spent my whole life running and fighting, and afraid of saying the wrong thing — of saying anything, really. I thought it was easier not to, but maybe I was just afraid of change. But you changed everything, Cas.”

He can feel Cas’ eyes on the side of his face, but he doesn’t turn to meet them. Dean keeps his attention on a small discolored patch of the tile above him as he speaks, voice barely above a whisper. He recounts scenes from his dreams of the last six months, the good and the bad. He tells him about the awful future he’d once visited; about the unspoken agreement that the trenchcoat would switch cars with them; the horrible, broken shell he’d been after Jack was born; about the gaping hole in his life where Cas belonged.

“The night we met, you told me good things can happen, even to me. I gotta say, man, everything after that was a goddamn shit show, but you weren’t wrong.” He finally brings himself to look Cas in the eyes, half expecting an argument. But there is none, just the steady, reassuring gaze he’s missed. “You’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me.” Chapter 2 || or on ao3

[kakakakashi]

Hokage’s Office: The Door

100 Follower Celebration - Day 5

Kakashi Hatake x Reader || NSFW

Warnings: porn without plot, Kakashi’s a smug motherfucker, cursing obviously, overstimulation, idk man, you know what you’re getting into by day 5 

Word count: 2,855

A/N: I think this one is my favorite tbh. 

- 

Irritated was an understatement for how Kakashi currently felt. He’d been dealing with too many frivolous problems all day long. Even with Shizune and Yamato’s help, Kakashi was still up to his neck in bullshit. He was the Hokage for crying out loud.

When he trudged back into his office with a cup of black coffee to help get him through the day, he found you swaying back and forth in his chair with your feet propped on the edge of the desk while you read his work copy of Icha Icha Paradise. Frankly, Kakashi didn’t have the patience for this.

You’d made him late this morning after trying to entice him with morning sex, but Yamato had ended up knocking on his door right when things were getting good. His friend insisted that they were both needed in the office, and he was sent to make sure Kakashi was okay. Kakashi ended up going into work only for you to pester him all day until now.

“Feet off the desk,” he demanded in an exasperated, low tone. You rolled your eyes at him, pretending like you didn’t hear while you flipped a page in the book. “Don’t think I didn’t see you roll your eyes.”

“Fine,” you huffed, allowing your feet to loudly plop on the floor, hoping to get your point across that a lot worse things have happened to the desk. However, Kakashi seemed to snap at your brattiness, stalking forward until his large frame towered over you.

“I’ve had it with your attitude.” Your wide eyes met his narrowed one for a moment before he threw you over his shoulder and carried you towards the door. “You think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing? I don’t have time for your immature little act. I really don’t want to give into you, but maybe if I do fuck you, you’ll finally do something more productive with your time.”

He flung you from his shoulder so your back lightly smacked against the door. He knew exactly where to position you so that when he put you down, you were only an inch off the ground with his thigh between your legs and his hands beside your head.

His flaming eye and intimidating stature had you panting, allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable with no way to escape. Gazing at him, you’re reminded that he is a deadly shinobi, and you’re also painfully aware that you want him to ruin you.

“By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be lucky if you can walk out of here.”

His voice sent a shiver of arousal down your spine, settling in your lower stomach while his fingers fiddled with your pants until they were undone. Once they were about to fall off your hips, he knelt down on the floor, not breaking eye contact with you until his gloved hands fisted in the fabric of your pants to tug them off along with your underwear. He maneuvered one of your feet out of the fabric before hooking it over his shoulder, effectively spreading your legs for him. Meanwhile, his free hand already had a finger hooked in the edge of his mask.

Watching him in this position had your pulse racing. The sin behind his eyes had you weak at the knees, and he knew he had you right where he wanted you. If his eyes didn’t say it, the smug smirk he exposed when he pulled his mask down sure did. He mumbled, “You know the word.”

“Yes.”

His gaze darted down from your eyes to between your legs where you knew you were already wet. The air felt far too cold hitting your folds, and you knew Kakashi would taunt you for being so eager. As if reading your mind, you heard the chuckle he let out under his breath. Your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, your palms flat against the door balling into fists out of frustration. However, you nearly lost your balance when Kakashi’s tongue unexpectedly darted out to give a gentle lick to your folds.

The gasp that tore from your mouth had him laughing to himself again, his huffed breath fanning against your slick core, prompting another shiver throughout your body. Kakashi’s gloved palms gently took hold of your thigh over his shoulder along with your other hip before he buried his face between your legs and pressed his tongue to your clit, circling the small bud to give you the friction you desperately craved.

A soft, breathy whine escaped your throat while one of your hands gently threaded your fingers through his hair in encouragement. He retreated for only a moment, licking a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, where he flicked at it with the tip of his tongue only to wrap his lips around it and suck. Your back arched into the contact, head flung back, and you could feel Kakashi’s smirk against your pussy. His tongue began drawing patterns, making your breath hitch in your throat with each stroke of his tongue. You did your best to stay still against the door, well aware of why Kakashi wanted you in that exact spot.

