#only as good as my god - everything everything

[blackdykegirlblogger]

a/n: this is actually disgusting. horrid. diabolical. this is exactly what happens when I let my clit do the thinking instead of my brain :/

anywaysss enjoy ^-^

you are such a fucking tease.

vi tries not to let the euphoria get to her head, tries not to let her dick do the thinking for her and actually have some crumb of common sense. but then you go and do things like this, impaling yourself on her weeping cock like she’s more dildo than human, watching her face contort and her eyes roll back. god damn it, she’s just a girl. 

you’ve been on top of her for what felt like ages, whining your hips in a rhythm that was enough to sate the pressing ache in your belly while still leaving her annoyingly desperate. it wasn’t often that she let you ride, which is why you had to take full advantage at every given opportunity. you felt her cock jolt inside you, bumping up to your cervix as your clit twitched. vi was in, and she was in deep. so deep that you could feel her in your stomach, your ribs, your throat.

and she was also trying her hardest not to cum. cute. 

“viiii”, you huffed her name as her hips jerked, feeling her precum bubbling inside you. “am i making you feel good?”. you already knew the answer, smirking internally as she looked at you with exasperation, cheeks reddeding even more as she grit her teeth. her self-control was hanging on by a thread. exactly how you wanted her

“o-ahh-obviously”. vi's eyes were glistening with tears that she refused to drop, and the sight was so disgusting, so sinful, that your brain set a reminder to revisit this very scene...later.

“then why aren’t you cumming?”

with that, her hips snapped so abruptly that it forced a gasp out of you, and her nails left bloody indents on the plushness of your hips. the sting only served to amplify the pleasure, and you clenched so hard around her it felt like a chokehold. “you can’t hmff j-just ask things like that”

you tugged at her pierced nipple, challenging her. “and you aren’t in a position to not answer me.” you adjusted your position, going from shallow grinds to rough bounces that made her head spin. “why” plap. “won’t” plap. “you” plap. “cum?” plap. you grasped your hands on the headboard and eased yourself off her completely, reveling in the strings of….everything that kept the two of you glued together. her cock was nothing short of a work of art, with her veins bursting at the seams, and her tip a deep red, almost purple. “it looks like you want to”

"i-i do”

“well” you quickly braced yourself for the impact before plopping back down on her, slamming your hips against hers as the bed began to rock yet again. “i’m waiting”

[somuchanxietysolittletime]

Yesterday, I was nobody. I went hungry every other week, saving money for the light bill. I complained about the price of eggs, but bought them anyway. I had big opinions about the government, but never voiced them in any meaningful way. I was a star, in that I was surrounded by trillions of brighter lights in the night sky and destined to be extinguished without anyone noticing.

Today, I was woken up by tires screeching to a halt outside. A line of black vehicles tore through whatever counted as my yard, encircling the tiny trailer I called home.

"Honey, stay calm." My husband said, sitting on the edge of our bed and staring out at the chaos. Calm. The quiet of the morning was ruined by the beat of blades above.

Helicopters?

I opened my mouth to say something, anything.

"This is a good day for you. The CIA didn't make it first." My husband was saying.

My mind reeled. "The CIA?" I repeated as he pushed me to the laundry.

"You'll want to get dressed. Here's your favorite shirt, I already pressed it for you."

When did he learn to do that? We had an old iron, but it was never used. Not since we started working remotely. The computer screen didn't mind wrinkled shirts.

"Who's outside?" I asked as I pulled on a jade green shirt, tucking it into my favorite leggings.

"Don't freak out."

"I won't."

"You always do." He said in resignation. "Outside is General MacAvoy, he will take you to our acting president."

I freaked out.

"The president?" My voice cracked, my mind reeled. "This is a joke. You set up a joke. How did you set this up?"

He steadied me. I blinked away tears until he looked clear again.

"Listen, they are going to let me explain first, because you respond best when I do."

"Do I have amnesia? Retrograde?" I ask, trying to piece together the broken information I was given. My husband didn't look a day older. The same pile of laundry sat undisturbed on our dryer, as it did when I went to sleep last night. A scratch marked by wrist, from where I picked too hard at a scab just days before.

No, not amnesia.

"You already know it's not." My husband confirmed. "The world has been locked, repeating the same 24 hours for the last... God... Fifteen thousand years, now?"

I opened my mouth again, trying to even process that amount of time.

My husband rubbed his hands down my arms, smiling despite the grim news.

"I can't even imagine..." We say at the same time.

"You knew I'd..." He says with me again.

"Is this all you've known?" My voice is weak, his is strong.

"I know you." He continues, stroking a hand down my face. "Every facet of you now. Every secret. I spent hundreds of years hiding you from the rest of the world, to keep anyone from learning that you weren't looping."

"Why?" I ask, a chill running up a spine.

He looks at me patiently, and I knew. Being different was dangerous. "It started with people wanting to know you, because you didn't see everything coming. You were easily surprised, and it added fun to their lives. Then they looked down on you, because we all grew while you stayed the same. Then you became the closest thing to a child we have. Even toddlers outstripped you."

A felt a prick in my pride, jutting my jaw out in something close to a pout.

He kisses me, soft and gentle. "It's fine. You just had less time." He stroked back my wild hair. "But then, things took a turn. Cruel thrill seekers would race to our home, because you're the only person who hasn't become numb to dying. To being killed. They loved your fear. And the CIA filled itself with so-called scientists who thought you could break the loop, if they could just study your every dissected cell closely enough."

His hands trembled. Slightly. Almost imperceptively. "You've died so many ways. Died screaming, every time. Sometimes, I just let it happen. I got so tired of protecting you, just to fail at it again and again. Rinse and repeat."

I swallowed hard, wanting to comfort him. How? How would I even begin? "I forgive you." My words feel distant.

He smiled, "You always do. And that makes it so much worse."

The door opens, and in walks a man. No, a boy. He barely reached my ribs, with strawberry blond curls and big green eyes. A child.

"I am not a child." The boy said, hands folded behind his back. "I am General MacAvoy. For the next twenty-three hours you are in my protection, as you have been for the last two years. Ma'am, we will keep you safe."

I swallow.

Yesterday, I was a nobody.

God, I wish I still was.

Apparently, you are living in a time loop. Also apparently, you are the only person on Earth who DOESN'T remember the previous iterations. This is the first time you've experienced today; the rest of humanity has been stuck reliving today for years now.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

CAITVI / FEM! READER (18+)

warnings: dom cait + switch(?) vi + sub reader, brat taming kink, threesome, oral sex (multi receiving), fingering (r! receiving), use of strap-ons (referred to as a cock once), ass-slapping, bondage with rope, mentions of vi marking up reader, degradation kink, degrading names (attention whore), orgasm denial and mentions of overstimulation, aftercare between rounds. 

"My god, Vi. She is just doing it for attention. It's like she wants to drive me mad." Caitlyn huffed, exasperated. She leaned against her desk with her arms crossed, and Vi knew that it was bad this time.

You had a habit of purposely annoying Caitlyn for a reaction from her. Vi personally thought it was cute, but she understood how aggravating it could be for Caitlyn, someone who was busy and easily riled up.

There were countless times Vi would come home and be able to smell the scent of sex and lube as soon as she walked into the bedroom. Usually, Caitlyn, you, and Vi liked doing..those activities as a group. Vi knew how impulsive Caitlyn could get when you pushed her, though.

Vi's favorite memory, and the one she found funniest, was when you splurged out on rubber ducks and placed what could be estimated as 100 all over Caitlyn's office floor. Caitlyn was not as amused, and your brain was complete mush when by the time she was through with you.

Vi didn't know exactly what happened this time, but didn't exactly need to to know what was about to happen. Vi had to be roped in, of course.

Vi tried not to smile, (mostly) wanting to stay on Caitlyn's good side. "So you want me to go do something about what she did to you?"

Caitlyn sighed, a warning that she wasn't in the mood for Vi, either. "Yes, please. I have some paperwork to prepare, and I'm quite frankly too pissed off to deal with her. Go find her and deal with her. Please?"

Vi knew that when Caitlyn was 'pissed off', it had to be serious. She could figure out Caitlyn like the back of her mind, but you? She honestly didn't know what scene she would be greeted with when she entered the bedroom. She gave Caitlyn a nod and shut the door behind her with a soft click.

When Vi walked into the bedroom, she was greeted with a sight that had drool pooling at the corners of her lips. There you were, on the center of the bed. Like usual when you were awaiting whatever consequences Caitlyn sentenced you, like some privileged prisoner. It was what you were wearing that had Vi's jaw on the floor and her eyes darkening.

All you had on was a skimpy lingerie set. The tan straps fit snug against your skin and left nothing to the imagination, and a complimentary blue brought attention to the sight between your legs that was only covered by lacy, embroidered petals and mesh. Vi could see how stiff your nipples were through your corset-like top, once again only mesh covering you. Now Vi understood why Caitlyn was so riled up.

Vi walked towards the bed slowly until she was able to reach out and touch you. She didn't, though. Instead, she gave you a smile. That told you everything.

"Caitlyn sent you." You stated in a tone that already sold you out. Fucking brat, Vi thought to herself.

"You knew she was busy. Did you flaunt yourself in that hoping to get fucked?" Vi scolded, though there was always a small, visible hint of amusement in her voice. Maybe even a bit of pride.

"She is always busy," you whine.

"Tch, tch. You are such an attention whore sometimes. You know that, right?"

Vi's words made your cunt weep and ache for her. For both her and Caitlyn. You wanted both of their hands all over your body, but if Caitlyn wasn't going to give you the attention you truly believed you deserved, then you had no worry for Vi. Vi always gave in.

Everytime Vi was sent to 'deal with you', it ended on a note of Vi's strap deep inside you. It ended with her tits pressed against yours in missionary, or it ended with the flat of her tongue on your clit.

"Shh," she'd always whisper in your ear while she fucked you. "Don't tell Caitlyn I'm giving it to you, okay? I won't do this again if you do." Ironically, you were a good girl for Vi when she gave in. Caitlyn had not figured out that every single time you acted up around her, Vi didn't deal with you. She rewarded you, in fact. Caitlyn had not figured that out yet.

"For you two, of course." You promised, tone sweet. You were sucking up to Vi, knowing she was going to eat it up.

She did.

-

Your legs were forced apart by Vi's grip on them, and your pussy was clenching around her fingers. Everytime her tongue swiped over your clit with no hint of teasing or denying you, you relished in it. You nearly wanted Caitlyn to walk in just so she could see how well Vi was 'punishing you.'

While Vi was fucking you dumb, you weren't stupid enough to not be scared of what would happen if Caitlyn did walk in.

Vi wrapped her pink lips around your clit and sucked it like candy. Your thighs squeezed her cheeks together in response, and you whined in pleasure and bliss.

You loved both your girls. Vi was skilled with her tongue in a way that made you weak, and she knew exactly how to treat you. She loved to spoil you, no matter how rotten it made you. Caitlyn wasn't as direct. She liked tying you up and keeping you on edge for hours or fucking you on end for hours, no inbetween. Her slender fingers pressed meticulously into your g-spot like the sweetest torture, and heavy are Caitlyn's hips as they carry a strap. Caitlyn's strap-on was much girthier than Vi's, leaving you feeling nearly impaled when she stretched you on it. You loved both of them equally, and when you were all on the bed together, you probably would be fucked stupid enough to blad to Caitlyn about Vi's little secret.

You had your eyes closed in bliss as Vi worked you closer and closer to your orgasm, tugging at her hair because you knew she liked it and you wanted to please her, too. Your thoughts were melting together like a box of crayons, colorful with each jolt of pleasure, but messy and incoherent.

"Fuck, baby!! Your tongue is gonna make me cum, I can't-" and just as you had Vi's name sitting on your tongue, ready to moan it as you came, she stopped. You were about to whine and ask why she was being a tease, but you opened your eyes. There Vi was, an apologetic glance thrown your way, and Caitlyn in the doorway. Absolutely furious.

Vi didn't need to be told to keep her mouth far away from your pussy. She pulled away, taking her cue to walk out. Caitlyn stayed.

You sat up, your hair a mess and your naked body covered in lovebites from Vi. Your thoughts that were once so beautifully blissful and gone were sobering up. You didn't even begin your annoyingly long apology with Caitlyn. It wouldn't work, anyway.