He kept working you so well with his tongue, alternating from his incoherent patterns in favor of dragging his mouth down to your entrance where his tongue circled you before dipping inside. You glanced at Kakashi only to find him completely concentrated, filthily pumping his tongue inside you while pleasure gradually accumulated in your body. The sight of him, eyes closed and swollen lips lapping at you like you were his last meal had you biting your lip to keep from moaning, but Kakashi knew what you had done.

He retracted his tongue and licked his slick, swollen lips before his eyes met yours. He demanded in a rough voice, “Let me hear you.”

“Kakashi, someone’s going to hear.” You panted out, trying your best to hiss at him, but your words only came out more desperate than anything.

Kakashi’s lips were on your inner thigh now, his teeth nipping on the skin hard enough to leave a mark. The sensation had your hips involuntarily bucking in search of friction, and Kakashi’s lips tugged upward. “Darling,” he mumbled with his lips still brushing against the tender flesh so close to where you needed him, “we both know you love the thought of someone hearing us as much as I do, so don’t play so coy.”

Your head rolled back again while you whined out wantonly, your brows furrowed in frustration. Of course the little shit knew what he was doing when he put you against the door. He wanted people to hear you, how much you wanted him. It never ceased to amaze him how such a powerful person who was feared by nations would turn to putty in his hands, begging for him so desperately it would make Jiraya blush.

“Go, on. Let everyone hear those pretty little sounds you make for me.” His mouth found its way to your clit again, puckering his lips around it and sucking hard. The shock of the sensation had you drawing in a loud gasp, and Kakashi’s words rumbled against your heat, “Attagirl.”

That drew a soft moan out of you, and it only continued to motivate him to get more out of you. He began using his tongue again, tilting his head to cover more area while your grip on his hair tightened a bit. Your hips loosened up with each roll of his tongue against you until he did something that made them stutter unexpectedly. He repeated his previous action, and a sound caught in your throat. He continued that motion, alternating between it and sucking on your clit just how you liked it, even going so far as to scrape his teeth against the bud a few times just to get you to cry out in shock.

The cloudier your mind got, the louder your soft sounds of pleasure became, and the louder you were, the more Kakashi gave you. When you began to feel that all-consuming flame in your gut, you started moving your hips in time with Kakashi’s mouth, causing his fingers to dig into your flesh in encouragement.

He sucked on your clit at one particular angle, and a particularly loud moan came tumbling from your lips. It made Kakashi’s mouth vibrate with a grunt against your cunt, and you didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t keep your noises to yourself while you began guiding his head by his hair. It only made him moan more. After all, Kakashi loved it when you pulled his hair. With newfound motivation, he was eager to please, driving you closer to the edge with each lap.

“Fuck, you’re too good at this,” you moan out, “Kakashi!”

His hand on your hip slipped down your leg, encouraging you to spread your legs a little wider, and you obliged, trusting him to not let you fall. The new angle had you hurtling towards your orgasm more, that fire in your gut spreading to your entire body, concentrated mostly where Kakashi sucked at you.

You could feel yourself climbing closer to that peak, your body beginning to lose control with each passing moment. Kakashi was obviously aware with the way your pussy quivered around nothing, and just when you were about to cum, he retreated.

You were about to yank his hair to get him back in place, but you knew he’d leave you like this if you did anything like that after everything you’d done before now.

“Did I say you could cum?” He looks like he’s about to scold you with the way his brow is cocked, and you quietly sob out in response.

“No,” you confess, “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be good. Just, don’t stop. Please.”

He licks his lips while he admires the wreck he’s made of you. Internally, Kakashi debated if he should humor you or if he should wait until you calmed down so he could really drag it out. You had been waiting for this since you woke up, so he decided to oblige you, but not without warning you, “Very well, but you don’t get to cum until I say you do or else.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “yes, I understand.”

Thankfully, Kakashi dove back in between your legs and started working you up again. You were throbbing against him while he worked your body like only he could. Your nails dug into your palms, releasing his hair in fear that you’d hold him against you until you came.

Kakashi resumed his pace, but he started developing a new pattern. He was well aware that you’d come sooner than he wanted if he continued with the previous one. However, the more he worked you, the more you couldn’t bear it. The fire in you burned your skin so beautifully, it practically consumed you while you moaned his name. And without even realizing, the cord deep inside you snapped, your legs shaking while you released all over Kakashi’s face while his lips assaulted your abused clit. You cried out softly while your hips bucked against his face. You didn’t notice the disapproving glare on his face while he continued to suck, working you through your orgasm.

However, once you came down, Kakashi tossed your leg to the floor and stood up, licking his lips before wiping his mouth on his glove.

“Did I say you could cum?” he repeated his earlier question, this time much more taken aback than before. You deliberately disobeyed him, and he was not happy.

With wide eyes, you realized your mistake. “No,” you softly yelped, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to. It just snuck up on me.”

Kakashi took the opportunity to loosen his own pants before he caged you in against the door between his arms. His eyes bore into yours when he replied. “No, I didn’t. Did you really need it so badly that you couldn’t even wait for me to give you permission?” He paused. “Fine, you want to cum. You’re gonna cum again and again until I tell you to stop. We’re not finished here just because you came.”