"Want to explain?" Caitlyn tried you, tone accusing enough to make you even wetter despite the circumstances. She was asking you to explain, but you knew and she knew there was no fucking way you could even coherently defend yourself. There comes the truth, with the fear. Maybe Vi did do her job right

"Everytime you tell Vi to handle me, I convince her not to. And then she fucks me." You blurt out, cheeks hot with humiliation.

You were completly, utterly fucked.

Caitlyn didn't utter another word. She simply took a stroll to the drawer, pulling out some rope, lube, and a strap-on that you didn't know existed. It wasn't her usual, that's for sure.

"Color?" Caitlyn asked you, her posh accent slightly softening as she made sure you actually wanted this.

"Green."

And that was the last of her kindness.

Caitlyn tied had the rope holding your wrists together behind you back and positioned with your ass raised high and your face in the sheets. You were already naked, your pussy on display like a whore in a brothel. Caitlyn didn't even think she'd need to lube up the toy as she glanced towards your pussy. You were a pathetic mess, dripping down onto her expensive sheets.

Still, Caitlyn drizzled a decent amount of lube onto the silicone toy and rubbed it all over. She kneeled behind you, lining the cool, gel-coated tip with your entrance. You let out a small squeak heard from Caitlyn, and a harsh smack landed on your ass. You cried out, pleasure and pain shooting through you where her palm landed.

"You never know when to shut up," she scolded sharply, and pulled away from you.

Your body was aching for more after having your last orgasm ripped from you, but there was a sense of fear for the next. You loved it and hated it at the same time. Caitlyn was merciless with you.

Vi liked to take out her stress on men in fights and on her punching bag. She held a lot of aggression, but released it thoroughly, and so sex for her wasn't really much of a stress reliever. She didn't need it to be, at least. With Caitlyn, however, things were much different. Vi always said she liked to hold in her stress, and it wasn't exactly a lie. Caitlyn had a tendency to keep everything in. You didn't mind it when she took it out on you, it was like a mutual stress reliever. You liked to feel more extreme sensations.

"Vi?" Caitlyn called, making your stomach flutter. That could only mean one thing.

-

Vi's pussy always tasted nice, but especially when you were getting plowed from the back.

Your head was buried between her thighs, and you were shaking with each thrust as Caitlyn gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. Her cock repeatedly slammed into you, the force sending your tongue deeper into your other lover's cunt.

"Mmph," you whined into Vi's pussy. The tip of the kissed your cervix, and you moaned again.

"Fuck, the mouth on her is amazing." Vi groaned, a pleasured grin on her face. Caitlyn flashed her a glare that told her to shut up, though. Probably still furious that Vi was fucking you without Caitlyn knowing.

"I can't believe you thought you weren't going to be caught." Caitlyn began lecturing as she fucked you. She pulled her hips back, leaving just the tip nestled in your tightness, before slamming forward and splitting you open. You sounded almost wounded when you moaned, like she was in your guts, and it made Caitlyn's clit throb with white heat.

"Both of you just think you can do whatever you like with no care in the world, huh?" She gritted out. "This one thinks she can aggravate me to no ends and thinks she deserves to be rewarded after." A scoff left her lips, and even Vi had to moan in response to Caitlyn's words.

You were being fucked at a ruthless pace, and your orgasm was quickly approaching. It only encouraged you to make Vi feel good as an apology for involving her in your shenanigans. You sucked on her clit, lapping at it like ice cream while Caitlyn slammed into you at a pace that caused the room to fill with the sound of skin slapping, slurping noises, and countless moans.

You honestly didn't expect Caitlyn to let you cum, but she did. That should've scared you. It definitely wouldn't be your first orgasm of the night. Instead, you were blissed out and fucked truly dumb.

Caitlyn fucked you through your orgasm, and your moans had Vi cumming on your tongue. You tried to focus on your high while licking up every bit of Vi's juices, but you were never a good multi-tasker.

When you came down, Caitlyn came down to a slow stop, and she pulled out of you. Soon, your wrists were unbound. Caitlyn left the room and soon came back with a bottle of water. She tapped your back with it, signaling you to roll over. You groaned, stretching and sitting up. Vi was still reeling from her orgasm, but she moved behind you, wrapping her arms around your torso so her tits were pressed against your back. Both of you took turns with the water bottle until you it was empty.

As soon as the water bottle found its place on Caitlyn's mahogany nightstand, Vi was holding you in her arms, and Caitlyn crawled between your legs. Two fingers were already ready for your cunt.

Once again, the night was never over with one orgasm.

[wainawtmai]

thinking of sukuna and bimbo!reader who people assume are a pair of kinky fucks. They see Sukuna’s aggressive demands and your quickness to follow them, and think he’s the meanest dom and you his pretty little sub. His to tie up, spank and berate while you mewl and whimper pathetically for more.

well, the two of you are definitely kinky…

…no one would believe that the huge and terrifying Ryomen Sukuna liked to be used and tied up. With pretty pink ropes that you use to bind his thick muscular thighs to his ankles and his arms to his wrists. They wouldn’t believe the way your pretty doe eyes light up sadistically as you edge him till he growls, promising vengeance.

“you wanna cum, ‘kuna?” You ask sweetly, dragging the sparkly peach acrylic of your nail up his twitching, leaking cock. “if I don’t get a response, I’ll leave you here and you’ll have to find your own way out of these ropes.”

“you wouldn’t fucking dare.” He snarls, red eyes leering at you as best as he could in his position. “I’ve had enough, make me come. Now.”

what a brat, you think, though this is standard for him, his dominant attitude and general sense of authority and entitlement. Despite the fact that he was literally trembling with need, cock forming a pool of pre all over his stomach.

“now that’s not nice, ‘kuna,” you pout, nails digging firmly into the hardened length of his cock. Sukuna jolts and grumbles out a curse, come spurting out of his abused cock pathetically. You watch it all with a tight smile, as he comes ropes and ropes all over himself all the while grunting and groaning your name.

“awww, you came,” you coo, loosening your grip around him, “without my permission.” Sukuna could still see your smile through his blurry gaze as he came down from his high, the crazy sort of look in your eyes. He’d done it now.

“just from the feeling of my fingers digging into your cock.” You trace the fading crescent imprints of your nails along his veiny length, humming at the sight, “such a slut for pain aren’t you, ‘kuna? Despite how much you pretend you’re not.” Your right hand once again circles his cum-soaked cock, left stuffing fingers into his mouth to silence him as you stroke him through overstimulation. He immediately bites down on your fingers and growls, straining against the ropes binding him as his cock aches deliciously.

“you asked to come, didn’t you?” You say, “I’m letting you come, ‘kuna.” You giggle as he thrashes against you, drooling all over your fingers as he tries and fails to glare at you through the intertwining pain and pleasure ebbing through him. the ropes feel too tight but the chaffing against his skin only makes his cock harder. he wants to stop—no, he needs to come.

his second orgasm tears through him, his groans soothing out into pathetic muffled moans. But of course you don’t stop, crazy woman. Your hands tighten and squeeze as you stroke him with no remorse. It hurts so good and you fucking know it, know he can’t resist his bottomless need to feel pain.

“do you want me to stop, ‘kuna?” Usually his pride would keep his lips sealed shut, but you’ve fucked everything out of him, loosened his sharp mouth. He doesn’t know how many times he’s come at this point. “Be good and ask nicely.”

you take your fingers out of his mouth and he hates the way he misses the fullness, “don’t…” he croaks, “stop.”

“god, you’re a freak.” You giggle, resuming your movements, relishing the slight whimper in his voice as your hand circles his throat, nails digging into his neck, and force another impossible orgasm out of him.

fuck, sukuna loved hated you.

[cloudyluun]

Ruined for Anyone Else

Summary: All tension finally explode in the most deliciously filthy way possible. Harry takes his time ruining you completely, and then makes sure you never, ever forget it. Soft, deep, desperate—and exactly what you both needed. Bonus SMUT scene for this one shot.

A/N: I have nothing to say except… I know exactly what I did. And I’d do it again. 😌

Word Count: 1k

Warnings:

Explicit sexual content (18+ ONLY)

Oral sex (male receiving & female receiving)

Harry being a smug, teasing menace about it

Intense buildup and edging (because of course)

Hair pulling, dirty talk, use of “good girl” because I know my audience

Overstimulation & multiple orgasms (you’re welcome)

Soft!Harry turns into absolutely wrecked!Harry and it’s beautiful

Aftercare (because he’s a gentleman, obviously)

Future husband behavior

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Harry had you right where he wanted you.

Back pressed into the mattress, legs spread wide, his body caging you in, completely covering you.

And fuck—he wasn’t letting you go.

Not tonight.

Not after the way you had looked at him at dinner, your eyes flickering over him every time he licked his lips, every time he leaned back in his chair, watching you like he already had plans to ruin you the second the kids were asleep.

Not after the way you had teased him on purpose, brushing your foot up his leg beneath the table, acting completely innocent when his fingers had tightened around his fork, when his jaw had ticked with restraint.

And now—now, you were paying for it.

Because Harry didn’t just fuck.

He worshipped.

He kissed like he was starving. Like he needed you more than air, like he had spent all fucking day thinking about how he was going to have you like this—bare, needy, desperate beneath him.

“God, look at you,” he groaned, his hands everywhere—gripping, teasing, pressing. “Such a fucking dream, aren’t you?”

You whined, arching into him, your thighs trembling as he dragged his fingers down your stomach, teasing just above where you needed him most.

“Harry,” you gasped. “Please—”

He hummed, not giving in just yet. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

You glared at him. “You know what I want.”

He smirked. Slow, fucking cocky.

“Oh, I do,” he murmured, dragging his mouth down, down, down, until he was kneeling between your thighs, his breath hot against your aching core.

“But I wanna hear you say it.”

You nearly sobbed.

And then, without warning—

His mouth was on you.

Tongue flicking exactly where you needed it, fingers digging into your thighs to hold you completely still.

You cried out, head falling back against the pillows, your entire body flooded with heat.

“Oh my God—Harry—”

He groaned into you, his grip tightening, pulling you closer, pressing you down, forcing you to take everything he gave you.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against you. “Take it. Be a good girl and fucking take it.”

And fuck—you were gone.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except writhe beneath him, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging at the strands as his tongue worked you over, pushing you higher, higher, higher—

Until you broke.

Until your orgasm crashed through you, leaving you shaking, gasping, moaning his name like a prayer.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Because before you could recover, before you could even process what was happening—

He was flipping you over.

Dragging you to the edge of the bed, forcing you onto your hands and knees.

And then—

Then he was sliding inside you, slow, deep, devastating.

You screamed, nails digging into the sheets as he stretched you wide, filling you completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips, holding you right where he wanted you. “Always so fucking tight for me.”

You whimpered, pressing your forehead into the mattress, already overwhelmed, already too much—

But he wasn’t having it.

He reached forward, fisting your hair, pulling you upright, pressing his chest against your back.

“None of that, baby,” he murmured into your ear, hips snapping into you, cock pressing deeper, harder.

“Wanna hear every fucking sound you make.”

You gasped, arching against him, your entire body burning, melting, fucking breaking apart.

“Harry—”

He kissed along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, his thrusts getting slower, filthier, more devastating.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he rasped.

And then, just to ruin you completely—

He slid his hand between your legs.

Rubbing tight, precise circles, working you toward another orgasm, even though you were already shaking, already falling apart beneath him.

“Come for me again,” he ordered, voice thick, desperate.

And fuck—

You did.

Harder than before, harder than you ever had, your entire body clenching around him, your cries filling the room.

Harry groaned, his grip on you unrelenting, his movements rough, erratic, uncontrolled.

“Fuck, Y/N, I—”

And then—

He followed.

Spilling inside you, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, moaning your name like he fucking meant it.

Like he’d never meant anything more.

The silence that followed was thick and warm, your bodies still tangled together, his arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses against your shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed, completely wrecked.

Harry chuckled, his voice lazy, soft, pleased.

“Too much?”

You shook your head.

“Never.”

He grinned against your skin. “Good.”

And then, with zero hesitation, zero reluctance—

He pulled you into his arms, kissed you slow and deep, and whispered—

“Because I plan on doing that for the rest of my life.”

And you—

You let him.

Because you finally knew—

You were his.

And he was yours.