His eyes never left yours while he freed his dripping erection from his slack pants before he wedged a knee between your legs and spread them apart. Taking one of them, he hooked it around his hips while he ground his member against your soaked folds. You mewled at the contact, grinding your hips in time with his while he covered himself in your arousal before he lined up with your entrance, catching inside you before his free palm grabbed at your other thigh, encouraging you to wrap them around his hips. You obliged, and he used the momentum to thrust into you with one hard thrust, trapping your body between his and the door.

You cried out at the sensation of Kakashi stretching your walls almost too much. His hips began slamming into yours mercilessly, not even giving you time to adjust while he set his own pace. The door behind you was thumping with every thrust of his hips into yours, sheathing himself so deep inside you, you thought he might split you in half. Each drag of his cock inside you had you getting louder until you were screaming his name in pleasure. You were still throbbing uncontrollably from your previous orgasm, and Kakashi was giving you too much. In his grip, you couldn’t even squirm much, his grip on your hips holding you right where he wanted you, and all you could do was grip onto his broad shoulders.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room while Kakashi filled you to the hilt over and over until tears prickled at your eyes. “Please!” you begged him through a strangled cry, “Kakashi, it’s too much.”

He grunted in your ear, not even bothering to slow the merciless piston of his hips into yours. “You’re gonna be a good girl and take what I give you, and you’re gonna thank me for it because you were begging for it earlier.”

You moaned so loud your throat cracked. There was no way of knowing if you cried for him to stop or to continue when you replied, “Please!”

His hips crashed against yours, grinding against your clit beautifully with the position, Kakashi’s thick cock rubbing you just the right way while he ripped you apart. When you practically jerked in pleasure, Kakashi knew he’d found that spot inside you, angling you perfectly so his erratic thrusts hit that spot every time.

He was fucking you like an animal up against the door. It was obvious to anyone who passed by exactly what was going on behind closed doors, but you couldn’t find it in you to care when your body lost control, winding tighter and tighter the more Kakashi pleasured you.

“Look at you,” he groaned, biting at the flesh of your neck, “I bet everyone in the building knows what I’m doing to you right now. They probably think you’re a dirty little girl for fucking me in my office in the middle of the day, but I bet you like that.”

You screamed. You were so close you could taste your next orgasm. With Kakashi pounding into you mercilessly, his balls slapping against your ass with every frantic thrust, you were already clamping down on his shaft inside you. He was close too, though, his hips bucking at a less steady pace each time. You could feel his member twitch inside you with a particularly good thrust, and you knew the second that knot in you snapped, he would follow.

“Yes. That’s it. Cum on my cock,” Kakashi practically growled in your ear, and that was all it took for you to break, every nerve in your body unraveling with a snap. You clung to him while your body shook, mind going into a blissful haze.

Kakashi’s hips stuttered for a final time before he was following you, emptying his load inside you with a series of grunts and curses while both of you twitched until you came down from your intense highs.

When you finally had some sense back, you unhooked your legs from Kakashi, placing them shakily on the floor while simultaneously slipping his softening length out of you. You tried to stand, but you almost fell, barely catching yourself on the door handle before you could tumble to the floor. Thankfully, Kakashi also reached out to help steady you. Although he appeared to be just as shaky as you were.

It took a minute for you to regain your bearings. Your entire lower body felt like it might give out at any moment, and all you could do was lean against the door with Kakashi while the sticky mix of cum dripped down your legs. It didn’t bother you in the slightest, though. Kakashi and you were happy to simply gaze at each other, trying to steady your breaths between soft, loving kisses.

[ryctone]

Okay but with all the hype for the new event I forgot I made a Dark Choco & Croissant fic based on @the-wereraven's Golden Child!AU lol;;

Srry if the pace is weird I wrote this when it was late and I just wanted to write fluff of these two; Also Raven, I put some of my headcanons in these hope u don’t mind TwT.

(Warnings: Fluff, so much fluff and Dark Choco being a good older brother for a sick lil Croissant. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.) enjoy!

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The prince carried himself with elegance and grace. So much in fact, that his metal shoes touched the yellow-stone flooring with utter gentleness, soft and delicate as a trail of kisses. Despite the circumstances.

He didn't expect to receive a letter from the Cheese Kingdom that day, even less being informed that Golden Cheese's daughter; his pupil, was sick. Dark choco just had to see for himself, specially after how... peculiar this sickness was. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

The guards at the door were already familiar with the heir of the Cacao Kingdom, since both their rulers are very close allays and knew he'd do no harm to the already i'll princess, granted him access to pay her a visit.

He entered the room and was greeted by-

“Hi, Choo.” came a little voice, muffled by the many blankets covering it before slowly revealing a little freckled face with golden eyes. Dark Choco paused mid-step, then smiled to himself.

Princess Croissant Cookie wasn’t just any cookie, that was certain. In the years since first being instated as his pupil of the throne by Golden Cheese herself; to show the young princess of Cheese Valley the ropes of ruling when the times comes; she had gone onward and upwards in proving her virtue and worth at such a young age, making for herself a dear place in the prince’s heart.