Forever.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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[hivemuthur]

Please, I beg on my hands and knees, may I request a Viktor x reader (established relationship) where Viktor, for whatever reason, grabs readers face (to her surprise) and starts kissing her hard, eventually pinning her to the wall and hotly making out with her. Like, I just need it to be desperate, I need it to be soo needy, I need viktor leaving reader a moaning panting mess, I need Viktor WANTING her BAD like he can’t breath if he doesn’t have her PLEASE (… I’m on my period and extremely horney)

Hi Anon, again, sorry this took so long! It's been almost a month, so maybe you are on your period again :v

Hand Me My Lover

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! just needy make-out + it got a bit heated, sorry :')

word count: 1,2K

—

“You’re early!” you shout from the kitchen at the sound of the door slamming behind Viktor, followed by the rushed scuff of his shoes being kicked off. “Everything alright?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear a muffled fuck followed by a dull thump—presumably, Viktor kicking something more than just his shoe in his haste. Then, the shuffling of feet across the floor, interrupted by the sharp press of his cane against the boards, growing louder as he approaches the kitchen.

“Did something happen?” you ask, leaning over the pot. Before you can turn, Viktor’s arms come around you from behind, his hand sweeping your hair away from your neck before pressing his nose into the newly exposed patch. He inhales deeply, his embrace almost crushing, his breath hot against your skin. He only mumbles a quiet no before squeezing you tighter.

No complaints. You hum, he hums back. His stomach bellows into your ribs. The grip goes further, there is more of his hands around you, more of his fingers digging into the meat of your muscles, more of his hair tickling your skin. Eyelashes on your neck.

You set the spoon down with exaggerated precision, turn the gas off, and hook your fingers over his arms, letting him rock you both back and forth. “Viktor, do you want to tell me what this is about?” you ask, trying to turn around to face him.

At last, he lets you.

“Hmm, that’s better,” he mutters, seizing your cheeks and guiding you out of the kitchen, his cane abandoned, propped against the counter. You stop only when your back meets the wall, and Viktor tilts your face up, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue swipes over the roof of your mouth, stealing your breath. You try to mumble something against him, but this he doesn’t allow.

He doesn’t let you, because, oh God, he can’t have you make him rest or eat now, he has to have this now. Hands raking through your body, blind and needy, snaking beneath your clothes, all hot, hot, hot, almost burning, almost not enough of your skin under his. He pulls his shirt out of his pants clumsily and holds both of your tops up so his naked stomach can press to yours—better, yet not good enough. Glues himself to you, presses his weight onto you and moves a knee between your legs to cover as much of you with himself as he can.

The kissing, the breath theft continues, as he bites on your lower lip and swipes his tongue over it, sucks on it, his thumbs dig into your cheeks. You can’t keep up with the speed, so you just let him touch you and lick you and breathe you in until he breaks off. Just to look at you. Just for a second.

“V—” you try again as soon as he pulls away to take a backup breath and you are immediately cut off by his mouth. Another kiss, or not even a kiss anymore, just mouth eating you up with a dull press, his tongue all tensed up licking into you like this is enough of food for him, enough of water for him, enough air.

“Stop talking and touch me,” he rasps between breaths, lips still glued to yours, sliding against yours on his own drool and he has to beg, so he whispers a soft, “Please, touch me.”

And it’s such a needy beg you fold, your hand palms him through his trousers where’s he’s already hot and twitching and Viktor moans straight into you at the touch, slides his palms under the waistband of your trousers and cups your ass greedily, spreading your cheeks apart, fingers dipping between them and you have to use all your strength for your knees not to give in and have you sliding down the wall, pulling him with you.

You arch instantly, letting him ghost over your entrance, the band of your pants digging into your belly as his forearm stretches the material and all the tightness clings to you, while you fumble helplessly at his belt and fly. You are unable to say anything, mouth still occupied with Viktor’s tongue, because apparently he doesn’t have to breathe anymore.

He runs his palm flat between your legs, spreading the wetness around and hums, so happy with himself that mere minutes of making out got you so drenched. “See? You’ve missed me too,” he mutters before showing two fingers up your cunt without ceremony.

And, oh God, you loose your grip for a second, moan and pant and your knees do give in a little before you are able to slide your hand into his underwear and free his cock. He’s heavy and hot and leaking into your fist and you grant yourself a space to breathe because as soon as you touch him Viktor’s lips gift you a moment of freedom, so his mouth can release a moan. His brows knit together, and forehead presses into yours with such strength that the back of your head thumps lightly on the wall.

“F-fuck,” he stutters and buries his nose into your neck, a bite on it follows, when he pulls your hands off him, drapes them over his neck and slides himself between your thighs. His hands, now free, come back to cup your face and you can smell yourself on his fingers. He kisses you again. Slower this time, calmer, gentler. Tongue glides against yours, now that he has you, with love, and your hands come to tangle into his hair.

And oh, how much Viktor wants you now, you have no idea. He’d prefer you in the bedroom, but the time it would take to traverse the distance, unbearable. So he fucks himself between your thighs and you pant into his mouth, dazed at this need coming from nowhere and still questioning what has happened that he came back home so starved.

A warm touch slides down your sides, back to your hips to cradle and Viktor slows down between stuttering exhales. He rests his stomach against yours, your shirts crumpled back down with all the movement, and he just leans on you to kiss you again. Mouths nearly bruised, breaths jagged, his hair clamping to his forehead.

“You okay?” you ask, voice barely there as you cup his face. He rubs his nose against your cheek and nods, all flushed, sheen of sweat gets shared between his skin and yours.

“Yes,” he says finally. “Yes, just… bedroom, now, please,” a weak plea escapes him, cock throbbing between your legs and you almost want to make him come like this. But you are merciful.

You pull his pants up, just enough to not have him stumble over his own legs, take his arms to wrap around you as you walk backwards, step after step, leading him to the bedroom. The need just pours out constantly when Viktor keeps kissing you through the stroll. His cock aches from the dry friction and this mile he has to walk now almost has him fallen. Almost. He’s saved when you lie beneath him and he can sink back into you, and he keeps sinking, until he’s empty.

[forthefictionallesbians]

I hadn't thought about HDG in terms of cosmic horror, which is really ironic because I eat that shit up. Largely because it scratches a similar itch. The stories I adore are filled with minds shattering, bodies warping, incomprehensible beings from across the stars coming and enacting their agenda,,, and most of it does already tie back to real-world society stuff.

Cosmic horror, like all horror, like all cultural production, is ultimately a reflection of society in its present moment, and the fears and desires it has. Lovecraft's racism wasn't a quirk, it was the genre. "Other people are scary, their beliefs and gods and mere presence degrade and corrupt society, and the forces that're making the world worse can't be stopped, only slowed by attacking some brown/poor/mentally ill people over it." Since then, cosmic horror has continued evolving, but the trend still holds. Whether it's women not being taken seriously and creeping around the wallpaper about it, or the fear of becoming disabled and relying on others to pick up the slack, cosmic horror is deeply human.

I'd contend that aspects of HDG being mirrored by real-world inequalities and issues, from capitalism to unequal healthcare outcomes due to doctor bias, doesn't detract from it being cosmic horror. It's part of it.

There's also a lot to be said about the fact that a core tenant of cosmic horror is the opposite--cosmic bliss. Wherever you find elder gods and unknowable primeval consciousnesses, you'll find cultists and sycophants, deranged madmen and transformed monarchs, entire populations or scattered esoteric power-mongers under their thrall. There are always those who have bent the knee, had their perception so warped and twisted that they can serve monstrosity and call it good. The affini are very much in a similar vein. That's half of the kink. I'm willing to bet most people wouldn't give up all their rights to become brainwashed, drugged, mind-controlled pets. Those of us who would are the cultists in this story, imagining how ideal things would be under the non-con hypno-aliens.

Beyond that, I agree with most everything you've said, and I'm into this for very similar reasons as you, op. I just also love cosmic horror and saw in this post a chance to rant a little about my fav genre and the sudden similarities I'm seeing now that the thought has been planted.

TL; DR -- Cosmic horror has always been about us and our issues, and there being legitimate reasons to want the affini in charge doesn't make it less cosmic horror-y

HDG and "Horror"

So I've seen several people talk about the horrors of Human Domestication Guide and how it's really effective cosmic horror if you look past the kink part of it, but I don't really see that? At least, I don't think I've seen any points levied towards that point that don't already just exist in day-to-day life but far worse.

The main one I see a lot is the idea of this incomprehensible cosmic force that we can't fight completely subsuming our culture and freedoms, but like, is that not already just a grander version of living under capitalism? That shit invades every single aspect of our lives but unlike the affini it's perfectly content with killing us at a moment's notice, and in so many cases actively wants us dead for the crime of existing.

Like, oh they're an imperialist empire and don't give you a choice about living under them? Yeah man that would sure suck I cant imagine what that would be like

I saw a post on r/196 calling the Affini slavers which is really fucking funny to me because you can just tell whoever made that post has never actually read the fucking thing

I dunno, at the end of the day i honestly cannot fathom what makes the Affini terrifying when I'm at least *allowed* to live under them. Where basic survival isn't something I have to earn by tearing my own body apart every single day, where I'm actually loved and cared for by the people running shit. There's nothing bad about them that isn't already so much worse in the present day, and the whining I've seen in places like Reddit about "never being allowed to reach our fullest potential" is as much wish fullfilment scifi as the HDG setting as a whole is, so it's kind of a moot point

[billionairebratenergy]

Forever Sounds Good

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes had been called a lot of things in his lifetime—soldier, assassin, hero—but when you called him your husband, everything else ceased to exist.

───────────────────────────────

The compound was quieter than usual, save for the occasional hum of voices from the common area. You and Bucky had settled onto the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you scrolled through your phone, the warm glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. His vibranium fingers traced absentminded patterns along your calf, a subconscious habit whenever he was near you.

It was peaceful. Domestic, even.

And then Sam walked in.

"Hey, lovebirds. You two gonna join the rest of us for movie night, or are you too busy being disgustingly in love over here?"

You smirked, not looking up. "Bucky, what do you think?"

Bucky, who had been perfectly content in his own little world, blinked up at Sam like he hadn't heard a single word you just said.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to answer. When he didn’t, you sighed dramatically and turned to Sam. "Guess my husband and I will have to think about it."

Bucky stiffened beneath you.

The silence stretched, and you glanced back at him, only to find him staring at you. Wide-eyed. Lips parted slightly.

He wasn’t breathing.

"Buck?" you prompted.

Still nothing.

Sam, who had been in the middle of making some smart-ass remark, paused and squinted at Bucky. "You good, man?"

Bucky swallowed thickly, jaw tightening, but the color in his face betrayed him. His ears were turning pink.

And then—he grinned.

Not his usual smirk. Not the teasing, cocky one he gave Sam when they were bickering. Not the polite one he sometimes gave strangers out of courtesy. No—this was something different. Something real.

It was soft. Shy, almost.

Like you’d just given him something precious and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

"Yeah," he said finally, voice rough, but there was a warmth in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Yeah, I’m good."

Sam narrowed his eyes, looking between the two of you like he was missing something. But when Bucky made no move to elaborate, he just scoffed. "Weirdo."

As soon as Sam was gone, you turned back to Bucky.

"What was that?" you asked, amused.

Bucky shifted beneath you, avoiding your gaze. "What was what?"

"Oh, I don't know. You looking like I just told you I was carrying your child or something."

He huffed out a breath, shaking his head, but that small, secret smile never left his face.

"Just wasn’t expecting it, is all," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Expecting what?"

His thumb brushed over your knee absentmindedly. "You calling me that."

Husband.

You bit your lip. "Did you not like it?"

His head snapped up. "No—God, no. I—I mean, it just caught me off guard."

You watched him for a moment, the way he fidgeted slightly, the way his grip on your leg tightened just a fraction.

"You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?" you teased.

"Absolutely."

The way he admitted it so easily made your heart swell.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. "Should I say it more often?"

His breath hitched.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, then exhaled, a little shaky. "You tryna kill me, doll?"

You grinned. "Not at all, husband."

His ears were definitely red now.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath, but there was a kind of wonder in his expression that made you soften.

"Bucky Barnes," you whispered, brushing your nose against his. "Are you telling me you like the idea?"

His fingers curled around your wrist, holding you there.

"Wouldn’t mind it," he admitted.

It was quiet for a beat. Then:

"Wait, are you proposing right now?"

He laughed, the sound vibrating between you, and you couldn’t help but join in.

But later that night, as you lay tangled together beneath the covers, his fingers tracing over your ring finger absentmindedly, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was thinking about it just as much as you were.

⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒

[covenofagatha]

Practice makes perfect (Part 2)

Tell me it's all wrong 'til it gets to me

Some inspo from this brainworm

Word count: 4k

Warnings: g!p reader, Agatha is even meaner, degradation kink, humiliation kink, titjob, oral, reader once again is a walking HR violation, slight praise kink, one spank, fingering, sex, think this is it?

“Everyone have a good night?” Rio asks the next morning during breakfast. 

You’re spooning vanilla yogurt into a bowl and trying not to think about how much it reminds you of your cum dripping out of Agatha’s pussy. “I had a great night,” you answer, feeling everyone’s eyes turn to you, especially Agatha, who’s standing right next to you. “Um, yeah, Agatha and I actually had sex.” 

Rio snorts, as do a few other people in the room. You’ve gotten so used to no one taking you seriously that you like to play around and see what you can get away with. Whether it’s a truth or a lie, they don’t care because you blur the lines so often.

If only they knew how true that was, though. 

“So classy,” Rio says and you can almost hear her roll her eyes before she leaves the buffet to go find a table.

“Oh, don’t worry!” you call after her. “Agatha really liked it. It was all her idea.” Rio doesn’t even look back. If you weren’t the boss’s daughter, you’re sure you would’ve been fired at least four dozen times from just this summer. 

Agatha remains unfazed as she snatches the yogurt spoon from your hand. “You fucking wish. Never in a million years,” she retorts calmly and you giggle. 

She spends the rest of the day seemingly trying to get you back for that stunt: she salaciously licks yogurt off the spoon. She wears a shirt that dips a little too low and shows off the edge of her red bra. She looks up at you through her perfect eyelashes when you ask her if you can sit next to her at the table and she laughs cruelly after she says no. 

Or she’s doing everything she usually does and you’re just reading into it because you’re obsessed with her.

But when you find her in the pool alone after breakfast, wearing a two piece black bikini, it’s hard to believe that she’s not at least teasing you a little. You stand on the edge absolutely agape, your cock making an obvious tent in your pants. She smirks and gets out and walks over to you.

Water droplets cascade down the smooth expanse of her pale stomach and your mouth runs dry. You can see her nipples through her wet top and heat flashes through your body. Your head starts to spin. 

You whisper her name before she flicks water on your shirt and reaches down to pat your cock roughly. Your hips jolt forward and a muffled groan leaves your mouth and she snickers. 

“I’m surprised that didn’t make you cum,” she says but her tone makes it clear that she's still holding out hope you’ll embarrass yourself again.

“Built up my stamina these past few nights,” you retort. 

She scoffs. “Yeah, you really showed me yesterday. How long did you last? Not even a second?” 

“Okay, maybe the first time, but can you blame me after how worked up I was? And I lasted longer the second time,” you protest and she mockingly pouts. 

“Aw, poor you,” she tuts and you hate how it goes right to your cock. Her gaze drops down again to watch you strain more against your pants and there’s a devilish glint in her eyes when she looks back up. “I was right, you know. I knew you wouldn’t be able to last, I knew you were too fucking incompetent. You’re more pathetic than a common whore.” 

You whimper and clutch onto her arm with tight fingers because it’s the only way you can resist touching herself. 

She regards you pawing at her with the utmost disgust. “You’re so fucking dirty,” she snarls and heat swirls around your head and your knees almost buckle. Your cock is pulsing, growing, swelling—she’s going to get exactly what she wants. She knows it too. 

“Fuck, Agatha, please—” Your whines are pitiful and desperate and you look at her with the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster. 

Her voice lowers even more. “God, look at you. What a fucking embarrassment.” 

Your stomach muscles tighten. 

“What would your dad think if he saw you like this?” 

You hump nothing and hiss at the feeling of the rough fabric against your erection and her smile is wicked.

“What would any of them think if they saw you drooling over a woman twice your age? If they saw you harder than a teenager just because I told you how pathetic you are? You’re nothing more than a bitch in heat, are you?”

Agatha cups your cheek with a gentleness that stands in stark contrast to her words and you buck your hips again. The sounds falling from your mouth are weak and pleading and you think she’s about to finish you off. 

“You know,” she muses, tone now sweet as honey, “I better go get changed before we have to do whatever your dad has on the schedule for today. But you…you look a little hot right now. I think you need to cool off.” 

Before you can ask what she means—or ask for her to touch you—she grabs your arms, whirls you around, and gently shoves you. 

It feels like you’re falling backwards in slow motion and you feel your jaw drop as you watch her smile. 

You hit the water and you instantly recoil, the cold doing wonders to sober you up. Your erection has practically disappeared by the time you break the surface, gasping for air. 

“What the fuck?” you splutter and she tosses her head back with a laugh. 

Agatha finally shrugs when she stops cackling and you wade to the stairs, teeth chattering. Your clothes are clinging to your shivering body but she just watches in amusement. 

“Wanda!” you shout and your personal assistant comes running out from the house. Her green eyes widen when she sees you in the pool. “Can you get me a towel?” 

Agatha rolls her eyes as Wanda nods quickly. “Of course. Anything else?” 

You shake your head and she speeds off. 

“You don’t need her to tie your shoes?” Agatha quips and you grumble at her to shut up. Your family is rich—of course you’re used to the teasing about having assistants. Even as an intern at the company, you’ve delegated far too much of your work to Wanda and she always does it with no complaints. You’re betting the six figure salary your father pays her keeps her content. 

Wanda comes back with a towel and you snatch it from her when you finally get out of the pool. Agatha walks away without giving you another glance and you can’t help but feel rejected. 

She barely even looks at you the rest of the morning and then your dad calls his executive staff into a meeting for the whole afternoon so you lay on your bed, bored out of your mind. It’s the last day of the vacation and of course he wants to spend it getting ready for the next quarter. 

It’s tempting to jack off or to use the flashlight that’s sitting in your nightstand drawer, and you do try, but neither your hand nor the toy even comes close to how Agatha’s cunt feels so you give up with a huff. 

That night, you go to her room in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. You’re not willing to take the chance that she’ll come to yours because you don’t actually know what’s going on between you. She is so fucking confusing. 

You flirt with her, she always shoots you down, and then she makes you fuck a fleshlight before she takes your virginity? The point of it was to prove that you wouldn’t last inside her, and she was technically correct. So does that mean this is all over?

Not if you have anything to say about it. And there was her stunt by the pool earlier, so clearly she’s not done yet either. 

Knocking rhythmically and quietly on her door, you keep your eyes peeled down the hallway just to make sure no one sees. You joking about having sex with general counsel might be fine because no one believes you, but it would be much harder to cover this up.

Agatha opens it a few moments later in a matching purple pajama set and lets out an exasperated sigh. Her glasses are pushed up on her forehead and you can see her laptop on her bed. 

You slip past her into the room without waiting for her approval and make a beeline for the scotch, pouring yourself two fingers of it. 

“Come back for more humiliation?” she taunts and you feel your stomach twist. “Think you’re a big girl because you managed to stick your cock into one person one time?” 

“You know,” you say, draining a glass without even wincing at the burn of the alcohol and turning around to point at her, “that was all your idea. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me just as much as I want you.” 

Agatha raises an eyebrow and her gaze drops to the tent in your boxers. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she retorts dryly. 

You put the glass down and start to advance as she stands her ground firmly. “You didn’t have to fuck me. You didn’t even have to come to my room the first night. But you did. And I know how affected you were last night, you were fucking enjoying yourself.” 

She laughs cynically and rolls her eyes. “Please, honey, I’ve had better sex with my vibrator.” Ignoring the way that causes more blood to rush south—because now you’re thinking about her moaning loudly while falling apart holding a toy against her clit—you smirk. 

“Then why did you fuck me?” 

Her face twitches and she jerks her head to the side. “Take your clothes off and get on the bed.” 

You’d ask again if there was anything on your mind other than your throbbing cock and her hot cunt so you tear off your shirt, shove off your boxers, and jump on top of the covers. Your cock is standing straight up, oozing precum onto your stomach and twitching against nothing. 

“God, you’re fucking pathetic,” Agatha hisses and you hump the air, a strangled whimper leaving your mouth. “All it takes is a few words and you’re leaking for me.” 

She unbuttons her blouse again and you don’t think you’ll ever get bored of the sight of her tits, perky and supple and rose-colored nipples that you need in your mouth. She slides down her shorts and your breathing quickens, feeling heat flush through your neck and upper chest. 

“Agatha, please,” you whine. Agatha scoffs and climbs on the bed next to you on her knees and slips a hand between her legs. You stare, open-mouthed, panting, as she works at her clit. “Wait…can I?” 

Her hips jolt and you think you can hear her groan through her clamped lips. “You want to—what? Fumble around incompetently? Think you can even find my clit?” 

You nod urgently while your cock pulses and another spurt of precum dribbles out. “I want to, please,” you gasp, “I want to taste you.” 

“Fine. Try not to cum immediately again,” she snaps without any of her usual bite and moves so she’s laying next to you, her legs spread open. 

Situating yourself, you feel the air get kicked out of you when you get your first good look at her pussy. 

Agatha is fucking soaked. Her cunt glistens, lips swollen and pink and almost fused together, and you can see her clit peeking out at the top. Your mouth is watering and your cock gets harder if possible. You can’t resist lowering your hips to the bed so you can get some pressure on it. 

“Holy fuck,” you breathe in awe. “You’re so wet.” 

“Are you actually going to do anything or just stare?” she says, tone laced with venom. “Maybe you should call your assistant, I know she does everything else for you cause you’re too incompetent.” 

You whimper and grind onto the bed, cock throbbing, shaking your head with wide eyes. You can do this.  

She purses her lips. “That’s too bad. She could probably actually get me to cum.” 

Heat tears through you and you surge forward with a vengeance, licking roughly up her cunt and she hisses before roughly grabbing your hair. 

“Slow down,” she barks and you mumble an apology before flattening your tongue and gently dragging it through her folds. “Better.” 

You say something that’s muffled by her pussy and you hump the bed faster because she squeaks when you rub your tongue against her clit. 

She swears under her breath and you can’t even focus anymore because of the dizziness in your head and the aching in your cock. The taste of her has overwhelmed your mouth and your nose and you’re sloppily devouring her while she tries and fails to stop her hips from rolling. 

“I can’t—fuck—Agatha, I’m gonna—” You can feel your stomach tightening, can feel your cock pulsing, and you know you’re about to cum from grinding on the bed and eating her out. 

Instead of mocking you, she growls and yanks you up by the hair until you’re practically straddling her stomach. Tendrils of precum pool on her skin and you swallow roughly. 

“Since you’re going to be fucking useless until you get off,” she sighs and grips your hips to pull you up even higher. Your cock drags against her, leaving a sticky trail in your wake and you have to put a hand out on the headboard to catch yourself when you realize what she’s doing. 

Your cock rests between her tits and she lifts her head up to spit on you and your hips jerk forward. The mess of her saliva and your precum is driving you absolutely crazy and you begin rutting against her. 

Her fingers dig into your ass and help you move and your cock fits perfectly in the crook between her boobs. You hold onto the headboard, panting while you look down at her, and there’s a heat in her eyes that you only see at work—when she gets exactly what she wants. 

“God, you’re pathetic,” she says without any of her usual malice. The pink from her cheeks has spread down her chin and to her upper chest that your cock is dragging against. “Can’t do anything for yourself so you need me, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you choke out, your thrusts becoming shorter. The stickiness is making you throb and your grunts get louder.

Agatha spanks you and you shudder, your cock pumping out a spurt of precum, and then she lets go of your ass to push her breasts together so her soft, supple tits are wrapped around your hard cock and you sharply inhale. 

But then she leans down and flicks her tongue out against the tip of your cock and you can’t hold it back anymore. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck—I can’t—fuck,” you babble before your cock explodes, drenching the bottom of her face and the top of her chest in white. She lets out a gasp at the feeling of your seed on her skin and the sight of her covered in you makes one last strand of cum squirt out. 

You slouch back while your cock twitches and Agatha drags two fingers through the mess on her clavicle before stuffing them in your mouth. She looks delighted when you make a surprised sound before grabbing your hair and pulling you down and making you clean up your cum. 

“Good girl,” she purrs when you’re all done and then nudges you back down between her legs. The praise makes your stomach grow warm—apparently you like that just as much as the degradation. “Think you can focus now?” 

Nodding eagerly, you look at her pussy and your mouth falls open. She’s dripping onto the bed, folds spread open, and you can see her throbbing. 