“Yes, it’s me. Hello Croissant!” The long haired prince proceeds to sit at the edge of the sumptuous bed.

“It’s really nice...that you’re here.” It was not the usual voice the little cookie addressed him with. Not the un-selfconscious, innocent delight and adoration of Croissant’s voracious curiosity. Rather, this was the voice that croaked and groaned, miserable enough to get the week off from school and not even enjoy it, though being Croissant, fell a little short. She had never enjoyed missing out on learning for anything, as Dark Choco well knew.

It hadn’t been the first time the prince had nursed his student through an illness, though it had been a while since the last time, and the fact this wasn't a normal sickness.

“I’m really glad you’re here. Thank you.”

The innocent sincerity touched Dark Choco, as it always did. “Of course, Cross. Your mom sent word to me as soon she knew too. You were quick to figure it out.”

The sick golden child made an aimless, sweeping gesture with her hand. “The first hundred degrees I went above normal were a bit of a clue. Candyneritus!” she suddenly exclaimed, knocking a few beetle and bird plushies about the floor.

“Candyneritus!” the little cookie cried out again. “Candynnnnnerrrrriiiiiiitus!” Dark Choco feared his student slipping into a moment of delirium. “I’m sorry,” Croissant said sullenly. “Is mom okay? I hope I got away from that sick cakehound quick enough.” She groaned and turned over.

“She is. She doesn't seem to have any symptoms according to the nurses. But is best to keep her out of your range until you’re feeling better and it can be disinfected completely.”

The freckled cookie nodded. “I hope she’s not worried...” she worried aloud.

“Only as much as you are.” Dark Choco said warmly.

“How do I even catch a Cakehound disease anyway? I’ve never heard of it happening, or read of it, or even read a story about it! Even for you, Choo, this has to be a first.” 

Dark Choco accommodated the shifted blankets to cover his little student. “Indeed it is, I’ve never heard of it, let alone seen it happen.”

Croissant gave a throaty chuckle, which quickly descended into a cough. “It shouldn’t even be possible. It’s too terrible to be allowed. I’m all achy and dizzy and shakey...and that’s not even a real adjective! Or is it an adverb?” Croissant grumbled and kicked some of her blankets off. “...I’m cold now,” she intoned quietly. “I’m sorry, choo.”

“Don’t think anything of it, Cross. You’re not well.” the prince said as he tucked her in with her blankets once more.

“I know. I’m trying to think straight, but I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

“If you’d rather sleep, I could—”

“No! Please, stay?” Her winged form scrambled and scooped her way through the blankets and pillows until she was more or less grabbing Dark Choco's arm. Her wide, wobbling eyes pleaded wantonly. She shivered, then buried her head in the remaining cushions that weren't on the floor to keep warm.

“Croissant. It’s alright. I'm here.” He said in a reassuring tone, seeing her act like this breaks his heart a little.

“I think it’s my high magic quotient,” she said irritably into the fluffy pillows. “Anycookie would be immune, because cakehounds are really magical too, so any flu that targeted them would have to be adapted specifically for that. The Candyneritus thinks I’m a cakehound, so now my body thinks it is one too, and is fighting it that way. My magic is tricking itself.”

Dark Choco paused, then looked back to his student. “That was surprisingly succinct.”

“Well, I am sick, but that doesn’t mean—” She sneezed. The thick, viscous kind of sneeze perpetrated by only the true mucous exporter. Right in Dark Choco’s face. Croissant looked more sheepish than an actual cotton candy sheep. Dark Choco just casually whipped it out with a gloved hand; he has to remind himself to clean up later.

“I was actually considering much along those lines as well.”

It might have just been the fever, but Croissant’s eyes took on a particular shine. “You mean it?”

“I do.”

“I think like you do? I always,—I mean, I wondered and maybe, maybe I hoped that...I’m glad.” Her head and eyelids sank respectively. “Choo?”

“Yes?”

“I know...I know I’m not really thinking straight, and I’m kind of scared and everything’s still hurt, but...but...”

“I love you.”

Dark Choco drew a gasp. Suddenly his poise and calm were fleeting things before him.

“I love you. You’re like the brother I never had. And...and...and usually I’m so worried about one thing or another, or thinking things through so much, but...but, I can barely hear myself think right now. I’m just babbling, but it’s nice for once not thinking and just saying.”

“Cross.”

The winged child found the strength to dredge her head up from the pillow. “I love you, and I don’t say that enough and maybe no cookie says it enough even though we mean to, and especially not enough to you because you’re so much, so amazing, and for everything I’ve done and been and learned... Everything I’ve learned, and I find out there’s two more things I didn’t know and-”

“Croissant.”

“...and how much you’ve done for me, because maybe a tower full of books is what I used to think was the biggest gift to me you ever gave, but I’m just a silly, sick cookie and when I’m better I’m going to be so embarrassed but I want to say it anyway, because it wasn’t the tower or the books that means so much; it’s every time you make me smile, or inspire me, or challenge me to grow, and I realize now that you’ve been treating me my whole life as... Me, and not just a spoiled lil' princess to put in a pedestal and I love you for everything and why am I crying and smiling at the same time?”

Exhausted, Croissant dropped softly to her caramel-colored bed. The occasional tear going down her cheeks with a sniff. “And now I’m scared,” she whispered. “Because I don’t know what’ll happen once I’m through the fever or if I’ll even—”

“Cheese Croissant Cookie” Dark Choco said, being firm yet gentle with his tone. “It’ll be okay. I’m here, and I won’t leave you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“But how—”

“Don’t concern yourself with that. You just get some rest and I’ll be right here.” Croissant sniffled and shivered. “Just sleep now.”

“I think...” she mumbled as her eyes drooped. “I think I can, now. I’m not so afraid with you here. I’m glad I said what I said.” 

“Sleep, Cross. I’ll watch over you.” Croissant murmured something as she sank softly into sleep. After a little while and in the privacy of the utterly spacious room, Dark Choco smiled.

“I love you too.” He whispered to the sleeping little cookie before him. Dark Choco listened to Croissant’s breathing and, in the glow of the setting sun outside the window, felt himself richer than all the marbled cheese towers.

[hopelikethemoon]

exquisite (ezra x reader) [rated - m]

title: exquisite  content: smut, light somnophilia, *coughs* squirting, and daddy kink summary: smut, this is just smut between reader and ezra notes: *LOUD  PTERODACTYL SCREAMING*

Once you invited Ezra into your bed, he never left. Night after night, you found comfort in his warmth. You fit into the curve of his body like you were made to be beside him. He always slept on his right side, despite mild discomfort (that he never admitted to) because it allowed him to wrap his arm around you. Posessively — not that there was any question about who you belonged to. 

Some nights you would awake to feel his fingertips trailing down the soft skin of your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your sleep pants — or uninhibited by clothes after an early night of fucking. He’d never let his wandering hand wander further until he was certain he’d roused you from your sleep. You’d linger somewhere between awake and asleep, just conscious enough to beg for more. 

His fingers would slip between your thighs, deft fingertips gliding between your slick folds. He’d tease you — for too long — before he’d finally give you what you wanted. Ezra hadn’t been particularly gifted with his left hand when you’d first slept with him. He hadn’t been with anyone to gain that skill, not since before the loss of his right arm. 

He’d been so endearing about it. That talented tongue of his weaving together a litany of apologies, murmured utterances begging for understanding. Of course you understood. What sort of monster would fault him for something he had no control over. What he had lacked with his fingers, that first time, he had made up for with his mouth. But now — now he was an expert at his work. 

“Fuck.” You hissed out as he thrust two fingers into your cunt, his thumb dragging over the tender bundle of nerves that spiked desire throughout you. Your fingers curled around his wrist and you sank back against him with a shudder. “More.” 

“It is such a vexatious shame to rouse you, when you made such a pretty picture beside me.” He murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But I so desired to feel this lovely pussy dripping for me.” 

You gasped as his fingertips pressed against that sweet spot within you and you couldn’t prevent the way your legs twitched in response. Every nerve ending in your body seemed hyper-focused on the magic that he was working with his fingers. 

“Can you handle one more, my sweet little bird?” Ezra questioned, nipping at your earlobe before he dragged his mouth against the column of your throat. “Use your words for me. I want to hear you.” 

“More.” You whispered, barely certain of your own voice. 

“Louder.” 

Your hips bucked against his hand as the fingers he had buried within you pressed into that overwhelming spot once more. “Ezra — fuck — please.” 

“Such filthy language.” He cooed, sucking lightly at your pulse point. “Can you ask real pretty for me?” He drawled out, his voice positively dripping with desire. 

“Please, daddy.” 

You swore you saw stars behind your eyes as he worked a third finger into your pussy, setting off your release. Your pussy clenched tightly around his fingers, but that didn’t deter him. Ezra kept working them in and out of you, seeking out that spot within you to tease, as his thumb circled your clit. 

You got lost in the sensations he gave you. His mouth teasing at the crook of your neck, the words that slipped past those lips that you loved most. Everything about him got swept into the moment that was building on the desire you felt pooling in your lower stomach. 

Your first release had barely subsided before Ezra dragged you straight into your second orgasm. 

In vain you tried to squirm out of his grasp. It was too much. Your body was a live wire of pleasure and he kept thrusting his fingers into you. 

“Birdie—” He started and you knew precisely what he was asking for. You had been here before. 

“Yes!” 

You hardly had a chance to mourn the loss of his fingers, before his cock swiftly replaced them. His hand spread out across your lower belly, pressing down and holding you tightly as he pistoned his hips into you. 

You were soaring somewhere high above it all; lost solely to the pleasure that he brought you. Everything else faded away — there was only you and Ezra. Only you, Ezra, and the fire burning hotly within you.

“Love the way you feel around me cock, little bird.” Ezra panted out against your neck. You loved how harsh his voice sounded, how thick with desire his words became when he got like this. His flowery language was traded out for strings of sinful words that made your desire peak. 