This time, there’s no hesitation in putting your mouth on her and you moan lasciviously at her taste. Your eyes dart up to watch her face as you dip your tongue inside her and curl it and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. 

But then you lick back up and suck on her clit and she can’t help the audible groan that escapes her. The sound makes your cock pulse and you can already feel yourself starting to grow hard again. 

“Keep doing that,” she orders and you double your efforts, lashing your tongue against her clit and then sucking and her head falls back. “Two fingers inside me, now.” 

Her walls instantly bear down around you and you whimper, the vibrations making her hips roll. She is so warm and so hot and you never want to leave her cunt. 

“Fuck me harder, god, you’re useless,” she hisses but it quickly turns into another moan when you thrust in deeply and curl them until you find the spot that makes her clench. Your slurping noises, along with her sounds of pleasure, are going straight to your cock and you start to grind against the bed gently for some stimulation. 

“You like this,” you say into her cunt and she violently shakes her head while beginning to ride your face and fingers. Her walls are gripping you, trying to drag you in as deep as you can go, and you can feel every ridge and groove when you fuck her. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me.” 

She yanks on your hair and you moan. “Stop fucking talking,” she seethes and you chuckle, the vibrations reverbrating against her pussy and making her whimper. You think she might actually be getting somewhere. “Good thing I brought my vibrator because I’m going to be needing it after you—fuck—”

You suck on her clit roughly and her voice breaks off. She’s grinding harder on you, drenching your face and fingers, and she’s fucking panting. So are you, right against her pussy and your stomach flexes to keep your steady rhythm of humping the bed going strong. Your jaw and wrist are burning but from the way she’s clenching furiously around your fingers, she’s getting close. 

And you know that if you stop right now, Agatha would never let it go. 

So you keep doing exactly what you’re doing and her hips start to falter and her breathing gets heavier. 

“God, you’re such a slut, whoring yourself out to a woman twice your age,” she groans. “You’re so pathetic, fuck—”

Her hands scramble and tug on your hair and you’re about to make a snarky comment on how she’s just so desperate for your cum when she grabs onto your hard and leaking cock and angles it at her entrance. 

You barely have time to breathe before her legs hook around your waist. “Don’t you dare cum,” she warns and you huff out a laugh before pushing into her wet cunt. 

Agatha’s walls grip your cock and you freeze, your head dropping down to rest on her tits and you pant open-mouthed against her skin before sucking on her nipple. Her hips arch up to get you deeper inside and you let out a lewd moan. She feels so good and you can feel her throb around you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, your cock twitching. It’s such a different angle from her being on top of you and you love it. You start to move slowly, just to hold off your impending orgasm. 

You can see everything—the way her tits bounce with each thrust, the way her hair is sprawled out underneath her, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest, the bulge your cock makes in her stomach. 

“Agatha, Agatha, fuck, please, I’m gonna—fuck, please, I can’t,” you cry, your cock pulsing rapidly inside her. She clenches around you with each thrust and she bites her bottom lip roughly to control her sounds. 

“Wait, just wait, don’t cum yet,” she groans, strangled and needy, and you know you’re about to cum but you’re desperate to make her cum before you do. 

So you reach between your bodies and find her clit and furiously start to rub at it and she moans. “Tell me,” you order, “tell me that I’m making you feel good.” 

She laughs breathlessly. “You think because you’re on top, you’re in charge? Honey, you can’t do anything without me. You’re so pathetic that you only get this hard for me, right? Tell me that.” Her words are getting tighter and you duck back down to swirl your tongue around her nipple. 

“Just you, Agatha,” you murmur and she shivers from your hot breath. Tension is building in your cock and your stomach and your back and you thrust harder because you need her to cum. “I only want you, fuck, it’s always been you.” 

And then she keens, eyes rolling back in her head, and her cunt spasms around you. You feel a gush of wetness and you groan weakly before pumping her full of thick, hot cum. She gasps when she feels your seed paint her walls white and you collapse on top of her while your cock spurts out a few more loads into her. 

“You finally did one thing right,” she quips after a few moments and you laugh before nipping at the curvature of her breasts. 

“That’s the best performance review I’ve ever gotten,” you say, and once you’re fully soft, you pull out of her and sit up on your knees to spread her folds open. 

Your cum oozes out and your cock twitches at the sight and she gasps and squirms. She reaches down and swipes through the mess leaking out of her and then shoves her fingers into your mouth. 

The taste of both of you makes you whimper and she swallows roughly. You move back down of your own accord and slowly drag your tongue through her folds, getting your mixture all over your mouth. You steadily clean your cum out of her while holding eye contact and her struggle to remain composed would make you hard again if you hadn’t already cum twice in the span of about fifteen minutes. 

You make sure to lick her clit a few times and she writhes underneath you, stifling her sighs. Her cunt is a mess by the time you’re done, swollen and pink and still wet and she tugs you away because the stimulation has finally gotten to be too much. 

Flopping onto the bed next to her, you lick your lips and wonder what it would be like to kiss Agatha. You turn to look at her to find her eyes already on you. 

“What happens tomorrow?” you whisper and her gaze flickers down to your mouth. “When we go back.” 

Agatha sighs and gets out of bed, finding her pajamas on the floor and putting them back on. “We never speak of this again. And that means no more little jokes.”

It stings but you smirk to deflect. “Afraid someone will think the great Agatha Harkness deigned to fuck the boss’s daughter? That’s like, reverse sleeping up the corporate ladder. They’d probably applaud your charity. Or—you know what? I bet they’d be jealous. Everyone wants a piece of me, you know. Too bad general counsel already tamed this tiger.” You bite at her playfully and she snorts before fixing you with a serious stare. 

“This never happened,” she says solemnly and you nod. But before you can ask if you should leave, she lays back down next to you and her hand brushes against yours. You stiffen, but don’t pull away and her touch lingers.  

You lay so still, trying to breathe as quietly as you possibly can, so maybe she’ll let you stay. 

Her hand doesn’t move from yours the entire night. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs

[finelinevogue]

pretty boy

summary - the team is out for drinks and people can’t stop hitting on your boyfriend

pairing - spencer reid x bau!gf

word count - +1k

“He’s so hot.”

“Ugh that hair!”

“He is so kissable.”

You had only been at the bar for an hour and you’d already hit your limit for the amount of women that have hit on your boyfriend.

The worst thing about it, is that Spencer is so oblivious to it that you feel silly for being even a little bit jealous.

You were currently at the bar ordering some drinks and were listening to a group of girls lust after your boyfriend, who was currently sitting with the rest of the team in a booth.

“I mean seriously… he looks like he’d know how to please a woman.” One of them said.

You gave the girls a brief look to make sure you weren’t making things up in your head and to your dismay they were all looking Spencer’s way. Curse him for sitting at the end of the booth.

You then looked back to Spencer who was listening intensely to something Rossi was saying.

He did look good. Like, really good.

He’d recently had a haircut that made him look that little bit older, whilst also keeping that youth. Hotch had told him he looked like he was part of a boy-band, which in a way he did. The hot one, if he was.

You loved his new hair. It was so fluffy and soft. Perfect to run your hands through.

It just irked you that other people were thinking the same thing. And so openly.

He was even extra handsome tonight with his work clothes on. It was hot so he had taken off his waistcoat, so it was just his shirt - which he had rolled the sleeves up on - his loose tie and his fitted trousers.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” One of them said, making you tense up.

You wished the bartender would hurry up so you could go back and sit next to Spencer already. You trust Spencer more than anything - but it was these girls you didn’t trust.

“Oh my God. Never mind. He’s coming over here. How’s my hair?”

You thanked the bartender as he placed the drinks on a circular tray in front of you.

The girls were all nervously excited next to you.

Until they weren’t.

Because you felt Spencer slide up behind you, resting one of his hands at the bottom of your spine and the other placed on the bar edge.

“You okay?” He asked, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as you swayed your body into his.

Spencer was standing perpendicular to you so it gave you the opportunity to rest the side of your head on his chest. It allowed you to just breathe him in as if it were just you and him in the room.

You nodded slowly, not really knowing how else to answer.

“Need help with these?” He asked, tapping the tray.

“Please.”

“M’kay. I’ll get these. You grab some straws.”

You were sad when his hand left your back to reach for the tray of drinks. You also really wanted to take Spencer away from these girls though.

Before you could both go back, one of the girls touched Spencer on his forearm and questioned him.

“Excuse me, are you two together?” She asked, only looking at Spencer for the answer. It was almost as if you were invisible.

“Uh, yeah. We are.” Spencer gave a polite smile.

“Oh.” She said, surprised.

Spencer didn’t respond and neither did you. He just smiled before nudging you to keep walking.

Once you were out of their earshot he asked, “That was weird right?”

“Yeah.” It was your turn to give him a small smile this time, keeping your head down as you returned to the booth.

<.><.><.>

The atmosphere had changed.

You had felt good at the start of the night - an hour ago - but now everything felt a little different.

It no doubt had everything to do with the girls that had been surprised that Spencer was dating you. Also it didn’t help that Spencer still looked great and was gaining more and more hungry eyes.

You sipped your drink even though you weren’t interested in having a good time any more. You wanted to be alert in case you needed to be for Spencer’s sake.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Spencer said.

He was still sat on the end of the booth, but he had one arm tucker over the back of the booth and down around your shoulder to keep you pressed close to him. For someone who was okay with not fully understanding social interactions, he had always done a perfect job of being with you.

The rest of the team were talking and laughing over drinks.

“It’s okay.” You shook your head.

“It’s not if it’s bothering you.” Spencer argued.

“It’s silly.”

You looked from the team to the rest of the bar where people were still looking Spencer’s way.

Damn, why did he have to be so attractive?

You weren’t sure how to approach the subject with Spencer though. He was too sweet to take his gaze off you for even a second to notice how many gazes were on him. It wasn’t even a him problem. Good for him for looking so pretty, but it was just difficult trying to be okay with the extra attention that him being pretty came with.

It sounded so stupid and it didn’t even make sense to you, so it was impossible trying to think of how to bring it up to Spencer.

“Is it the case?” Spencer asked.

You sighed, “No.”

“Did I do something? I feel like that’s quite likely.”

You shook your head, feeling yourself getting worked up about this.

Spencer’s arm pulled you further into his body and his other arm detached from his drink so he could rest his palm on your thigh.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“You’re not ruining my night. I just don’t like seeing you upset.”

“I know.”

“Well, you tell me when you want to leave and we’ll go okay?”

“Okay.”

<.><.><.>

Spencer was brushing his teeth when you blurted out those three words.

“Sorry if I was weird tonight.” You apologised, finishing off your nighttime routine in Spencer’s apartment.

He mumbled something along the lines of ‘it doesn’t matter’, but it was hard to tell when he had a mouth full of toothpaste.

Your chest heaved heavy breaths as you watched him with adoration.

He looked so soft and homely standing in his bathroom, brushing his teeth in his pyjamas with you. He was just so damn perfect and it was because of that that you had to tell him.

“It was your hair!” You blurted out before you could control yourself.

“Huh?” He questioned with a mouthful of toothpaste still. He took a brief glance to the mirror to check his hair before turning back to you.

“Your hair! I think it’s made you really hot. N-not that you weren’t hot before Spence but- oh my god, what am I saying?” You let out a shaky breath before continuing, “I was jealous okay? Really jealous because everyone at that bar was staring at you like they wanted you and I-I know you and me are— and you would never— and I — but I just…

Spencer spat out his toothpaste.

“Y/N…”

“I couldn’t stop thinking that like you’re mine and what right did they have to chat you up, let alone look at you that way? I mean—.”

“Babe…”

“I love you, okay?!” You proclaimed. You stood there in shock for a moment, not knowing where to take this now that you’d announced that.

“Y/N…”

“I do.” You nodded rapidly, “I do, I really do love you a-and I think it really hit me tonight when I saw you being loved on by all those other women.”

Spencer dropped his toothbrush and took a step towards you.

“All of that tonight was because you love me?” He questioned, trying to wrap his head around this.

“I think so, yeah.”

You pulled the sleeves of your jumper down over your hands as something to fidget with. You were growing nervous now for Spencer to say something.

“Well that makes sense.” He nodded, “I.. I think that means I love you too.”

“Really?” You asked, eyes wide as you watched him figure things out for himself.

“Yeah. I mean… I was frustrated as you sounded at all those men looking at you all night. It was driving me crazy.”

“People looking at me?” You frowned.

“You were the prettiest person in the room.”

“Spence…” You pouted, feeling your eyes tear with happy emotions.

You can’t believe that he had been feeling the exact same as you all this time. All it would have taken was a conversation earlier to talk things through and you both wouldn’t have been feeling so vulnerable.

“I love you, Y/N, even though I’m telling you in the most un-romantic setting.”

“You’re wrong. This is like the most romantic it could be for me.” You smiled and looped your arms around his neck. You felt his come around your waist.

“This?”

“Yeah. You, me and a little bit of toothpaste. That’s all I need to know that I love you.”

“And my hair.”

“Huh?”

“I distinctly remember you talking about how hot my hair was before…” He chuckled and you thumped your forehead down on his chest to escape the embarrassment.

“Stop.”

“No, never. Just like I’m never getting another haircut.”

You lifted your head at that, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him with heart eyes.

“I could live with that.” You smiled.

Spencer stayed looking at you for a few moments.

You could tell he was taking a minute to process everything as well as continue to study every little feature on your face. You prompted him to say something when he stared a little too long though.

“Just like seeing you smile. That’s all.” He said.

It was as simple as that.

You both loved each other. You both loved seeing each other smile. To keep that a forever kind of thing you would have to promise communication and accept there’ll be moments of jealousy. Those moments will be made better though when you remind each other that it’s each other you’re going home to.

[michanvalentine]

One thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is the complexity of his relationship with the figure of the hero.

Astarion is a vampire, a monster, and also a victim (as well as, in a way, a perpetrator, due to his forced obedience to Cazador). He is the first person in desperate need of a hero to save him and the last person suited for the role of a hero.

He prayed to every god for salvation, even for death, and even that was denied to him. He resents heroes and the powerful, and when confronted with the idea that both have a duty to protect the weak, he scornfully responds that no, they’ve done a terrible job—that in 200 years, no one saved him from torture, and that it was the mind flayers, other monsters, who finally freed him. And that, in reality, the powerful only use their strength to bend others to their will and serve their own selfish interests. It’s in this same conversation that Astarion declares his desire to be better than Cazador—stronger, more powerful—though the player likely meant kinder, more noble.

Yet, despite everything he says, despite his disapproval of every heroic action taken in Act 1, Astarion is irreversibly drawn to the figure of the hero. First and foremost, he seeks their protection, though still through the warped lens of his past under Cazador’s cruel talons. Secondly, he is extremely sensitive to kindness, understanding, acceptance—to being treated like a person, just as a true hero would treat him.

And then, this is something I particularly noticed while playing as Karlach—Astarion is fascinated by Wyll, who is, in many ways, the quintessential hero of the party. He even admits that if he had to choose one of them to feed on, it would be Wyll, because he is sweet and righteous, just. Which is a contradiction, because the very traits that draw Astarion to him are the same ones that make him want to drain him dry. Love and hate, all in one.

With this in mind, even the conversation after meeting Aurelia and Leon takes on a deeper meaning. The player sees something in Astarion, but he still refuses to recognize it, to admit it, and rightfully says he can’t be what we see in him—a good person, a righteous, understanding, even heroic figure. And yet, the player sees through him…

And it’s breathtaking when, during the ritual, just before stabbing Cazador, Astarion says those very same words: "You're right. I can be better than him." But this time, he doesn’t mean stronger or more powerful. No, this time, he means it exactly as it was first presented to him and so bitterly rejected. And he means it with all his heart.

And in doing so, in freeing all his siblings and all the poor souls imprisoned there, Astarion commits a truly heroic act. He does for others what he once desperately hoped for himself, what he prayed for—becoming the hero he needed. Because at the same time, he is freeing himself—from his chains, from his narrow worldview that saw everything in terms of power and dominance. For the first time, he is free to live outside of the path that someone else forced upon him.

And that’s exactly why, in my opinion, the next morning, it’s right to tell him that yes, we were the heroes who stood by his side, but we only gave him a push. Because, in the end, he saved himself.

He is the hero he had been waiting for centuries!

And that thought makes my heart race! ❤️

[kaisentine]

꒰ა ⠀ ⸺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 , 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⌗ ⸺ there isn’t anything more romantic than physical touch ! the question is : how does he like to do it? ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro general cw. couple thingz that make me go EW!, language ( do u guys want me to tag this or no ), there are separate cws for each guy, not proofread . . . gn!reader ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ) sticky note. blushing giggling crying i’m not ok . . . the parts are wayyyyyyy shorter than i intended them to be, some men’s part are wayyyyyyyyyyyy shorter than the rest though but plez enjoy! 😭 this is part of my event check it out!

𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾’𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ! ♡

cw . slick back king, arlene still day dreaming about the idea of playing with her gorgalicious king’s hair

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 should be cast in a movie because he’s really good at hiding how much he really likes when you do his hair.

if you would have to pick the one thing that annoys you the most, it would be how kaiser asks ( pleads ) you to do his hair for him only for him to say he hates it in the end. it’s never a 50/50 with this man because 100 out of 100 times, he will say that he hates the way you did his hair at the very end—he literally watched you through the mirror! why now?

“can you do my hair?” he yawns, handing you a couple of rubber bands and a comb.

biggest regret of his life—he ends up in the most slick backing slick back the world has ever seen. it’s kind of a feat of how flawless you did it but, “this really sucks.” he complains with his signature disgusted look, smoothening non-existent strands poking from his head. “yeah? too late. either you take it off or you train with it.” you smile with both hands on you hip in enthusiasm.

you hold back your laughter because you’ll piss him off even more and then you’ll never hear the end of it from him—as if you weren’t already. “out of everything, you choose an outrageous slick back?” he brings his middle finger and thumb to his nose bridge in disappointment.

“you asked me to do your hair,” you shrug, standing up from your position from behind kaiser. actually, you’re quite surprised how well he looks in a bun but you’re more surprised you can even put his hair in a bun because of how . . . exotic his hairstyle is.

he huffs in annoyance at your lack of sympathy.

“well i didn’t ask for you to make it hideous.”

so why didn’t he ask you to stop when you pulled out the gel? short answer : he likes your hands in his hair. long answer : that and how comforting it is. he’s convinced your fingertips are made of magic or something because of how good they feel anywhere on his head. it’s the way you occasionally have to tug a little harsher on his hair to make it stay in place, it makes him feel alive—even though you’re “responsible”, there is no malice behind your intent.

and he just loves you way too much to stop you until it’s too late.

“so are you gonna take it out or . . ?” you ask while walking over to the drawers to put the hair items back—showing him that you aren’t going to redo his hair even if he does take it out. he swears he feels his eye twitch.

“nah.”

he’d really like to but it’s not half bad. it’s a subtle reminder to him that you care. and he loves you way too much to do that. God, someone save this man from your magical hands.

sticky note. i cryryeyycryfyecyerycyrcyrycrycyeycrycry . . . guys what the eff!1!! ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა I HAVE NEVER DONE A SLICK BACK

cw . rin and sae aren’t awkwad . . . brother things agenda, reader is shorter than sae

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 makes it very clear he’s not fond of physical touch but that’s because he views it as something intimate. that’s why he doesn’t care when it comes to you.

everyone is convinced itoshi sae hates them when they first meet him because of how he pushes them away when they get too close. but for you, ask him to do it and he’ll do it.

it was only a simple slip up when you missed him even though he was right there—“can you hug me?”. much to your surprise, he actually turned around to face you. “what did you say?” he asks in amusement to your obvious embarrassment. “nothing . . ?” you hesitate, God, you’re bad at lying—sae can just see it in your eyes. “no, say it again.” “. . . can you hug me?” and just like that, his arms are around your neck, bringing your face closer to his chest. is there steam coming out of your ears? probably. is it for a good reason? yes.

everyday, you thank whoever prayed for you that day because now, you just have to ask and he’ll give it to you. “sae, can you hold my hand?” he’ll intertwine his hand with yours with firmness. “sae, will you kiss me?” of course he will, he always will. yes, while he needs to be prompted to do so, he has no problem in fulfilling the requests. the things that he does for you is uncanny to everybody else because, y’know . . . he’ll silently kill anybody that isn’t you if they even tried.

“you guys are gross!” rin looks like he’s about to hurl at the sight of sae kissing your cheek. you feel like your face is going to turn into a stove and your ears a boiling pot. “it’s not nice to sneak up on people.” sae rolls his eyes, pulling you closer to him whilst you hide your lips with your hand in humiliation.

“. . . i just wanted to ask where you put your training bag,” rin frowns—you feel bad for making the younger sad like that. “what about knocking?” sae is giving his brother the dirty look to which the raven-haired reciprocates, wiping his frown to scrunch his nose. “i didn’t know they were going to be here!” he exclaims, pointing directly at you—you feel betrayed! is he blaming you for his misfortunes? you no longer feel bad.

well . . . when that’s resolved you tell sae “let’s stop doing that . . .” you tense your face in internal cringe.

but not even 10 minutes later—he forces your head to rest on his shoulder—without prompting.

“don’t care. you’re the only person i’m willing to do this with, don’t interrupt it.” he grumbles—because you really are the only person he’s willing to hold.

sticky note. this man is definitely not fluent in physical touch but cut him some slack, yeah? my first draft of this was him and his lingering touches on your ass LMFAOO

cw . nothing . . ?, takes place when it’s cold or smthsmth

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 ‘s actions speak louder than words, even if it’s not visible to others.

he isn’t good with his words. he isn’t good at loving. yet he still loves you.

there’s something in him that connects his view with affection to his brother—they both view as something not to be shared freely but to only be given to those who deserve it. lucky for you, rin sees you as someone who absolutely deserves it but nobody else deserves to see it.

not because he’s ashamed but because it’s supposed to be an intimate moment between partners that stays in between the two of them, that’s what he likes to think. ( oh, and the way he feels guilty for not expressing things verbally . . . )

times in the loudest of rooms where his teammates are annoying the shit out of him are times when he reaches under the table to hold your hand that’s rested on your lap. it’s obvious he’s seething by how tense his hands are.

“you good?” you whisper in the most subtle way possible. “. . .what does it look like?” he deadpans but gives you his answer after squeezing his palm impossibly closer to yours.

it’s comforting and not comforting by how unnervingly quiet he is—like he isn’t almost dead silent anyway, even with you. there’s a little voice in your head telling you that you should probably take him outside for a breather—nobody is bothering to converse with him anyway.

the air is cold and crisp outside, hitting your nostrils like a big ass truck but that isn’t on you mind. your eyes wander to rin’s red nose that probably got irritated by the cold too, then to how he subconsciously brings his collar up to try and cover half his face while his gaze is lingering off to the far distance, lastly how his hands get shoved right back into his front pockets.

“this better?” you ask, referring to the change of scenery and ambience compared to inside the building, his head nods slightly.

you smile.

and you aren’t looking at him anymore, joining him in looking in the distance. well, you and rin switch roles because now his eyes are on you and how your lips curl, only visible by the shitty lamp posts that line the darkened streets. he loves you so much he’s envious, he loves you so much he’s mad he can’t verbalize it nor is he really good at doing it physically either.

you’re really lukewarm, yet he hugs you when no one is looking—it’s feeling a lot warmer now.

sticky note. shoutout to @cup1ds-bow for this one . . . i’ll give you the biggest smooch to you celine . . . I HAD NO IDEAS FOR RIN

cw . this one is kinda gross help, biting, this stupidhead calls u babe ( blehhh ), this one is superrr short sorry

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 is . . . an interesting character. you swear there’s something wrong with him when he playfully bites you.

you’re pretty sure there’s a mental hospital 20 minutes away from his apartment . . . maybe you’ll be able to sneak him in when he’s asleep—anything to stop these bites! what started off as a cute gesture for him to show affection to you soon became something more. you thought it was cute—in the beginning—playful nibbles on your lips, toothless chomps on your shoulder and arms . . . did you even know this guy when you suddenly got surprised when they started leaving tooth marks?

one thing about shidou is that he has quite the sharp canines, it’s no surprise you yelp out in surprise when he actually has the courage ( when does he not smh ) to test how sharp they really are. no, it’s not hard enough to draw blood—that isn’t his goal, surprisingly . . .

“what the fuck?!” you jump more in shock rather than pain. his grin goes from ear to ear, almost like he’s showing off the teeth he used to bite down on your arm. “sorry babe, did that hurt?” his says in faux worry, there’s a concerning drop in his tone. if you say no, he’ll continue to do it. if you say yes, he will also continue to do it.