“Are you going to come for me again?” He questioned, his hand slipping down to tease the point where you were joined together. He stroked his fingertip over your clit and your cunt clenched tightly around his cock. “Fuck. That’s it, little bird. I want you to come for me. One more time and then I’ll let you go back to sleep.” 

“Ezra!” You whimpered, feeling utterly overwhelmed by the pleasure he was bringing to you. “Please.” It was almost too much. An intense pressure was building and you were certain that this orgasm would break you. 

His fingers gripped at your hip briefly as he shifted behind you, adjusting the angle of his thrusts. The angle was perfect and that was all it took to set you off again. It was — as you assumed — the most intense orgasm of your life. You moaned wantonly as you felt an unfamiliar rush of moisture between your thighs. 

Ezra’s own release was fast behind you. One, two, three more thrusts was all it took before you felt his cock twitch within you as he came. He keeps pumping his hips into you for a few more seconds, before he stills — finally exhausted. 

“I should’ve known,” Ezra muttered after a few moments, as he tenderly nuzzled at a point behind your ear, curling his arm around your waist securely. 

“Hmm?” You managed, melting into his embrace. Your body still fluttered around his softening cock and you weren’t certain if you’d ever come down from the high. You were too boneless to even care about moving away from the damp spot beneath the pair of you.

“A most magnificent occurrence, little bird.” He drawled out, his tongue tracing over your skin. “I do believe I told you that I could be the one to make you squirt.” 

Despite everything that the pair of you had just done, his words managed to make your cheeks burn hot with a fierce blush. 

You bunched up the pillow beneath your head and quickly buried your face in it with a soft groan. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” He reassured you. “It is just one of the many exquisite things your body can do.” 

You pulled your face out of the pillow and turned a little to look at him, scrunching your nose up. “You think everything I do is exquisite.”

“Quite right, too.” Ezra smirked, as he finally pulled out of you. He stroked his hand down your side lazily. “Let me clean us up and then you can sleep.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, before he moved off the bed.

You smiled dreamily as you watched him walk away, your eyes already half-lidded from exhaustion. No matter how many times Ezra managed to wreck you, he was always the sweetest when it came to aftercare. One day, you were going to finally admit to him just how much you loved him. But not tonight. Tonight it just seems silly to admit you love him, after he made you squirt for the very first time. 

[ohgodmyeyes]

Dream Boy

Pairing - Ferus x Anakin

Warnings - Smut, explicit sex, NSFW, slightly dubious consent

Summary - After catching Ferus staring at him one day in the library, Anakin decides to meddle with his fellow Padawan at what may very well be the only time he displays any semblance of vulnerability.

2650 words

(xPosting this story here because I didn’t realize how shamefully uncommon this pairing is. The internet as a whole needs more Ferus/Anakin. I might have close to zero followers on tumblr, but I’m determined to do my part for these boys anyway.)

...

"What's the matter, Ferus? Like what you see?"

"Of course I don't— now quiet yourself, Anakin. I can hardly hear my own thoughts."

 ...

 The boy was insufferable. He was careless and brash, and it seemed as though he scarcely ever took the time to think before speaking or acting. He was inordinately powerful, incredibly talented (unfairly so, for as little effort as he put into excelling), and treated far better by his Master than Ferus thought he deserved.

He had also, somehow, transformed over the course of the past few years into the most beautiful young man anybody was likely to ever lay their eyes on— and yes, of course Ferus liked what he saw. Hell if he would ever have admitted it, though.

"Damnit," Ferus cursed, as he rolled over onto his side. He was alone right now, alone in his bed; however, sleep on this particular night was not coming easily to him. Or, rather, it was— but it was being ceaselessly interrupted. Interrupted by him.

It had been this way for weeks, really... since long before the cheeky little remark from Anakin in the library which had no doubt exacerbated the problem. Sometimes the two of them would be standing before one another with their lightsabers drawn, and sometimes they would even duel. Those dreams weren't so bad; they didn't cause Ferus to sit bolt upright in a hot sweat with his own arousal shamefully plaguing him. The other dreams, though...

Those dreams only served to frustrate him; vex him— upset him. Ferus hated to feel upset, because to feel upset with no recourse was a symptom of blatant immoderation.

Tonight, they'd been wrapped up in each other's arms; naked, too— entirely naked, lips pressed together and hands grabbing, caressing, feeling. Feeling everything. Ferus did not want to feel Anakin this way; didn't want to feel victimized by his own desires. He shouldn't have desires, not ones like this. He was going to be a Jedi— he had no room for wanting, particularly not the kind of wanting that Anakin had begun to inspire in him. It was inexcusable.

Inexcusable, but present. Undeniably, unabashedly present.

He let his mind run for a moment, thinking that perhaps if he did it would run itself out; run itself into the ground. Then, he could sleep. He could allow his body to prepare itself for the day ahead of it; get the rest he needed, and forget about Anakin for as long as the boy would allow. (Of course, he never allowed it for very long.)