“just shut up.” you roll your eyes. any answer other than yes or no will also lead to a path of him still doing it anyway. you’ll never win with him.

hell yeah you were right. there’s times where he sits next to you only to grip your arm to bring to his mouth to open and clamp down, it isn’t harsh but it’s more than enough to at least leave a mark in it’s way and maybe add another shade to your skin.

it’s totally fine though when he suddenly gains a degree in medicine and kisses it better, softer lips touching his newly-made bite-mark. it’s totally fine because he’s the artist and you’re his muse. it’s totally fine when his art supplies are completely free!

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 , the most unintentionally affectionate person. he doesn’t understand the butterflies in your stomach when he clumsily ( suffocates ) cuddles you.

you’re his personal pillow. it’s cute and endearing until he’s too lazy to walk to his bed and ends up crashing on you on the damn floor.

“sei . . . we need to get up.” you whine under him as his whole weight is pushed onto you on a cold hard floor with no cushion to soften the blow. you have no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck to stop yourself from suffocating. nagi is really warm with his baggy hoodie and his way too saggy sweatpants—seriously, how does he walk in those things? the soft fabric feels ticklish on your skin. God, please wake him up before we both end up sleeping on the floor tonight.

he’s just not letting it up, it feels like he just keeps getting heavier the more time that passes—and just the more impossible it feels to convince him to get off. it’s obvious he isn’t asleep just yet because if he was, you’d probably either be actually suffocating or maybe you’d be able to slip out of his grasp—oh and he’s literally looking straight at you with his chin rested on your chest. “t’lazy.” he mumbles in protest. honestly, you could laugh at this scene—not because you like being suffocated by your boyfriend but because the way your arms are wrapped around his neck make it look like you’re cradling just his head.

“don’t you wanna be comfortable on your bed?” you ask as another attempt to bribe him. you see the way his grey eyes keep staring at you with that stupid almost-pleading look that might say ‘please don’t tell me to move.’, but you’ll say it again because you doubt this is pleasant for him—it certainly isn’t for you. “please, seishiro . . .” you whisper, finger colliding with his soft snowy hair. his lips for a small pout at your insistence. “no.” he’s firm but obviously sleepy.

there’s something wrapping around your waist—his arms are wrapping around you waist. your eyes widen at the sudden grip.

“sei . . .”

“no more convincing. you’re more comfortable than my bed.” he says like he knows you’re going to propose another offer—which you weren’t . . . you wanted to tell him that you loved him but if just accepting defeat is enough for those three words, you’ll gladly lose.

“fine.”

because in the end, he’s the only one who can make you feel this way even when you’re pissed that you will have to sleep on the floor.

sticky note. i actually finished his part first LMFAO

cw . kissing, this man is a FREAK, . . . this is really . . . i put my emotion into this HLRPPP but it’s still short

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 loves the way your lip balm tastes or he just really likes your lips.

“can you just admit you like kissing me?”

“what? your lip balm tastes really good today.” he acts oblivious to his own actions of smooshing your cheeks together to make you kiss him . . . the only thing on your lips is an unscented and unflavored lip product—what is he tasting?

you raise an eyebrow at his words, very interesting coming from a man like oliver aiku. he views such matters as casual, treats it like it’s casual, says it’s casual but then he acts like he becomes a new man every time his lips just slightly graze yours.

when he pulls away from your face, there’s something in his eyes that say he wants—needs more but he isn’t insatiable per se because he has self-control, he isn’t that reckless, y’know? have some faith in him!

but your lips make him question whether he even has faith in himself to keep him away that long, he’d be lying if he said you weren’t killing him right now.

his lips are prolonged against yours to make up for it.

aiku swears you lace something on—in?—somewhere on your lips that just gets him addicted. your lips don’t taste like anything yet they taste like everything he’s ever wanted—anything he’s ever craved of—they taste like you and maybe you’re all he’s ever dreamed of.

tags :) : @kenyuukissme @levihanmyotp @realmyth @vellichorira @pinkicyheart ( comment to be added! )

[holdinggrudges]

oxytocin

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, porn without plot, genuinely there is no plot, fem!reader, established relationship, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, edging, dom/sub dynamics like..a little bit, soft dom sam, size kink but also only a little bit, no use of y/n

word count: 2.3k

summary: Sam has a thing about control. So when the pieces don’t quite fall into place—when a hunt goes a little sideways, for example—Sam can get a little…twitchy. Antsy, irritable. What you’ve learned, though, is that it’s all too easy to give him back that control. To let him take it from you.

notes: i thought this was finished two days ago and then ended up writing, like, a thousand more words. whoops. anyways uhhh...i've never written anything quite like this before (this is my first ever legit pwp lmao) so uhh if it sucks don't tell me i'll cry

crossposted on ao3

Sam has a thing about control. You can’t fault him, of course; it’s actually sickening to think about how often his autonomy, his freedom of choice, has been wrested from him. Him turning into a bit of a control freak seems, frankly, like the best case scenario. It does mean that when the pieces don’t quite fall into place—when a hunt goes a little sideways, for example—Sam can get a little…twitchy. Antsy, irritable; you love him to death, but he’s a damn terror to be around when a hunt doesn’t go your way. What you’ve learned, though, is that it’s all too easy to give him back that control. To let him take it from you.

Two thick fingers press into your cunt, slow and leisurely, like he’s got all the time in the world, like you’re not falling apart in his lap. Like he doesn’t have you so wet it’s probably dripping down his wrist. He has your legs hooked over his, keeping you spread and open for him as he teases you. His smirk presses to your temple, your cheek, just below your ear as he plasters your face with soft kisses. “You’re doing so good,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your neck with the praise. “So perfect for me, you sound so pretty like this. Tell me when you’re close, okay, baby?” 

God, you’re not sure you’ll ever get there like this. “Sam, please.” You’re not above begging, not in the slightest, especially not right now. You feel like you’ve been here for hours, panting and whining on Sam’s lap. For fuck’s sake, you’ve still got your sweater on.

You feel more than hear the little laugh your whine drags out of Sam, a rumble in his chest where you’re plastered against him, a puff of air against your throat. “You need some help? Hmm?” he asks, dragging his unoccupied hand up your stomach and rucking your sweater up as he does. At the same time, his fingers curl inside you, stealing your breath and sending your head lolling back on his shoulder. 

“God—” Your hands scramble to grab onto something, anything, searching for purchase. In the end, one lands on Sam’s wrist as his hand cups your breast, the other grasping at the sheets below you, twisting them in your grip. 

His thumb brushes over your nipple, drawing a choked whimper from your throat. “Answer me, baby. Can you come like this, or do you need more?” 

How are you even supposed to think like this, let alone speak? “Fuck, Sam—” you manage to babble out, turning your head to hide in the crook of his neck. The smell of him floods your senses, pine and musk and just a little bit of sweat that lets you know he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be. “More. I need more, please.” 

“There you go,” Sam coos at you. Then he shifts the angle of his hand so the meat of his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust of his fingers, dragging a guttural moan from your throat in the process. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? My good girl.” 

Curses spill from your lips like a chant as everything ramps up tenfold and leaves you struggling to keep up. Sam’s fingers, practised and precise, drag against your g-spot with every thrust and, combined with the pressure against your clit, they have you moaning and babbling incoherent pleas in moments. Your chest heaves with your panting, gasping breaths as the pressure in your gut grows and twists and builds until it threatens to send you careening over the edge. 

Sam’s wrist twists in your grip until you release it, letting that hand fall to white-knuckle the sheets below you with the other one. With his hand newly free, Sam draws his fingertips along your jaw and tilts your head up until he can see your face. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, sweet as candy, as if he’s not taking you apart. “Talk to me, baby. How’re we doin’?” 

Oh, he’s such a dick; he knows how you’re doing. Your pussy is pulsing around his fingers like a heartbeat, he knows damn well. He just wants you to say it. But you know what game you’re playing. “Sam…”

He presses his thumb to your lips, and his turn down on a frown that you know—you know—is performative, but that puppy look still digs its claws into your head. “Come on.” 

“Oh, fuck—” Sam curls his fingers, and your gut pulls so tight you almost forget to breathe. “Okay, I’m close, God, Sam, please—” You know it's coming, but it still comes as a stone cold shock to your system when Sam’s fingers still inside you and the pressure of his palm disappears from your clit. Your cunt flutters as the bliss that had been moments away fades out of reach; your thighs futilely trying to close, press together, but you're stopped by Sam’s legs holding them open. 

Sam carefully unsheathes his fingers from your cunt, and you could damn near sob.

He coos over the sound of your whine. “I know. But you're so pretty like this, sweetheart, so good for me.” His hand leaves your face to catch yours as you reach down to finish the job yourself, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Uh-uh. You trust me, don't you, pretty girl? I’ll take care of you.”

  You narrow your eyes, glaring even as you twist your hand to tangle your fingers with his. “You’re evil.” 

His laugh puffs over your lips as he leans down to press a quick kiss to them. It’s a little uncoordinated, and certainly not the best angle. But it’s a sweet apology. “Maybe I just thought you'd rather come on my cock.” 

Your next inhale is sharp, a response to the way his words make your neglected pussy flutter. You twist a little further, your nose bumping his with how close you are. “Are you gonna let me?” you ask, and your lips brush against his as you speak. 

He hums, and his eyes crinkle with the grin that he presses to your lips. “Say please—” he murmurs, the words washing over you like a wave— “and maybe I will.” Your hand tightens around his.

God, but if the power trip doesn't look good on him. The word comes out on a breath, just barely a whisper of, “Please.” 

Sam swallows the plea with a kiss, draws a gasp out of you as his teeth sink into your bottom lip and tug as he pulls away. “Please…what?” he urges, dragging a line of hot, open kisses along your jaw and down the line of your neck. “Come on. You want it, don’t you? Use your words.” 

You tip your head back, and you’re sure Sam feels you swallow around your need because the next kiss he lands on your throat is biting. “Please,” you say again, “please let me come on your cock.” 

Sam’s smile against your throat is so bright it almost burns, and he releases your hand from his grip. “Anything for you, baby.” He presses one last kiss to the base of your neck before his hands come up under your thighs, lifting you off his lap. “Come on.” 

You help him maneuver you until you’re laying on your back on the bed, and you take the opportunity to stretch your legs out, groaning at the stiffness from having them in that position for so long.

Sam kneels beside you, his hands squeezing at your thighs. “You alright?” he asks. His hands smooth up your legs to your hips before he draws them back down again in a pseudo-massage. 

You nod. “I’m okay,” you tell him, and then you let your thighs fall open to make room for him. You get the pleasure of watching his eyes snap from your face to your cunt, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. “Want you.” 

He lifts his gaze to yours again, and he holds it as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down and off.  “Whatever you want, beautiful,” he says, climbing over you and settling with his hips between your thighs before he pulls his shirt over his head. He tosses it aside and braces his hand beside your head.

Entirely shameless, you reach out to press a hand to his chest, admiring the solid planes of his stomach flexing as he holds himself up to hover above you. His muscles shift, a body perfectly designed to drag the tip of his cock through your folds. Your breath catches in your chest, your hand smoothing up and over his shoulders to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

He smiles, then his hand settles on your thigh. “C’mere,” he mutters, drawing your leg up over his hip. Your other leg follows suit, your ankles crossing. Keeping him close. “There you go.” With that, he presses inside you. He slides in easy—you weren’t exactly hurting for prep—but the stretch of your cunt around him still has you groaning in tandem with him. 

“Fuck, Sam—” you gasp as he bottoms out, his hips kissing yours. Somehow, you always manage to forget just how big he is until you’re so full you feel like you can feel him in your throat. 

Sam’s hand that’s not currently holding him up drags the hem of your sweater up until it’s bunched around your shoulders, leaving you, essentially, bare for him. He trails his fingers down your torso, watching the goosebumps that bloom on your stomach as he traces your skin. “Good?” he asks, his voice tight with the effort of keeping still inside you. 

“Yeah. So fucking full,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your breast. “But yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good.” He draws out, dragging along your walls until only the tip is left inside, and you brace for the punch of the next thrust. But it never comes. He lingers, teasing, until you open your eyes to see him smirking down at you. “You wanna beg for it?” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, pressing your heels into his back in an effort to press him forward. He doesn’t budge. 