He closed his eyes, and let the thoughts come to him; thoughts of hard kisses, and discarded robes. Thoughts of clicking teeth, and blunt, dirty fingernails scraping down his back. Thoughts of those shoulders, that chest, that ass. He'd never seen Anakin undressed for more than a few moments at a time, but those moments had been all he had needed; all he'd needed to create an ostentatiously persistent image in his mind of that infuriatingly beautiful, naked boy. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Anakin didn't even seem to know he was handsome; in fact, he took it for granted the same way he took everything else as a given. It made Ferus angry, while at the same time making him throb.

How dare Anakin make him throb.

He cursed again, because his technique had proven ineffective. He was unclothed in his bed, as he always was, although right now he wished he wasn't. If he'd worn something to bed, it would have been easier; easier for him to disregard his misplaced attraction— easier for him to go soft and go to sleep and wake up the next morning having accomplished the feat of disregarding Anakin for another few hours. He wanted nothing more than to disregard him.

He couldn't, though; not tonight— and so against his own will; against his own typically principled integrity, he reached down beneath his sheets and began to stroke himself. He did so reluctantly; disdainfully. He was glad no one would ever have to know, because if anyone had known he was touching himself to thoughts of Anakin Skywalker, then he might as well have just gone ahead and died. His feral attraction to the younger boy made him want to crawl beneath a rock and never come out, such was his objection to Anakin's disposition.

He moaned, which he hated; after that, the very tip of his engorgement started to leak onto his own stomach, which he hated even more. He squeezed tightly and started to pick up his pace, because he wanted this to be over; over as soon as possible.

That was when he heard a voice... and not just any voice.

"You lied to me," said Anakin, stepping out of the shadows. He wasn't dressed; why would he be dressed? He didn't need clothes for what he planned on doing tonight.

"Get out of here!" Ferus cried, glad of the fact that his sheet was still pulled up. His shock, he thought, should have quelled his body's excitement; however, it didn't.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Anakin was smirking; Ferus hated his smirk. It was as intolerable as the rest of him.

"I'm sure you think you were," Ferus started, "but—"

"You were dreaming about me again," Anakin said matter-of-factly, already having started to skulk up to the side of the bed to look down on the young man who purported to dislike him.

"I was not— I mean, my dreams are none of your—"

"Shh. Wouldn't you like them to come true? Wouldn't that make you happy?" Anakin spoke coyly; demurely. It went with his smirk. He climbed up onto the end of the bed with his knees and started to crawl; he crawled until he was straddling Ferus, and the two of them were face-to-face. He could feel Ferus' shame poking up from under the sheet, brushing up against him. Anakin liked that he could make him feel this way.

Ferus should have shoved Anakin and he knew it; should have shoved him right off the bed and off of himself and onto the cold, hard floor. But he didn't. "Anakin," he said instead, "if you're the one who's been—"

"Of course it was me," grinned the younger of the two. "It's always been me." He'd been sneaking into Ferus' dreams for a while now; it wasn't a skill he'd mastered yet, but it was certainly one he'd been working at developing, for this precise purpose. "I see the way you look at me— everyone sees it."

Surely that couldn't be true. Ferus disdained Anakin; disdained everything about him. "I don't know where you ever got the idea that—"

"Shut up," Anakin interrupted, and all of a sudden those lips and those teeth and that infuriating, constantly-wagging tongue were upon Ferus; probing, pressing, and clicking about just as they had been in the dream— dreams— he'd tried so hard to will away. Could this merely have been one of those? Could it be that Ferus was still asleep, and that none of this was real? He'd have much preferred that, of course, but...

"Let's get this sheet off of you," Anakin said, after pulling away. He sat up high on his knees after that so he could remove the only thing between the two of them; the only thing stopping their bodies from pressing wantonly against one another. Once he'd shifted to discard the fluttering swath of white entirely to the floor, he crawled back down the bed a bit. After flashing Ferus an antagonizingly lovely grin, he enveloped the source of the older boy's frustration with his mouth.

"Anakin!" shouted Ferus, but he didn't move— didn't kick or recoil or roll away.

"What?" asked Anakin, through his mouthful of cock.

He didn't get an answer to that, so instead he went to work. He bobbed and licked, and swallowed at the tip as he forced his mouth down as far as he could make it go. He swirled his tongue around Ferus' head when he came up, and let his teeth clip his shaft as he went back down. He had been hard and wet since before Ferus had noticed his presence, and this only intensified his enthusiasm: He could feel himself thrumming and pulsing, and dripping eagerly onto the bed.

Ferus had never liked him; had always resented him. It was all pure jealousy, Anakin thought, of his power; his skill. Some of the other Padawans feared him, but Ferus had never seemed fearful— just willfully and unrelentingly indignant. Anakin wasn't much more fond of the older boy than the older boy was of him; however, even he had to acknowledge that both his appearance and lofty sense of utter superiority were strangely entrancing.

Besides that, he couldn't think of a better way to get under Ferus' skin than to force him to acknowledge that he wanted this.

Soon he became certain of the fact that Ferus was not too far from losing control of himself; from letting this end altogether too soon. He didn't want that, and besides, he hadn't had his own turn yet: He hadn't come here for the sole purpose of sucking on Ferus' dick. That would have been boring.

"Not yet," Anakin scolded, and he pulled his head back, exposing his rival to the room's cool air. That made Ferus shout again, and buck his hips. "You love this, don't you?" Anakin teased, pumping himself with his hand as he sat back up on his knees. He'd slicked his own cock generously after undressing, prior to Ferus' having woken to those unwanted thoughts of his. He was more than ready to take what he'd actually come for.

Ferus was starting to feel frightened, but not of Anakin— no, he was frightened of himself. Anakin was right; he did like this. He liked it very much, to the point where those lips pulling away from his cock had upset him perhaps more than his dreams had in the first place. He wanted to come, and he wanted Anakin to make him do it.

He hated himself for feeling that way, but it was what it was.

"What are you going to do, Anakin?" he asked, staring up at that body he'd already fantasized about more times than he cared to count.

"I'm going to fuck you, Ferus— would you like me to fuck you?"

At those words, Ferus felt himself pulse. In lieu of answering, he adjusted his body; pulled his knees up beside his ears. He felt like screaming, crying, and going off all at the same time. Everything about this was emblematic of the exact lack of restraint he loathed.

"Someone's eager, aren't they?" chuckled Anakin, venturing to tease Ferus' hole with one of his fingers, to which the older boy let out a desperate whimper. "You hate me for being right all the time— do you hate me for being right about this, too?" At that he gripped himself by the very base of his cock, and leaned in closely to prod at Ferus with his erection.

Now that they were nearly nose-to-nose, Ferus found it in himself to growl, "You're damn right I do."

That made Anakin laugh again, and finally begin to ease himself inside. He went slowly; he had no desire to actually hurt Ferus— he was, essentially, just here to make a point.

Once he was buried up to his sack, he took a deep and shuddering breath, because while he'd always called Ferus a tightass behind his back, he'd never known just how accurate the descriptor actually was. "You feel like heaven," he breathed, and then he started to buck his hips.

Ferus wanted to cry out; indeed, his instinct was to shout, but he didn't want to give Anakin that kind of satisfaction. Instead, he clenched his jaw and pursed his lips and stared upward as he felt himself be ravaged from the inside. It felt incredible; better than his own fingers, and better than anything he'd ever slipped into his pocket to play with in what should have been the privacy of his own room.

"Touch yourself," commanded Anakin. He knew Ferus wanted to.

"This is in direct violation of—"

"Shut up," Anakin demanded once again, this time with a particularly hard thrust. Ferus obeyed; stopped talking, and reached between the two of them to start to stroke himself just as he'd been doing beneath the sheets, before he'd registered Anakin's presence. How the hell had the boy hidden from him in the first place, anyway? He supposed that was a question for another time.

They went on like this for as long as they both could bear it; soon, Anakin felt his own climax coming on. He bit down on his lip, moaned through his teeth, and burst heartily; more heartily than he ever had when he'd been alone, in his own bed. He looked straight into Ferus' eyes as he did; saw them squeeze shut as he, too, reached his own shuddering peak.

"Anakin," Ferus growled, as he felt his own essence shoot all over the smooth, taut skin on his stomach.

"Ferus," Anakin cooed, revelling in the sound of his own name as he leaned in more closely to steal another kiss.

Their tongues danced as they each finished; finally, Anakin withdrew his cock, but he didn't quit probing Ferus' mouth. Simply put, it felt far too good to stop right away. Eventually, of course, he had to; he was very nearly out of breath. Ferus, for his part, had only just realized that he was holding his.

As they separated, Anakin sat back up on his knees, perhaps a bit unsteadily. He noticed Ferus scowling, and so he asked with a broad grin, "What's wrong? Don't you like it when your dreams come true?"

"Not this dream," Ferus barked, and he finally hoisted himself up from between Anakin's knees and into a seated position. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to shove Anakin away as he ought to have when this debacle had initiated itself; however, there wouldn't have been any point in doing that: He'd already had nearly every ounce of his control over himself wrenched away; he wasn't about to concede his anger, and give up the rest of it. Then he'd be no better than Anakin.

As it turned out, though, he didn't have to do anything— before he could think of what to say next, his intruder had jumped off of his bed and gone back to that darkened corner from which he'd first come into view. His clothes, apparently, had been sitting there in a pile; Ferus watched as he started to put them back on.

"What you just did was inexcusable," he said, with as much dignity as he could possibly muster.

"You mean what we just did," retorted Anakin, as he adjusted his robes and smoothed his pants.

Ferus clenched his fists, but didn't say another word as Anakin laughed at him one more time, turned, and sauntered casually out of the room; back to his own quarters, and to his own bed. He would certainly sleep well that night— not only did he feel more physically satisfied than he perhaps ever had, but Anakin also simply loved being proven right.

Ferus would rest soundly, too. In spite of his anger, and in spite of everything that had just happened (seemingly in the blink of an eye), he finally felt relieved; palliated— for tonight, at least, he knew he would be free of his dreams... those dreams.

Even so, as he listened to Anakin's footsteps disappear down the corridor, his disquieting words from the library echoed in Ferus’ mind: "What's the matter, Ferus? Like what you see?"

He feared he'd never again be able to convincingly deny that he did.