“I think you’re gonna,” he says, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw. “You wanna come? All you have to do is say please—” He brushes his thumb over your pebbled nipple, pulling a whimper from your throat— “and then I’ll fuck you so good, you know I will. Just let me hear it.” 

You turn your head to face him, staring him down, breathing in his air as you consider his proposal. You lift your head to brush your lips against his. “Please fuck me.” If you hadn’t been paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed, but his hand flexes just so where he’s cupping your chest. “Sam. Please.” 

Sam draws you into a proper kiss at the same time he slams home into you. Although, a proper kiss is maybe not the best way to describe it. It’s more Sam licking into your open, panting mouth, swallowing the desperate, airy moans that his thrusts are punching out of you. The pace he sets isn’t fast, but it’s deep, and with his tongue on your mouth and his hand on your tits, it feels like you can feel him everywhere, like there isn’t a single part of your body that isn’t being consumed by him. 

“My beautiful girl,” Sam rasps as he pulls away. He drags kisses down your neck, and then skips right over the bulk of your sweater to scrape his teeth over your nipple at the same time his fingers pinch at the other. Your chest spasms on a sobbing moan, your nails scraping down his back, aching for purchase. The feeling is overwhelming, lighting up every nerve ending you have until the only thing you can think about is Sam—Sam’s mouth on your chest, Sam’s voice soothing heated skin, Sam’s fucking cock taking you apart. “You sound so wrecked, baby, look at you.” 

“Sam—” His name drips from your lips like a mantra, over and over and over like it’s the only thing you can say anymore. You’re so close, teetering so close to the edge that a light breeze could push you over. “God, please—” 

His hand abandons your chest, smoothing down your ribs and over your hip bone. “I got you. I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he says, and then he flattens his tongue over your nipple as he shoves his hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. 

It’s over—your whole body trembles with it, and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you. Sam’s hips stutter where he’s fucking you through it, and then you feel him spill into you, the spasms of your pleasure having pulled him off the cliff right along with you. 

“Oh, fuck—there you go,” he gasps, his hips slowing to a stop as you both ride out the recovery. “So perfect, so good for me.” 

With the last of your energy, you lift your hands to his face to drag him into a spent, sloppy kiss. “Took such good care of me,” you mutter into his mouth, shivering while he takes the opportunity to carefully slide out of you. “Love you so much.” 

In a few minutes, the two of you will have to stumble out of bed to the bathroom, clean up and truly recover. But right now, Sam’s smile against your lips warms your chest enough to forget about his cum dripping from your cunt. “Love you too.” 

[squishygirl46]

Hi everyone, this is a story about my deepest fantasies and dreams. It will be written about me Let me know if you like it. Part one: the beginning.

God, I don't know where I am, some man left a camera in the room and said I had to speak my mind on it or I would be killed. The last thing I remember is leaving the house to go to the store. Now I'm here and I don't know what's going on, I'm so scared….. There's only one dim lamp in this room, a big bed, a toilet, a speaker on the wall and a door. I'm probably going to be killed or raped, I don't know, I'm so scared. Suddenly a masked man came into the room, carrying a scale and a camera.

- Hi said: Get on the scale and take off your clothes. I obediently did everything he ordered. Completely naked I stood on the scale which said 45 kilograms(99 pounds). -You're skinny, now stand against the wall and turn sideways. I went to the wall and turned around, then he told me to stand in front of him and he was taking pictures. What a shame… But I can't help it, I'm so scared. After this strange photo shoot and weighing, the man left. I don't know how much time had passed, but I was very hungry. Luckily the man came back soon and brought a huge tray of food on a gurney. Fried chicken, potatoes, meat pies, pancakes, brownies and cake. There were also several bottles of soda and some pills.

-Whoa, why so much food, I can't eat that much. -No one's asking you. He told me to take two pills and a soda. After I drank them he left and closed the door behind him. I started eating and as usual I got full very quickly, literally after a couple wings my little tummy was full and I laid down to rest and fell asleep, I don't know how long I slept but after I woke up the food was still there and I was very very very hungry…. I started eating again. A few wings, then a brownie, washed it all down with soda, then wings again, then potatoes and then soda again… I could feel my stomach filling up, but the hunger didn't go away, and only after 30 minutes of eating and stopped for breath…. -Oh, God, what was that just now? -Ufff. I mumbled. I looked at the tray, it was covered in leftovers. I put my head down and saw that my stomach was protruding very much, as if I had been inflated like a car tire…. And it was so hard. I was very thin and this protuberance really stood out. I laid back on the bed and dozed off….. When I woke up, the tray was gone, but on the wall were my pictures and a graph with my weight written on it. God, what does that mean, am I being fattened up? I've always worked hard on my figure, I don't want to be fat, I need to exercise to burn off the calories from that gluttony. I got out of bed and started doing exercises, 50 squats, 10 push-ups and 50 abs, then I rested and did them again.

-Fuuuuh, now we can have a little snack, as long as we don't eat too much. Right after these words, this man came in again with a tray, this time there were mountains of fast food, 5 big burgers, a bucket of fries, wings, nuggets, and 2 bottles of coke. -Oh my god, I'm not allowed to eat that, I've always avoided fast food in my life-. But the man silently handed me two pills. -No, I won't take them, they make me unable to stop eating! In response to these words, he just took them and put them in my mouth, then clamped my nose and poured cola into my mouth, I had to swallow them…. -Good appetite- he said and left. I decided that a little fast food wouldn't hurt my figure, especially if I kept doing exercises, or even more exercises, yes, it wouldn't hurt. I took the smallest burger I could find and took a bite. -God, this is so good,” I said with my mouth full. And a wave of warmth spread through my body. -Yeah, one burger wouldn't hurt me. -Yeah. But I couldn't stop at one, as soon as I finished it I took a Coke to drink, I thought I'd just drink a little bit, but I started gulping it down greedily, like I hadn't had a drink in a year. I only stopped when I had half a bottle. Right after that, I went on a food binge. A burger, another one, fries, nuggets, all dipped in sauce and swallowed before I could chew. After 30 minutes of such piggishness, I felt nauseous and almost threw up. I decided to lie down and rest.

-I ate a ton of food again, my God, what am I turning into, but ok, I'll exercise some more and everything will be fine. I put my hand on my warm, bloated tummy and fell asleep. When I woke up I thought it would be a good idea to exercise. Like last time I got up and started squatting, but I stopped at 30 reps and sat on the bed…. The leftovers were beckoning me… -Okay, I've done enough, I can have a snack. I finished everything on the tray and went back to sleep… It went on like that for about two weeks

[bedcchem]

18+ kuroo x f!reader, too shy

cw: kuroo is such a handsome panty stealer. ᢉ𐭩

no matter how hot frustrating it can be, kuroo genuinely can’t find it in himself to be mad at you for too long when you leave your clothes lying around the apartment. your panties, especially.

just washed some laundry? oops, it must’ve fallen out of the basket…

just showered? oops, accidentally left it in the bathroom…

whether it’s an accident or not, kuroo doesn’t know or actually care. and that’s okay. washed or unwashed, he always puts them to good use, either by wrapping your pretty black thong around his cock as he slowly strokes himself, or by licking that one little wet patch still left on your favorite lacy pair as he desperately humps a pillow. every time, he closes his eyes and imagines it’s your hand on him instead of his own, giving him the most agonizingly slow handjob, edging him well into oblivion, or that it’s your thighs he’s in between, tasting every drop of you straight from the source, not from a flimsy piece of fabric.

god, he’s pitiful.

he knows you’re so sweet, so shy, and that’s fine. it’s adorable, actually. the way he can hear you when you think he’s not home and at work. but oh no, he can hear everything. on the other side of the too-thin walls of the apartment, he can easily make out each sweet whimper and muffled cry of “oh, tetsu—!” and “oh, fuck yes—right there…!”

and in turn, he knows you can hear him above the sound of the shower when he grunts out a choked form your name when he’s coming against the pearly white tile. he can’t help but smile to himself when, just like clockwork, he always hears the little buzz of your trusty little vibrator after he turns the water off.

though outside of your bedroom and bathroom doors, you both pretend nothing’s amiss, like you both weren’t having the most intense orgasms to the thought and the sounds of the other the night prior. with normal laughs and kind smiles, you both put up a well-practiced façade of ignorance, with only the occasional shy touches passed between the two of you.

guess you two will endure another week’s routine of this… maybe one day kuroo will finally man up and ask you to dinner.

a/n: i have been perceived… hello to all one (1) of you who knows my true identity…

enjoy my masterlist!

mdni. do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bedcchem 2025.

[kxtsukixoxo]

happy valentine’s day kri 🩷 pls take a rest from the angst tdy !! id like to request “quiet, they’ll hear us..” with my one and only hanta sero, thank u in advance 🙏

authors note - happy late valentine’s day bloom!! <3 we’re taking a long deserved break from the angst!! i’m sorry this took so long, i hope you enjoy it :3

here’s the valentine’s day event, there’s still prompts available!! ⊹. warnings - nsfw content

sero hanta, the guy who sat next to you in your business class. 

that’s all you knew about him, but he knew everything about you. infact, he was obsessed with you. he knew all your classes, he knew your route to your dorm, he knew what drink you’d order at the café down the road whenever you hung out with izuku, and that ticked him off. you had no classes with izuku, and sero knew nothing about izuku, so why were you hanging out with him? 

sero was the biggest perv when it came to you, just you. nobody else had this affect on him, and it drove him crazy. his need to feel you grew stronger everyday, and especially on the days you’d come to class wearing outfits that revealed a little more skin than you’d usually show.

it drove him crazy that you were right next to him and he couldn’t do anything about it. you’d give him the gummiest smile, as he felt his blood flow abandon every single part of his body and shoot down to his cock, he’d manage to give you a small wave, as he tried to pay attention to whatever your lecturer was saying, but all he could think about was his hands snuck down your skirt, your spit pooling out of your mouth as you mewled on his shirt, while he finger-fucked you. 

right after your lecture ended, sero grabbed your hand pulling you towards the janitors closet, no reason given. sure he wouldn’t do anything right, he looked like a respectful young guy, always waving at you, smiling at you in the hallways, offering to carry your grocery bags into your dorm.

somehow. 

always. 

everywhere you were. 

so when you finally reached the janitors closet, and sero placed his lips against yours, why didn’t you push him away? why did you enjoy it? 

you barely knew him, he barely knew you, atleast you thought so. 

“i can’t do this anymore, i need to feel you-“ he panted heavily, his chest heaving as he let out shaky breaths. “sero-what-“

“call me hanta please.” he started “tell me you want this, please tell me you do, if you don’t, it’s fine, we can just pretend this never happened, i’ll change my seat and we can carry-“ you cut him off as you sloppily captured his lips into a kiss, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hand gripped onto your ass while the other pulled his pants down.  

sero finally pulled away, with a pop. he unbuttoned your jeans, letting them drop to your ankles, as he pulled your shirt up just enough to reveal your perked up tits, the ones he dreamed about almost every night since you sat next to him.

thank god for baby tees, he was not about to let a bra get in his way. sero pulled his boxers down, his cock bounced up touching his belly button, you watched pre-cum leak out of the slit, “all yours baby” he murmured as he slid a hand through his messy mullet, you were hungry for it. 

“give me the go-head and i’ll stuff you so good hm?” he caressed your cheek as he lined his cock with your entrance “just be quiet for me baby, can’t let anybody hear those pretty noises you make, they’re just for me” he muttered as he placed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“fuck me hanta-please-“ 

that was all he needed. sero slammed into you, pressing you up against the wall, as your head fell back, your mouth fell open, as he slid in and out of you, pounding you against the wall, right next to your business class. if anybody were close enough you were sure they could hear your muffled moans as sero stuffed himself inside you “been dreaming about this day since you sat next to me in that pretty pink skirt” you brokenly gasped as your eyes rolled back. sero grunted as he grabbed your hand, placing it ontop of your stomach, feeling the bump. “see that? feel how deep i’m in you baby” he let out a groan, as he watched you whimper, “m’ gonna cum!” 

“shhh baby, you don’t wanna let everybody know i’m fucking you that good do you?” 

“hanta!-“

“i got you baby,” your legs tightened around his waist as he held you close, his breath fanning against your neck “cum for me”

and you did, collapsing towards him, as both of you came down from the lasting high. 

he scribbled his number onto your arm after wiping you down and getting you into your clothes, tapping your cheek with two fingers, 

“let me fuck you properly later hm?”